Ode To God

Do you see the child who clings
To the strings of my heart?
Will you recognise what’s pure
And endure the painful part?
Can you explain to me
What you see in the rain?
How many times before you seek
The meek and the refrained?

And if you own the world
Why do you let it suffer?
If you balance the book of life
Why do it undercover?

I look to you
But where are you when I am crying?
Are you busy
While most of us are dying?
I know my faults
Are strong, but how long must I pay?
Are you happy
Now my belief has gone away?

And if you made the world
Why do you never visit?
If you desire something real
You’ll find it’s here… or is it?

I look to you
But where are you when we are crying?
Are you busy somewhere else
While most of us are dying?

One Lonely Day

One lonely day
I kissed the dirty pavement
Hoping for a blessing
What a joke

I tripped over a mountain
Fell upon my leathered hands
Cried a scarlet tear
Which stained my cheek
I’m alone

Who cares about paper?
Forcing royalty in my palm?
Who is this?
I saw starving children
Look bewildered at her face.

Jump, she said
I told her to fuck off.

No morality here
Carousel of pointless waste
Only we see the aged beauty
Beneath the dying tongue.
Have I come undone?

The world in a Tupperware box
Murky vision conceals
Their pain, their loss

We eat chocolate with a silver spoon
They eat grit with skeleton hands.
Others stare directly
Into a crippling sun
Better to be blind
Than to hold a gun.

Meanwhile, back at the golden shrine
They dine
On cuts of tender souls.
Only one more thing to say
About their selfish goals.

Lady Justice will raise her fiery torch
If she exists. I hope for their sakes
She stops the games.

I spit on those who thoughtless come
I spin the wheel
I condemn you
Callous fools in shining jewels.


I ache for you, Osiris
You travel far and wide
Our people bow before you
Their mentor and their guide

The underworld salutes you
The living king of dead
When you were born a voice sang
For great and good ahead

But Set is getting restless
His hardened face conceals
A hatred strong that only
His jealous heart reveals

He plans to steal your glory
Your palace and your throne


God of the Underworld
Hear my prayer
You are death, you are afterlife
Meeting me here
Have I done enough
To pass through your place?

Outside Time

Mustard yellow, predominant colour
The piano strikes a single chord
While my heart feels elastic.
Stretched in every direction;
Always bounced back to centre.
The moat surrounding us is wide:
Notorious for its simple pride
And nobody may enter.


Let’s paint a picture of love together
In this brief moment of time
I’ll sketch our life together

The black and white on my paper disappears
Replaced by crimson and snow white
I never left you I swear
Your eyes hold many untold thoughts
Absorb my secrets
Day passes too quickly
So I try again to tell you
To communicate

Let’s paint a picture of love together

I adore you
The lines of your face
Move upwards, crinkle for me
Tell the story of sweet desire
When our colours meet each other
Yours start to deepen
In splashes of paint as we embrace
The night enfolds us; our private art
Spreads out across the page
With its conquering flow
I feel all the galaxy and the stars
Inside my heart
As you smile your charm into my soul

The last time we said goodbye
Black oil spilled across my painting
My tears no threat to it
We were only images

Let’s paint a picture of love together

I gripped the brush and tried to express
With all my strength I looked upon a new blank sheet
My memory was my artistic direction
I heard your voice in the twilight breeze
And I listened
We were parted – worlds away
So much time wasted
Finally to join hands again
All cultures met within us
European, African, Asian, American
The touch of our angels
The scent of exotica
All asking for understanding
As I became exhausted
The painting faded to grey
The blood of all who ever loved
Spattered on its canvas
And so were we

Let’s paint a picture of love together

Strange emotions consume your mind
Sparking dark confusion in your heart
Even now, your aching is timeless
As if you are never in company, never content
Never aware of those feelings
Having ever been absent
Your swaying trees
Your fiery sunset
The strokes you used to colour
Distract from life’s poor reality
When will you burn
The painting


Be careful, you will smudge our efforts
Too late

The colours have run


I could write all the pages
I could pour it all out
It might take me ages
But that’s what it’s about
I could write with the sunrise
I could sing silhouettes
I could wonder in your eyes
But I’ll never forget


Alms wrapped around her, this primeval girl,
Born of earth and water, cast into curves,
And trapped inside her; gifts into the world,
She has a role to play; a myth to serve.
Now mighty Zeus has wicked plans in mind,
For beautiful evil is his desire,
At the table of fertile charm she dines,
And sears deceit in an obstinate fire.


On the languid, misty canal,
haze braids the senile bridge.
Sepia sunrise blinks
through dewy timber slats.

Haze braids the senile bridge,
air is moist and earthy
through dewy timber slats.
Water softly licks stone roots,

air is moist and earthy,
windows curved and peeling.
Water softly licks stone roots,
a listless sigh emerging.

Windows curved and peeling,
stare towards cobbled bank,
a listless sigh emerging.
Trees are barely moving.

Stare towards the cobbled bank
with eyes that need fine-tuning,
trees are barely moving,
morning birds begin to wake.

With eyes that need fine-tuning,
I touch the wooden arches,
morning birds begin to wake.
I stand, calling your name.

I touch the wooden arches
with sorrow in my heart.
I stand, calling your name,
but you don’t hear me.

With sorrow in my heart,
sepia sunrise blinks,
but you don’t hear me,
on the languid, misty canal.


Squawking secret
Reflects on day’s events
Shatters killer’s glass alibi

Paving Cracks

So, paving cracks must be avoided.
I fear they’ll suck me under
with ravenous gulps,
then spit me amongst the rotting leaves
in the gutter.
There’s a noise just ahead:
an alien tribe; speaking testosterone
advancing towards me.
The wind selects hostile words,
curses to blow my way
with a despondent sigh.

I look up

The newest batch of youths
churned from privation’s coping mechanism,
dressed appropriately for the occasion
in combat trousers.
They march in a line: not vertical
as soldiers do, but horizontal,

s t r e t c h i n g o u t

along the rocky path ahead.

Will they move aside for me?
Two space invaders nudge me
with right-angle shoulders.
Me, fool,
never one for stability,
surrender my backside to concrete;
they look back and snigger.

So, I must hold a self-assembly
to reinforce that
paving cracks must be avoided.


Neighbour, first person I saw, seemed like fun
And maybe I fancied your brother but was too young
We got involved very early on and we had fun
Do you remember the Shadow? I guess we both loved drama
I saw a programme about your faith on Panorama

I hear you’ve left now, and I feel strongly for you
And sometimes I still think back to those times so true
Seems so innocent now and we saw it through
Do you remember the white plastic hand? We loved play fear
The Tunnel was great when we discovered it here

At school I was bullied by the larger girl on my table
Told my teacher, but was never quite able
To sustain it… we were friends again quite soon… this is a fable
Do you remember Secret Seven adventures? I do
Wanted to find a murderer so badly, didn’t you

And do you remember writing down conversations
How we fell in love with those musicians
We acted out every video track, somewhat in relation
Do you remember feeling worried when I
Kept asking you to smile, a kind of lullaby

And two children arrived… they changed my life
Adulthood and the ever-absent wife
Or rather, husband… that’s when my education started
didn’t know then how much broken hearted
I could be

But I love them, I think they are so great
My family I can never berate
I cannot regret what has been done, it’s done for a reason
And such good people have come from this treason
I can’t dislike
I love them like
A fully fledged part of my life
They are the best of both parties
Which is a huge relief
had they been the worst, it would have been
Hard to conceive

That’s the beauty of life


Bandaged royal
Stares with eternal eyes
Observer of the centuries

Piano Man

Where he comes from no-one knows,
lost in broken pieces
wandering the wounded beach
with eyes that sing
a little out of tune,
he stops on seeing honoured land
loses balance in the sand.
Sits on water’s dark remains,
follows whistling breeze
inside a perfect shell,
vacant maybe
but who can tell
where his home is, great mystery;
blank sheet he seems to be
till they sit him at the piano stool
then genius emerged
and so I’ve been told,
his magical music
turned hearts into gold


I saw you in places, in faces
In windows and
Empty spaces – in mirrors
And thrillers and
Winter night glazes
I wasn’t able to speak, too weak
The confidence
I keep – in padlocks
And deadlocks and
Summer night headlocks
Again I can’t sleep.

Poem For Mike

I see images of my life – the original series
Where drama found its natural place
I feel happiness and innocence
Running in Scottish gardens and stacking books
To read later, an inner excitement
A treasury of poetry with magical pictures
I knew nothing, nothing of the world
When I was most happy, most content

Something happened
The world of the adult took shape too quickly
So it was never perfectly formed
And chunks of childhood clung on
For dear life, for dear naivety, dear love
Black and grey paint splattered
Over technicolour fantasies
The dullness, the darkness, they crept
So gradually I barely noticed
Or remembered the change
Until much later
When everything became apparent
But no advice ready to heal
The singed hem of my soul
So I turned to men, and drink, and drugs
And nicotine and comfort food
Waiting for the day one of them would confirm
I’m ok –
For years I thought I wasn’t.
Hurt by every fucking adult I ever relied on
Or messed up myself in mode: self-destruct
Give me the two minute Hate
For the wicked step-parent
Who lies in wait, in stories of old
From outside and within
And I could never go to the Ball
Because Cinderella forgot her key
And may have to sleep outside tonight

When I learned not to rely on my Elders
But knew I could not turn to myself
The blackness it came, and even now
There is a fog around the corner

But you, you are amazing
You nurtured me by letting go
Showed me adult ways in a loving embrace
Held me when I sat with tears on my face
Helped me learn to trust again
With your rare, rare kindness and gentle smile
Your honest heart and precious spirit
Showed me the game, gave me hope
That one day I can win it
You’re scarce, that’s for sure
No-one else could love you more
Than I do
You break my heart in two
I love you so much it hurts
You’re an angel in a pile of dirt
That’s how we met
You’re the one I treasure
Let’s grow old, grow great together.

For Mike, my soulmate, my lover, my friend


What neat prescription can you write for me
To ease the suffering of infected heart
With whom my careful thoughts could not agree?

Though many have heard its desperate plea
Through monitors beat-skipping on a chart
What neat prescription can you write for me?


The time has come for me to say
Don’t want to hear your shit today
Tired of drama, sick of stress
It’s not my fault your life’s a mess
Your voice exhausts me, brings me pain
When I think it’s stopped, it starts again
At empathy I am the queen
But this time I’ve run out of steam
You’ve boiled me dry, there’s nothing left
While you feel better, I’m bereft
For this reason, I have to say
Take your problems somewhere else today


There is almost no wind today,
barely a breeze to stir the lethargic air,
which hangs limpid like forgotten laundry.
The darkened pavement, soaked from
last night’s rain, cradles melancholy puddles,
reflecting my mood. Sunflowers,
once tall and proud, hunch up
like old men in hoodless jackets,
expecting a downpour.
On mornings like this,
I want to sit on a damp park bench,
revelling in despondency,
a true wet blanket with a face
like a wet weekend. I’d like
to call in sick, and sit, pondering on
life’s questions, and watch the world
from afar, breathing in the
sweet air of liberty.


Life is calling, hustle and bustle.
Maybe tomorrow
the puddles will have dried.

Puppet, Retired

Here I lie, inside this room
body broken and confused;
one leg mislaid, the other missing
dances that I used to do;

my chest may be wooden
but it’s so easily burned;
my heart remains hidden
in splinters of neglect,
as age comes, I learn.

Masters move on and
in time they forget
their timber-carved puppet
forsaken for the new.
Master said retire;


is all that I do.

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