Time Slides By

I am a minute refugee;
a run in time,
the first to flee.

I break no stride,
won’t stop to breathe –
away in front
all past I leave.

The first to cross the post and on…
No eyes to see,
just legs to run.

The wind is fast against my ears
A blistered breeze
blows all my fears.

On and on
away I race
no tempo tries to set this pace.

I am a constant refugee
no where to stop
so on I flee.

Do you love her?

Do you love her?
Do you love her like a mum?!
Do you love her like a sister?
Do you love her loud and dumb??!
Do you love her straight/
Do you love her drunk/
Do you love her wasted;
Love her handed on a plate?
Do you love her silence?
D’you love her fat and thin!?
Do you love her for her laughter,
or just to put your willy in?
Do you love her when she’s angry?
Love the way her eyes don’t smile?
Do you love her when she’s flirting?
Do you love her own exile?
Do you love her?
Do you love her?
Do you love her fast and free?
Do you love her chatter?
Do you love her tits and belly?

The Whealing Nature of Time

Warm as love – blood spurts from the fresh flesh wounds of cancers fading shadows! As sharply as the bones of my belief shattered a year ago, so my dreams of idylls splinter freely today. Here, like the glove too tight for comfort (stretches clean and webs in yellow), memories of fun cling longingly to the curves of my lightless brain.

So it is, here among my playful shadows, the blisters of yesterdays scratching; the flake of my worn-dry skin, prove achingly alien to any tender caress… Painfully barren of others touch or kiss, just sore from neglect. Where else could my thoughts wear down such sumptuous solitude? Long since forgotten, left to scar – somehow free through these peels of skin, transparent as the wafer-thin meat itself. Myself!

I am left only with the memories of pain (which hurts more?). So in this ache of reminiscence, and the lurch to escape, time (heavy as my eyelids) hammers out the tune of our minute and ticks me reeling into the arms of my tomorrow.

Avenged Beast

Suffer in silence
insolent pig!
Grovel your sorrows
tragic cow!
Pray for forgiveness
wretched dog!
Show not contempt
pathetic beast!

When you were not so lowly
not cowering on the ground –
you spat upon my helpless corpse
I needed not your curses;
so when your dying starts to bite
how can you expect forgiveness?

Now you are going, insolent pig.
I know not where
tragic cow.
I will not watch wretched dog…
I do not care.
Pathetic beast.

The Late Night Count

Broken minds
lay scattered
like shattered
through fingers
holding up the thinkers
and propping
Those deceivers
with their

All the while sweet lips
Count mutely to 10 and back
Again in time.

limply from heights
The not quite rights
Take stock
of lights
And hang
low lights
at night
to frighten
out of sight ideas
And dreams
that shape their plight.

Still the beauty of mouths
Mouthing fails to enter or
Break the pattern.


Quiet Night Sleepy

Open a window –
To let in the sound of the dark of the night.
Listen –
The hissing;
The whirring the murmurs:
A humming drone deafens your sleep-centred thoughts.
That silent sigh slips to the front of your mind.
A silence not broken,
A quietness defined.
So laying awake at the dawn of the morning
A wide open window –
For sleep-needy eyes.

Sweet Moon Rise

I saw your moon rise like fires in the sky,
so fast and red.

And as I clasped that sweet orb tight
and pressed my knees into your thighs
I realised – you really are the light,
which sparks these little fires
that turn alive my eyes.

So brutalised yet comfortable
you turn once more to me
requesting if my will can stomach you again!

And then the smiles turn on my face,
lit up bright and bold as Brass.
Your moon hides as I turn again
and clasp your hidden arse!