Poems which I have written myself. Some may seem very obscure – it’s poetry. I consider poetry to be one of the highest and most artistic forms of writing.


They wipe their muddy feet
on the WELCOME mat at the door.
Money in their pockets;
guns in their minds.
Secrets as bullets
waiting to kiss someone’s insides.
Tailored suits and fresh crimson roses
in buttonholes.
Hedonistic intentions kept in place (for now)
by tight-fitting waistcoats.
Expensive white smiles
smouldering holes in soft sofas:
even if they noticed, they wouldn’t care.

This is the way the world works the world works the world works
this is the way the world works oh em gee!

This is the world:
formal, fake.


I give you all I have;
you take, tenderly.
It’s yours now:
I wanted you to have it.
Wrapped in blankets
of shiny words from
immortal poets:
fact or fantasy?

It’s over, but I still remember…

I close my eyes, smile.
Take it all in:
good; bad; real.
One of us for a moment;
a moment: lived: fully.

The Cost of Falling

Pricetag hanging low,
Glass case, expensive glow.
Shiny objects beating beneath:
Bright lights, shiny teeth.
Salespeople hovering like flies:
In grey suits, some in ties.
Big signs warning all:
Useless, though, in this mall.

I see what I want!
This uncontrolled passionate stunt
Bursts from me!
“Please, sir, can I see?
I promise not to break it…
If I do, I’ll replace it.”

He hands me a fragile heart,
In my palms – a piece of art.
It beats in time with my own,
The world’s noise becomes a distant drone.
I feel like just a rag
In the presence of this invaluable pricetag.

He’s Yours

I never stood a chance:
I already counted myself


I don’t belong here,
take him away with you
on a cloud of happy hedonism.
And I’ll watch on my back
as the cloud changes form
to the demons I see inside me.

I’m used to this feeling
of knives stabbing inside,
and I have fertile furrows
down my cheeks.
He’s yours after all,
I could never fit in the picture,
the camera was built for two –

and I’m a third.

I give in, I give up.
I bow out:
applaud and approve.

Player One

This dream in my head
of me sitting between your legs;
your hands on mine on yours.
Playing video games in a dark room:
my smile lit up by you,
I want to be your player two.

You’d teach me how it works
and give me kisses for kills.
Let me win a few times,
or I can be your side-kick
and you can protect me with your guns.
This feeling will be new:
let me be your player two.

We’d play until the new day’s sun
And you’d be my Player One.

Substance Abuse

“At the age of fourteen I discovered writing as an escape from a world of reality in which I felt acutely uncomfortable.” – Tennessee Williams

You lack the depth
of reality…
Come on, man!
Stop abusing, stop escaping!
Face it head on:
flood light that truth,
fly towards it, bug!
Stop injecting with that stuff,
it’s poison for your veins.
Surely you know that?
I’m third tier looking down,
I’ve been through it all.
Don’t you learn, buddy?
Suck up and deal,
sniff a line of life: it’s free!
It won’t kill you,
Write out those feelings,
we need you here.
Don’t leave the truth unturned,
disturb the insects,
show them the light!
It’s for their enlightenment.

Romanticised Fuckup

Stumble into a crowded haze:
searching and seeking fun times…
hedonistic t-shirts
snapback suppressions
skinny jeans suffocating
used needles
white mirrors
rolled up notes
broken bulbs:
ruined in these ruins…

But we want this.

Razor blades
rotten teeth
failed jobs
butchered hearts
& puffy scars.
Dozen pills popping
dawn to dusk sipping,
wars & weapons
shooting and stabbing at rules
to pass the time.

Do we even care?

I don’t care
don’t care about you.
Taught by my father
who was never there
to abandon and run,
evade and suppress.
This is the life I want, I preach!

Striving for Club 27
We’re c-c-crazy!
Live fast die young,
I don’t wanna live.
Don’t even care!

No compassion here.
Pull the trigger on yourself,
brother bear.

The Sun

The bright Sun blankets the fertile soil:
two little seedlings stretch
towards the new warmth.
They rely on the Sun
and each day
She keeps her promise
that She’ll return:
because She values
the honesty of Her work.

She dances through
the sweet jazz
of the clouds,
splashing Her rays across
the smiling sunflowers.
They’re big now,
yet they will always need the Sun.

So the Sun and her Sunflowers
dance on, through nature:
a family;
a timeless photograph of Love.

Complete Strangers

“Look like the innocent flower, but be the serpent under’t”
– Lady Macbeth, “Macbeth”, William Shakespeare

You’re a curse sent
by the universe
disguised and hidden:
but there.
A path I’ve crossed by fate
merging with mine in this moment
to form this road
lined with dried leaves of
Strangers to each other;
two nobodies
colliding with each other.
Large meteors soaring towards
life, a powerful force
of destruction.