Month: May 2015

Hush now

Hush now…

When you place your fingertip on my lips

and utter those guttural words

I know that I am done for..

I cannot explain the where or the why,

I only know that it hits me,

through a small chink in my armour

Two words to buckle the knees

of a battle hardened soul.

One action to soothe

a riot of ferocity.

Just a mindless gesture for you

Yet to me – A destruction

of subconscious

Oblivious invader of my world


Preparation for Sleep


You lie,

 naked in your chrysalis.

Surrounded by humidity.

Heat emanating from you.

Your shallow breath

softly enticing illusion,

 skin crackling intensely

When she comes,

you are ready.

You are on fire


When you fall,

She devours you.

Takes you into herself.

Absorbs you entirely.

Unconsciously you submit,

yet impulsively you abide.

Giving yourself over.

Relishing the consumption.

Engulfed by vision.

Satiated by Saturnalia.


All the while I sit,

Cold hands,

Worn heart.

Silently but staunchly,

Awaiting it’s call.

One day

One day all the stars will fall from the skies.
The seas will swallow the lands and grasp at the mountain tops.
Birds will swarm in packs; searching for a dry perch.
The Earth shall take claim of her own body,
Leaving us to cling
to her surface, like crumbs
to the mouth of a dog.
And as this world as we know it
falls – Where would we be?
Each alone in a sunken Galleon?
Or together, treading water and holding each other’s heads above the tide.

Politically Incorrect

Thought I would share an old one today…. though it seems that he crept his way into the top rank anyhow *shudders*


Dear Mr Shiny Face,

For too long now you have eluded my pen
My thoughts left to tick,
instead of tumbling to the page.
The grin you wear hangs uncomfortably
Upon a painted mask fashioned of thickly ground concealer.
My first thoughts were a of a letter,

I would of course write to inform you of the ways of the common man
To ensure you were well versed in the disgruntled opinion amongst us lower ranks.
I had wanted to inform you of the growing sense of apprehension, the slow incline of annoyance
The rapid decrease of patience from quiet unassuming men.
I imagined your desire to reach out and bridge the gaping chasm between us
You would reply with a short note, maybe a text to show how you were ‘down with it’
Yes the letter would be a warning, no, a friendly nudge.
An acknowledgement from one enlightened being to another.

My baked beans tainted the joke about the Peasants revolt and your head on a spike.

And now my apologies, I never got around to sending the letter.
Somehow work got in the way, essays for Open University, caring for parents, time spent
worrying over budget forms, slowly working away to repay debts owed from being too young or
too stupid to say no to bank charges dressed up as insurance.
The letter it was forgotten, until the first splash of news.


Riots hit the headlines,
Panic rose, smoke filling the sky like a heavy cloud of dissatisfaction.
Images everywhere of greedy self indulgent children and adults jumping on the band wagon
Pain felt by every decent person to see their city disgraced, trampled and left broken.
Sirens blared as fires were set ablaze, vultures picking at the remnants of peoples empires.
I thought of you and the letter whilst i sat holed up in my high rise flat.
The police car sat outside like a cat waiting for a mouse
Reports on the internet flickered and screamed out warnings of horror.
Brave men shot at for defending their livelihoods; this is the state of the morality.
No longer do I feel the urge to invite you around to talk things through,
over a lukewarm pasty.

I have lost my appetite for plastic politics.

Yours sincerely,

Desire to sleep

There is a desire in me to sleep

To slip into your dreams

See your innermost visions

Pin down your thoughts

With my tongue


I have in me a desire

To creep into your fantasies

Replace your leading lady

To feel your soft lips

Pursuing mine


The desire to press my bare skin

Against yours

Smothered in perfumed oils

Without complaint

Or the need for plastic sheets


My desire is to have you

All of you

The wild, rough, unadulterated you

The Lothario of night visions


And so my desire, let’s sleep

Just an average man

The numbers speak for themselves

5ft 10 – Lets try again

That universal average

13 stone – oh leave it alone

A list of aspiration,

Size 9 -Still feeling fine?

Conformations of disappointment

5.1 – But where is that done?


All these numbers are to me

Are restrictions on us being free

What is an average if not dull

These lists and stats are due a cull


Though 4.7 makes me grin

Because you think that’s rather thin

Smoldering embers

There is a pure art to it

The way we dance around each other

You with your silent mask and air of conviction

Me, a nonchalant shrug, an unabashed disposition


A candle burning, under a jar

The flame weakening and gasping for air

Until one of us lifts the glass

Renewing the glow for a time…

Work in progress

You sit

Surrounded by books

In a chair stained with coffee

Eyelids heavy with the weight of expectation

The floor around you, scattered with scrunched up paper

Signs of a fevered mind, the scribbles of ingenuity, exasperation

Three mugs perched on your desk holding the remnants of last night’s fuel

Yet your words are exhausted, there is but one solitary sentence

Jeering at you from the scraps of an old torn envelope

Your fingertips trace the ink’s indentation

Then you smile, contentedly

You sleep.

Art of creation

The lines move on paper,

shuffling themselves into solid form.

He follows the marks with a pencil,

embossing the surface of a crisp white canvas,

keen to trap the marks before they disappear.

He is asked, often

How to create such beauty?

How does a mind wake, and create?

Yet he is left,

without words.

He cannot describe the sensation

The energy from his mind that travels

down through his fingertips

onto the page.

He can only follow the current,

Sparks of imagination flowing

and burning an image into existence.

From creation to genius

Genius to creation.

Our Merry Dance

Each evening you leave me,

Amongst broken whips and chains.

Yet every night, I follow you,

Like a dog.

Keeping notes of your pleasures,

your midnight secrets,

Your dreams.

And in the morning l lie,

Weary and worn, but wanting.

Then you leave me again.

This is our dance, you and I

Our waltz of passion,

My tango of shame.

You play out the steps well,

And I am a fool for your tune.