Category Archives: Poetry.

news.

there are a thousand
and one cliches
that you could use to describe
the situation
that went down yesterday.

“i never thought
it would happen to me”
is my particular favourite

for eventualities like this.

or perhaps
you prefer
“life will bite you
on the arse”, because
this –

this –

is all down to me.

history
has its own way of defining
who you are –
of shaping you into
some kind of person,
a being
treading the earth

we’re all just
bags of air, experience
and trauma

after all.

i’d only just got used
to the idea;
i never thought i’d say that.

i couldn’t tell you
because then you’d know –
and people judge
what they can’t understand.

i don’t get it myself
i feel it’s a punishment
for all i’ve done wrong –

but really,
i’m a good person.

i promise.

i looked to a day
with you
where the feet
were plentiful –

two
four
six
eight

pipe dream.
it’s fate,
they say.

fuck that.
i made it this way.


to wake…

to wake
on a cold september morning
and see the sunshine
stream through the
cracks
in the curtains
after a night
where the thunder
thrashed the skies and
the rain lashed the earth
and the lightning
scribbled flashes of
hot anger
onto the cold, grey canvas
of a dark night

is what it means
to live.


late on a saturday evening.

you called me
late
on a saturday evening

out of the
blue.

you’d caught me
unawares;
i hadn’t been expecting
you.

to hear you speak
was like
unearthing roman coinage
in my back yard.

so precious
amongst the ordinary
amongst the fabric
of my own life

for it to stroll back
in, swaggering slightly
knocked me for
six.

this “thing” we had
was made of bricks
once
but now
it’s just a pane of glass.

you never told me what
you wanted to ask.


me.

i have this condition.

i never speak to my
exes
for fear that I may
fall
into a chasm of regret

i eat jam
from a spoon.

i stream shows
late into the
night
whilst smoking
alone

i set up
businesses that
inevitably
fail.

i avoid the
front row
and i avoid
those who know
me

i like
rocky 3.

i sleep with your
photograph
within arm’s reach
because
something within me
says that
if i can touch it
then you never really
left.

i keep your
ashes
in my handbag
in a coffee
jar.

i fall for all
the wrong
men

and when

they leave
i blame myself.

i don’t look
into the mirror
and see
a friendly
face

in case
you were
wondering

i go to his
place
and leave bits of me
there

so he doesn’t
forget
me

because one day
i know he will
leave me
too

and if he has
my book of
poetry

then one day
long
in the
future

the words
may make him
change
his
mind


grandad.

You are not lying in that bed.

Instead
You are swinging my youthful
grandmother between your knees
Toes tapping to the beat.
Teddy boy, with feet
like rampant, fluid wildfire;
You are not lying in that bed.
Instead
You have donned a purple wig
and wrinkled old stockings
And you’re singing, with a smile
In your own inimitable style;
You are not lying in that bed.
Instead
You’re fighting angry tentpoles
In a freezing winter field
With a twinkle in your eye
“We’ll be comfy!” – what a lie!
You are not lying in that bed.
Instead
You are holding out a strong hand
To hold on, tight, to mine,
to show you’re there, and will remain –
You won’t let me feel such pain;
You are not lying in that bed.
In my head
We are dancing
In Bulgaria, 93
Can you feel it?
Can you see?
There are things I want to tell you
That you’re never going to know
Unless I keep the faith inside me
That your hearing’s yet to go
So I grab the chance with both hands
And I lean over to kiss you
And I hope you leave me knowing
That I’m really going to miss you –
You are not lying in that bed.

a shit poem about a cough.

i cannot remember the sound of my voice
because right now, it just resembles white noise
or a spluttering engine, the cutting of wood,
i’ve tried linctus and pills but it’s no fucking good,
i’m awaking at midnight to hack up my lungs –
phlegm is expelled at a flat rate of tonnes:
i know that’s disgusting, but i feel that it’s right
that you join in the process whilst I’m feeling shite
i’m on four hours’ sleep (and that’s since Sunday)
when i manage to drift off, i’m dreaming that one day
soon i’ll wake up and be able to speak
my sore throat will be gone; my fever peaked,
i won’t stink of sickness; my hands won’t be clammy,
my mouth will taste normal; my hair won’t be greasy,
my skin will recover; i’ll be able to walk
my throat won’t feel like i’ve swallowed dry chalk –
but the end of that tunnel feels miles away
i’m hot, then i’m cold, the dry tickling of hay
at the back of my pharynx is driving me mad
it’s the worst fucking cough that i’ve ever had
a repeat of a shit film last night made me cry
my red, puffy eyes make me look like i’m high
i’m chucking back syrup and blowing my nose
the river of snot won’t respond to the dose
it just keeps pouring out at a steady rate,
my face looks more like a monster’s of late
or a small child, an old man, a tired old hag
i reckon it’s high time i gave up the fags
and the booze, i just keep getting so sick
i’ve got to kick this virus – and quick
i’m missing my work; i’m missing my friends
i’ll kill for the day i’m finally on the mend
i’m pretty sure the sofa has a groove for my ass
i’ve increased tenfold my bodily mass
i need to get up; i need to get out
this tickling cough has got way too much clout.


andreas.

my guardian.
hair of a lion
face of a pirate
with a hug
that could induce
tears
i didn’t know
were inside me.

remember when
we made cartoons?
you rubbed out my stress
along with my mistakes
and gave me rum.

the smell of your jacket
will resonate in my head
along with the feel of your
hands on mine
that smile you do
when i moan about men
because unlike
the others
you listen.

the eternal optimist
you put your troubles
on hold
no matter how large –
how intimidating –
how life changing –
to help me.

when i thought
you were gone
i’d have flown
to the ends of the earth
just to hold your hand
one more time.

i nearly booked a ticket
even when you said
you were better.
well.

now you are leaving
and though i know
it will make you happy
though i know
it is what you want
and need

i want you to know
that to me
you are everything
and that
my friend
is hard
to let
go.