Love Lost

We were once

Now in twain

Forever more

I am in pain

I hope you’re well

I’ve no idea

Please do tell

If you care

It’s you I miss

Not love

Not loss

Once you I kiss

Hopefully again



The Not Too Distant Future(?)

Magic green purity,
Smeared with dark icing,
Bitter, at the taste,
For those who remember.
Postmodern minds,
Relish the aroma,
Of destruction.
It binds the planet,
Squeezing forth pain.
Old mother shrinks,
Under incessant blows.
Violently she dies,
Covered in blackness,
Thicker than blood,
Till alone man stands,
Panting in the aftermath,
With a monster of selfish creation.
Trust #Americans to mix #money with #religion


That’s enough.
Is it?
Excess is dangerous.
Success is dangerous?
No, excess.
Success is excess.
So is failure.
Are you perfect?
Are you successful?
Are you a failure?
You’re both!?
They walk the street, hand in hand, under soft glowing lamps.
I’ll succeed where you’ve failed.
Try instead, to succeed where you’ve failed.
A shadow then, will I chase.
Everyone catches theirs.
Not everyone chases it?


Fatal Flaws

Be there perfection,
In an imperfect world.
The waste-basket of time,
Clears away the trash but,
Where does it go.
To a land where problems live,
When dealt with they have been.
They return, seemingly at random,
To those who deserve,
And those who don’t.
Then cast off once more,
With an emphatic flourish.
Some become tired of problems
And keep the ones they have.
Others find new ones,
Wearing a veil of hope.
Inevitably, they dig our grave,
Lower us in with a tear,
And lay the first flower.


Ode to Absent

Finesse is found in many things, those things we choose to see,

Though some of us are blind, finding coarseness in beauty.

The imaginative smooth diamonds, from the seemingly banal,

When even a mud-black river, can be a Venetian canal.

With you it takes no effort, to strain for refreshed eyes,

From your velvet, curly locks, to your cream-white thighs.

You exhibit the boundless energy, of the eternal sun.

And impart it to others, on which they blissful run.

What are you doing right now, as you read this ode to thee?

In ignorance I can be sure of one thing: you’re smiling gaily.

Because you always are, those sweetly upturned lips.

One thousand sorrows couldn’t dampen your life-thirst-sips.

Thoughts of you conjure forth many a mental flower,

Which creates in my mind’s garden a rainbow bower.

Your single tear-drop mole below your left earth-eye,

Gives life to my garden and flies its leaves towards the sky.

Though to stop your real tears arising from anything other than joy,

I’d become a Nordic god and with my hammer your enemies, destroy.

But I am by nature a peaceful man, floating passive like a cloud,

And with my loving fingers, dear, I’d only make your pleasure loud.

I stand at the station and look upon other ladies walking,

But to them, compared to you, I couldn’t see myself talking.

They seem to be missing something, like butterflies without wings,

Or perhaps it’s simply me, missing the flight your smile brings.

(Another 2010 poem. Not one of my favourites.)


Tears’ Shape

She grabbed my hand and soared me silently toward the sky,

Purple rain in cascading rivers on my face til the cloud burst.

I soared in this half-Heaven for a while, stroking my own heart,

Till her unseen presence called me back a new man, feeling like the first.

We whispered liquid dreams pumped straight to each others’ soul,

Carving and moulding a de-thorned rose being from shared experiences.

The days stretched before us like fields gilded in the sunlight,

And we spoke of gently sailing hands held over drag-down fences.

Lightning flashed from her eyes waking me from unrealised sleep.

Perfumed words embraced the beautiful and poisoned the evil.

My fingers followed the endless curve of her spine into oblivion,

And flicked while rising over pearly buttocks to the dawn’s reveal.

Everywhere music played from omnipresent tearful sources,

Rising in pitch at each touch of our damp-tissue flesh.

Until the net spread below like silk-moisturised hands,

And we bent forward smiling then plunged through the mesh.

We were wrapped together like returned butterflies to the cocoon,

And we were happy.

We chased each other through its soothing folds and laughed,

And we were happy.

We spoke of rainbow people never lifting a hand in anger,

And we were happy.

We slept for untimed days of radiant bliss,

And we were happy.

She had gone when I woke,

And I was concerned.

She disappeared,

I was anguished.

(I wrote this poem in 2010.

It might be the first poem I ever wrote. It’s certainly the first I ever put in my Facebook notes section.

I’ve published it here, now, because exactly what the poem describes, entirely, has just happened to me.)


Christianity and Capitalism

In the beginning there was Christianity

(Not really, but you know what I mean.)

And for a time it was good

Then Christianity got sick of its own 


(We call this the Enlightenment.)

And invented capitalism

And for a time it was good

Capitalism even won a war against 


(A system that also directs the most wealth to the least people but by less subtle means.)

And then things became not so good

For capitalism

(Much better for most sentient life.)

Because a central tenet of 


Is that competition breeds affluence 

And with no equally absurd

Evil system

To compete with

Capitalism collapsed under the weight of its own


The end.


Don’t let others’ define your truth

Normally I’m loathe to tell people what to


But this is vital

You will never completely understand 


(So stop trying.)

But the idea that

Anyone else 

Can understand you better than yourself 

Is farcical 

But don’t be dismissive 

There is truth to what they say

From their perspective 


Only ever at most

Blend it

With your perception 

Or at least listen


And sometimes reject 

It’s not that they don’t empathise with you

It’s just that

They don’t know

Neither do you

But you know better

I guarantee it

It’s up to you to

Consider it

Otherwise I would be trying to corrupt your truth with my


Which I will uncompromisingly always 

Be loathe to do.


Because you can

Because you should

Not because I said so

Go ahead

Tell yourself the


That reality is ridiculous

That you are free


Any suggestion to the


Was and remains farcical

The other option is tears

Also fine

You’ll one day be dead

In the meantime 



Live passionately 

But not because I

Told you to.