I'm never sure whether I love or hate poetry. Or indeed, quite how I'd describe it if pinned against a wall by a lunatic, and politely asked. I also wonder about the differences between poetry and lyrics, though that's easier: there isn't one - to me at any rate. I guess my poetry is just lyrics I haven't set to music, and visa-versa. Yes, that's what it is.
Anyway, I have a lot of 'it', littering up my drawers; crammed into corners in books I laughingly call 'Journals'; stuck to the walls with pins and sellotape.
Some of the poems here are lyrics. 'Angel', for instance, was a ... umm ... song I wrote in the 1980's - and it sounds like it. 'Synesthete 1' is a small section from a song called 'Talk About Your Feelings', which is as close as I've come to writing a theatrical song. One day I'm going to write a musical ... but this is about poetry, not dreams.
If you'd like to hear 'Talk About Your Feelings' then you can download it here. It's just over 3mb.
I'll be adding to this deposit/repository/selection/virtual tome on a regular basis. So, if you like any of it, then check back for more. I'm sure your therapist will come to a multi session arrangement with you! ;)
I hope you enjoy my 'stuff'. Either way, I'd like it muchly if you'd brave the horror to email this author a comment. Love it, hate it, at least I'd know. Thanks, you're the best! Oh, some of these poems have audio attached.
PS. One final thing. Punctuation. Some are and some aren't, and none of them have been 'edited'. That's because, on the whole, I'm happy with them the way they are. Any comments on punctuation will be gladly mulled over.
PPS. If you click on the square flowery graphic beneath each poem it'll bring you back to the top, and the menu.
If there is a point to all of this it's slipped me by
We're born, sleep a lot, make love, wither, die
Lessons we learn, trials we suffer through
Covered with sod or burnt, it is adieu
I strive to make a difference, yearn to carve my mark
Battle genetics daily to change apathy to spark
Yet if there is a point I'm afraid I don't see it now
Prithee tell me, I will be remembered how?
When you're stoned, or late at night
Don't write 'poetry' ...
Because the 'poetry' you write
Will inevitably be shite
I'm not sure who I am
The thing I know is that I like Sam
But Sam is a guy just like me
And that's not right I'm told - You see
I'm supposed to like Anne
She smiles and laughs a lot like Sam
But Anne is a girl and not for me
So I'm not right I'm told - You see
I don't care anymore
What anyone says or sees
The bestest present on Christmas morning
Would be Sam wrapped up for me
Thank you Santa,
There's a drink and a mince pie in the kitchen.
Every time I sense your heartbeat
I feel I'm getting close to you
Every time you move beside me
I think I must be getting through
Every time I start to miss you
I know you'll answer my call
Every time I make an error of judgment
You're there to stop my fall
Every time you sing those love songs
They send a shiver down my spine
Every time I'm feeling low down
You pull the sun out and make it shine
You're a real live Angel ....
Angst is just such a waste of time
Tell the one you love that love is around
And hopefully, fingers crossed, you’ll be fine.
If by chance you remember me
Do you think kindly of that child?
The lie I led designed to protect me from you
Still I yearn and I still crave
To live a life I cannot live
For fear of hurting those I cannot hurt
Another lie to stop the tears
That want to flow, to soothe lost years
Reclaim a time when summer never ends
I watch removed, abstracted mind
Ponders youth, my youth was blind
It was never you - the coward there was me
And as you dream if I should happen by
I'd like to think we'd still say 'hi!'
And laugh as if the years had never been...
The posties red van arrives
A shiver straight down the spine
Bills to break a Camel's back:
beat him with a paper spline
Is it right the way you do business?
To threaten, cajole, then destroy
Is it wrong to eschew the letters you send,
and the telephone calls you enjoy?
Yes! - the blame's squarely the Camel's
For the credit you offered he grasped
Now you sit in your tower taping those keys,
as you demand a pound of his arse
You don't offer 'A Worry Free Future'
You are not 'Our Global Friend'
You are Shylock PLC dot com,
and you've started a worrying trend
The Devil sits on your shoulder
And offers you ersatz cigars
As you giggle and plot our downfall,
while you pick a new company car
Blind red rage fills me this morning,
I’m angry at pain, at anger itself
Who has the right to tell me I’m wrong;
For saying I love you, for loving you this way
Black thoughts and blades tell me I’m falling
Rivulets of blood don’t ease anymore
Rip strips from heaven for its pious blind nature
I’m human, I breathe, so what if I’m gay?
Cheery cheery me
Razor blade and morphine free
Can't take the final step
No one to feed the cats you see
What I do with my cock is my business
It’s consensual, it’s my choice, it’s my private affair
You read your scripture; I don’t poke your eyes out
Leave me alone - you don’t like me, think I care?
The tenets you follow are the same for us all
Be good to your neighbour, don’t covet or kill
So get on with your life and leave me to mine
We all have blood; to live with, not spill
Footfalls light and crisp in the park late at night
I'm high, I'm here, I know I'm queer and cruising seems right
I'm watched and I pretend that I'm not just like they are
Cock is the one in charge and he's burning with desire
Lighters flare then fade as cigarettes glow
Muted voices chuckle, others in the know
No one is here for love all are driven by lust
The moans of those enjoying a momentary trust
Leathered men creaking, peaked caps pulled very low
Pale rouged youths parading as if in a show
Predators walk amongst us I imagine dripping fangs
All I want and all I need is sex, some wham bam man
"Ouch! where did that come from?" he said
plucking the arrow from his breast
As he glanced across the dining hall
at the one he hated - but now loved best
"Oh no he's seen me looking!" he muttered
and forlornly sunk his head on chest
Then on his next sneak peak their eyes locked
and they both felt a deep unrest
"No, no, no, this can't be real!" he cursed
as both of them got to their feet
And in front of all their friends
they blushed, then kissed and finally were complete
Laughing in the rafters
Cupid danced with glee
"Another couple of pining fools
are happy now, thanks to me!"
I hold the blade and we look at each other
I know what I need, and it winks and agrees
But the coward within me is leaping and screaming
And my muscles refuse though my inner voice pleads
“The first time’s the worst” I mutter uncertain
The blade it just sits there glinting with glee
But I can’t - oh you will - no I won’t - you’re a fool
As I creep ever closer to cutting - to bleed
The blades razored edge begs my body’s meniscus
One small stroke and I’ll have what I want
But I’m screaming inside “this isn’t the way”
Though unloved and hurting; cutting’s not what I need
I need to be strong, I need to realise the truth
I need to be loved though it might take some time
I need more than anyone can possibly imagine
And back in its box the blade’s finally freed.
Dad is in the cupboard
Underneath the stairs
It's probably best a secret
Though I'm sure he wouldn't care
Dad is in the cupboard
Or is he in the loft?
It's typical he can't be found
When it's time to dust him off
Time has healed the rawness
Though I still miss him a lot
He should be under glorious skies
Not stuck inside a pot
Sorry I don't write quatrains
I only have a simple brain
It tells me Haiku's daft
Oh, don't you see?
I think you do
Sorry pentameter's out to lunch
Iambic or not I have a hunch
It'll pass me by, I'm daft
As surely you'll see
I know you do
I've been thinking about you a lot
Your embrace, oblivion, the end
Yet if I come with you, what prospect for another turn?
What chance have I to put it right again?
For sure it depends on belief
But is my belief in another life strong enough
And as I don't remember the last one what's the point
I like who I am but sometimes the pain is just too much
Is death a Goth with a damn big sythe
Does he cackle as he collects your soul
Or is he a nonsense we’ve all contrived
To make the end seem palatable
Back, back I say
to the cat who's after my dinner
She meows and looks pathetic
knows a juicy prawn I'll eventually give her
On a street not too far from here
a child hunting through a bin
is cursed and chased away
for hunger and begging are society's sin
The cat sleeps on the porch
as the child in tears runs by
The earth revolves once more
as the sun sets in the sky
In the east a child hits a cat on the head
and guts and skins and fillets
In the west the idea of eating our friends
would cause epicurean melees
Does love come with built in obsolescence?
Does it trigger x years down the line?
I know I love you as I stare into your eyes.
But who knows what will happen: if in years to come,
I'm suddenly struck deaf, dumb, and blind.
Will you care for me? as I enter my dotage.
Will you wipe up dribble, and plenty worse to come?
Or will you say “adieu! it was fun while it lasted:
I'll send you a card when I'm back in town,
now I'm afraid I've got to run.”
Perhaps we'll sit in rocking chairs, on the back veranda,
taking in the rays as the sun begins to set:
Spinning yarns of the friends we've lost,
and the children we've never had.
Oggling the nurses - erectile dysfunction sad.
Or perhaps we'll go out in one last blaze of glory!
“Thelma and Louise? Pah! those centenarians knocked them flat!”
We'll stage a coup and run the world, the way it should be run:
End all war, strife and famine; fix the climate,
and be back at the home … just in time for lunch.
He’s mine and I love him, and it’s none of your business
If we hold hands or kiss why should you care
Perhaps you’re afraid of your own darker feelings
Yet you follow the pack, and you’re mean, and you stare
You prod and you poke and you push and you laugh
And you love to see blood and you barf after dark
Yet you bleed deep within for all of your bluff
You know the truth – you want to suck cock
So leap from the closet the way you run track
Be truthful, be honest, it won’t hold you back
If you think you’re alone, you’re not - can’t you see
We’re all here to help, just be who you should be
Hindsight, sweet hindsight:
that wasted time when
days stretched to months
and months to years:
Subtle unsure glances -
I knew I loved you but
could never say:
reciprocation a dream
hidden like me.
I don't wear chaps
so neither is he,
My doors have handles
he's not a 'nob', you see
He's not my 'Junk', my 'Thing'
or my 'Mate'.
And he certainly isn't
He's asleep at present
with a smile on his 'face'
He won't comment on
knickers frilled with lace
He's rampant at times
but won't take the name
He loves who he loves
without shame or blame
He hates French Letters
and the postman too
But he knows they're required
though they turn him blue
He's calm at times
though he gets quite wild
And when he's in the mood
his language isn't mild
A misanthrope misogynist
with haughty aspiration
who comes to life regardless
if his chain is yanked - elation!
If a single word I say makes sense -
the word is love
If a single thought I have rings true -
that thought is you
And I am better off for it -
for the fact is ... I love you
And as I write the world revolves
And as I sit my problem's solved
And as I yearn to see his face
And as I cry "I'm no disgrace"
I should, I will, I have to say I'm sorry.
And as they tell their bare faced lies
And as I weep I thought you'd try
And as our love breaks, flies away
And as the truth is that I'm gay
I should, I will, I have to say I'm sorry.
And what is real and what is false
And does it matter I love someone else
And is what we have just a broken dream
And does friendship count in this war torn scene
I should, I will, I have to say I'm sorry.
Was it right for our politicians to cozen us so?
Was it right to invade without a unanimous 'go'?
Was it right to attack with missiles and bombs,
while reporters reported with western aplomb?
"They could destroy us all!" We were told.
We must help our friends - be in the fold.
We'll topple saddam he's a bad, bad man …
and control their oil - that's a fucking good plan!
But what of those who live peaceful lives?
Who struggle to love, laugh and survive.
Who have no idea of the hell we'll cause,
as we sunder their country, and hope for applause.
Is it wrong they fight back with whatever's to hand?
Is it wrong they believe in jihad for their land?
Is it wrong they fight 'foul', and blow themselves up?
Is it wrong they ask Allah to give them some luck?
Zing zing zing the bullets go.
Crump kaboom a cartoon show.
But the blood's too real, the pain's obscene.
An abhorred invasion on the tv screen.
was it wrong? How can it possibly be right?
I could curse you!
I could - but I won't;
For I love you much more than
Jake ‘the Ferret’ loves Bobby, his Stoat.
Down the trousers, up the tunnel
Commonality’s we both share:
Though Jake's are real, and mine just dreams,
He doesn't worry if people stare.
He doesn't mind if people whisper,
He doesn't mind if people scream;
Jake's singularly single minded,
Heap dead Rabbits - his only dream.
I'm far too shy, and he's born to kill;
A big difference I'll freely allow.
Though guys are better than Rabbits,
And alive in bed - not dead, I'll avow.
My muse is not a whore
My muse just loves to tease
Whenever I'm in a rut
I have to beg him on my knees
This actually hurts a lot
As he lives on a pebbly beach
Between the high and low tide marks
His favourite food is peach
Which might explain this poem
As peaches don't grow here
And, he says, when he's away
I write like a startled deer
Coke I like, it’s such a laugh!
My dealer wears a Gucci scarf
She drives a brand new purple Beemer
And is always there when ever I need her
So I credit her with time well spent
And love her like an innocent
Yet when I need an extra gram
She credits me with not a cent
Then I took to heroin
My dealer was a guy called Jim
He sold to keep himself in shape
Jim the man I’d love to hate
At first I snorted and felt really sick
Then I smoked, boy what a kick!
When finally the needle struck home
It was time to leave it well alone …
Of course by then it was far too late
The horse had bolted, why shut the gate?
Time and tide wait for no one
Now finally I'm free of smack
I’m glad to say I found the knack
Some friends just didn’t … wasted lives
The karmic wheel has a vicious side.
No matter your look; I'll know it's you
No matter your mood; you pull me through
No matter what; you're mine and I care
I'm here and I love you; let them all stare
No matter the weather; come rain or come shine
No matter your state; blue funk or sublime
No matter; whatever is getting you down
I'm here and I love you; I'll wipe off your frown
No matter the trouble; you cause for us all
No matter the distance; I'll see you don't fall
No matter the past; the tears shed at night
I'm here and I'll love you; from dawn to dawn's light
29th Feb 2008 - a leap year poem!
The pleasures of masturbation
Are too many to really write down
But no matter your sex, colour or creed
A good wank will not let you down
No matter if you're left or right handed
No matter if you're straight, bi or gay
The pleasures of masturbation
Make us groan and shout hip, hip hooray!
When your other half sulks in 'a moody'
Or you fancy the neighbour next door
A good half an hour with wank rag and shower
brings pleasure and adds to your score.
Walking around square boxes in horizontal steps
The domes and spires of Godly trust to me seem very apt
Embracing Phi will make you high you'll see it everywhere
The divine proportion in your lovers face, in a tigers burning stare
In a butterflies wings, in a penguins stance, believe it's meant to be
Talk the talk and sell your art blind men will sometimes see
From the distance of the planets to the division of saturns rings
To the shape of the universe itself the divine proportion sings
acoustics, architecture, colour, poetry, credit cards
Music, maths, geometry, cosmology and art
The stock market, theology, DNA and life
The divine proportion, the golden number clearly underlies
Bacon crackles, pigs weep
Eggs sizzle, hens cry
This goes on day after day
And who cares, you or I?
Bleak black bastard of a crappy day
The bank phones many times
Hip hip hooray you've answered the phone
"you're overdrawn you worthless swine".
"Are you calling from the local branch?"
"No, the branches are all closed down.
We're calling from Mumbai in India.
Where it's cheaper, you stupid clown!"
Computers make the world go around
Your skills are now worthless to us
Redundancy is the brand new black
You're FIRED! Don't make a fuss.
So we'll wander the streets laptops in bags
What's in store for humanities future?
Luddites we'll be: come one and come all
For computers are not nature or nurture
Societal change brings inevitable pain
It lurches and leaps - prods us forwards
Silicon chips are ringing the death knell
for those who never thought they were backwards
Whilst the state is cowed by conglomerate power
And Politicians are run by their backers
We have no real say no matter our thoughts
As the ones with real power are hackers
So the shop on the corner is gone for good
As supermarkets are so much cheaper
And the world that I live in my grandpa wouldn't know
And he'd say: "dig my grave a lot deeper."
I knew it was a rubicon I was going to cross
And I hesitated many times
Watching your tow haired ruby lipped smile
I dreamt of caressing your rosy cheeks
Of running my fingers through your hallowed locks
As I tried to guess how you would take the news
That I love you
My Sock Monkey's left me
now I've found a real man
he sits there in the corner
plotting big sock monkey plans
It was me and him for many years
we loved so very much
whenever he got crusty
I'd wash him out post brunch
He'd dry upon the line
and when the day was done
it was back inside to my bedroom
for another night of fun
He'd nod at all my dreams
and whimper sweet harmonies
he'd soothe the pangs of guilt I felt
as I sailed the unknown seas
But he's not keen on my beau
I've seen him pout and glare
If looks could kill my sweetheart would
have fallen down the stairs
Spam is the bane of my life I moan
As I sit at my desk and write hard
Crafting long missives selling penis enlargement
To the upper east side of the park
On weekends I find that hanging large weights
Does nothing at all for my length
Though fretting and whining over what is 'real' spam
Makes for great chat room gossip with Sven
I hope that's his name, though I don't know for sure
He lives across oceans so vast
He seems young and cute though his avatar's a newt
Am I dumb? Is he having a laugh?
We spoke at long last - we'll never meet
His Zimmer won't fit on the plane
And the nurse at the home says he lives all alone
And only has half of his brain.
So the spam continues to stuff up the bin
And my heart is broken - damn Sven
More money invested to find me a 'man'
I need a new chat room - again!
My penis is too small I'm told
By those who must be psychic
For though they've never seen 'my friend'
They say he should be mighty
He's a paltry thing - below average size
Until you apply our special cream
Then vastly enriched in volume and power
His new size will make them all scream
But who are you to impugn me so?
To insinuate 'my friend' should be bigger?
I've had no complaints - of that I'm damn sure
Let me trash your emails with vigour
Might I suggest your brains are small
Smaller than the average shrew
And if you send me anymore spam
My next response will upset you too
For then I might suggest your mother
Lay with the milkman's flea bitten dog
And that your smile - cute you think it is
Is more like the maw of a raddled old hog
So please keep your spam away from me
Let's end this unfortunate farce
Or I'll track you down with printed missives
And shove them far, far up your arse
Euphemistically speaking my member's a phallus
or is it the other way around?
Then frankly, quite honestly I don't give a damn
Provided he amazes and astounds
I've known a Pecker, a Pete - seen a Putz
And my friend Little John has a Ron
But naming my chap isn't top of the list
As I'm in training for 'The World's Biggest Dong!'
We met on the net my trainer and I
When I clicked on a lewd and rude spam
He seemed quite upset that I wasn't fourteen
But a grown man of thirty called Bam
I'm sure to win - my trainer told me so
Though I questioned the envelope of cash
When I met him in the men's room at the station
I was worried I might get a rash
He suggested he hold my wallet
Whilst I stripped for publicity stills
More fool him I thought gleely
As I pretended I was a policeman called Bill
Clutching his chest he fell over
It was really quite poignant at the last
As I had his spam emails safely in my bag
And didn't get to shove them up his arse
have caught me out before,
but now I'm definitely in control,
it won't happen any more.
‘He’ popped up at the doctors:
who blushed; coughed, and wrote a note.
'He' sprang to attention when I saw the guy,
who stars in my favourite soap.
‘He’ didn’t pay attention,
when I begged him to behave:
I had to pretend it was all a joke,
when I bussed a guy called Dave.
The next month ‘he’ was harder;
more than ‘he’ was soft.
I remember the discomfort very well;
‘He’ was a bitch, though well aloft.
Then a subtly creeping anguish,
forced me to sit and think …
it wasn’t girls that got ‘him’ excited,
it was guys - some dressed in pink!
It was guys ‘he’ liked, and no mistake:
It was guys who floated ‘his’ boat.
Girls did nothing; zilch, nada, zip -
but guys let ‘him’ freely emote….
I'm black on white I'm white on black
I'm never to be found
I'm tempted green and tempered red
but never ever aloud
I'm grey as grey I'm black as black
if you ever find me down
I'm the orange one, the purple one,
when the inner blue allows
I'm straight as straight or bent as bent
but who will know the truth
I'm kind as kind or a sarky git
though bred to be aloof
I'm a happy soul with a hearty laugh
who cries a lot inside,
though when it comes to the final crunch
I guess I'm glad to be alive.
I walk the line between the sane,
and all of those whose minds are maimed,
all those who don't know me - but hate 'me' none the less.
Yet the line I walk this autumn day refreshes my heart,
gets wider by the second as hope converts the misery
to more tolerant forms of pain.
But the pain remains, and always so,
until I find the one I know is out there waiting for me:
And out there waiting for me he is,
though we haven't met just yet....
When we do all my previous incarntions will vanish
in less time than it takes an atom to have lunch:
Shyly we'll smile
"I am me" I'll say,
and he'll reply "I know...."