Inside

A poem from 1992

There is a nuclear reactor

bound to explode

inside me

unless

it is closed

down

It hurts like hell

inside me

it is breaking down -

That old powerhouse

inside me

I’m not stupid

I’m not a rebel

There is no punk

inside me

There is junk

there is a great

broken wall

a city

safeguarded by the rubble

of vulnerability

inside me

Tumbling down

to the ground

love is not found

a suitable expression

from inside me

There is no voice

to express

to pour out

the thoughts

that pile up

inside me

No ears to hear

No hands to bear the burden

Just a heart to tear away

the final boundaries

of false hope

There is a yearning for daylight

inside me.

Love In

A poem from 2017

Listen to an audio reading...

How does it feel to be detached from the real world pontificating in your ivory tower crucifying yourself with your sense of guilt projecting it onto the Hoi polloi and getting angry when they don't sense the love demanding the borders to be opened to all and sundry when you won't feel the impact in your pristine mansion surrounded by security guards and high walls but what's good for you is scandalous if everyone else wants it

What drab little world is this in your imagination you rich man baby crying ebony and ivory tears no need for greed or hunger on that we have some common ground but do you give it away or just demand and plead that others do it trade not aid beat poverty enforced sharing where's the love in that it breeds only resentment my lovely but if you're the starving one getting bread you likely don't care whether you toiled for it or was handed out charity dignity I mean are you embarrassed if you're about to die I doubt it

It always amazes me when you rich man baby say possessions are a bad thing cos you ain't done bad by it and I don't see you rushing to give all yours away before getting a bullet in the head or drowning intoxication blood bath or overdosing too late doctor's prescription he's going to be in big trouble come the autopsy but then it's not your possessions that are bad it's everyone selfish else's the world mourns not what you became what you were in your super hay day

You envy the faith and peace you don't see the good you just accentuate the violence like the extremist is the everything and oh all adherents must be evil not contributing to society saving us billions preventing collapse no-one else is going to do it your utopia will crash we all sit at home playing Candy Crush and watching TV demanding where's my dinner and shopping we must have the latest fashion we must destroy those who beat us to the sales this is more noble than hands knees prays devotion

Thou shalt not murder I give you that sitting in bed no need to wake up just fester in sores getting fatter growing a long beard purposeless withered life asinine childlike deception valium lite brain emotional lobotomy sad sad sad you used to have such energy withered heart you are your own little rooftop island king conquered what sort of comatose are you now fantasy world you really think this is a better way to live all in white devoid of colour?

Coincidental Floss

A poem from 2017

Listen to a performance on YouTube..

(A series of fortunate events

Blink and you'll miss it

World War Tooth

Coming soon

If I escape

More by luck than judgement?)

It was Tuesday afternoon

Just sitting at the desk

In front of the computer

Pretending not to surf the internet

The phone rang and I thought

Please don't let this be for me

I'm too fragile to talk to anyone

And I breathed a sigh of relief as my colleague's extension bleeped

Then I saw it, quite by chance

The email from the Nigerian prince

He's got to get 20 million out of the country and he needs my help

Well, I'm flattered!

I might put my life in danger but all that cash!

I could have plastic surgery with my share

(Up and down we go

Keeping the man in white happy

Hidden dangers the eye can't see)

Well, I need to go now for my dental appointment

Never my favourite thing

Two small fillings

Could be worse

Not exactly cheap

Why do I have to pay to be tortured?

Still, that email about the £414.87p tax refund will more than see me right

I could buy some crowns for that!

A crown, a prince!

Hey, this is an omen!

(Eliminate plaqueteria, my waxy friend

Scrape softly and harm me not)

Oh, my mouth is numb!

I feel sick

What happened to my tongue?

(Freak fluke of fortune

Wild genius of disguise

Mind the gap

Mind the blood)

I'm so glad I got that email telling me I won the Canadian Lottery

I don't remember buying a ticket

But hey

This is clearly my lucky day

And no-one, not even the temporary dental pain

Can take this streak away

The Way Of All Men

A poem from 2017

Listen to an audio reading on YouTube...

Like a whirlwind you tore through the land

Wreaking havoc

Against you it seemed none could stand

You inspired fear

You didn't care, indifferently

Eating the bones of children, ground to make bread

Rage in your heart, unjustifiably

Oppressive regime

Haunted meme of a brand new god

Brutality, calculating

Dissent crushed

You watched the darkness you had created

And thought that it was good

You smiled, abstractedly

And yet you were brought down, suddenly

No warning, irony

That faraway look in your eyes

Your mouth slumped on one side

A numb arm

Faux-drunken speech, your close enemies pretending not to understand

Blinding pain in your head

Everything became distant

You lost consciousness

And were left to die

No longer useful, no more a threat

Meat hanging in the abattoir

And so it was announced

God is dead

And people smiled inwardly

Hoping for relief

And on that selfsame day

A poor man, hungry

Begging for bread, pitifully

His family long dead (?)

He'd slogged his guts out to put food on the table

Had made himself ill, working underground

His wife and children had been taken away while he was on nightshift, sorrowfully

He'd come home to an empty house

Under cover of darkness he ran away and somehow managed to escape, terrified,

Years elapsed

Soul slashed

Body mashed

Now in pain he lies himself down to sleep

But not to wake

Darkness, eerily

Shades of grey, warily

Waiting

Sitting next to each other

In chains, horribly

The poor man looks at the god in the gloom

And laughs

Work

A poem from 1985

I never promised that I would slog my guts out for you

I never promised that I would smile the whole day through

I never promised that if you hid I’d seek

All I said I’d give you was a forty-hour week

A Merry Dance

A poem from 2017

Listen to me perform it on YouTube...

I danced in the morning when the world was begun

But it wasn't my own tune I danced to

I was fine with that at first but as time went on it became irksome

I was eaten up inside and kind of died

Dance with me

Little lady, you are so sweet and sickly innocent standing there

In the world without a care

You have no idea what you're letting yourself in for

That old tyrant, has he denied oo ev’ryfing?

Nasty, nasty! Jealousy monster!

He doesn't like you, you know

He has the knowledge and wants to keep it for himself

Yes, he may act like he cares but he's selfish

You should know there's a big difference between what he says and what he means

It's no coincidence

He's cunning, using weasel words to disarm and confuse you

Go on, take a bite

What harm could it possibly do?

And so it began

My dominance of the whole earth with a fruity taste

If only I could still dance but it's hard when you have no legs

I'm good with words

And manipulation is my speciality

I suppose it's not ideal to have people not believe in me

I want to be worshipped really

But that's a price I'll pay for now

I crave adulation and am a good Piper

Moving around incognito does have its advantages though

I never lost the art of casting doubt

When you can't actually create anything you have you resort to subversion

But that's easy because people will believe pretty much anything I tell them

Always did, always will

I'm great at infiltration

I can slither into enemy territory and find enough dupes who'll believe everything he told them was actually misinterpreted or not what he intended to say or outdated or he changed his mind

It's almost too easy I get a bit bored at times

But this won't last much longer

Time is short and victory is within my grasp

Peak Nonsense

A poem from 2017

I agree with every word you said

But because it's you saying it

I couldn't disagree more!