Sunday, 31 March 2013

a thing called closure

I had the strangest dream
yeah I remember
I had the strangest dream
I dreamt that I was back at the museum
one vacant winters night
and there I shared words with dippy:
that vacant winters night
at the museum, it was beyond trippy!
with the bones of a dead dinosaur
I saw, something 
something out of this world;
a beam of silver light
(from a UFO)
came streaming down from the ceiling
I was overcome by the strangest feeling.
I think I was missing
I think it was 'missing'
I think I miss the museum:
its coloured stones, its ageing bones 
human-beings and what-could have been's,  
-maybe, eventually-
friends, ah well dippy, he sends
his regards. 
(we depart: dippy and I)
but I long to go back to the beginning of time
maybe I could find; a way to say
(to myself)
-it's coming-
-it's already here-
-it's coming-
-there's nothing to fear-

hollow pages

so I bought 
this new sketchbook 
because well, I wanted to draw
the dead creatures that wore
empathy on their decaying flesh
yes, I wanted to draw, I wanted to etch
the dead flesh of the dead creatures
that spoke to me, that kept me company
during my duration
of madness
-inherent sadness-
-a certain gladness-
washed over me
I wanted to capture it
But then I left,
suddenly I left and now I'm left 
with too many empty pages
(memories of absent faces)
watch. silently. watch
-the dying phases of the moon-
soon be forgotten

behind church pews

four Muslim girls 
sunshine and colour
praying side by side
behind empty pews
St Mary the Virgin Church 
in the old city of Oxford  
each a third-
Christian, Jew, Muslim
each a third-
Black, Brown, White
are we really so different?
or is it all just an empty front?
a never-ending charade
that one day will come to fade
Children of Abraham 
-just let go-

-inside this crazy head

man there are just so many things that I wanta do!
it's true and as soon as I become whole again, 
man, there ain't nothing left for me but to start anew,
yeah when I get better, there ain't no stopping me, 
but first I just need to be
-perfectly aligned-
I gotta get well, cos shit man, I can't tell 
you how much I wanta do,
ima do so much excellent stuff! 
cos I've had about enough
of this static life
-first thing-
ima buy an ice cream van 
travel the country with a print-out map in hand
swim to the outer hebrides
-and then-
ima learn to fish, yeah ima go fishing every day 
ima establish my very own place
by the edge of a beautiful lake
-maybe meditate- 
who knows where, who know's how I'm gonna get there
but inshAllah I'm gonna get there
and man ima teach you all one thing 
in exchange you can teach me something too, 
or bring me a plate of food.
I ain't that fussed, trust. 
Man ima find God again. 
Lord, ima come back to You
ima discover a new life form, something blue, 
something in the form of a strange creature, 
that creature will teach you,
how to be
 and ima share its ideas with the preacher
that's right, the preacher
everyday and every night ima escape gravity
-its in humankind's capacity-
(know that)
ima sell my pokemon cards on ebay 
and use the money to stay
some place cheap
when I'm done I'll say  
yes ima say thank you, to the world
-with such valour-
every day ima say, thank you
and ima buy a chicken and fry up the eggs 
in some dusty garden in Sri Lanka
please thank her, for me, for the idea.
I'm gonna see
my plans through. 
Most importantly though
ima find God and free myself from all worldly matters.
-till then-
ima jam with the anarchists and the philosophers
write manucripts, walk through the salt lakes of bolivia
ima build a space ship and travel to the moon
how soon, how soon do I have to wait
before I can re-create myself, my life-
before I can buy that juice bar
in trinidad or was it panama?
man I got so much living to do 
and you, why don't you
just break free with me!
In a moment of clarity
yeah and I'd play the bongo with da beatniks, 
read these whacked out poems aloud 
to those with passion in their hearts, 
I think ima also make my fam proud
but first ima nick a rickshaw 
and drive across the korakoram highway 
straight through to china
maybe work on the rice paddies
maybe make friends with a farmer 
or some ardent learners, along the way
I call this living! I hafta say, man I hafta say 
this be the life, for me. I can't wait to be
whole again. So I can send
you postcards from every corner of this earth,
mirth in my eyes, as I write
this poem, yeah ima take photo's all around 
and tell my stories 
to anyone who'll listen, listen
ima pound my fist against every door
ima realise what it's all for; life, existance
yeah ima walk to Mecca
 and follow in the footprints of the holy
ima make it to the promised land, solely 
for Your sake.
See every time I'm afflicted 
my mind, it remind's me of all the places I want to go 
and all the things I want to see, all the things I wanta be
but then I forget. I set
myself up for nothing. But not this time.
this time man ima sit in a cafe in cuba
where ima play the tuba
for a bit of loose change; to get me through
the day
man the life I wanna lead, it ain't no life of greed.
It will bring me to nowhere-ness.
ima ride back, on a horse through Mongolia
bum around with my nomad pals
and yeah
ima do my wudu in streams and rivers everyday 
ima pray, in some beautiful place
on mountain tops and desert sands.
ima write another book, a better one, just lend me a hand 
beautiful one, lend me a hand
ima go on an epic road trip 
through America. ima break into Macbeth's castle, 
play make-belief by the ruins in peru
Ima ride my scooter, the kid's one, through 
some hills, maybe in Jeju Island near souf korea
Ima be a warrior!
 Ima make a film 
about something that actually means something
and ima dance under the stars to the sound of a waterfall
at night Ima call 
upon You. 
Ima be a proper muslim 
such a proper muslim that I won't care about doing 
none of this stuff no more
because well, there's so much more
to life than that
-exceeding beauty-
-exceeding beauty-
-exceeding beauty-

riggy and i

To the folks at 
spring personnel; 
I wonder could you tell 
that we were sisters? 
cos' we sure looked different
on the surface; 
riggy and I
she looked like one of you 
with her neat smile, her bangs 
and her immaculate shoes
and her make-up that made up 
another dissimilarity
I guess for the sake of clarity 
I stuck to my reebok classics
and in classic sy fashion
I left them out one night
and returned in the morning to find
that the fox had ripped them to shreds
they're still outside now;
the shreds; torn apart; 
only threads
But despite our outward differences
our manner of speaking
it's intriguing 
how similar we actually are
 riggy and I;
we're part of an undying star.

Saturday, 30 March 2013

A Boy Called Donnie

Do you believe in time travel? 
Frank the giant rabbit asked Donnie
-do you believe in time travel?-
slowly, so slowly all began to unravel
-like an axe through bronze-
like the painted swans
that watched Cherita Chen dance
(a sad dance)
the ex nun 
-Roberta Swan-
who walked to and from
a letter box, 
-awaiting the equinox-
-exposing the paradox-
of life
grandma death, she said- 
'every living creature on earth dies alone'
he thought perhaps, I don't want to die alone
but I must atone, for my sins-
Donnie, son, you didn't give a damn 
about Jim Cunningham 
and his warped philosophy of fear 
...Jim didn't dare
look you in the eye
because he knew
he knew you were right...
she asked you some nights later
'Is the search for God absurd?'
and you voiced your thoughts
It is if we all die alone
came your reply Donnie,
she left a message on your mother's phone
a ghost message, it was never received
Donnie, do you know that Frank 
he turned your mind blank
you didn't thank him enough, 
you just carried on talking about buff 
smurfs. He told you to do it.
You burned it to the ground
you found 
a way of travelling back in time
and if violence is a product of fear
of course you were scared,
admittedly, you were scared
It messed you up. It made you see.
I believe, Donnie, I believe that
you are a troubled and confused young man-
Donnie I believe that you were part of a plan
God's time, destiny allows you to see 
into the future,
and you can try
you can try
to cut it out with the sutures  
but pointing the gun
-paralysed by fear- 
it ain't the answer, son-
Or is it, and why
why why why why
why are you wearing 
that stupid man suit?
It doesn't suit you, it doesn't suit who
you are soon to become,
that gun, put it away Donnie
'I hope when the world comes to an end 
I can breathe a sigh of relief 
because there'll be so much to look forward to'
you said that. it all made sense.
you didn't look so tense, then. you looked as ease
what happened to your eye? don't lie-
I won't let it slide;
sometimes I doubt your commitment to sparkle motion-
what a commotion, Donnie, what a commotion
you stirred! by burning it to the ground,
you found, a way to confound certainties
though action, through questions,
through aggressive behaviour 
Frank, was he your saviour? 
you tapped the knife against the mirror
-break, break, break-
-take, take, take-
me back to the beginning.
I just want my son to experience some relief
and I have to believe, 
that I'm doing right, your mother said
cellar door:
prescribed nonsense, you call this clarity
let me teach you about this thing called charity
I'm trying to save these kids, in a bid to save myself
I don't want to die alone
-replace it with a sunset against the grand canyon-
Frank, when's this going to stop? 
drop. drop. drop
erase the past


your interior
its crumbling;
your two cities 
damascus and aleppo
-it's troubling-
that a civilisation so great
should suffer such a sorry fate
ravaged by violence,
too long we've been silenced;
you've become a mirror
for the discord and pain 
wracked amongst our people 
this fighting, is it all in vain?
and here, connected
for all our lands are affected
all our lands
(all arid sand)
are soaked in blood
perhaps its for time another flood
to wipe us out
and wash the streets clean
Beloved Noah, could it be foreseen
this obscene, state of nature?
for now its clear, that the earth needs 
cleansing before commencing
to rebuild
the city
the lost city of damascus
What you used to be,
I remember it so clearly-
your lively souks, your beautiful spirit 
these empty lyrics 
they do no justice,
mountains surrounded you 
(honest and true)
and the ummayad mosque 
gleaming, so seeming
untouched for centuries
this timeless city
where the holy walked
I never thought 
it would happen
not like this
-we've been decieved-
and it's hard to believe
that slowly you're being destroyed
I remember that moment of peaceful
on a hightop overlooking the city 
at night, the lights
they shone so bright
Now, here, torn asunder
the oldest civilisation
-a clap of thunder- 
humankind with each blunder
do you not learn, do you not take head
humankind do not plead
for the olive trees bear witness
to every action and every inaction
syrians: of this kind
life, how did it grind 
to a halt, who's fault 
is it: the continuation
of the occupation 
of a broken city 
once so pretty
what a heart-wrenching pity
that it's come to this 
I don't understand still 
why so much blood is being spilled
and why we just go on living
when we're all human 
when its been proven 
so many times before
that war
is hell
war is hell.


are you from privilege? 
I should have said yes
cos' the more I think of it
the more I realise that less
is more, and the more obvious 
it becomes-
see I got food in my stomach 
and a roof over my head
I got everything I need to live
so I should've said yes
but its funny 
back there
back in the city of dreams 
I would only eat veg 
I would wash in candlelight
-cold water in winter-
i would cook and clean
and stare at the stars and just dream 
at night
rarely would I watch tv
more often I would just share stories 
about the worlds beauty
to the guru's and the children 
and I gotta say that was privalege
love is privalege
but a different kind, it was sublime
that life; that was living
giving and giving
and learning
and I'm burning 
to go back, 
no. not back, but forwards
I wonder though 
am I just remembering wrong?
see they often say that I
remember things different 
to how they really were
'really' I don't know much 
about 'really', but actually 
actually I want my dream to come true
I want to create a new 
world, a microcosm 
of pure joy 
of simple privilege
one day
one day I hope to cross that bridge...

in awe

cool air
the smell of fire
streams of golden light;   
the final hour
is dawning upon us all,
there's no time left to stall
there's no time left to call
upon your witness
-the time has come-
the time has come now
for you to bow 
your head
in awe
all other chances
have vanished into the smoke
of an uncertain history...

Friday, 29 March 2013

say nothing

time to define
who I am, 
where I'm going
right now 
i'm thinking of throwing 
it all out (again)
for You, 
see, I'm through 
with so much 
and so much 
is through with me
You've brought me to 
my knees (in a good way)
just give me the strength to say
Lord give me the strength to say

where am I again?

-there I was 
at a leaving do 
for two strangers
two strangers
I never even knew;
a feast of food
before me and 
unfamiliar faces
all around;
I was bound 
to retreat
before tears were shed, 
tears of the two strangers
two strangers that I just met
before I lacked the graces
to say the right words
-the words blurred-
-they went unheard-
there i was;
impending departures
speeches and emotion;
not mine, not belonging to me
but I was going through the motions 
as I sat there
as I so often do 
and wondered
as I so often do 
where am? where am I again?
where am I?
I wish I knew...

cross the heavens

...changes- so I left;
and you deactivated your twitter
and travelled to Jerusalem 
I wish I went with you
to the promised land
I planned,
to cross the heavens that night
yes, that journey, it had to be right!
man, AG, I got so many questions
for the holy, I got so many questions.

red soil

I sat there
drinking tea with this
hard-core italian
humanitarian worker
and between sips
she kept on talking 
about walking 
lines in Mogadishu 
and loadin' up ak-47's 
...before the war, in Syria, 
that was heaven, she said
-now I know, she's led 
the fast life, 
in broken countries
I know she tried to do right
by the people 
not carin' about the monies;
she said she misses it
she said she doesn't fit into it,
stable living, I be trippin' cos
now she be contemplating 
becoming a fisherwoman
in a tropical land
man, I knew I was on to
something, and walking through 
Tottenham Court Road 
listenin' to 
'land of promise'
I promise you, I thought I knew
that my heart was buried
somewhere deep in Africa
somewhere deep
in Conrad's
Heart of Darkness...

coca cola girl

she da defination
of muslim cool
dat swagger, dat poise
dat power to overrule
any fool, dat's right-
dis girl yeah, she's proper bright
she's worked in a coca-cola factory
in somalia wiv da boys
(and she did so outta choice)
but now da sight of a coke can,
it brings back trauma
and so da girl don't drink coke no more
lemme explain; (without laying da blame)
on anyone, dey messed up da delivery
she couldn't sleep at night
from all da worry, so she told 'em
ship dem in from wherever
dis country needs some cola
and I endeavour;
 to make it happen.
 coca-cola girl, you so cool.

orange light and fragrant smoke

...fragrant smoke
orange light
two bums
sat there one night
laughing like maniacs
and puffing out melon fumes
sharing morbid jokes
and talking about the trouble that looms
shit that will one day come to pass
there in the freezing cold
there in some dodge shed
what led
to that moment in time-
one of the bums nearly died
yeah she nearly died
but she defied
she defied the harm
-she broke the alarm-
-she broke the alarm-
she smashed it up, proper
now nothing can stop her... light
fragrant smoke
-she broke
the alarm-
-she broke the alarm-

life: it's supposed to be hard

from all this trying
still I'm defying
it. yes, I'm defying it-
let me be brisk
let me just say this
life is hard
but it's supposed to be
so don't grieve
for too long 
pick yourself up
dust yourself off
shit happens 
and yes, I'm talking 
to myself again
Sy, just go at your 
own pace, have heart
don't disgrace
don't quit on life
not now, 
just don't quit.

flying rickshaw

...protests on the streets
crowds of people
the sky a deep pink
and a flying rickshaw
a flying turquoise rickshaw
are you sure
it happened that way?
I have to say,
that you my friend
are an idiot
who else
would befriend
a stranger in the gardens 
stalked on wheels
motorbike on tail
trailing through, failing to get to
any place
Grand Trunk Road
ah life, what a load
of strangeness-
laughing now at all the
stupid things I've done
what a plum!

the difference between want and need

the strangest days
tears of laughter-
of loss, of grief
what I'm after
I never get, but what I get 
is always better
for my soul, not my desires;
the strangest days
eluded by time
hidden in a secret place 
yes I got a new job, quit another 
a good friend left, 
but then came the other
and bones, night bones
she walks from 
to Brixton, 
an hour each way... 
I have to say 
I forgot cylops exist, 
humans beings incapable of 
being human...

there and here

-nine to five
this ain't no life
for me
man, i'm still lost
i still don't give a toss
about nuffink
but ima save up
and get me a juice bar
somewhere afar
perhaps trinidad
perhaps panama
sit in da sun
that be my next plan
ima run, ima run
man, I don't know
just like that
fings change
yesterday I was breaking up
with da museum
i was talking to fred
he said
ima kid and he be right, i am
and david and I, we be talkin
about afroman
but today, now i'm in
some random office off
shaftsbury avenue
it's true, this is my life
...another new start
praying in jummat
with random muslims
from random charities
in a place wiv
showers and twenty-four hours
office access
they be making me
a fire marshall 
cos I be certified
but i sure ain't qualified
and there on the floor
I sat next to some crazed nut
some neurotic skeleton
with wires for veins
man and I thought I was insane!
...and shrouded by
that same sterile light
sitting at my desk
i was still tryna fight
the urge, the growing urge to
walk, only day one
ima screwed...

go forward

It's been a real hard year
you know
that I'm proper scarred, yeah?
but listen, hear me out,
if the future is an abyss
and you're unclear of which
way to go
just go forwards,
just go towards,
the thing your heart wants-
because the pure heart 
well... the pure heart
is never wrong...

sunday morning

-one sunday morning 
bitterly cold
snow falls and 
the forceful wind
blows against me 
the streets are all empty 
a trail of blood 
leads to the cottage
fresh still-
I'm ill, 
so still, 
so empty
so alone
so hurt
I've blown 
and the wind blows me
and I still can't see 
-I bleed-
but I still don't take heed
I want to disappear into thin air
I want to forget I was ever here
(on earth)

deep end

i swam 
i swam 
I kicked my legs 
and I swam 
into the deep end
i swam

have heart

-another new start 
dear, have heart 
and just keep going...

what if...?

I sift
through each and every
what if... 
what if...what if...
I'm leaving again
and I don't know when
I'll ever go back
but it's strange,
this time
I feel like I'll be leaving
something behind
or someone
or perhaps the possibility
of someone
the idea...?
perhaps it's just the fear
it's not so hard to tear 
myself away from here
for there's no one that I really care
about, right?
but what if....
what if...what if...
no, no, no
I'm not doing this
I'm not looking back
I'm not losing track
of my vision
I have a vision
and they say
that when you want something
the whole universe conspires
to help you achieve it
so I'll leave it
I'll leave the what if's...
but what if...
what if...what if...
what if...

lone ranger

...don't bother trying to save me 
this is who i am 
a lone ranger
a wayfaring stranger
an outlaw, and I saw
this coming 
a million years ago, 
back when I was mere dust 
floating in outer space
but I have to admit man
it hurt. It really hurt
-that dark winters evening in march
standing on the platform at south ken
listening to 2pac life goes on 
and not being able to say sorry 
you not knowing why I was the way I was
and k I never said anything
because I couldn't say anything
I still can't do goodbyes
I'm still struggling to get by 
and f***, I'm hurting
I'm breaking, I'm burning
I'm turning 
it all around in my head
-wish I was dead
-wish I was dead
(wish I has said) 
something perfect
something that made it all alright
God knows what it's been like 
my life, these last few months...
God knows,
but still it blows 
that I left like this again.... 

Friday, 22 March 2013

vague, but beautiful

this vague life man,
it's beyond beautiful 
it's a fact man
it's irrefutable
for even the impossible 
in this world, is doable, 
if you just believe
if you just conceive
of it, so lead a life 
that's beautiful, that's full 
of all the good things
for good breeds good
so just take the time  
you just take the time
to seek it out, beauty, it's all about
it can be found in a smile 
in a supermarket aisle
or set against a sunset, 
from a high place,
from the roof of neasdon temple
 from the top of hampstead heath
beneath it all, there is beauty
just be and see, really see
the small details 
the shadows and light
everything's more than alright
when you just, 

Thursday, 21 March 2013

mountains: material and immaterial

so you went it alone
to the black mountains of wales
to the place that I failed- 
to reach, funny that you said 
you thought of me  
funny that I thought of you too
back last week,
back when I was feeling blue 
I'm still feeling a little blue 
if only you knew, but it's true
you can't
you can't reach out your hand
and keep me from going under
the world will be torn asunder
one day and one day
none of this will matter 
not you, not me
not the mountains
not the sea
look, I need to talk to someone;
maybe myself, maybe you
though I can only talk through
this poem..
the truth is: the truth is: the truth is:
the truth is I'm sick.
I've been afflicted
with a disease no one gets,
a disease that will not let 
me live the way I please
 this disease,
perhaps it's spiritual in nature,
but it doth enslave her-
it enslaves me 
hmm but maybe in another life 
I travelled to the black mountains
and you travelled to the coast
these synchronised encounters are most 
unusual and disconcerting
...hurting, I'm spurting 
out nothingness, to nobody
a shadow that once was
-at loss; I forgot. 
I wonder though unknowingly
did we depart on the same day 
did you feel the same way 
as me, sort of empty
sort of alone
did you fight the voices
in your head too- as you roamed, 
hmm we both made it
we both let it fade a bit
but its still there for the taking 
friendship, maybe...
-this stiff upper lip
i've inherited it
perhaps I was born to not to fit
into this place, perhaps I was born to 
to sit out of the things that matter 
and they tease me with possibilities,
beautiful ideas, for she's going to palestine
and I am here wasting time.
If only they knew
If only they knew. I tease myself too
I torture myself through and through
I guess maybe that's why 
I've stopped talking to people-
you know, let me tell you 
I wanted to stay in touch
very much
 I wanted to stay in touch 
but the circumstances were such
that I couldn't
can you tell I'm projecting
I'm talking to someone else through you?
I'm speaking to you
I'm speaking to you
(you're not reading this)
and I can't make you 
or anyone else understand the fact 
that physically, I have to rest my chemistry
I'm lacking,
killer cells are attacking 
me and so are the voices
the labcoat said
there are so many things
science can't explain
I think she thought me insane
I wanted to sit out in the rain 
it was raining outside
I wanted to hide
the world goes by 
as time flits and drags, I flag;
never did I brag.
I'm talking to you....
But now it's the end of march
three lost months of hard living
of giving it my all 
of breaking my bones 
with every fall 
and sticking them together with tape
you can't escape, you can never escape
ah funny still, I have so much to say 
in 'real life', so many stories to share 
wisdom to impart, but I no longer care
for sharing, you don't understand 
I can't get through to myself
how can I get through to you?
Robert Frost was right, it's true
nothing gold stays,
Pony Boy, they destroyed you
I've had it with me...
some days it's hard to breathe.
dots upon dots
some days it's hard to see.
man, what am I on...? (ignore me)

hiding out in dungeness

have you ever heard the story...?
probably not as I just made it up
I'll ask again, have you ever heard the story?
well let me tell it to you in a version uncut-
it's the story of an ex-con named steely martin
not many were smarter than him
for this guy, he escaped from prison
and not just any prison, but wandsworth prison
listen mate, wandsworth prison
 it's worse than belmarsh,
they treat 'em real harsh
in I hear...
anyway so steely somehow escaped from jail
and hailed down a van 
it was part of his plan, he had a plan 
he would start a brand
new life in dungeness
that's right,
he escaped to dungeness
england's very own 
'wild wild west'
and there
steely spent his days
in an assortment of ways 
wishing and forgetting,
fishing and sketching 
wretched pictures- it figures 
he spent his nights 
in the drafty lighthouse
the sound of the waves did arouse 
him from his sleep, he would keep 
awake and listen to the raging winds
seldom did natures noise bring
him any peace, but at least
 he was no longer in jail
for the coast was far more pretty
than the brick and mortar city
that homes convicts- far better to up sticks 
and move to a place like dungeness
a place of noisy rest- 
a place far more vast, far more homely
far less lonely than empty cell, 
in Wandsworth prison. 

new life

so i wrote a list of all the people 
i need to apologize to
i apologise but i threw
that list away 
cos' well, todays a new day
and i'm not looking back 
i'm sorry i lack 
the energy to make things right
but ima start a new life
right now ima start a new life

Wednesday, 20 March 2013

rubbish tree

an orange recycling bag
slowly began to sag
filled with rubbish
from a branch it hung
high up it clung 
to a weak wooden limb
rubbish adorned him
and certainly tree
he looked forlorn 
certainly tree
he wished a storm 
would blow the bag away 
for he couldn't remove 
it himself, he was a tree
and tree only moved 
with the wind-
don't worry
rubbish tree 
don't worry about the rubbishy
rubbish that claims you
it will soon be gone
you're wooden arm belongs
to you alone-

still talking to myself i be
by re-creating 
the present 
through words 
through pictures
will these empty expressions 
act as
truth be, 
I ain't got a clue
I got an interview
later today
outside it's grey
should i even bother to say
that i feel like
i'm in another world
this interview 
it's for a job 
i applied for
back last year
back when I cared
about stuff like jobs
...I wonder
should I go,
should I lunge 
should I prepare 
ah why don't I care
about stuff no more
i just want to be well again,
so i can do good when
i know goodness
I wonder
should i flake
for the sake
of sanity-?


life, man,  
it's beyond vague
can you with surety tell
 the real from the fake?
are you awake?
are you really awake...?
for the sake
of everything, open your eyes
open you eyes now.
hmm this temporary abode
i think
is a load 
of nothingness
kind of like 
a Lichenstein painting
sort of static, 
sort of ever-changing 
sort of never-remaining 
the same, but at the same
time ingraining...
what?- blurred, abstract
 yes, it is hard to detract
this from that 
truth from fiction. 
fiction from truth 
the difference between the two
-blurred; real words, those unheard
but spoken, still-
I don't get it....?  
when all, is just a production 
empty and flimsy-
a paper world 
any moment it will fold in on itself,
a paper world
made up of dots 
lots and lots 
of dots
they give it away
they form
they fall 
in front of eyes-
'real eyes,
real lies.'

Tuesday, 19 March 2013


poem confessions
a string of empty
daffodils say yes 
spring has arrived
as last, 
now it's your task
bright yellows
to wake up all other 
perish winter hours, 
go quietly, 
for birdsong has arrived
and the green woodpecker
is finally at ease with his 
fellow creation
it pays off...

secret mulberry tree

i was looking all over 
for my old mulberry tree
in the gardens of kew; a distinct memory-
(happiness) as a child-
sunshine, wind; running through
fountains and picking fruit 
off my secret mulberry tree
now here, a 'grown-up'
i still haven't owned up
i still haven't given up
i still cannot find it-
mulberry tree? mulberry me? 
a purple dream?
purple hands
purple tongues,
 as it stands:
i'm still here, out of my mind,
mulberry tree-  
i'm still wandering through 
these endless gardens of time
in search of you
sublime, beautiful sublime, 
the ghost of my mulberry tree
will appear before me 
one of these days...

pagoda reveries

meditating alone 
at the foot of the pagoda 
if only i could show her
what she meant to me

birdy souls

countless heads
of countless dead 
and words
written below 
left out for show;
birdy souls, 
in paradise now, 
I know it to be true

foolish eternity dark hours
lengthy melodies
grow destructive
mosquito instructed 
the voices to be cool, 
those voice made a fool- 
of a thing, called 'Eternity'
certainty; comes and goes
-wait- for it. 

a girl I know

...this girl yeah, she's proper bi-polar
one minute she's yer best mate 
the next she acts like she don't know yer
it'll throw yer,
off track, take you back, 
to the beginning
my advice, forget her
find someone, who's less work...


random art boy, that day, 
i walked right by you 
hope you didn't notice
for i am nobody- 
a ghost, haunting
this empty city


I don't forgive you,
not after you knew 
how hard it had been, but still-
i'm glad it made you laugh;
this thing that's rendered me half-
a person. look, i'm out for a while, 
and while i love you, 
sometimes I feel like I'm through- 
with all people, but please 
don't take it personally 
i just need to be there for me 
cos' right now I'm all I've got.

to four kind ladies

four kind ladies
your kindness 
it fazed me 
but right now 
i gotta do 
what's best for me
sorry i walked 
but i gotta be free
i hope one day
you'll understand me
I hope one day
you'll understand
the reason why
I had to flee
see, more than 
i need a clean slate
i need a fresh break 
from all old things
i'm sorry, thank you
for your kindness
four kind ladies

tube snifflers

three snifflers, on the tube
sitting side by side
trying so hard not to be rude-
they sniffle in synchrony, 
together they create a sweet symphony- 
of sniffles, 
sniff, sniff, sniff, sniff, sniff
sniff sniffle, sniff sniffle
men- be men, let your noses
run a little! don't be afraid
for them sniffles, 
they just want to escape 
the dark spaces 
inside your nostrils
let all noses

Hallucinating in the Bird Gallery

Parrot said to
Sy, don't lie
to yourself
life is too short
just ask the dodo
it's time for you to go-go
Sy, it's time for you
to leave this place
just know
that you can't erase
forever; forever.
Sy said,
Parrot, what should I do?
there was a time
I thought I knew
that time has gone
I was wrong
and now I don't belong
Albatross butt in then
and said Sy,
your one precious life
is passing you by
and you're wasting it
by dwelling on each new hit
instead try to make the best
of each and every test
that comes your way
Sy said, Albatross
I'm trying
but it's hard and I ain't
got no friends in these ends
or any other ends
I cut myself off
I sent them all packing
but it's only 'cos I'm lacking
and a certain degree
 of sanity...
Sparrow said lo
and behold, 
you're doing it again
moping when
you should be holding fast
Share your problems with God
not me you sod, I don't care. 
Sy said, Sparrow
look at me I'm covered in arrows
I'm bleeding and you're feeding
into this stupid empty story 
ain't no pain in glory
it's just plain gory- life!
quietly chirped-
the louder you howl 
Sy the less you'll be heard
better to keep it inside
better to keep your words silent
for violence breeds violence.
Swift then said 
lift up your head
dear, fake it till you make it
or better yet break it
and rise again like 
the noble phoenix 
Sy said, thank you dead birds
for your thoughtful words, 
I'll take them on board
for I can't afford
to ignore you all now!
I'm going to find my way

Saturday, 16 March 2013

creative loner

creative loner-
the sole owner
of her own self;
she's reverted to type
she's given up the hype
and instead
gone back
to ghosting
-she ghosts, 
from everyone
she knows longer,
does she play host-
yet on her blog 
she continues to post 
poems and pictures 
for she doesn't
 have the will
to cut-off completely

the problem with this girl

there are many problems
with this girl
i've taken the trouble to write a list,
watch- as she slowly unfurls
this girl; she's smacked, whacked
completely wracked,
with uncertainty
she's too sick to function,
yet too thick to say no
too tired to sleep,
too invested to let go
too proud to admit defeat,
too caught in the undertow
too unaffected to weep
too closed-off to say so 
too beaten-down to leap
too stubborn to give into the woe
 too flaky to keep- 
up this empty show...

released into the world the crack of dawn
a boy was born
and slowly- reluctantly,
he opened his tiny eyes
and soaked up the sterile light
then, right then, 
he let out a sharp cry
a wail, 
a whistle had been blown 
he was pinched by the devil
the playing field-
it was never level
from the onset, or was it?
was that child going to
be born a beggar or a thief
would his life be, full of grief
would he grow to be
a leader, a reader
a seeker, would he be weaker
than his father or rather
would he live to give 
his everything
to another...?

sense and stupidity

have you ever done
something so dumb? 
something so stupid
that it makes you want to run
every time you think about it...
...every time you think about it
it makes you want to run 
away from yourself
and everyone else
it makes you feel so low
it reminds you of a place 
you're unable to go
back to-
a time when things 
made sense....  

angels relent

...increase me in gains
spiritual in nature
remind me of my aim
t'is to become
I need good data
for my book of deeds
I need to sow the seeds
of certainty once more
sweet angels relent and store
up good words
I need good words...

making that change

It's time now, 
just do it, 
just go
go on a whim
it's sink or swim
you've got nothing to lose
and everything to gain
if you don't 
you'll only ever blame
so just do it 
do it now, do it here
don't let the fear
stop you 
book an open return 
to Australia 
it'll be such an epic failure
if you fail to, 
the time has come for you
to move away for a while 
don't think, just do
up sticks, and go- just move!

Wednesday, 13 March 2013


dear stalker 
i'm not much of a talker
not these days (at least)
but still, let me give you
a bit of advice?
be wise, follow it-
go east!

writing whitstable

old friend,
i'm sorry I went without you
to be honest, 
lately i've been feelin' so blue 
and I knew
that I wouldn't be
very good company
so I went it alone, 
lately I seem to have grown
so weary of people
but I thought of you
when the train reached 
I thought I saw the two
of us walk by 
against that moody sky 
perhaps in another life
perhaps in an alternate universe
-unversed- I sighed
so I spent the day 
alone with my symptoms and the sea
as I walked, my rucksack felt so heavy-
it weighed me down;
the weight of the world
pressed against my shoulders
every day, I grow bolder
perhaps I (too) grow colder
but there i was trying to clear
my head, beat the fear
i was trying to destroy 
that part of me
see, listen
 I've got this theory
I have to break myself
completely, totally
I have to burn before I can 
to 'normal' 
before I can come 'back'
I have to press on
I have to turn my back
on wanting it gone...
I have to fight it 
by giving into it,
and also by killing it 
every day and
it's hard, shit man, it's hard
but all worthwhile things are
and I've come too far
to go back now. So I'll push myself
till I break, I'll let this thing take 
my everything 
for I'll be left with my real self
it's beatiful, I know, in a strange way
and one day, it will to get easier
when the fires burnt out 
and only ashes remain
that's when I'll gain
the reason why I escaped to
whitstable in kent
perhaps to vent
to wallow
to swallow another reverie
to be,
see the graver it gets 
the braver I become 
I've begun 
to understand it now
I've had to plough
through years of memories
when I was sixteen 
i made it to stonehenge
yet now at twenty-three
feel like I'm going on seventy
ahh this crazed medley 
this life, it will drive
you to the brink 
of insanity...

Ty and I

I felt like Ty 
hood up, eyes
steely, I gazed
at the waves
as they waved
as they raised
as they rolled
in and out
the bitter wind
it whistled so loud
and then later
much later
on the train back
my heart
beat hard
against that hard track,
furious and troubled
in sync with the rap
that I be listening to
these guys they knew
what I'm going through
and hood up still 
I lay my head back 
and looked up at the sky 
a hundred seasons 
on this day
I strayed
to another random place
the light-
euphoric, free
empty, silent, breathe. 
fighting, breathe, fighting
always. enlightening,
the fight
and the snow
dances outside the dirty train window
 and grey clouds give way to blues skies
the train flits by
the church spires, countryside and rivers
and that one solitary castle 
the king is within
each Ty, that exists.

Tuesday, 12 March 2013

city wanderer/ wonderer

I wandered today
around this city 
past the bright lights
of piccadilly- 
I know it's silly 
to wander all the time 
to turn each wondering 
into a rhyme, but I'm bored
so bored, so eventually,
I did board
another bus 
and on it I killed time 
by stringing together
the city's lines, 
text from billboards,
graffiti on walls
post-box warnings,  
signs adorning-
red bus, it went on
and on and on and on
past the home office,
parliament square
and trafalgar where
the fountains still spurt out
water and the lion watches on
as the sad busker sings his sad song
and the people, they congregate
to watch the horses parade
hmm London from a bus 
slow but to be fair
I could just stare
out of the window, forever
for London bus journey's are never
stories exist all around
and the faces, I examine them 
from there, from my vehicle chair
from the back seat of a double decker bus
from above, I look, from above
this city exists for the-
wanderer/ wonderer...

Sunday, 10 March 2013

stones were thrown

when life gets heavy 
just laugh, for half 
the world, will be 
there with you 
suffering in silence
but grinning out loud
so try, just try
to make them proud
those around you 
those willing you on
make them realise 
that despite being far gone
you will return 
fighting, in time
and by time
endure with patience
endure with dignity
at circle this afternoon
I heard that stones 
were thrown
at my beloved prophet
by children
and he was bleeding
head to toe-
he walked out of the city
his was a bad day
incomparable to ours
for the beloved, those hours
and so will all other earthly hours
time be transient
so are we
so we bleed
I love you 
more than anyone 
and anything 
in this world-
in this world
find me again.