Tuesday, 5 December 2017

real hidden gems

        the laundrette
that old iranian sam owns
the naval officer- come- material cleaner
            two bouts of cancer later
he's still standing,
still working the machines
the tumble dryers
           sam an outlier
                           he dreams
of taking care
of    his sick mother, his mother
             a lover
               of London city
     dreamer of a home
he can never go  back to
   but his kids are scattered now
        across the world
they possess all sorts of degrees
they don't come to the shop
     any more   

the soup kitchen
moses visits them all
   far and wide
across the city,
    to eat a meal, with others
companionship, it's what he seeks
  up right moses
with lots of stray papers in his bag
a steely gaze,
    a knowing
a hearty laugh
     that reverberates across
them all,
all those soulful places
filled with people
          in some kind of need
material and emotional
   this being human.

the church
   that self appointed
old pastor jack visits
     he takes my hand
     he tells me the angels came to him
         in his youth
his father died at war
    but never did they go hungry
his mother worked in a factory
         Jerusalem is alive in his mind
he hands me a bag of lavender
    and talks about mash and eel pie, 
   to listen is to be alive       
it's to arrive
                at a junction.


the real secret gems 

Saturday, 11 November 2017

spinning with eternity, eternally

sitting on the floor
  of the silver hive 
the little boy who dreams 
         with      eyes       wide
open, to know them 
    is to know 
the secrets of the universe
to know them
is to know
a single molecule
brings form to the cosmos               <<<>>>>
                                                            (the blinding light streams in) 
where he       goes, 
                   none can follow
   sitting on on the floor 
of the silver hive
the little boy who dreams
  eyes dancing, senses in overdrive
 so still, so silent, so faraway
the ground beneath him sways
all around
musical atoms surround
the buzzing of the bees confound 
   with their hidden language, 
     beautiful and rich
all of a sudden a switch
occurs, ———————
up he scrambles and proceeds to ramble
he moves arm hand up and down / heaven bound
  and starts to spin
with the bees, with the music 
    he loses it, 
he finds it
spinning, hands clasped
he spins fast 
so fast, to grasp (to learn/ to unlearn)
the music sounds, the bees buzz 
round and round and round
he spins he spins 
he grins, in a trance
I watch him dance, 
with the wind, 
with the music
with the bees
with eternity 
the little boy who dreams
with eyes wide open
to know them
you can never know them

Kew Gardens, The Hive (inspired by a boy with downs syndrome who dances with eternity)

Sunday, 29 October 2017

stairs and leaves

and that staircase
that went on forever
that staircase
the blinding glass
    of the chandelier
that evening
      tired of staying
tired of leaving
         tired of believing
in oak trees
   that shed leaves

Thursday, 27 July 2017

stay a while.

these silent nights
these long walks
these winding paths
these cosmic doors
the secret garden is in full bloom
stay a while, 
                            don't leave too soon, 
these moments 
                                       of another way 
these absurd conversations
                    hope coupled with frustration,                         
 simple elation
ridiculous new beginnings
between losing and winning
I came by mister mouse at paddington
on the platform, half torn, 
he scurried all around me 
I was rain drenched, almost free 
from the night monsoons
my heart was racing from sprinting
across neon river roads
vague umbrella silhouettes
I suppose I suppose I suppose
there's a protection in it
i go without
the bridge over the serpentine
green earth and inky sky, both half mine
the handsome stucco houses
two stars above
the road is curving, 
and I'm losing my way
  but this
hope and frustration,    
 simple elation
of feeling a certain way

stay a while
won't you
stay a while longer

Tuesday, 4 July 2017

paradox of the free

is it funny
or is it sad
we never really know
is it funny
or is it sad
that often, too often
 we become
a shadow of who 
we once were
when did you stop
    when did you stop dreaming
beautiful things
impossible things
always impossible
always out of reach 
lessons from above
they're only meant to teach
you, but you never learn
you just continue to yearn
for things not meant for you
let go
one day you'll come to know


Monday, 3 July 2017

in the folds

my empire of dirt
it sounded on the radio
a country boy's hurt
after a wander around
a burnt down house
somewhere out east
by the lake, the wild heath
the moody sky 
beneath it, I seek 
an atoms weight of peace
           a crease
unfolds in a field
       a swamp, a wild rabbit
             crazy horse
comes up again
                           and red cloud
       the bisons
they go quiet
the birds chirp, chirp, chirp,
the wind is so loud
 there is no peace
no peace no peace 
                                         no peace
but at least

          there's life
(somewhere in the folds)

Tuesday, 13 June 2017

shapes in condensation

sweet november 
glittering gold
a rain drenched 
concrete corridor
footsteps and puddles
it's a jungle
the bus conservatory
draw a map
find your way
circle another sun
wide open in outer space
the universe 
strands of
 that age old message, less is, 
do not store
any ill, 
cease to berate
a path like this
a path like this
a path like this
rain is falling
the end is shrouded in mist
the river is fading
an old dream reawakened
to walk until the path is gone
to cross borders
every border
every border that exists
the rain is falling
the rain is falling 
            pitter patter 
pitter patter 
the rain is falling

draw a map
in the condensation
find your way
c4,     8d

Saturday, 13 May 2017

layers of life

all of real life
feels like fiction
tears at the janazah prayers
     searing pain, lasting affliction, 
a lingering embrace
a lingering embrace
in a holy place
in the house of the Lord
your reward
resides in jannah, with Him
the children's laughter, echoes
in a room full of broken hearts
the end the end the end
the boys in white
will grow up too fast
       tears fall,              
                         i stall
               in prayer
tongue tied
 we're tied, to dunya
until the day we die
and death will come to us all 
how long will you stall, sy?

 all of real life 
feels like fiction
                  the wisteria
birdsong, the towering pylons
the underpass 
the lonesome paths
maybe I should ask
something of you
    but what 
all of real life
feels like fiction

             bob geldof, nick mason
                             a crowd of strangers 
I wear patience
                    like a cloak
I close my eyes and
                                I float
towards the light......
                      but then
 clinking glasses and adult laughter
      bring me back to a world  
                                                       not mine
the boys in white will grow up to fast

the reeds blow in gold, the water 
reflections waver
all these places, I savour
the freedom
the millstone fell on the rat in 1703
300 years ago, it's hard to believe
the wishing wheel
swallowed up our wishes
and left us bereft
the rest
(who knows if they came true)

all of real life
feels like fiction

that ethereal night 
the view from the top of the building
there at a gathering, 
was it a cult, was I at fault,  
                  for not arriving  
              I lost my card
                too busy striving 
to make it some where

all of real life
feels like fiction

following that old canal 
that old canal 
talking to the nuns from belarus
talking to stanley francis 
about history
in a secret garden 

all of real life
feels like fiction
the chandelier at africa house
the mouse

meow caught
/////it got away

it got away
all of real life

feels like fiction

the everyday

the everyday
sitting in the cemetery office at dusk
the doors are locked, and we're at home
sipping on tea and talking about the past
in a house surrounded by death
and what's left what's left what's left

the everyday
sitting in the old english garden
listening to the sound of water hit the surface of the pond
watching the birds, flit through skies of gold
writing down stories in my journal
and what's left, what's left what's left

the everyday
wandering by the canal
pass door ways shrouded in wisteria
through a garden centre
by the old church;eerier
than before, a thousand thin mirrors
belonging to a gas tower
and what's left what's left what's left

the everyday
wandering around the museum
waiting for my shift to be over
staring at stone men
watching women in sari's
and boys in kimono's
and what's left what's left what's left

the everyday
bus journeys that never end
thoughts that trail on forever
a pair of lungs on fire, legs that often tire
a waning will to aim higher

what's left what's left whats left

(perhaps, everything)

for the everyday

Tuesday, 25 April 2017

(recalling memories on the) 48 bus

48 bus
      there's never enough
two d a y s, 
nothing makes
sense anymore 
things seem meaningless, 
I wander what it's all for

                gazing out the 48 bus    
in faraway         walthamstow 
listening to heart
wishing I could start
over anew
someplace else//// 
gosh, how tiresome, 
                these thoughts on loop
take a step back, try to regroup
she said you seem depressed
i shrug, think it's just the meds
I'll be fine when I'm better
just trying, to keep moving,
I keep losing
track, of where I am
but right now I'm here
and I miss you
a kiss on her forehead
when did you get so big
beautiful girl
stay free, stay free stay free
i know your mum just wants me
to settle down, and to grow up
I don't want to, but some days I feel so stuck
the bus goes past clapton pond
strangers take their seats
I watch others delete
thoughts, passing reveries
so many memories
the bus goes by
my old offices, 
the church yard where I would sit
the walls of the old chapel
I painted them in white
how strange and fragmented, 
this one precious life
this living
this living london
come undone
the streets I would often roam
the bus goes by
the city, the city, the city
until it reaches it's last stop
the real journey begins

Friday, 31 March 2017

noticing things

the way the evening light
hits the cherry blossoms
the way the clouds shift
making shapes, broken and solemn 
the way the wind passes through 
the way the tropical palms sway
every time that you 
drift by and opt to stay 
rooted, muted, in a secluded
patch of green
the way the ancient crows seem
to know everything
they make their homes in pines
out of small lines
of straw
straw, that's what it's for
to make a home
the way the evening light
hits the weather vane on the asylum 
the way that you wear silence
as a cloak, concealing
it pointed east
the crow took flight, fleeing
in that very direction
(a home to come back too)
the way the gates were opened
the gates to the secret garden
the way that life unfolds
the way the universe holds
onto you------ and keeps you upright
in restless times, when nothing is right
see, when you spend so much time alone
you notice the crow in his home
you notice each undertone
wandering and wondering 
seeking refuge
in a secret refuge
(a thousand of them)
you notice things
the way things are 
for just a moment in time
and everything is as it should be
everything is everything 

Thursday, 30 March 2017

slow down, don't stop

a thousand moments
                  maybe more
a frail old man
eyes fixed on the floor
he carries a mammoth book
 he moves slowly
ever so slowly

(from a bus window)
                                          at twilight
a blind man bumps into
                    a sign outside a newsagents
a hovering stick before him
he moves slowly  
ever so slowly

someplace else
       a lady using crutches
she struggles as she clutches 
onto her everything
             she moves so slowly
ever so slowly

///heart breaks, at seeing souls make
    slow movements
but to move still
but the bravery 
but the life
but the bravery and the life
but the life 

      on the other side
the boys and girls from chelsea
sip martini's outside bars
dressed in tuxes and gowns
 on roadsides with fancy cars

the other side
a small private school boy
exclaims the lipstick pen is epic
unceasing laughter 
it's epic, shit it's so epic 
that lipstick pen
but also your boyhood  
spirit (keep it safe forever kid)

the kimono
the strangers
the runners that run by
the river that flows 
the lost foreigners that wander
drifting, sub alive
                   --- unable to identify 
with the townscape
and the people that make
it so
so so so so 
no tarrying, for some, just travelling
just looking to
the sky
and at the people
gosh the people
wondrous and unearthly

Wednesday, 29 March 2017

V&A reveries III

hiding in silver
waiting in gold
searching in tapestries
for wisdom, I sold
nothing, but a map 
a map a map a map 
I told you not to go
off track off track off track
it's not safe, but wait
forget it, just keep going
go any way you like
I'll keep wandering by the casts
under curly delicate glass
far from home in asia
far from home in the far east
far from home in renaissance
hmm hmmm hmmm but at least
we're in the same dimension
on the great bed of ware
if i fell asleep would I wake

 i wonder

life at the museum
it's all people watching and botching
up words.... too lost in thought
I can't remember a single thing
you said stranger,
oh japan is that way
oh kipling is there
asia is behind you
you're really quite near

////can I dream again?

Monday, 27 March 2017

sad girl

sad girl 
why are you so sad
you never said goodbye 
she know's you well enough
to understand
and if she doesn't that's ok
soon she'll forget, 
sad girl, you regret
why not live well
so you have less to regret
                                            to forget
nothing is set
in stone 
not even your heart
(though you may think it)
sad girl
why are you so sad
you keep shutting everyone out
to keep from getting hurt
you end up getting hurt still
sad girl, I wonder what it will
take for you to learn
sad girl 
don't worry the feeling will pass
don't worry sad girl 
you'll get better soon
and when you can breathe again
nothing will seem so bad
gosh, sad girl 
why are you so sad
everything is ok
it will be just fine
though you may not believe it
there's a fine old line
between sorrow and gold
try to unfold
///// those old mind maps

the future is bright *believe it*

Friday, 24 March 2017

a prayer

Oh Allah
please forgive me 
for the times I fall short
the most merciful, 
ever majestic 
i'm so lowly and fraught
with injury, so inwardly
elsewhere, but oh Allah
I can hear
you calling me
so I rush to pray
peace is my forehead
pressed against the ground
tears streaming down my face
no longer lost, I am found
Ya Allah I miss You the most
I miss the days where I would 
converse with you for minute eternities
Oh Allah, I'm eternally 
without, without without 
when You were beside me, 
I miss those days
I never felt alone, you always raised
me Allah, please raise me up again
I miss lying in masjids at fajr 
I miss walking on hills reciting prayers
I miss feeling close to You
I miss gazing out of the bus window on the 155
and feeling as though I'm truly alive
under Your watchful eye
You've given me so much
Helped me through my darkest days
Showed me miracles
and helped me to lay
my demons to rest, 
Oh Allah
life is a test, and it's tough
and I feel like I'm forever failing
I've tried scaling
so many walls 
but i keep falling back down to earth 
Oh Allah
You closer to me, than my jugular vein
please don't let it be in vain
please help me to gain

Thursday, 23 March 2017

shalimar gardens, in battersea

it felt like shalimar gardens 
at twilight 
it always did
the birds never hid
away in trees
they flew in the pink sky
only they were black kites
maybe eagles
not pigeons and seagulls
and the water had all dried out
and the people had all gone home
and it was always better then
once the people had gone
and the world was quiet
and still and anew
it felt like shalimar gardens
what else was there do
but to tarry for a while longer
just a little while longer

weeping willow and a blackbird at sunset

restless skies
blustery winds
weeping willow
weeps louder 
his entire body is shaking
swaying, wildly flailing
tears are everywhere 
blackbird tries to console him
he perchs onto his shoulder
and whispers into his ear
for a moment weeping willow
stops flailing and wailing
he is still, he can hear
///mysteries, everlast///

Wednesday, 22 March 2017

twilight reflections in a secret garden

everything changes
 maybe for a while
maybe forever
who's to say, 
one day you go through a turnstile
the next you're on the other side thinking hey
where am I how did i get here
you're there then
you're there 
a wander after work 
wonder why you always dare
to take the road less travelled
perhaps you like the way it feels
earth and gravel
beneath your feet
pass the royal marsendon hospital
the sky is pink
trees are shrouded in cherry blossom
a heaviness begins to sink
everything is dark 
the birds begin to sing
but so beautiful too
a wander over albert bridge
the gold lights go on
the sirens are getting louder
fear pulses through the city
but above is only colour
only calm, 
the river is pink
a wander, ---disarm 
helicopters overhead
headlights and an uneasy traffic
twilight reflections
I find that secret heavy door
that leads to the secret garden
there is no one
just me beneath the noisy darkening sky
the sound of the water fountain
so melodic and sweet
just a dozen worn empty benches
just some more trees
vague gnarly ancient ones
hello trees, it's me again
it's sy, i wonder why
everything is always so weird
and strange 
                            so out of reach 
so out of range

Tuesday, 21 March 2017

i saw a rainbow today

when life gets you down
get the bus
it's cheaper
you lost your wallet 
always were a believer
of what's meant to be
will be, look out the bus window
you'll see - life goes on
shit sy, life goes on
and on and on and on
until it doesn't anymore
no sooner will you realise
what it was all for
you'll realise
that there was less to realise
than you always thought

when life gets you down
when you've been ill for so long
in your broke kingdom, where you belong
when you been so ill
so still, so unable to instill
a sense of peace within
and wonder
go for a wander
(even if it's in your mind)
so many roads go on forever
and you might just find
there's a rainbow down that way
it's okay to stray
off the beaten path
*this isn't everything*

when life gets you down
let the purple petals rain down on you
look to the gold light, feel it burn holes into
places that know only darkness

that brown girl with the purple hat
so small, she was facing you on that 
bus, looking at you the whole time
as if trying to communicate something
when life gets you down
go up to the secret film room
and hide for a bit, get lost in the moving stills
when life gets you down
follow mister robot in the museum
he was there, he was,  he was
make everyone laugh
even if it renders you half
a person, it won't worsen
cos your  windpipes already broke
for even in telling a joke
there is relief  -----------

shit sy, when life get's you down
when you think of everything 
and everyone you've ever lost
every decision that cost
you your peace and joy
look out of that bus window
             the river is still flowing
it's flowing
you are not a river
you are a person

and you can see the rainbow
                 and you can truly grow
through it all

///time lost//// senses gained///

Monday, 13 March 2017


the air is black and grey
the solution
is to float far far away

into the cosmos
there's no air up there

up above
there's only stardust
that's more than enough

down on earth
I am perfecting the art
of falling apart 

the atmosphere is killing

gravity- let me go
I'd like to depart
I'd like to float

upwards  ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^


the art 
of wearing your earthly
on your material sleeve
where does that leave
bereft -------

time and time and time
when oh when oh when
will you learn
child of the stars
to breathe in gold
and not hold
within clouds of black dust
bits of poisoned earthly crust
here on the cusp
//////              of a cosmic life
let go

the art              
 of wavering
of endangering 
       a hard-fought peace
this cough won't go away
 it won't cease

london  air is black and grey
to breathe it in
it will make your insides fray

your lungs will no doubt
fall apart

the night forest in translucent 
the sky is doing something

///words relayed, responses delayed

the storyteller and the wanderer
we clamber over gates
start down a baron path way
a metallic river
the trees are growing all around
i struggle to make a sound
 to speak to breathe
ribs rattle and bones squeak
mouths stays quiet
modern soul

the air is black and grey
the solution
is to float far far away

into the cosmos

and on and on and on and on and on
(yo im dying out here)

Sunday, 5 March 2017

lost not found

sunlight, a crack in the window
   a beam of gold in a grey room
it spreads across the ceiling
      i watch it shift 
          all the while    reeling
from thoughts of yesteryear 
the daffodils were in bloom
spring was drawing near       
back then
     you and I would share
but maybe nothing too
shit man, I miss talking to you. 
        I miss wandering wherever
      I miss never
wanting to be anywhere else
i miss having a best friend
   someone to talk too 
most days I feel so alone
    but that feeling is nothing new
I wish we were able to see through
bullshit and pretense
           past and future tense
wish you could just be you
and I could just be me 
and we could meet somewhere in the middle
i spent a lifetime building walls, 
         what remains, nought but empty halls 
derelict spaces, disused and wasted
echoes reverberate        
          and nothing even matters 
lost not found
-----to be unbound
by time and space
by hurt and haste 
to find grace
in unlikely places
to remember things right
                                      to forever delight
in memories luminous in nature////
>>>>>>lost not found

Wednesday, 22 February 2017

night on repeat

black flies on the windowsill 
that we are
that we were
that we are to know
the sky opened up above
revelaving streaks of grey indigo
dotted with stars
         some fading and broken 
           some  disused
hiding in the folds 
waiting for the light to go out        
 I wandered alone
by the river that night
looking upwards
        then the earth   shook ///////////::::::::::
and I coughed

and coughed and coughed
and coughed and coughed
until my ribs shattered
inside my battered
heart, became exposed
                                                    but I suppose 
it was only a matter of time
there by the river
by the japanese pagoda
the gold buddha watching me intently
as I clutched onto my insides
exposed in the darkness
though in the shadows it's easy to hide
like those stars in the folds
shrouded by the forever universe

Wednesday, 8 February 2017

writing on the wall

 leake street 
     delirious concrete 
colours on the wall
              shapes that enthrall
the smell of piss and weed
    a single message to heed
'if you're looking for a sign
this is it'

woolwich life

tranquil vale
defiance avenue
zenith fried chicken
woolwich life
the blue flashing lights
the sirens
the road that lead into the river
the twilight sky
an elongated shadow
was it mine
it must have been
the atrium
the broken warehouses
tranquil vale
defiance avenue
zenith friend chicken
woolwich life

park bench

the moody twilight sky
streaks of grey and swirls of wonder
the crescent moon reflected in a puddle
cold air,
              everythings      a muddle
vague shadows,                
           weeds and rubble
absent thoughts
I settle,  on that bench
watching, breathing
                         that   by      leaving
footprints in mud
     a trail would be left behind
                                                       rewind time
where did the years go?
shit, where did the years go?


ten thousand wanders later
a victorian pumping station
a conservatory in a palace
the paper city from a high place
crouch end
the bend
of the railway tracks
the secret door
exploring hacks
                        a packed lunch
a weird hunch
that it's better to go forth
 up to the white house on a grey 
hill, passed an allotment
wandering still
how many hours have passed
when did night turn to day
still finding
new places to lay
to rest old stories
past failures and faded glories
with each mile traversed
a thought unversed
surfaces, i held your tiny buddha baby
he cried
i looked at your daughter
she cried
but those dancing eyes
they defied
the sadness she was taught  
and that old coversation
that left us both weighty with guilt
wish I could explain
why I'm never around
why I never show up
wish I could make you feel
less alone
wish I knew what to say
to make you feel like you're home
when we're together 

but there are no words

life inside the square

everything is alive
the pigeons in the sky
they flit over the water 
over the stone lions
some gather around me 
waiting for crumbs
for crumbs
she hums, she waves
he sweeps,
I gaze 
into space
I watch them
I watch the people pass by
an old lady takes a seat beside me
an young man gets up to leave
the busker
sings a sad drawn-out song
and then another, so she prolongs
a silent conversation
with herself, and everyone she had ever known
there alone, with pigeons in the sky
with the stone lions
everything is alive
where do we derive
our inspiration
if not through watching 
simply watching the world
observing encounters
they gradually unfurl
and give way to clarity,
a thousand lives play out,
       inside a cloud of profanity
                      kind words, and vanity
the world is a theatre,
                              ////sweet banality 
there is beauty, difference, there is life

after watching a blip of it
I went to watch paterson
watch the world
through the windows of his bus
in that empty theatre
I watched him watch life
the small details
to find peace and beauty in them,
every day is filled with beautiful surprises
fiction satirizes
fact, and everything is alive
the pigeons in the sky
the poems we write
the things we see
places, people, and objects, 
the things that render us free
the imagination, faith, hope
a thousand ways of seeing

everything is alive

imagining freedom

floating up and down
at night in the museum
and then it plays
if you want to view 
paradise, simply look around
and view it
and a smile crossed my face
and a feeling entered my heart
a feeling of pure joy
so powerful it could destroy
every molecule of ill
everlast everstill
in awe of life, and living
the beauty of imagining
for in dreams
we are forever free
for in dreams
we can forever be
wherever and whoever
we desire
so live in dreams
where you will never tire
of the sublime too ordinary
things that make up existence
/////life is for the living///////////

living london in scattered places

there i was
sitting in australia, 
                                                 what a failure                  
south west thirteen 
in the company of a black swan
my mind was kind of hurting 
from thinking about all of life
and nothing in particular
exit five thousand
try not to be particular 
                          a wander by the thames
ten thousand memories
half grey, (a hundred more steps)
the rest
is history (the ancient kind)
so I settled in the walled garden
an orchard filled with apple trees
and tall tall sunflowers
and I sighed, an easy sigh 
cos despite it all
life is the shit
it's beautiful 
there's so much of it
beauty in the small details 
the sunlight on an orchid 
the crimson of his beak
the silence, the solitude, the freedom
what more does one need?
here be everything

your card has been declined

scars all over your face
red gashes and cuts
you were a costume maker
you said you couldn't remember
the name of the man you fell in love with
so you just wrote gorgeous man

how we live

sugar house,
limehouse cut /
                         the slaughter
a barcodeless bottle
                                         of stolen water
and the future is just like now
but in a little while
                            so surrender
          and just smile,
at that stupid giant thing
on the wall
the barnacle geese
are landing on the water

 and the house boats
and the anecdotes
and the lessons learnt
the shits that burnt
a little bit of our insides
the red squiggle
the lidl pastries
the path, the past, the daydreams
the trampoline
                                 us in the air
up in the air
not a doubt, not a care
just the moon, and following lights
the neon, the scribbles
the fading nowhere nights

ethereal delights
small details

living london
is that what this is

our friendship is forever

and this is how we live

wild horses

wild horses
running through the green
one after the other
so free so free so free
the wild horses inside of me
are running still
the ocean
it will fill
every gash and gap
every undefined avenue 
on the map, 
that is you
the heavens cut in half
everything is new
the lights spreads, and reflects
and seeps in
the ravens ride the wild wilds winds
over the hills, these ancient hills
for a moment, everything is still
wild horses
they are running 
      they are running away

Tuesday, 7 February 2017


sioux and buxter
sitting in the morrocan garden
dreads in your hair
a smile, a can of beer
beneath the trellick tower
you gave me your number
suggested I collorate with your son
the musician, the photographer
i said maybe see ya later
and wandered some more
wandered some more and more
into the grafetti yards
the trees were covered in ink
and the grounds were empty
colour but no people
silence, no noise
a thousand little windows
that brutalist building
the world is with you

australia reveries

all those rainy and sunny
afternoons spent on a ferry
crossing the sydney harbour
alone, with time to spend
all those days in the botanic gardens
lying on the grass under
the winter sun all those days
in australia
all that time spent alone
all those journeys
and sunsets
and bush walks
and regrets
all those conversations with the dogs
all those sad nina simone songs
all those pages, filled with all those thoughts
///the dog ate his notebook

Monday, 6 February 2017

old school wanders I

a wander, sunset fades to twilight
pass the cemetery with ancient trees
through the aboyne estate
pass the estate boys who would light the fireworks
over a decade ago
but no, they grew up
these boys must be their boys
and there's that corner shop
where we would buy giant strawberries
the autumn leaves are strewn across the pavement
the colours in the sky are fast changing
fast changing
so many memories
 fast fading
and I’m making
my way to school again
only now, everything's changed
The school
The trees
still a fool, still too free
nothing remains, so I go around it
Peering in
Peering in
feeling strange
In my school girl skin
Sad, life passed by so fast
How did that happen
And where am I
a golfcourse
Remnants of the sky colour, over the green
Through the hospital
Through that hospital
Past the church
The old victorian buildings from the past
A shadow is eating a shadow banana
And then there are those colourful painted houses
the recovery centre
so magical and sad
They don’t look real
Like an obscure apparaition
Dreamed up by a dreamer
Wandering at twilight
In a place where real is an alien concept


I've been thinking a lot 
about life and death
about the way we left
 funny how change
 about revival
                            a tidal 
wave of emotions
                    come crashing
so many fixed notions
                begin unlatching
they come undone
and you become 
a free bird again
but i still remember 
when all i thought about was you
it's always a rainy day in march 
when i think of true ____

Wednesday, 1 February 2017

lazy day

a boat called lazy day
fading and rusting, 
net curtains all frayed
it looked dirty, upkempt
the signs on it were bent
all funny, a barnacle geese
passed by it, heading shaking
eyes steely, as if to say
get your shit together lazy day!