deep breaths

behind the curtain


of low key

ebony plays

a tinker of white

we are not

what we say we are

we are not

what we say we are

the white frost of your eyes hard

locked into the

dark deep ebony

of play

calling out

we are not what we say we are

In a world of multitude chords

screams your violin heart to me

as I bow down

the kiss of cold frost melts

in your eyes

playing I am not what I say I am

I am not what I play I am

I am

a multitude of chords

rippling the waters of reflective thoughts and memories

placed in my mind

I hold my breathe

I dive into my drug

by those who threw the stones before me

and here melting into my ebony eyes

is the white frost of your glare

melting an inter racial stare of grey despair

and we will forever be

not what we say we are





I wonder about that scream
in the calm of me
I wonder
where it is
does it hide
Is it shy
how long can a scream last for
Is it alive
a living breathing thing
that lays waiting
not knowing how to be
a part of me

In the calm of me
I am clouds gathering a storm
of pasts presents and future worries
in the calm of me
I am the cat
basking in the warmth of the sun
a butterfly
a smile of content
as I fly my eyes of kites in blue skies
but always on the horizon
a wall of unknown
this whisper of screams
in uncertainties
can be heard
against my sails
of the carefree

Like a giant wave
qualms of ill foreboding rise above me
a full moon
bloody in miscarriage
eclipse with the sun
and again I lose my way
in the internal scream
of what
lays dormant
I am to those that see
in black and white
a portrait of me
quiet somewhat shy
within a scream
waiting not knowing how to be
in this part of me

Why Didn’t You Call



you unreasonably
never make appointment
of time
then expect all to follow
your hand at play
I think your unsuitable
for the position
You lack the compassion
empathy required
for the decency of others
in such times
With nil consideration
For those leaving
you know what I think
you were a gambler
Before you got this gig
No self respecting spirit
would want to be the one
Who decides who stays who dies
You likely tossed two up
in n alley
nothing so sophisticated
as a legal establishment
you don’t even dress as n official
for such grief
requires effort
n you there in your trackers
A cap WTF is that
Yes I saw you tonight
You sat on the edge of my friends bed
I felt you with my third eye
n I saw you yawn
Don’t think you’ll get away with this
you’ll have to deal with me
sooner or later
n I’ll take my bloody time
My friend has your number
oh yes we know there’s more than just you
it’s a shift workers position
so quit the act
Of being all of this n that
your just a dead person
picking up the dead
But you
You did my friend wrong
he didn’t really have to go
I believe I truly do
that you were slack
n if you had been attentive
As there must be rules
He could have made it
but he didn’t
It’s you who let him go
I can’t forgive you
I can’t
I can’t
I can’t
I detest you
You could have let him stay
just a lil longer
I know he was crossing over
But you gave me no warning
you gave him No Warning I bet

All I wanted was a few more chances
to change his mind
Show him
If he could have just seen
what I had did you know perfectly well

what that’s about

Perhaps he may have decided to stay

you never gave him this chance

I don’t like you death
I just don’t like you
Your too final
It’s too much
for living to grasp
When it’s suddenly invisible gone
There is no anything left
I’m sorry death
I’m all screwed up
like waste paper that’s missed the basket
n a wind has picked me up
Tossed me on the street
Cars are hurtling pass
Missing me by the very skin I’m in

I’m crazed by your presence

I just miss my friend
His life
was so full of sadness pain
I just don’t understand
Why life can be so cruel for so long
n death
Death never takes a life time to leave
But life takes so much from the one who’s life in the end always has to leave
n all involved that loved this life
It all seems so back to front wrong
Why does anyone have to be living a life that’s so hard so wrong
Then as quick as a wink
Their day is up
n no one gets to see it any differently
If you’ve been in pain
You don’t get to live without this pain
If you’ve never been loved or love
You don’t get to experience that
Before your times up
It just happens
You stroll in
With no warning
Be it Overdose Cancer Heart Attack Accident Murder
The list is long n frightful
it’s like cross fingers touch wood
if your name gets called
Depending who’s death shift it is
Seems like some you let live
others you let fall

Like tossing a two up
only you get to call ,,,,,

Finding Grace In A Landslide

Around her landslide of age
Falls a tangled mass of wild flower and vine
where ravens wings shadowed her light
nesting in the black holes of her eyes
‘There is a saying isn’t there ~ she thinks
about something beautiful happening
as one leaves life for death
She looks back to her reflection and sees no more of the ravens
they have finally gone and left her
Now a horizon of pale blue cloudy skies
reflect in her wizened eyes
As her strength gives out and she can no longer hold on
the landslide of age falls
She can finally say no
To the master of wants
for she is only a visiter of herself
Choosing instead to fall with grace
she holds on to her life lines
smiling wide her landscape
refusing to give in to the cry for yesterdays child
she decides to stay true to her original self
let the landslide do its worse
She has survived far more than this.

throw yah shoes away Nobody’s gona walk in them


don’t throw your life in front of life

there will be no kiss of death

there will be nothing

just the living death of life

born from babe to adult

you will be dragged from pillar to post

taught things that not even a non life should fucking see

institutionalised with understandings that should not be

called education

given cosmetics to manipulate the scene

trained to be empathetic but really its just a hedge for more sinister purposes


tough love

cause while we all can see what its like to walk in the others shoes


how many of us really do

or even Do something about the empathetic state of being

They all live on an island

called a state of mind and choice

but see the choice can at times be what is thought of as lost at see

the Blind state of being

blinkers come in handy for such things

especially when they upset ones own state of being

I wish i was a volcano

at least I could erupt naturally

if I could spill my words out


if I could spew up a vomit of my life to you

if would be the hottest shit in town

written on the front page of your frown

but instead I’m living in a life of unnatural habits

my naturally is no more natural than fucking kids starving

or the kidney being ripped out of the starving for a buck

to fill another with life, fell of the truck luck

and wars and drugs and chemicals and cancers and cigarettes

yeah all that shit

getting in our lungs in our air

and everyday I look at You and You and ME

and I see sadness and shit and fucking unnatural habitat

I don’t even recognise myself

cause i really thought I was somebody with a care

but I’m just the same as you who I detest so fucking much

I sit and write my words tonight with the full knowledge that

as I write a child is born and one does die a senseless death

and all I do is write this crap

surely we are worth even more than thatIMAG2269

A Woman n The Aftermath of War

Enter a caption


breaths heavy clues
the stains are left
five long years of them
all over the house
ironed love
steamy spitting farking starched hemmed in
laboured aproned stringed n stained
on Lino floors

the micarriage of abortions

she still feels each punch

naked nicotine lung of light hangs
like a lynching
of white power
from the cord high above
n she She
can’t wake up
till it’s too darn late
the laundry is done
the filths been washed
they’ve all gone
cept him
n this is where she’ll hide
far away
from all there was in life
resting sleeping
call it a passing
it’s just a lil death
call it a spirit of suicide

she splutters on her own vomit of laughter
likely the last one
she’s really feeling drowsy now
didn’t think it would be so messy
or take so long
Farking Hollywood
she even bought her own cask
emptied it
n splutters a laugh again

Cremation will do it
was left on a note
didn’t wont to cause a fuss .. she wrote
n tell him
he’ll just have to press his own shirts now
Man about town War Hero
seems they missed something
wonders if they’ll sack him
Not likely
probably feel sorry for the bastard
she vaguely wonders
if he’s as big a bastard in uniform
as he is at home
Nah They’ll think the sun shines outa his arse
Weird how war can pull that off
when they send them home
n everybody’s Mr Hero
Who is this monster

At first she thought
What did she think
Cause she didn’t know
n still doesn’t
what has happen
to this sweet loving man she knew
who found a stray kitten
feed it with his fingertips of milk
early hours of the morning
she’d find him sitting next to a box
he’d made with his jumper as a blanket of warmth
singing what sounded a lullaby
as he feed nourishment n love
to care for a kitten
How she loved him for that
How she dreamed of his coming home
all the things they had wrote about
having a baby starting a family
n him always asking
how is ‘In the Wars’
That’s what he’d named
this now full grown cat

Gad Had it been that long
since he left
This War had now taken him hostage
like a parasite it feed greedily
off the very core of his once sweet existence
she knew He the man she loved
was never coming back

After Five years of what felt to her
like he was trying to teach her to fight
To kill him
she’d now become his own personal war enemy
Her refusing his orders
n no one listening
just still enlisting
n at the cock of his gun
becoming the norm of his arousal
she knew the Camo had to go

She wakes come morning
face hair stuck to the kitchen floor
amongst all the spit n vomit
she’s watching them all look horrified shocked
as she leaves herself
the ambos have stopped resuscitation
n wanders above for what seems an eternity
reality only a second
for the love of war

The Arsonist & His Crucification a Light

The stage is set 

He stands legs spread 

surveying the scene 

white milky figures of wax stare hollow 

beneath bright fluorescents a flicker with bugs 

This disease of bloody play

I’ll give you one minute rehearsal

Get It Right 

or I light this explosive 

he takes a cigarette from a packet 

Counts a deliberate beat of sixty

his lips slightly part

a pouch for its filter and flicks his zippo 

lights his cigarette 

Picks a can up

Laughingly sings Gasoline 

n dances the stage 

Insanity he states Can be tricky to pinpoint 

Would you not All Agree 

It’s all about timing 

n pours the flammable fluid over the motionless 

flicks his zippo again … afire of mesmerising excitement flares

fluidity of their making melts the silence of all watching

I am the light to you fucking bugs.. he screams 


walks through the spread of toxic black smoke 

facing the audience terror 

hostages now

to his flame 

Twins of Summertime

the pregnancy
to the end of a day
gives bursts
to giant rain clouds
of blood red
that fill the sky
like a fired furnace

stretch marks of deep violet blues
and coil the red flames
in this furnace
a burning
of summers day

screaming’s of birth
tantrums of thunder
as an explosion
of blood red
gives way
from the belly
of the sky
and the waters break
giant drops of rain

the sun slips
into the wet mouth
of the sea
swallowed whole
in a day
the birth of darkness
is born ‘
bearing full its moon
on the horizon
we call this time

Births of Tomorrow’s


above epileptic blue
the mouth of the sky opens
frothing clouds of white
the pregnancy of a new day
holding on to the embryo
of tomorrow
with new hope


A lemon scented night
for a quarter of a moon
brought you priceless

sun bleached and tangled
seaweed and hair
sand between toes
blackberry bruised fingers
and peeling skin kissed red nose
looking for shells

I have received the same perfume
for as long as I can remember
I wonder as I sit

September: the boy who was born with blue eyes

September blue

this name I gave

and secretly called out to you

for as fast as I passed out

so you were born and passed out to strangers hands

who laid you in a crib with no hand or arms

no breasts

no blood warmth of flesh

against your skin only

a blanket of acrylic

fake comfort

and I know how you must have cried

for your tears were mine

our eyes tears of September Blues

each year like clockwork you bury deep within my skin

around in fetal curl the memory of you breaks my heart

September blue

I cry out the loudest of silent screams

as this month once again repeats itself

the ground i stand on caves in beneath

burying me into the deepest darkest pit

no sound or sight

I loose everything within me

I feel every tiny piece of my skin dissolve into nothing

I loose speech I cannot say a word

I have no words left to say

I cannot move

there is no light in this place

there is nothing but a gut wrenching stab

I scream inwards the pain of loss grief

stand in the deafening silence within me

where am I

where do you take me

i fear this is where i left you

my dear beautiful baby blue

September blue

Depression is the name they have given you

I shun this name

its like the colour of death bluer than blue

I shun next year

I know you will come

For three months my grief is a tidal wave of tears

with no where to go I choke on my mouthless face of empty words

I suffocate in the silence of my minds memory

September October November

the first letter of each month S O N

was this coincidence or fate

each year my son comes back to bury me alive

I cant blame him

I was his mother

and I passed out when he was born

what sort of mother does that

when I opened my eyes you were gone