the home

she is tuneless
but still beautiful
yet he will remove his trousers and willy
without warning
she can't stop walking
and he will tell you to fuck off
with a smile and a wave
but this is where they all gather
with their blurred minds
the slowly forgetting relatives
who offer nothing to this day
but the odour of urine
or a gravy covered chin
their memories are caught
like needles in grooves
endlessly repeating
as their lives slowly
count backwards
to their mother's womb

imperfect

drunk dancing in a kitchen
and cold honesty as I drove
it wasn't a perfect love
but I remembered how to care
and even when my heart
was dropped in a green mug
and the silence
fell between the distance
I still remember her
with a truly english smile

you still make me smile

our first meeting
that first meal
our first kiss
your naked shoreline
your late calls
and my early morning texts
still make me smile
like a loon
in crowded rooms

culluloid lives

cine films
re-paints a childhood
where innocence
still exists
and where we can watch
the dead
mimic life
and wonder
who will watch us
when we join them

the everlasting love note

caught within a book
neglected
forgotten
a small card
carrying words I have read
a thousand times
I read it now like it was yesterday
I hold it close
as if it is some magical bridge to your world
and our past
but I will lose it again tomorrow
and it will be forgotten
like our love

my soulguard

with feet in the clouds

she marks my final years

and sighs

she waits for me up there

my solitary angel

for my silent prayer

for my moment of self doubt

or for a darkness to consume me

but I have no prayer for her

no scream

no shout

for there is no fear of hell in me

so she sits there

bored and restless

whilst her wings twitch
and her feathers fall

redundant

unwanted

with a slipping halo
that will lose its lustre
long before

she will hear my pleas

smile you fucker

I was weighted
chained
weary
and always at odds
but always a dreamer
now there are no more secrets to keep
for all is known
I have no time left to serve
or life to shape
there is no hunger in me to satiate
or points to make
so smile you fucker
you made it to the other side

slowly forgetting

as my memory fades
names of lovers will be forgotten
and those intimate moments
where I felt complete
will fragment and dissolve
but my heart will remember the taste
and like an echo
it will remind me
from time to time
of the electricity found in a touch
and the warmth found in encircling arms

whoops genesis

in that dark night

before the explosion
lit by a spark
that came from nowhere
or somewhere

but which still managed to ignite
something
or possibly nothing
which belched worlds

across an edge-less universe
there was I am reliably assured
by someone I can not name
two words screamed
before the atoms smashed

"oh fuck!"

pioneer 11

in 95 they lost you
as you tripped
over the edge of space

we threw you out there in 73

with a calling card
and directions
second star on the right

and all that
but my advice dear pioneer
is to stay lost
keep searching
with that sketchy male
and his genitalless mate

for a smarter world than ours

because if one day
we catch up with you
we will forget the hope
that fuelled you
and simply drag you home
to sit and decay
in a polished case
with a polished plaque
on a very very very dull world

365,242 days from now

there is a piece of me
in you
there is a piece of you
in me
within the genetics
of our souls
there is a common voice
that sings within us both
it is our father's father
it is our mother's mother
it is the distance between
this moment
and the time
when all things began
it is the echo
within our laughter
it is the light
behind our eyes
and one day
in a thousand years
our lives too
will dance in the pages
of the hearts carried
by our children's children

old loves

I recall the ones I won

I recall the ones I lost

I recall the ones I fucking hurt

and the ones who fucking hurt me

I recall the first beery kisses
followed by the beautiful but clumsy lust

they are all old loves now

yet still I remember the one
just the one
who no longer wants to remember me

c'est la fucking vie

sadly writing about happy things

some days
I am selfish pretentious musings
tinged with dark empty screams
I tell myself that I write to heal my wounds
yet all I do is find buckets of fresher pain
bad memories should live in tombs
secured with silver chains
and warning signs
not flaunting themselves like painted whores
in wild moonlight
yet still I drag the ink across the page
to hearts that will not buy
or even taste
but some words I trade for magic beans
to unravelling souls caught in my wake
but like small prayers they are never heard
they just resonate in silence
yet still this sad and purposeless writer writes
about dreams
and better days

truly irish

once upon a time
a truly english man
met a truly irish girl
they wandered through halls of art
marvelling at michelangelo and vermeer
whilst mocking the selfie takers
who grinned like cultureless lunatics
in front of sunflowers
painted with pain
he stole his first kiss from her lips
as nelson looked down dismayed
he told her about his life
and the pieces that still didn't fit
they drank white wine
they kissed
they laughed
and he stayed with her
until he missed his train

sleep a little

hours slide
minutes are lost
and days join days
mornings become meaningless
and afternoons are just a prelude
to a darkness
in which I sleep a little

the empty grave

I will bury this past
I will let go of these salty regrets
and take nothing from this exhausted life
I will stand over my grave
and give it a half-crooked smile
then I will lay down
leaving all that I have touched
and seen above me
I will close my eyes
and forget you
and as the earth falls upon me
so will a restful silence
then I will whisper
goodbye cold cold world
and then wait patiently
for that fiery pitchfork
to pierce my lily white ass

what remains

so much lost
so much taken without my consent
so much unpromised pain endured
too much
but still you claw at what remains
my wife
my children
my friends
my lovers
my wealth
my possessions
my home
but there is something you can't take
or cut away from my bones
you will scratch at it
you will dig your knife in it and twist
you will scream at it
but it will still just stare back

and beat