Friday, 17 January 2014


Is time to tell the nation

  about my ‘castration’,

  and the one who held me back?

Or, maybe I should halt this attack?

But, I think the time is right

The time is right to write

  of how I was halted

  the true me assaulted

Not able to be who I was

  or, who I wanted to be

Thinking it was love

Then plodding



  for what seemed a lifetime

What seemed a lifetime

  resulting in depression

  at the merest suggestion

And, being dragged further down


Thinking I would never get out

  however much I’d scream and shout

  “Let me out!”

  “Pull me out! “

  “Drag me out! “

  of this bottomless pit

The drugs did work

Sometimes I still peer over the precipice

  but I don’t fall anymore

Now I have someone I adore

  and she adores me.

Wednesday, 1 January 2014

Headache (The Pain Of Your Kiss)

My head is aching, my

   mind is brewing, I’m

   sure there’s something I

   should be doing, to

   ease your conscience baby -

   clear  your mind,

   but I’m far too busy clearing mine.


My head is aching, my

   body’s dying, I’m

   sure there’s someone I

   can hear crying, for

   someone to hold on to -

   for all time,

   but I’m too engrossed making my life prime.


My head is aching, my

   brain is hurting, I

   can almost sense the

   final curtain, now

   that life has fulfilled

   my every wish,
   I could die only feeling the pain of your kiss.


Kiss, these lips, of a man who has long passed his prime.

Caress, and re-juvenate, remind him of the time,

   his eyes met yours, and in love he fell long and deep.
Re-kindle, the lost love, which for so long has remained asleep.


Josephine, I liked how you sent me flowers,

   because, girls don’t usually send those gifts.

The vase is still there, the flowers have now wilted,

   they’re my sole material memory of you.

I’m unshaven for fifteen days or thereabouts.

My hair is matting, my armpits they reek.

I haven’t moved from this chair for what seems a lifetime.

I haven’t watched the TV to which I’m always attached.

Josephine, you cannot realise my remorse –

I didn’t mean to drive all that fast.

Seatbelt unfastened, you flew through the windscreen –
I watched, gawping, silent, as your young life shot past.

9 Days After 19

The sun may shine, but in my world – rain.

The world may turn, but to a halt mine strains.

The flowers may bloom, to me they wilt.

I live in ruins, where a city is built.


The world may laugh, I do but cry.

People bubble with life, I could die.

Some find a partner to love, I’m left to lone.

They will stand high whilst I’m down below.


The dejection I feel, the desolation I gain.

I could spew to the thought of the life to my name.

My body feels tired, my head empty of thought.

What power on Earth these feelings could have brought?


My life it feels spent, though I’m still in my teens.

The ‘time of my life’, I know not what it means.

Rain keeps on falling in the view from my room.

An end to my life could never come too soon.


You may scorn at my words, find humour in me.

But to me, this is real, no humour I see.

The world brought me up, and, is dragging me down.

In a ‘sink or swim’ case then I know I would drown.


The isolation I have, incomprehension my name.

Day after day the sadness remains the same.

My feeble body must rest as I down to lie.
And, if I should sleep, then I hope I will die.