Monday, 10 December 2012

Santa's Last Day

Two in the afternoon and Santa was weary. His back was playing up from sitting on the same uncomfortable stool all day, his head was spinning and ached mercilessly from the incessant chirpy music, his chin was sore from inquisitive kids tugging at his beard to see if it was real – of course it was – and most of all he was totally, absolutely, sick of those whining little kids, and worse still, their parents. What a place to spend the last few weeks before Christmas: in a grotty grotto in a large cheapskate department store, but, like every one else these days, he needed the money, even if it was minimum wage.
So here he was with an annoyingly precocious boy on his knee. This horrid little snob, in his pristine school uniform, was holding up a long queue of disgruntled parents, with even more disgruntled children, as he recited his interminable list of overpriced demands. His smug middle class parents looked on, with grinning superiority, as snobby junior took another deep breath, fixed another look of concentration, and continued:
“An Action Man, a train set, a Scalextric, a fire engine, a bow and arrow set, a PlayStation, a cowboy's outfit, an iPod, Lego, a laptop – a proper one mind: no less than 8 Gigs of RAM – a toy garage, some cars to go with it, a Barbie Doll-”
“A Barbie Doll!” exclaimed Santa.
“Santa, dear-oh-dear, your not sexist are you.”
“Course not, no, course not, don't think that lad. Just… Just…”

Tuesday, 31 July 2012

As a Discarded Toy

A blaze aches in my broken shoulder
My dress torn, covered in dirt and mud
Fat and putrefaction bath my once stylish hair
Useless and forgotten
I sink, lower, cast aside
And I suffered, did I suffer!

Some, some
Can ascend and fly
Like a bird of prey
Swooping on those
Dying among the garbage below

I've despaired since being made
Looked down upon by everyone
As a plastic doll, a cheap plastic doll
Never treated with respect
Or assumed to have a mind
Always a despised artefact

Some, some
Can cry and sing
Safe in their cloistered grandeur
Despising those trite
Playthings of yesteryear

I'm broken, torn apart, cut
Never worth repairing
Forever at the back of the cupboard
Always that unwanted gift
That last minute birthday present
Always the discarded me, the forgotten me, the ineffective me

Monday, 30 July 2012

The Market Trader

I have a poor market stall
Selling oranges to the forlorn
They're juicy, succulent visions
And you can try one if you would
A one-off offer only available today

These oranges are a possible happening
A bright vision of equality
An appetising ripeness among the despair
Don't look on with bitterness
Or plunder pillaged desperation

The oranges come from the future
The oranges come from a possible
They're sun filled experiences
And you could try one if you like
A get-one-free special only for today

Hitherto the market has been declining
One thrust might have been our demise
Our graves already dug among the detritus
But a new fresh batch of oranges
Opens the faintest possibility of ascent

Why don't we make a world of oranges?
Everyone growing or trading fruit
A cultural of equivalence
Full of the aroma of promise
Where everyone tastes sweetness

You could join us selling oranges
Or some other delicious fruit
We could make the market thrive again
Becoming a delectable exotic vision
And spreading to neighbouring towns

Friday, 20 July 2012

Bright, Bright, Afar so Bright

As miniature suns shine
Dazzling in the night
Forcing their brightness upon you
Expecting, demanding, you shine back
And when the day emerges
The disgusting stain remains

The sickening flames of neon
Gaudy monstrosities of illumination
A vandalism of electrification
You cannot close your eyes
To the intimidating luminosity
Of the thuggery of neon

The neon lights the skyline
Like some discordant graffiti
Scaring the mind, abusing the body
Born again in ineptitude
A deathly silence of lies
No gift too trivial to discard

This procession of tackiness
Sanctioned by wealth and greed
Far more sickening than any spray can
More disgusting than any youthful scrawl
With no little army of street cleaners
No cavalcade to remove the repellent

If it was any worth there'd be no need to advertise
And with such flagrant a disregard for truth
Presenting one side only of an argument
Means always disseminating lies
Or deliberately indulging in fraud
And with no rain will wash away this vengeful stain

Tuesday, 17 July 2012

Never Ever

We now meet trembling with boredom
Nothing to say, all dull inanities
And depart desiring a forgiving lobotomy

We never ever were, are, nor could be

What was it with that red paisley scarf?
An unfashion statement?
A shallow mask for a shallow mind?

I never ever was, is, nor could be

I think I've had enough of your inconsequential ways
Your noisy inhospitably booming incredulity
Your trashy pop songs and superficial movies

You never ever were, are, nor could be

All we have left is a complete waste of time
It would be a kindness to forget that dull monotony
And destroy our tedious times, it all adds up to nothing

Because it never ever was, is, nor could be
Because it never could be, could be, never ever could be

Monday, 16 July 2012


I can remember you the shy girl back at school
Sitting at a desk nearby
Not saying much, always quiet
Skinny, gawky and with so beautiful black hair
Always overshadowed by your so called friends
Me all afraid to say anything at all

I can imagine your life
Spotty, sitting at a lonely checkout in Tesco's, bored
Marrying young and pregnant
A husband that takes advantage of you
A husband that maltreats you
One tooth chipped where he hit you that time
And still taking advantage of your sweetness and lack of confidence

Would I have taken advantage of you?
I hope not, I do so hope not
I could have, should have, offered you better then that
You will forever be a memory of a beautiful possibility
Something wonderful lost forever

Have I got you right?
Probably not, I hope not
But I will always miss what we never had

Sunday, 15 July 2012


The torrent crawls bringing raucous music

One day for live performances, bootlegs
The torrent stalls
Frustration is the greatest hits

Frozen for collections
A tempting flurry
The ratio disappointing, blocking
Chasing hours for rarities

The torrent crawls hanging on 99 percent

A little poem written, a few years ago, during the frustrating and long wait for a torrent download on my computer to finish. Was the wait worth it? NO! The artist appeared intriguing; but the try-before-you-buy download only proved them boring and the files were quickly deleted.

Saturday, 14 July 2012

A Distant Conversation

An intermittent conversation occurs between two ladies, somewhat aged, in a covered market café near the centre of a small town. They are sitting at a small round table near the counter; a few thin bags of shopping are around their feet; the other tables are largely empty. It's a cold spring day and they've kept their thick coats on. Each lady is picking at her meal, beans with two slices of toast, and occasionally sipping from a mug of tea.

Quiet words come from one, admonishing the other.

Quiet words from one, admonishing the other.

Omitted words from the other, the younger.

They sit, finishing their mugs of tea. The café is almost empty – the tables wiped, the chairs all neat – and waiting to close on this tranquil late afternoon.

One woman, the younger, slouched back in her chair, is quietly humming a discordant tune; an imitation of some forgotten pop song.

One woman, the older, fiddles with the cutlery on her empty plate and scowled disapprovingly.

Friday, 13 July 2012

A Clear Nocturnal Sky

I walked through the vacant city streets
Among the cold and desolation
And saw freckles of fascination
All incandescent speckles of mystery
The luminosity seeming to drift away
As I tried to clasp upon it

I walked onward though the devastation
The loneliness of broken lives swimming all around
I gazed upon tiny smudges of enchantment
All above me this spellbound sea of stars
The brightness apparently superficial
So far away to be unreachable

Now lying in my bed, the curtains open
Eyes shut in the darkness
There I see within the stippled granules of stars
All burnished bright I know their form
The flecked candescence of the unknown
I've caught them, I have them, they're inside me

They're internalised to my being
They're lustrous within
They're all I want or need
(With eyes averted to the horrors just outside)

Thursday, 12 July 2012


You dissolved
Into a desire
So I melted also

You beaconed to
Another world
And suggested I depart
The humdrum

You unfastened the
Entrance of desire
And I meekly followed

You unbolted the gates
To my inner being
And I willingly
Pulled them asunder

New vistas opened up
And before I could grow familiar
You declared you were departing

You'd dissolved into another desire
So I my life froze