sans pen sans paper sans hope

i’d really like to write a poem

it wouldn’t have to rhyme

i’d like to write about fear

about ignorance and greed

and that curious ability to decide that someone else deserves no pity or help or respect or even the slightest consideration

about how children are left to starve on cheap empty food and cheap empty television

bare walls and violence and old clothes and shoes

i’d like to complain about religious folk who blame the poor for not being pious enough and that is why  god has not delivered food and riches and shelter

conveniently not looking at themselves or inside themselves or anywhere but their bank accounts

i’d really like to write a poem about the stupidity of allowing self centred fools to decide the zeitgeist of now

but i can’t

my poems are sad and have left me alone to rot

sans pen

sans paper

sans hope




Copyright May 2019



I didn’t mean to dig your heart out

then kick it down the hall in anger

too late now you heartless little bastard


if I pick it up and wash it under the tap

would you trust me to sew it back in

I’m told I’m quite good at connectivity


no need to back away, hands held in horror

if you wish to remain a hollow man you may

I’ll feed your heart to the dogs, they love you anyway



Copyright May 2017

My Zombie Self

what do you think I feel

when you accuse me of being emotionally dead

nothing going on under the armour you say

a shell of a woman closed off and remote

do you not realise

that all my love and pain and longings

live together in a knotted lump

deep within my diaphragm

that when you say I am nothing

the hurt nearly splits me in two

before my armour closes up again

and my zombie self smiles out at the world

Copyright June 2015