words jostle into place

one behind the other

meanings swapped in the kerfuffle

no wonder I’m not Arthur or Martha


so hard to distinguish the deserving

when the letters do-si-do around the page

in various fonts undecoded

or should that be italics?


oh!  if I only knew to be so bold

had the guts to strike out and underline the differences

before they sneak back into spaces

and take my thoughts away


for good



Copyright September 2016




I am a substitute

in this fragile world

full of ugliness and decay

I cannot stop the rot

’tis the way of all things to fall apart

I am no longer me

the mirror shows me proof

as beauty just falls away

like flesh off a rotting corpse

stinking up the crossroads at midday


copyright May 2016


I could be more vain and dye my hair

hide the silver curls

disguise my old age with artifice

but I’d still be old

everyone can tell

as they study the cracks in my brain

that time has not been my friend

without is like within it seems

one day I’ll be ancient

if the child inside has not escaped

the crevices will be full of memories

mismatched and dishevelled


copyright April 2016



A New Pen

the sorry for myself poetry

trips swiftly off the pen

more than a year’s worth at a time

scribbled ignominiously down

always just a little bit wrong


I can feel a prickling at my skin

the heat of the morning’s thoughts

tattoo themselves before I’ve barely begun

to entertain  possibilities

to try out the inevitabilities


I need a change


I need to change


I need a new pen





Copyright February 2016