21 May 2015

Golden Age Syndrome

We would talk about the 60’s
And agreed we’d fit pretty well there
Real bullshit
Hanging with Hendrix and all that

But the other option
Our own rooms
Own homes
Any place
Any time was better than where we were

Floating through the lives of others
Gravel and glass under foot
Always someone scratching at the door
Trying to squirm and claw their way
Never an end in sight

And so we adapted
Any way we could
When a person is pushed enough
They go out to extremes
Or become introvert

So we each chose one
And the rift it formed
Created a distance both mental
And physical

And afterwards
We never connected the same way
That time together was gone
Speaking only here and there
Visiting even less

But I stayed the same
And you stayed the same
For better or worse

And eventually I realised
There had never been anywhere safe
For you to be

No corner of the world existed
Where you could hide from what you
Had inside
What they’d tucked away in there

Nor would any past decade welcome you
You didn’t even fit here
With me

You could have stayed and fought
But then
There’s always the other option

So you took it
Made the choice
Leaped without looking
And to hell with the rest of us

I can honestly say
That I don’t blame you one bit

They got to you brother
Clawed their way in
And even I couldn’t stop them

And still the world
Is hard
And bright and amoral
And loud
Without mercy

I do not envy you
I have still too much to do here…
But say hello to Jimi for me.

15 May 2015


I can’t wait to get so old
That all this anger just subsides
Washed away like it’s nothing
Wisdom and grace taking over

I can’t wait for the day to come
When I awake and just feel the day I’m in
Taste the coffee in my mouth and
The touch of the people I love
Without this weight on my back

I sense it now and again
Like summer coming
The hairs on your arms stand up
And balance overcomes you

There is no poetry in carrying a burden
That never breaks you
It’s like an inside joke

So you channel it
Funnel it into the real poem
Or dam it up
Long enough to see what havoc you can cause
If you let it out all at

A hundred ways to go fuck yourself

A hundred
Million ways
A million gold coins in the bank
Stuffed into their clean-as-shit mattress

Stockpiled riches but hey
They worked hard for it
Up at dawn and a 10 hour
6 day week
hey man
Stop being so bitter

A hundred thousand
Million ways for them to spend it
And where does it all go
Into the walls
The floors
Wardrobes and fixings
A diamond fucking shoe rack for all I know
It’s not my area of expertise

And the Polish builders grind
And crack and saw and bang
And bang
And god
What else
For months on end

With not a fucking word of hello
From the upper class pirates
Too busy guarding their booty

Though we’ve had glimpses here
And there now
And then
White bread
Plain as balls
Nothing to them at all

A hundred
Million ways to live their life…
Sometimes you just look at someone
And think
Man, at least smoke a fucking joint.