Nothing Via Anything

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , on August 28, 2016 by dc

The dreams you brought you bring again,
You sing a million offerings,

You give yourself to those in need,
You’ve seen the statues almost bleed

And still no God appears.

Two Teacakes

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on August 9, 2016 by dc

She took his heart and dog,
She took them ten pin bowling,

He called her filthy thief,
He called her broken window.

Two teacakes on the kitchen side
Left for several weeks all blue,
Demons in the cupboards,
A dirty doormat’s twisted view.

So many froms,
So many hexes,

So many swear words,
So many truths,

The stains that haunt
His hallway carpet,
And that slug that sometimes moves,

He’s the ageing turquoise bathroom tiles,
In a house that sings for fools.

A Haunting

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , on July 22, 2016 by dc

He stays in this room
A ghostly disillusion
A TV report

Their Name Was Calico Dawn

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on July 1, 2016 by dc

A campfire barely burning
Built on someone else’s dreams,

A house out in the country
Devoid of energy,

The grief of something not quite right
Buried in a shallow grave,

Manufactured solitude
And the shunned hip-hip-hooray.

In-between the loops of rising suns
And a thousand well-thumbed maps,

Disasters sprang from stolen books
And the sounds of the railroad tracks,

Their thoughts spent resurrections,
All whispered jamborees,

And inside their battered jewellery box
They collected autumn leaves.


Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on June 24, 2016 by dc

It should never have happened,
Say what you will,

As we wallow in confusion
On the flip side of great,

Blaming the shattered glass
On the pavement,

And the distant
Shuffling shadows.

We sit here divided and broken,
Screaming in the dark,

We snarl through
Disagreement’s spent spittle,

Wounded and angry,
Fighting fire with fire,

Hope burning on the roadside,
Faith lolling out of sight.


Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on June 16, 2016 by dc

I went back to Islington
Where the songs are sung
By showbiz beggars,

I ate chicken gentrified
Long, long ago
By the silver spooned rebels,

I read the cake shop billboard signs,
Arched eyebrow jokes
Poking all the people,

And I inhaled mid-twenties dreams,
Doe eyed and naive
Like a dizzy Walter Mitty.

The Rotten Anomaly

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , on June 8, 2016 by dc

He’s a mime at a picnic,
A whispering quiff,
A hidden side effect,

The breath mint spinning
Duplicitous smiles.

He trims and moisturises,
Illustrates and rhymes,

He’s the rotten anomaly,
He’s cufflinks when buttons will do.

He does the echo Jesus walk,
Slips wisdom into cocktails
And wrestles history,

He’s the tailored suit on Fridays,
An eloquence well trained.

He starts the jokes at functions,
His punch lines are telegraphed,

He’s the something that nothing once mustered
And his handshakes are falsified facts.


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