For Owen

He was different for me

As he was different for you.

Commonalities far beyond

Shared blood; a shared ancestry

Stretching way back.

It’s looking forward that smacks me in the face,

No longer able to trace

His breath in the distance.

Knowing and feeling merge into one.

A gripping pain

That hurts.

A cobweb of empathy

Intertwines continents

As does a sense of uselessness.

What’s done is done,

The end of a run

Of a man.

Not understanding,

Not withstanding 

The illogical logic,

That must have blinded him.

His head swallowing his heart whole,

Taking him away.


We all have

an incessant need

to feed;

to fill the void

with scraps… leftovers…

half hearted thoughts…

witty retorts,

left suspended.

Gorging on words,

choked of all meaning,

lubricating intent

with watered down small talk.

Self-aware exclosure

heart wrenching exposure,

of telling it

like it is.

A muted hiss

that leads you


Biting into the apple,

exposing your humanity,

your veiled insanity

that everyday chitchat

attempts to hide.

Layer upon layer

of well sculpted ideas,

visible through the tears

of a truth

you cannot speak.

Don’t say I’m clumsy…

I’ll be the first to admit,

I’m not spatially aware

and my four separate limbs,

somehow outnumber two pair.

‘It is how I was made’,

is my line of defense.

If you deem say I’m clumsy,

well, I’ll just take offense.

I can’t shy from the truth,

there’s just too much carnage.

Nor can I sidestep the blame,

say it’s down to my lineage.

I’ve ruined vintage jackets,

burnt their tassels to a crisp,

I’ve wiped out small children,

even blown up a whisk.

The list is quite endless,

it defies every law

and how I’m still standing,

only adds to my allure.

Because despite certain failings,

I am pretty astute.

Well that’s what I’ll believe

till I’m served a lawsuit.

Make up your own Mind

The kicker of the kicker

is it carries no weight.

It’s all bark

with the bite of a gurner.

It’s simple really.

Life happens.

You can’t dodge it,

can’t press pause.

You can be contrite;

what’s theirs is yours…

You see, I’ve learnt

a thing or two,

not that I’m wise

but I no longer despise

what’s out of my control.

Don’t spread your legs

for a lick and a promise.

Who hasn’t?

Who wouldn’t?

I’d strongly recommend you don’t,

not that you won’t,

make up your own mind.

Stop looking and seek,

eternally speak,

your own truth.

The words that form a lump,

make you palms sweaty,

those thoughts need airing,

‘cos life is short.

So do not get caught

with regrets.

Step out of the charade.

and do not,

under any circumstances,

let anyone,

piss on your parade.

before I head back to Tinder…

I wear my indifference,

like the Emperor’s new clothes.

A placid disposition?

A catalogue of woes?

I’m tired of remoulding,

every ounce of my being.

In order to fit in,

with what I ought to be fleeing.

My crime is believing,

the sweet, honey lies.

The bullshit dished out,

by shallow, insecure guys.

There’s got to be a man,

who can love and adore.

An eccentric, unique lady,

for now and evermore.

‘Cos I’m getting quite cynical,

it has to be said.

That I only get praise,

When I’m giving good head.

What happened to chivalry,

does it no longer exist?

In this man-eat-woman world,

of the emotional rapist.

I don’t want to become tainted,

don’t want to be bitter.

But I get more love and support

from my followers on Twitter.

Yet no one can stop me,

no one can hinder…

I just need a safe refuge,

before I head back to Tinder…