Poetry 'n Prose


as I read your message I realise

I don’t know how to come home

to you; the roads I have used before

are too safe. I forget to see where you are

and always meet you three doors away

from the house I know to be ours

the route may take me longer

as I arrive cross country

scarred and unshaven

smiling in a torn coat

understanding that love

is no more than a wound

from which we never recover

as I read your message I realise

I don’t know how to come home

to you.




related to Overflowing Remembering

Poetry 'n Prose

Mountains Shrouded By Cloud

Poetry 'n Prose


Nine weeks later

my telephone bill

remembers our every word

and silences,

a note of your code,

your number,

the time, the day;

all the seconds

of our conversation

measured, totalled

and subtracted

from my bitten account.

The figures so sharp,

specific, twenty five pounds

and four pence,

as if someone had focused

a camera through our curtains,

shot our silhouettes in black

and white; so sharp I look again

to see if some computer

had numbered

all the hairs of your head

where my fingers lost

count in the dark.




related to Homecoming Overflowing

Poetry 'n Prose

Mediterranean Lovers

This lust on vigilant lookout

staring out to sea

whilst below the beach is flooded

with summer sun beds, umbrellas,

Mediterranean lovers kissing

exchanging bodily fluids

diving deeper between

willingness and readiness

taken by a body of naked fire

permanently erect

on this continent of desire

Poetry 'n Prose


We step our way through potholes

of fragments carpeting the street

hopes and fears cling to our feet

as these memories suggests worth

while a course of action we know

we have courage to pursue


Fiesta Brava

I’ve never attended a bullfight, a Fiesta Brava, though I have made myself watch film footage of the bloodiest moments, and also that moment fatal to the bull. The audiences applauded the matadors with joyous admiration (I find in my Spanish dictionary that corrida is slang for orgasm). The matadors paraded themselves in the “I’m the man” attitude.

Familiar as I am with my obdurate refusal to chill, my gut reaction to the Fiesta Brava footage was no surprise to me: I considered the matador a cheat. I thought the audience and he were collectively dishonest. It seems to me that if the matador wants to prove his bravery and honestly represent our human superiority over the rest of creation (our dominion over the beasts of the earth) then he should enter the ring naked, as does El Toro, and attempt to vanquish the bull without the aid of picadors (with their sharp lances) and banderilleros (with their barbed sticks).

At the same time, I wonder whether the respective genetic and intellectual histories of human and bull—kind should be taken into account. After all, we claim it is our ability to reason which elevates us above other life~forms. So, an accurate contest between bovine and   homo sapiens, should be between intellect on the human side and brute force on the steak side. Perhaps a “fair” fight between representatives of our respective species should include all that bulls (as a species) have learned, pitted against all that humans (as a species) have learned.

This would mean that the bull would pit it’s horns and muscle against a man or woman, positioned many miles away, armed with nuclear missiles (that most physically destructive expression of our powers of reason). Admittedly, the encounter would be brief and ecologically damaging but hey… don’t get me wrong… I’m aware of, and have been tempted by, the buzz to be had from violence and buckets of blood… but the decision to fight in the traditional sword/picador/banderillas way seems to me to be an arbitrary and false definition of fair; one which, as in other blood “sports”, demeans us.

Of men who have faced horror, felt the breath of death on their skin, some of these have said that for them, war was the best of times: the time when they felt truly alive. I suspect it’s the same for those men and women who climb mountains or skyscrapers, with only chalk and the strength of their fingers and toes between them and an insect death on the planet’s windscreen.


Unblemished Character (Re-edited)

In 1998 Murdoch was awarded a papal knighthood.  A Papal knighthood is not a courtesy title. The Pope was saying that Rupert Murdoch is the man your children should follow. After all, if you wish to please God … who better to emulate than a man with an “unblemished character”? An “unblemished character” suggests a sin free soul. This is a serious, heaven or hell assessment with crucial implications as to how human beings should behave in the eyes of God.

Perhaps Murdoch’s $10 million contribution toward the construction of a Catholic cathedral in Los Angeles suggests to Pope John Paul II that Murdoch has lead a blameless life – or perhaps it is that Murdoch, as Chairman and Chief Executive of News Corporation and owner of Zondervan Publishing House, is the publisher of the New International Version of the Bible (NIV). Although the NIV copyright is held by the International Bible Society, Zondervan has exclusive publishing rights.

But we now know Rupert Murdoch made his fortune by encouraging and preying upon base human instincts, through his ownership of newspapers such as the UK publications The Sun and (now defrocked) The News of The World. But Murdoch continues to promote racism, contempt for women (something Rebecca Brooks, nee Wade, appeared to have missed), homophobia and, in general, the hatred of those who are different from him by encouraging the base instincts of the mob.

Pope John Paul II is promoted as a man of morals, a moral arbiter whose opinions on ethics we are all encouraged to respect. In addition, a billion Catholics consider him to be God’s representative on earth. In light of John Paul II’s assessment of what constitutes an unblemished character, I suggest his admirers should re-examine some of his other pronouncements on moral issues such as condoms and HIV/AIDS, celibate priests,women priests, the family and sexuality in general.

Take sexuality for example. For human beings, intimate, mutually caring, relationships are not a matter of preference or lifestyle. I would affirm that, with few exceptions, at least one intimate, mutually caring relationship is a vital imperative for a human being, and the absence of such a relationship is unhealthy, damaging to the individual, and ultimately damaging to society, a society that Murdoch’s feeds his readership with. We should expect more than that from a much promoted moral leader with the political power of a billion followers.

Incredibly, a large numbers of people (who read Murdoch’s press) insist that homosexuals should abandon the search for love and should instead, like fish out of water*, struggle in pain as pretended heterosexuals or suffer a frustrating celibacy. I suggest that the equivalent, loving, heterosexual relationship is an equally vital imperative for homosexuals. People who commit to an intimate emotional and sexual relationship, have accepted, even embraced, responsibility for someone else’s happiness and wellbeing. Love is love, and such people, regardless of their sexuality, regardless of the gender constituents of that relationship, are the bedrock of an emotionally stable and responsible society and should be supported, nurtured and encouraged for the benefit of all.

See Three Seconds is Up: Part One.


* Several species of fish (spotted hand fish, stonefish…) are capable of “walking” and some (mudskippers, some species of catfish and eels) are able to survive prolonged periods on land. However, the ability to move on land “like fish out of water” does not validate the opinion that living in water is an environmental preference, or lifestyle, for fish. An accurate, honest, informed assessment would be that for fish, living in water is an obligatory, natural, necessary and appropriate requirement for the fulfilment of a healthy and environmentally useful life.

Poetry 'n Prose

Breaking News

The Workers Cinema is about to take their touring theatre production around regional Job Centres. The programme includes

9 1/2 WEEKS
(while we establish that you’re hungry)

(at the most inopportune moment)

(who has now lost her claim because someone saw you leave)

(Success! The Job Centre found these three claimants a fantastic panto opportunity)

from our roving reporter: Claimante Fraude

Poetry 'n Prose

Black Sky Broke

black sky broke

rain it came lashing

with grief unyielding

recoiled to a fetal position,

sometimes that’s all

we can do.

Poetry 'n Prose

Being There

Your hand around my finger

In the gallery of birds

Making music that

I’ll never forget

Poetry 'n Prose

Every Seven Years

Every seven years

Every cell in her body is reborn

But she faces more changes

Beyond this door

What doesn’t change

Is his acceptance / agreement

To be wrapped complicit

Around her little finger


Poetry 'n Prose

Your Smile Is Anchored

Your smile is anchored

In sad refrain

In so many words,

Said over again.

Poetry 'n Prose

A Field of Broccoli

As the crows watched on

There we were in a field of rhubarb

sorry, not rhubarb

I meant a field of broccoli


And in ’93 when the swallows

were swooping we made love

Inspired by devotion

In that field of broccoli.

Poetry 'n Prose

Love Will Satisfy Love

He breathes faster pounding away

Synchronised she moves

With him and against him

Eager to display desire

She is careful not to threaten

With expectation

This time he’ll come

She will make certain of it

While his helplessness without her

Their mutual understanding of this

Make her want him more

She raises her buttocks

Gently and inviting

To accommodate his anxiety

His hunger

This is love this giving

Everything he’s ever needed

When his everything lovingly given

Is no more or less than she had hoped for

Where nothing of importance

Will ever be

The same again

Later, though separated

He’s decisively close

She thinks of him

And smiles deciding

That that night she will make

An extra special steak and kidney pie

With dark beer and red wine


They will eat this

His favourite meal

As they eat they know

That love will satisfy love.

Poetry 'n Prose

Our Protest

That our protest is ignored

Is a critique

Of our vocal techique or chord

That our protest is opposed

Is the natural expression

Of doors that open and close

That our protest is a waste

Is a comforting thought

To the craven and debased

That our protest is unvoiced

Is our crime, our children’s burden

And our choice.

Poetry 'n Prose

Push Come To Shove

Though I might be able

To forgive, I won’t forget

But we must learn to live

Together or die alone

And so I offer my hand

If not in friendship then in hope

That your words are worth

More than your history

Poetry 'n Prose

Swings and Roundabouts

For a fatally long moment

I forgot that I love you

It was the opposite of fiction

Went totally sane

Knew just what was happening

And me with no paddle

But it’s all right now you’re gone

And I’m crazy again

Poetry 'n Prose


Tonight an amazing woman died

As the time was her time

Tonight I understood this finally

As I said my goodbyes

Tonight I sing your song

As strong men cry

For you Serife

Love from


Poetry 'n Prose

Platonic Eruptions


he sees her

he wants her

he thinks he knows

how to please her

She didn’t need

to ask

the question

She has needs

that she needs

meeting and

he must

Poetry 'n Prose


“Jump” says Yoko Ono

“I’m too scared ” I cried

“Go on”, she says

“Why don’t you give it a try?

Only entropy lasts forever.

So why prolong the agony?

all men must die”

“Do we have a chance?” I hesitate

“Course we do” she replied smiling

“Yes, but artistically speaking?”

“Screw art Bodhidharma, JUMP!”

Poetry 'n Prose

Before words come

No longer submissive

under her smile gripping

both of her hands and rump

my chest belly balls rising

cock tangle into her and

through us in the dark

before words come

Poetry 'n Prose

For the average citizen

No different

we went through

the ceremony

tails half-mast

lips were poised

excuses ready

our eyes and life

don’t meet

Poetry 'n Prose

Sail on

Water around these islands
Remain deep and clear
Where her blue sky thinking
Leaves him no fear

Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.

Poetry 'n Prose


Asking for

Love is simple,

Opportunity itself

Never ever


Poetry 'n Prose

The struggle that sustains us

the struggle

is no longer

to die a dis

illusioned man

(or woman)

for those who may

have noticed

life is very much

current affairs