Dead Horse

Better here to cease than the knackers yard
A wild hearted beast that lived fast and died hard.

Better to have fallen than led away to be rendered
To have died on the hoof than gone lame and surrendered.

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London

Sirens. Busses. Polluted air

Millions of strangers, none of whom care.

 

Hard-faced ladies. Unloving boys

Dirt. Construction. Non-stop noise.

Local Politics

You’ve never really had a proper paid job.
Not for you, the nine to five slog.

Some would say your achievements are zero,

But in your own mind you’re a conquering hero.

The Fat Man

.
Not last night, but the night before

A big fat man came knocking on my door.

The Serial Killer

I still remember my very first victim

He lent me a hammer and died when I hit him.

 

The specialist diagnosed me a ‘psychopath’

Sadly she was later found drowned in the bath.

The Beast of Bodmin Moor

The experts will tell you I just don’t exist

But amongst the locals, sightings persist.

 

A cunning feline, a non-native cat

I live on my wits and I’m primed to attack.

Black Shuck

If roaming lost, in thickest fog

Or traipsing through the gloom,

You sense a dark and spectral dog

Tis a portent of your doom!

The Difference Between Me And You

I think there’s been a misunderstanding.

I like rain storms, not brain storms

Real streams, not work streams

LET ME OUT

The lights are buzzing, they’re really far too bright

The phones don’t stop ringing…this just isn’t right

 

I’m sipping cool tea from a plastic vending cup

There’s too much to do and I want to give up

The Poppy (Part 2)

.

Dear little poppy, you are growing in the mud, lavishly enriched with my own spilled blood.

Dear little poppy your petals are so red. T’was upon this very spot I was shot in the head.

The Poppy (Part 1)

The Poppy (Part 1)

Mud. Blood. Mustard Gas. Firing squad, Deserters.

Shell shock. Corpses. Germans trying to hurt us.

THE RIGHTEOUS

THE RIGHTEOUS

STOP. GIVE WAY. NO RIGHT TURN.
GO IN THAT DIRECTION.
OBEY THE LAW. CONFORM. BOW DOWN.
PAY SOME DAMN ATTENTION.

THE POPPY (PART 2)



Dear little poppy, you are growing in the mud,

lavishly enriched with my very own blood.

Dear little poppy your petals are so red.

T’was upon this very spot I was shot in the head.

BLACK SHUCK

 

 

If roaming lost, in thickest fog
Or traipsing through the gloom,
You sense a dark and spectral dog
Tis a portent of your doom!

Do not venture from the path
For hunting on the moors
Is a hound that’s bigger than a calf
With snapping, slavering jaws!

THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN ME AND YOU

 

.

I think there’s been a misunderstanding.

I like rain storms, not brain storms

Real streams, not work streams

Any cloud, but not the cloud

An actual blue sky, not your Blue Sky Thinking

I want to break out of the room, not enter a ‘Break Out Room’

The Poppy (Part 1)

 

.

Mud. Blood. Mustard Gas. Firing squad, Deserters.
Shell shock. Corpses. Germans trying to hurt us.