dreams of home

and in my dream
i found myself floating in space
looking down on this rock
even the homeless call home

i saw no borders
except between the natural and the humanised
the wild and the tamed
the untouched and the soiled
by the hand of modern man

and that timeless womb
it was changing before my eyes
fading into darkness
emerging into light
death and life one in that cosmic breath
forever

but was that a thunderstorm
or that terrible flash of Trinity
that might mean the end?

was that a water cloud
or withered soil drifting
from our garden to the empty sea?

maybe we are all one
in our varnish-thin layer of breath
connected by watery memories

and what was once me fell down
into the abyss of despair
for our broken empathy
cannot see into that crowded, primeval dark
on the other side of that unfeeling rock
where the other half live, and die

if only

i am your morally ambiguous decision
come back to haunt your elastic conscience
you may try to escape me
but i'm still there
lurking in the shadows of your murky mind

i'm your unpaid debt to that friend
i'm your spineless jobsworth decision
i'm a rung on the ladder of promotion
i'm every time you kept your mouth shut
i'm every time you shouted 'shut up!'
i'm the gnawing itch in your bone marrow
you'll never scratch me

somewhere, there is a list
of every shitty compromise
your shrinking soul has eaten
it's there with the onion-skin slices
peeled tearless from your heart
with every sale
and every bargain

but we are not heroes
ours is no noble cause
we have no war, no great campaign
to balance the karma account
just the endless tick, tick, tick
of life ebbing away

but we are safe
to do nothing of any importance
except sleep the sleep of the insignificant grey
and forget what we once were
or might have been
if only

fret level 5

i'm burning all my credit cards to stay awake
the broadband has gone mouldy
a whole pack of sanity towels is blocking the road
but there's drugs to lock us up
and prisons to keep us sane
hooray

i've bought lots of nothing at a very good price
people who value nothing will buy it
i'll borrow some more from the bank
of the last river on earth
where i'll phish your identity
take that

next week there will be timebombs
and incendiary pauses
and all the words you can ever eat
so let's imprison some tourerists
in a maze of twisted logic
last orders please

i'm waiting for last year's great sensation
to arrive on the back of a cataclysm
i apologise for not being afraid
tesco value and the x-factor should fix it
and a raised fret level too
bye bye

choose drugs

(with a nod and a wink to John Hodge, of "choose life" fame)

choose drugs
choose Prozac, Seroxat, Diazepam
choose alcohol, ketamine, oxycontin
choose television, magazines, pop-talk radio
choose internet porn and kitten videos

choose lifestyle articles
choose aspirational values
choose, desire, acquire, expire
choose anaesthetics and distractions
choose scapegoats and this year's demons
choose drugs

choose only government drugs
get out of it, not into it
do not disrupt your programming
do not ask awkward questions

do not connect
do not choose that lonely slippery path
do not drop the layers between you and love
do not feel that grief, anger, despair and doubt
do not speak out about it
do not believe in anything
except what you are told
we will tell you who, what, when and how
but never why

and we tell you not to believe
and we tell you not to trust yourself
and we tell you that it's a dog-eat-dog rat-racist world
and we tell you the truth
with lies and fake news

you must not connect
you must not question
you must not wonder
you must be busy
and tired
and angry
and depressed
and alienated
and disheartened
and disempowered

but this pill can help
so you don't feel the ache
from running on the spot
so you don't get dizzy
from running round in circles
so you don't feel down
from keeping up

choose drugs
but only our drugs
buy them here
kerching

today i will...

and today, i will do everything
i will make that plan
complete that idea
do the half-done job
succeed

i will run backlit through a perfect sunny field
with my perfect wife
our perfect children
and our perfect dog
she will glow like a tampon advert
i will be indestructible
like, japanese 4 x 4 pickup indestructible
but still caring and loving

my online timesaving app
will be the Next Big Thing
my designs will break the mould
that has grown all over our sleepy conscience
you will buy them and feel good
for a while
until something else comes along

i will make my one-off, throwaway virtual friends laugh
with my witty comments
my wacky ideas
but not my smelly socks
it will give my ego the empty calories it craves
but these fished compliments stink after a few days
and sometimes the likes are just like missed bites

the plan is brilliant
only i can pull it off
it's going to be hard work
the idea fits me perfectly
it will succeed

i will be popular with the ladies
admired by the men
invited to speak on that round red carpet
about doing more with less
until you do everything with nothing
until the point is pointlessness

i will bask in my borrowed success
i will lean cynically back and look at the world
judge it and find it boring
it won't meet my double standard
of apathetic genius

i will water my organic, permacultural, no-dig social media profile
effortlessly
with tears of compassion
on the seeds of destruction
until i have time for nothing else

but first i must get out of bed

don't start here

i'm travelling back to familiar places
forwards in time to new ones
things are never the same

can i buy a ticket to the past, please?
i took a wrong turn, missed my connection
was too short-sighted to see the signpost
on this one-way street less travelled

when is it past the point of no return?
when it's pointless, is there a soul train to catch?
there's no map showing the halfway point
am i even driving? is the ticket real?
why has the clock stopped?

... what day is this?

well, if you're going to hell
you might as well ride first class
drink yourself stupid with the blinds down
pay someone else to take care of your problems

but i'm broke and on this fucking bus
so cheap you can't see out the windows
going backwards in space to a past i don't want
going forwards in time to a place i don't know

if Einstein was beside me
i'd punch that fucker in the nuts
with maximum black hole gravity
and sit him on a beam of light
see how he likes it when time stands still
and space suffocates you
relatively speaking

one hump or two?

(i'm taking part in NaPoWriMo)
   

i want to get to the point, i said, i like short, direct poems
i don't want to mess about
this is getting complicated
 

slow down, she said, take your time
let your mind glide over my narrative arc
your thoughts caress my rounded stanzas
your words tease my soft and swollen rhymes
lie back and let me ride your intellect
i want it inside me

all i wanted was a friendship with benefits
no heavy stuff, quick witty meetings with no zips or buttons
sheets awash with lurid fantasy
sexy glances into metaphors
scanning until our cheeks went red
and our minds sore from grammatical friction

it's ok, she told me. these things develop
i never knew we would get here
i was only in it for the laughs

so i carry on writing
short snappy ones or long laboured ones
whether i like it or not
i'm fucked either way

the unthinkable

i will write a poem
that cannot be read
impossible to dissect
analyse, or criticise
with no content
no person, no subject
no theme and no time
or rhythm or rhyme
confounding all logic
making no sense at all
not even madness
not even sane
not even there
not even unreal

as i write it
i will vanish
you will never know
who wrote it
if you read it
you will join me
i'm nowhere
we're nothing
it begins here
goodbye

the charge of the Leave brigade

(with apologies to Tennyson)

half a life, half a law
half a world backward
all in the chaos of Leave
raved the sick sundered
"Back to the Future, Brexiteers!"
"Slaughter the laws", they howled
into the chaos of Leave
dived the sick sundered

"Forward, to our glorious past!"
was ever there such dismay?
not that the fifty-two
saw the ignorant blunder
theirs not to hear the reply
knowing not the reason why
against both EU and I
into the chaos of Leave
fell the sick sundered

Dover to the right of them
Dunkirk to the left of them
Cliffs right in front of them
blinded, they blundered
stormed at with lies and guff
common sense was not enough
no time for the tricky stuff
Leave the country in the rough
did the sick sundered

"Give up, you lost, get over it"
"Brussels is a load of shit"
"i don't like darkies" is really it
Remoaners often hear
all the world wondered
oh, that this was just a joke
that Leaves us tired, split and broke
English, Welsh and Scot
blinded half by a screen of smoke
panicked and wondered
but the way back was blocked
by the sick sundered

Brussels to the right of them
Strasbourg to the left
EU now behind them
moved on but they wondered
why those stupid British pricks
behaved like selfish fucking dicks
the Empire dream still makes them tick
the crimes forgotten, outlook sick
now all they had left
the sick sundered

when will their minds be changed?
a wild charge of a horde deranged?
all the world wondered
Leave divided from Remain
childrens futures down the drain
thank the sick sundered

your worst best friend

i am your enabler
i am here to help
i will smooth out the bumps on your road to self-destruction
i will make sure you are comfortable in your private hell
i will hold your hand all the way
so i will never be lonely
so i will never feel out of control

my power is to steal yours
my intentions are the best
you will believe i am your friend
the one who never speaks uncomfortable truths
who is always by your side
hanging on till the end
when it is over for you

i will follow you to hell
i will drive the car for you
i will say what you want to hear
i will stay between you and that nasty world
i will run things for you
it will be my pleasure

i will feel lonely when you are gone
i will have nobody to call my own
i will no longer be distracted from my own misery
i will mourn our friendship
i will be alone
poor me