Saturday, 10 December 2011


How can the absence
Of something,
Pull you so deeply.

Deep inside itself.

Are cosmic black holes
In the absence of love?

Friday, 2 December 2011

Christmas Market

Coloured lights fill her gaze
As she hardens against the chill;
Breathing mulled wine

Thursday, 24 November 2011

woman on the train

She had the air if the seventies about her.

A warm Jasmine breeze could whisp away her soft cotton blouse and reveal her ample bosom beneath. She would lean back her head so that her long wavy hair would shake loose, and she'd smile a gentle smile and breathe deeply. You could touch her, and she would welcome it. She would absorb your energy and your fingertips would tingle from the electricity of her skin. The space is colourful around her, filled with sexuality, draped in warmth and motherhood.

Wednesday, 23 November 2011

Monday, 21 November 2011

woman in glass

She stands in the darkness, pretending not to see me. Always looking out of the corner of her eye. Always there, always mocking.

She raises a hand to her cheek, as I do, she speaks when I speak, but I can't hear her. Somedays I listen so hard, so hard, to the silence.

She must have a purpose, a reason for being there?! A reason to stand each day, in the darkness. Why does she mock me at my window?

Sunday, 20 November 2011

Throne of Thorns

Today I sit on my throne of thorns
As I look out onto my Queendom
My snivelling subjects pay with blood
For the disappointments they have
brought me

Their watery eyes, and quivering chins
Make my stomach full of anger
I'll send the guards to punch their heads,
to bloody and bruise their faces

My throne of thorns,
My crown of shame,
My sword of vitriol
and vengeance

Cower. Cower before your Queen.

Friday, 28 October 2011

Dancing in the sand,

Dancing in the sand,
The sun, swallowed
By warm, still waters,
Now inky black
Under starlight.

Dancing in the sand,
Twirling your airy
Dress around
Sun-kissed ankles.

Left hand, lightly
Holds your shoes.
Naked toes enveloped
In the softness
Of the beach

Imploring the night
With your movement,
Caressed by a warm
Salty breeze

Your strap falls from your shoulder.

Dancing in the sand,
Because nothing else matters.

Friday, 16 September 2011

From persecution to persecution

From persecution to persecution
Exhausted brown eyes
Look with fear
At the face of the stranger

Friday, 26 August 2011

All because of the whims of a douche. (another restructure)

illuminated in blue
the computer screen highlights
the glisten of the tears
(artificial light is hard)

shrouded in silence
uncomfortable and alone
nerves are punctuated
with tapping (from unfamiliar fingers)

broken hearted
her brothers, taken
banished forevermore
(into memory)

Monday, 1 August 2011

Blind eyes still see clearly

Seek and ye shall find.
I sought,
And I found,
And now I'm too scared to look.

Hand me the blinkers.
Protect my eyes,
I don't need the truth.

Who would?

Tie the blindfold tighter,
I can still peek through the edge.

At the light of your indiscretion

Monday, 11 July 2011

I'm still here

I'm still here
Perhaps I always will be

Listening for your voice
In every call

Scanning for your name
In every message

Waiting for your hand
To knock again at my door

To knock again
With sorry in your eyes
And forgive me in your heart

I'm still here
Knowing you won't come

Friday, 8 July 2011

It's always there

Crippling shyness

Butterfly wings in a rainstorm

Damaged from the outside in

Wednesday, 29 June 2011

Static in the Rain

Standing still in time
-Motion blur all around her-
Chin facing skyward

Mascara tracks weave webs
Across her porcelain skin
Driving rain beats down
Onto her smiling face

The bustle of the world
Is muted
As she feels a kiss
From each raindrop lover

Sunday, 26 June 2011

Saturday, 25 June 2011

Look to the sky

Look to the sky -
The stars hold the wisdom
Of a million shining souls.

Twinkling eyes from heaven
All knowing
All understanding

Cleansing tears
Of rainfall
Washing away the pain

Physically taken,
But your hug is still felt
In a warm summers breeze

~ x ~


Goosebumps spring up over my naked flesh,
Fresh from the shower,
Scrubbing the pain away,
Lying naked in the cold afternoon air,
Trying to feel again.

Friday, 24 June 2011

An Overexposed Photograph

The brightness tears at the edge of her eyesight, so brilliant white.  The promenade is like an overexposed photograph.  A warm, salty breeze catches her soft cotton dress, and whips it gently around her.  She walks slowly, carefully along the seafront.  Her body feels heavier than it should.

She remembers the turmoil, the argument, he was so angry; but her anguish is eased by the strange luminosity of her surroundings.  So still, so peaceful, so warm.

So warm.  She moves to lay down, right there on the concrete.  The sun soaked walkway stings her bare legs.

She feels heavy.

She tilts her head to the side, now resting on the floor, and is absorbed in the delicate light glittering off the sand grains which have been scattered up from the beach.  Perpetual movement of light, glistening all around her, twinkling in the summer sun.  Her eyes softly close, and she listens to the sea, the water rolling in over the beach, and out, in and out, she is breathing, breathing.


So much and so little time passes, just breathing.

She opens her eyes, painfully.  The room takes time to focus; the bare light bulb in the hallway flickers; she is crumpled at the base of the stairs.  Blood.  So much blood.

The front door is left open.  She knows he is gone, for the last time.

Man on the underground

Ah man on the underground.

With every flip of your newspaper
You waft the warm fruity odour
From your working mans armpit
Into my disgusted,
Yet strangled polite face

Have a good evening

Wednesday, 22 June 2011


Your luminance astounds me.

My breath carried away on sunbeams;
Evicted from my body by the impact
Of your ethereal beauty.

Tuesday, 21 June 2011


For three days and three nights the rains fell, torrential, persistent, cleansing. And now the sun; burning through the clouds, purging with it's fiery heat.

Thick, black, oily slugs emerge from the soil as if borne of the storm itself.

The crows circle.

This does not bode well.

Saturday, 11 June 2011



Shattered like the mirror.

The shards reflect her broken form;
Just focus on one piece
And she appears whole.
But this is an illusion,
You're choosing the narrow view.

She is shattered.
Her soul splintered into fragments.
Fragments of herself,
That can never be mended.

Nothing fits together any more.

Sunday, 29 May 2011

Your Hands

The hands of time are in your hands,
You controlled the past,
You control the future,

The present ticks by,
Eyes blinking,
Heart beating.

Heart beating,

For You

Sunday, 17 April 2011

Blanket of blue

The world is steeped in a blanket of blue,
everything and everyone wrapped up in twilight,
shrouded from the trials of the working week 

The Blues

Pulsing Red
Coursing through our veins

Pulsing Red
Vibrant Life
Pumping with warmth

Where do the blues come from?

Saturday, 16 April 2011


Radiant smile lights up his face,
no story,
just quiet inner peace

Friday, 15 April 2011

Non poetical ranting

I am prejudice against the prejudiced
Your hate fuels my anger
Ill conceived hatred
Only serves to highlight the stupid
Your mind is narrow
And your soul blackened
Where is the love? 

Wednesday, 13 April 2011


...A heart in a box
             protected from the world

...A heart on a string
             easily lead

Tuesday, 12 April 2011

The Advance of Time

The room is warm, the skin is cold.
Silence, but for the ticking of the clock,
tarnished are it's arms, laboured is it's movement,
but always ticking onwards.
Unrelenting in the advance of time.

Monday, 11 April 2011

Border Land

A whitewashed house stands on the edge of nowhere, marking the transitory division between the world and the apocalypse.  The city sprawls out as always behind the house.  In front, lies only sand.  Deep, orange sand swirling in the tormented breeze.  Slowly encroaching ready to cover the world.

The sun shines more brightly than ever recorded, a fluorescent quality surrounds the sphere.  The heat is intense. Lizards run from the dessert to the town, scratching at windows and doors to gain shelter from the heat; or so they say.  They are not to be trusted.  Windows are fastened and houses secured, but for how long will these refuges be safe?  There is no hiding place when the time has come.

Sunday, 10 April 2011

A Cataclysmic Schism

A cataclysmic schism,  enormous, sudden and gaping; swallowing whole houses, trees and cars.  With knuckles white she clings to the edge, rubble and branches falling past her, lost forever.

Is this the end of the world?

Searing pain in her hands as they keep her from death; creaking tree roots, car alarms and the howling wind through the canyon accompany her thoughts.

"Does he know I'm here?"

                  "Will come for me?"

     "Will he love me forever when I am gone?"

The rubble loosens beneath her fingers, a clump of earth, dislodged, bounces off her face and into the void below.  She begins to weep softly in her desperation, as dark clouds roll across the sky, shutting out the light.  Eerily cold, she holds on no more.

Saturday, 9 April 2011

Remasked, reventure

The smell of new leather permeates the warm, heavy air. Dusk is starting to settle across the horizon, casting an orange glow through the voiled windows. She pulls on her knee high boots; they creak as she pushes her delicate feet into the toes, and zips them up tight. It felt good to be back in costume, and new boots always gave her a sense of adventure; excitement hung in the air.  Finishing touches now only remained, black leather eye mask, tied prettily behind her head, and long leather gloves that perfectly highlighted her alabaster skin. She flexed her fingers, slicked on a quick coat of red lipstick, pulled aside the nets at the window and sprang up onto the ledge, nimble as she ever was. Here she crouched, poised, looking out across the city skyline, as a gentle breeze whipped her hair around her shoulders. With a delicate smile washing over her lips, she whispered to the void below her 'it's been too long' as she proppelled herself forwards and leapt into the twilight.  The curtains billowed from the window she'd left behind, and the unkown lay ahead.

Dull, Dark, Grey and Wet

Dull, dark, grey and wet, 
The universe continues to surprise us yet

From within the gloom, and featureless skys
A rainbow blossoms and fills our eyes 
Bringing hope to the desolate few,
Strength to face next mornings dew 

Friday, 8 April 2011

I love layers

I love layers
Clothes on top of clothes on top of clothes
I love red
So vibrant, so happy, so alive
I love freesias
The smell of a summer breeze through an open window
A happy beat over a sad song 
Clean air after the rainfall
A strangers smile when you catch their eye
Laughing with friends till your face hurts 
Knowing that someone loves you (and someone does, trust me)
I love early mornings in big train stations
Being awake while everyone else is sleeping
Feeling tired after a really good book
Catching a deeper meaning
Connecting with others
I love contradiction, summer vests made of wool, sunglasses in the winter
I love glass, sunlight passing through, bathing your face in rainbow colours
I love pasta
And I love you 

Thursday, 7 April 2011

Watching for Dragons

The fair maiden sits high within her tower, defending her window from princes who would imprison her heart, and watching the skyline for the dragon that will take her to soar among the star strewn night. 

Wednesday, 6 April 2011

Amelia (Stagecoach) Meadows

Dust plumed up into the air, spiralling and swirling behind the runaway stagecoach. The thunder of hooves and the creaking of wood deafened her ears as she skidded to a standstill in the dirt track wake of the carriage.  Seven years she had been in this game, and it didn't get any easier. Leaping from a runaway wagon still hurt like hell, as much as it did the first time.  Ah but this time, this time the reward got just that little bit sweeter! This time her chips had really come in.

She got to her feet and patted the dust from her leathers and stood, ready to inspect her haul. Her cheek stung from hitting the ground and her knuckles were raw, but the thrill of the heist and beauty of the bounty made her tingle.    She sighed deeply, proudly, and pulled the pouch open, eager to see again that which now belonged to her. She peered inside and caught her breath; 'this day,' she thought, 'this day is the day that I made history.'

Take my Heart

Take my heart, use it as your stepping stone; 
Let it's warmth keep your feet dry,
as you make your way to someone new. 

Sorry if I got some blood on your shoe. 

Tuesday, 5 April 2011

Shoot me into the Sun

Shoot me into the sun, let me burn brightly in his firey embrace; may his flaming tendrils carrass me and shield me from the dark shadows of the world.  I want to bask in his glory and feel warmed, warmed from my head to me feet, through my soul and very being; filled with light and love and serenity.

Monday, 4 April 2011


Is she asleep? ...too scared to touch her face... will her skin be cold... clammy... like they say in the movies? -Oh! Did the bed clothes just rise and fall with her breath? Is she breathing?! I can't tell.  How long has she been like this? In this place, alone.  We've searched for her for years, or is it months?  ...and now I find her, here, like this. The appearance of peace, yet I feel uneasy. Something isn't right. Is she connected to the body still, or has she been taken away? ...too scared to touch her face; I hope she is sleeping.

Eternal Hope

He keeps leaving his drink unattended, in eternal hope that someone will slip him a little something more interesting.

Sunday, 3 April 2011


The rains fell, hard and heavy.  The parched land welcomed the water, absorbing it quickly into its baked exterior.  For the longest time they have hidden away from the deathly rays of the sun.  Creeping below rocks and foliage, cowering behind plant pots as not to become an empty shell.  At last, the rains have fallen.  At last they can frolic in the wide open spaces as the water revitalises their souls and provides life, adventure and liberty.

Saturday, 2 April 2011


He gazed out of the window into the summer’s day beyond his grasp.  “How long have I been here?”  He thought in his thick British accent.  “A multitude of days, weeks, months?  How long is a multitude?  A lot, very many, too long.  They keep me here for why, decoration?  To torture my spirit?  Perching me with a view of adventure, of hills and trees and the smell of the ocean, and yet keep me from its reach.  Forever trapped on this dusty shelf of eternity.”

Friday, 1 April 2011

A Tragedy

…Even from here, in the corner of the world, I can hear the desperate cry as his life force is slowly leached out of his body.  He made one last journey in solitude, covered the mountainous regions of filing cabinets and crossed the treacherous chasm that divides this world to reach Mr Paxton, the one individual that has been prophesised to be the helper, the one who can find the solution.  But it seems that now, even this was in vain; he was too late.  The life giving air is still painfully escaping from his bulb shaped body; every breath may be his last.  His time on this earth has been short, his purpose has been fulfilled; his only comfort is that he made a birthday girl happy.  He slowly waits for eternity to claim him, as he dreams of his next life.

Wednesday, 30 March 2011

Central Lining

This is Buckhurst Hill.

Your eyes are wide and your voice is shrill.

This is a central line train to Epping.

Burghers of Calais, London

A cold breeze whistled through the castle doors, ruffling the curtains and whipping her hair.  Goose bumps crept enticingly across her flesh as the stillness washed over her.  Her maniacal laugh echoed around the hall, resonant with her jubilation; this was the moment; she had won!

Encased in bronze her enemy was now frozen in time, unbreakable tears clinging to his metallic face.  His head in his hands as he accepted his fate; his true love will never be in his arms again.  The battle was over; she had won.

Tuesday, 29 March 2011


The darkness creeps in,
despite the sun through the window,
the darkness is there.
Permeating the silence,
pulling at the fibres of my being.

Am I dead or alive?

The warmth of my tears
reminds my flesh of it's earthly place.
The mind forgets.
Sinking deeper into the darkness.

Monday, 28 March 2011

What Lies Beneath

Untrodden, forsaken
Fresh ground undisturbed by foot fall,
Hundreds of years untended.
Abandoned.  Forgotten.  Wild.

The elegant flight of a night owl,
Wings beating heavily
Across the blue moonlit sky.
Fresh kill, still warm grasped in the talons;
blood drips slowly to the earth.
Blood and soil unite,
the sweet scent awakening what lies beneath.
Nostrils twitch with an aroma long forgotten,
Deep yearning pulls at the flesh.

Asleep for so long, the blood lust takes hold once more.

Sunday, 27 March 2011

Does the darkness surround me?

I peer from deep within my body,
Looking from my head to the world outside,
Keeping deep enough inside as not to be touched.

My core, my self, my soul.  Protected.
Surrounded by this body, a fa├žade.  Engulfed.

A darkness.  Ever present.  Seeping.  Pervading.
Overtaking.  Is it mine?

Friday, 25 March 2011


...just listen

Not with your head
- but your heart

H E A R the words
I am saying to you

F E E L them

... what?

. sure .

- we can talk later.