i am pieces of the treasure and minutes in the night
i am the full fat diet version
of my tin can fizzy life
i am a full on digital conversion
the one deleted by my first wife
Category: Poems February 2020
Crowd Pleaser (Crowd Leaver) – Written Thursday 6th February 2020 (Aged 44)
i love to show off
i am funny,
and i love making laugh
there is a high,
and sense of delirious power
As Years Gather – Written February 2020 (Aged 44)
lost mum,
before she finished the song
now,
i have lost another
this time it is dad,
and he spent his life undercover
trying to drown his, ‘sad’
Knee Deep in Probate – Written Monday 3rd February 2020 (Aged 44)
but my grieving has been life long
and i am not diminishing the event,
or its impact
but it was hard to know or understand –
the relationship with my dad
You Didn’t Cry Over Spilt Milk – Written Tuesday March 10th 2020 (Aged 45)
i love you
because you put pretty bows
on my grubby mistakes
you cleaned my unwashed bowls
and put beautiful patterns on my china plates
you taught me patience
that wild love could wait
you opened windows on my virtues
and held my words with a devoted paperweight
People Misunderstand Power – Written February 2020 (Aged 44)
people misunderstand power
no realising where it lies
people misunderstand racism
i can see it in their eyes
Own Not Enslave – Written Sunday 20th February 2020 (Aged 44)
no matter where you put it
or how many nails you bang into the crate
and then, when parents die
you feel that identity
and is no way for inner self to lie
These Days I Do Not Let Landslides Happen – Written Sunday 26th January 2020 (Aged 44)
it frightens me
not now, but for the days
when i let landslides happen
and welcomed chances
even when they buried me alive
The Signal Box – Written Tuesday 21st January 2020 (Aged 44)
so… quell down the real fire
close up those papers often red
clean up the dirty mugs
as engines gather one last time in the shed
the drinks are drunk,
all the levers have been pulled
and the points have been finally set
Could I Find the King of Hearts? – Written Monday 20th January 2020
i looked at you as you lay there
you were making –
your way through deaths door
fumbling with the handle
having easily found the key
The Boy Behind The Glasses. Poetry and Writing 