We fashion beauty. We aesthetes

We are Olympians of taste

And make no mistake, when the money is good

No expense could be too crude

For the aristocrat of the senses

Whose pockets flap

Will exploit loose change to buy exotic metal

Shaped vehicles that are extreme

To sit proudly as ornaments of success

And that ‘trophy beauty’

The ultimate prize

Can be embraced, paraded and caged

For others to ogle and envy

But, there is one thing that spoils

And over time

Even expensive treatments will fail

When honesty is lost

And foundations slip

Even taught, sculpted lines will err,

Faults and fissures creep

And the mask?

Well it will speak





Are there, tell me truth

Any not troubled by you

For even those blessed with youth

And ravishing

Have mental slips

And those higher-up, say famous

Can also succumb

Find frailty. Expose fear

Be wounded by an impartial stare

So, in your false frame

Is it vanity

That lingers over memory

Where pomp and circumstance

And all pride eventually

Is pricked

Get well

Get well

Get well


You are a bright light

Occasioned sometimes by pain

You colour your space with playful air

And would not let the pain revel in it

I care for you


Cherish the hope that propels you

To think upon a smile

And pen silly prose

In defiance at lurking dread

That is steeped within


Even in distress there is resolve

I honour that

Because we are on slender threads

Unsure of shape and form

Yet sparks sustain you


Go on. Improve

Give the indelicate salute

Cling to resilience

Dance the steps of a furious but tired pugilist

And win this bout

A naked poem

A naked poem

A naked poem


Agile weeds that cling

to places I leave exposed

are markers of time mis-spent


I am left with remnants

shards from what should have been

all those glittering achievements


Shreds from a garment

woven from wobbly love

that inexact thing


A heart beat

stretched muscle

at the source of tears


Remember being the refrain

that echoes and thunders

even under cover of sleep


Not even dreams

can render

Happy Endings


For this mind will believe

the imprisoned propaganda

of some previous elite

A slip of a man

A slip of a man.


His bloated face. Short cropped hair

A man in a zoo

He is free to go. Free to roam

With eyes on points of confusion

Must make a choice



Torn between the force of will

A trapped ego and spent flaws

With remnants of an unreliable memory

And the pull of human decency


How far can he fall?

The animal in that man

Unfettered beast that he has become

When open doors and friendship

Confound him and unleash fear


The chords and sinews that separate

The lost from the found

Resonate only with simple rules

That trust and faith will bind

That harmony is in the mind


He is inchoate

No doubt troubled in the new dawn

Clutching at half-formed thoughts

Remedies that come to hand

In the hurry of remorse