Corn Flake


Corn Flake


You familiar thing

On your daily round

More than a packet meal

Awaiting the liquid rush

Morning crush, reveille

Cow juice on brittle wheat


Your call to arms

Is fuel for the parade

As unknown soldiers slurp

Countless battalions engage and go

From private dwellings

Hotel and guest-house rooms


The humble sustenance

Drawn from ears in the US and Ukraine

and further dominions

Do their democratic service

Grist for the best intentions

Mulch in the stomachs

Of mice and men


Arise new dawn

Go in peace

With the energy

That comfort

Milk and harvest food

Provide to the waking soul

Damage in transit

Damage in transit


I live on the border of reason

Often struggling not to disappear

From the frontiers of hope that sometimes

Seem so far away


There are days when the emotional weather

Is close to overwhelming

And sand bags around the senses

Are in danger of a breach


Then life becomes so tiring

Because, by any measure

Especially those that I impose

Everything falls short


And I am left in the claw of dismal

A tightening fist that excludes

Light and hope

That lingers in the gaolers stare


For moments like these

Are death

As I reluctantly wear the symbols of life

Why do I bear this grudge


Why am I so famished

So torn


A living. Dying thing.

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A magnificent rant

Full of bile. Malodourous

Extruded hate

Desperate. Drink fuelled confusion

Committed to air by pressing ‘send’

And sealing a toxic mistake to history

From down there in the deeply dark

Out now to fester. A lingering testamony

To a failed state

Always to hover and float

In a memory alert to casual triggers

So, will there be, debris

Some reciprocal ache

Some collateral damage

A stain left from the rancour

Or will I see sense

Forgive and forget

Grow a little as I toast my luck

Because in this small episode

My conscience is clear

A seconds’ thought

A seconds thought

A seconds’ thought

Morning meditation

Can be disruptive

When questions crowd in

And clamour at the roots of sanity

For doubt is the great divider

Allowing me to enquire

Just as the child once did


For all that I have seen

And everything I think I know

Is awash

Dampened by doubt

That will fret and pull

And make nervous the certainties

Handed down through histories

Woven into me


So, a new day is born

Another unit in my shifting passage

My chance to honour meaning

Salute the depth

The gravity of being




To all of that

Loquacious man

You spent so much

Time in air

With stories that sailed

On perfumed winds

Close to the edge of reason

And frequently beyond

But the fuel you used

High octane stuff

Was poison

So when you sucked

You swallowed tainted fuel

And lit a flare

That could only ever do one thing

Gutter, stutter or fizzle out

And you reached all three

Now you leave

A crater on the moon

One holed sock

And a legend

That could never be.

Hallo again

Hallo again copy


Words make flesh of thought

For simmering resentment and joy

Can find a voice

On the back of such a flash


Returning to the light

From the dark embrace of night

On eyes that have been off-guard

Might shock or disappoint


The commonplace repeated is comfort

To a timid soul

But the shadowy mix of ignorance

Will not spare a sleeping mind


The futures’ touch

Might shiver like prediction

In a doubtful space, so

Let hope put a blanket around doubt

All souls alert


All souls alert 

Man down

In a careless thought

The breach was found

Fractions measure


Lost and bound


So mistakes made

In an instant

Will compound


All future movement

The best endeavours

Lost in cloud


Vague memories

Mourn false hope

So cling. Hold fast


To instinct

Best laid plans

And magic


For peace resides

In the simple

In clarity


Not in a mind that’s closed

But in the yearning space

Where love resides

Occasional Table

Occasional Table

Occasional Table 

A small table left to founder in the garage

Stands in poor light. Ignored

The pitted surfaces accumulate dust

Spiders trails. Filaments that catch light

And lend a desultory romance to the loss

Of occasional usefulness

Whatever purpose those four feet enjoyed

Has been lost to a casual amnesia

But now I see opportunity

Texture. Form. Transition

A languishing beauty that simpers

With an essential dignity awaiting restoration

I have the fingers, the vision

Special effects and enthusiasm

To re-invigorate the very sap

Those four legs in forced exile conceal

Arise, utilitarian object

Let the present unmask your hidden talents

And re-take your bright place

In my impetuous future

Together we shall

Experience hilarity.




It is easy to follow convention

Travel a well worn path

And blend, inconspicuous into the flow


But the runt will feel a heavy hand

Upon his growing burden

To live in perpetual disagreement


For those who are normal

And float, unperturbed  by flaws

Will essay on through life


So the journeyman is bound

Like some casual make-weight

To endure the boredom of the commonplace


While gilded souls. Chosen ones

Float on the sumptuous presumption

That life is good


I can’t help but spare a thought

For someone, somewhere

In the rain or the heat. Desolate.