Thursday, 1 December 2016


The world is covered with vicious glitter,

Every clashing colour incased in white,

The frigid air stops the sound

the last bright Autumn leaves

are leaving the trees

never has a death of nature

looked so lovely.

Friday, 26 August 2016


I'll break your heart
with a velvet hammer,
and crush your soul
in rose petals
because this can't work
but I still love you.

I love the way you smile
and the way you made me feel
like a best mate with passion
so safe yet dangerous.

I loved your stories,
like a young granddad
laughed at my jokes.

But I know you're telling soft lies,
killing us so gently
you think I wont notice
but I see all
and it's too blurred.

Too blurred to carry on,
and I think you agree
so I'll remember sun drenched days
and forget the worst,
the lies covered in roses.

Tuesday, 26 July 2016

The Animals

Big claws,

Alert, yet soulless eyes,

The animals have come to eat.

They come to invade,

to eat positivity

to choke any light

to feed off love.

And love becomes empty

replaced by fear

emotions detach themselves

and take up residence in the dirt.

And they run  with any diamonds

that were ever in your bones

and laugh at any light

only leaving you a blank expression

and an emptiness that scares the world.

They fear you are an animal too,

With tiny eyes that  only see shades of black

and claws to kill anyone close.

So the people stay away.

And the animals

need to be starved,

and tamed

and love will be their only poison.

Tuesday, 24 May 2016

Cake, Zombies and domestic violence.

The frying pan hit the rotting face at the perfect angle, the skull shattered and he was no longer an undead monstrosity but at peace with the world and just dead.

"Well done my man"

Josh's mum never had much reason to be proud but since the  "Armageddon" he seemed lots happier. The only achievement that Josh managed was beating grown men at bloodthirsty war games online. Nobody realised one day he could transfer his skills to save lives and kill zombies.

Chantel was the second line of defence as her "ADHD" meant she had been up all night watching blooded figures to see if there was any pattern so this nuclear meltdown of a family could defend themselves better and Chantel could use her legendry aggression to fight off monsters with cricket bats, she too was happy.

A carrier bag skidded down the corridor.

"Nice one, Billy"

Mum shouted down the corridor.

Billy had never walked out of a shop and paid for anything in his life so the end of the world just meant he had to fight zombies and other looters, life was more colourful now, mostly shades of red from the blood he seemed to be permanently covered in from killing zombies for cake; but his family needed to be nourished and feed their sugar addictions and fights for cake could get practically bloody and not all the bloodstains were from fighting the zombies, civilised people needed their junk.

"I wonder if the social worker's still alive"

"I wonder" answered Chantel.

There was a scream from the front garden, mum and Chantel ran and found a dead zombie along with a pale but alive social worker.

"Show us your eyes"

Mum glared menacingly at the very patient social worker to see the yellow whites and misshapen pupils, the sign of the zombie. Them mum thought it through, would a zombie social worker keep her appointments? It seemed unlikely.

"Fancy a cherry slice"

"You have cake?"

Dribbled the social worker

"Yep" smiled mum, "we have cake"

Mum and Chantel cut a precious slice in half and shared it. The had learnt to appreciate sugar since Armageddon so they had lost a large part of their excess bodies, hitting zombies meant her arms  like something off an infomercial for some exercise gadget. They were sharp enough to know Mr Kippling's workforce were probably wandering round with their flesh falling off so cake would have to last until the government got around to killing them more efficiently then the non zombies with nothing but sports equipment and frying pans.

"How's it going"

Asked the social worker.

"To be honest with you we're all very happy"

"Aren't the kids meant to be in school".

The social worker felt ridiculous as she said it, for a while school had been opened. At first, frightened of fines parents battled through the undead, from the posh set ramming though a graveyard rave in their four by fours to the council estate mums using their hard but unemployed son's as protection, but first the lads got infected and them the nanny's and then the posh mums so school had become pointless, only a few of the hardest were supposed to survive and this family and social worker were some of the chosen few.


Came an ear piercing scream. Chantel and Mum ran to help, there was a large man with stained clothes, he had the yellow eyes and  glazed expression, mum put her large frame behind a huge whack that spread his brains across the floor.

"That's your dad, oh my god kids, I'm so sorry"

"He was a zombie anyway" Chantel said, "well done".

Josh didn't see the misshapen pupils and this man took several large blows that a rotting zombie would have died of, when Chantel said "he was a zombie anyway" she was right, booze and drugs turn him from a protector to aggressor. Dad meant this family was used to defending themselves from zombies, and now they most harmful one was dead.

"Well" said the social worker, desperate times call for desperate measures, you have food, the main problem is dead, so give us a packet of biscuits and I'm off".

Josh was the gentleman and chased off some zombies, the social worker could ration out her biscuits to feed her sugar addiction while thanks to Armageddon this nuclear fall out family found their peace.

Thursday, 12 May 2016

Soul Poison

Sometimes I've been only straight person in the room, the beat pumping, sweat pouring and the beautiful people all around. The gorgeous people on those magic, pills take on new faces, like masks made of flesh their features distort and you realise they're someone else tonight, a black eyed, twisted remix who left their soul in the toilet they downed their pill in or snorted a line off a toilet seat. On the outside they are zombies on the inside they feel amazing but I find it utterly disturbing.

There was a death of a friend that seemed like suicide, he looked like wreak for weeks before  he died, he talked of a future while resembling the undead so when the phone call came that he died of an overdose I shouldn't have been shocked. I  cried for a  night and barely ate before the funeral and then when it came I watched people who had a missing part and a story that ended too soon, there would always be a split in out souls.

 Thanks to drugs I've been to friend's funerals not weddings, a parent watching their child's coffin go past never gets less harrowing, children left too young by a parent's sickness and selfishness is an awful thing to see, the images of young, confused faces talking about how they loved daddy will always scar my conscious.

The likelihood of dropping dead form drugs is surprisingly small, mix pills with our favourite drug booze and the risk of ending the life you wanted to enhance gets higher.

And then there are the half lives, wandering around town, you remember the star they were before , you remember when they had a soul not poison, you remember when they had hope not destitution and then you see they now wear a mask like a lost child with frightened eyes, all sense of self gone, they become a bag of pills, powder and smoke while only a tiny part of strength and self remains. You  wonder if they can come back but many are in their mid 40s and as I talk to their skinny faces about their chaotic lives I know I have to accept then for what they have become.

It always started so well, drugs seemed like the perfect way to bond with friends and like  the human reasons for finding new countries or exploring space we did them because they were there and their illegal status just made for butterflies when we took a trip to the toilet with our best friends and life became a movie not a chore. We took designer drugs, we lived in our designer tee shirts ad took pride in our fabulous narcissism.

 For some of us out teen depression and isolation needed a cure, our emptiness was just too horrible and burdens we could never talk about. Dancing in a freezing filed was like freeing our demons so we could have a childhood way better that the first one and the comedown was so hard they needed something harder to get through the week.

Many of us came out fine, we did a big comedown and accepted life couldn't be a movie but some kept popping pills, inhaling poison or even injecting soul rot into their veins.  When you get offered  pill, I'm not telling you to say no, I'm warning you, do you want to become a twisted remix of yourself? Do you want to watch a few friends die young? Is there another way to find what ever you really want from that poison and maybe don't bother.

Tuesday, 10 May 2016


Little bits of me
over Twitter
you can read my life
if you just put
microcosms of my tale
a jigsaw with tiny parts.

And I give a little soul here,
a few bits of  my heart
and liver just left
for the scavengers to eat.

They gossip and pick over
a little soul here and
a little heart over there
and soon there will be nothing left.

Life rips me apart,
caffeine keeps me awake
and so the jigsaw may never
fit back.
a soul a mind
but I still give more.

Friday, 18 March 2016

True Love

You came into my life

Like a rock and a hurricane.

All in one and for a while you seemed alive

And we had to cling together

Because like the romantic songs said

We’d be nothing without each other.


We wandered through the moonlight

Or I dragged you behind

And I thought that dog

Was just there

To share the joy

And didn’t have your hand

 in it’s mouth.


I spent evenings lovingly sewing you up

A finger here

And toe there

I used a car battery to make you move

Like Mary Shelly I’d made monster.


So I dressed you up and dragged you around

My creation,

Imaginary friend

Only obsession

My everything.

On dates you’d listen to my dreams

And I could make your face

So you always looked fascinated.


And then the smell became too bad

I should had let you rot
and left

You are a rotting corpse without me

But I made you the undead

Some things should rot in the ground.

Being a half-life is worse

And you are nothing

Without me.


Thursday, 18 February 2016

Paper Dolls

We stick any crisis on them,

Those paper dolls

Stare from newsstand

In bright lime and pink.


We stick new style

A new wedding of birth,

On these paper people,

In a bought world.


They live in a paper world

Or a horror house of mirrors

Of distortion

Of divorce

And those private disasters.


So let’s keep our soul private

And stay in 3D

Don’t become a reflection

A digital being.


We make ourselves

Into paper dolls

Stick on new hair

A new colour

A new us.


We stick an emotion,

For our public

Half glad they’re whispering

About our perceived life

On the screen

We’re all smiling

Even when were tired

And ordinary.


So be normal

Don’t smile all day

Have a 3d soul

Don’t be a paper doll.




Friday, 12 February 2016

The Bloody Valentine


You said we were like

Romeo and Juliet

But you could never read

A book until the bitter end.


Our hearts beat fast

Our appetites went

We stayed up all night

Like kids in love

Or on class a drugs.


And then the obsession crept

And the control

We forgot that we must both

Fight for our world alone.


So we became one

And that slowly killed us

Until we became lustful mush

Lines became blurred,

Our life a soap opera for two.


But someone should live

They should live their book of life

Until the bitter end

So you took the poison

But I decided to live.

Sunday, 3 January 2016


We make electric glitter

To pierce through the dark.

Lights cling to buildings and trees

And the New Year violently comes.


Crashing after midnight

With rain from vengeful gods

Attacking our lights

Our homes

And way of life.



Last year we didn’t get diamonds

Or what our effort deserved

Our dreams turned to dust

Now England drowns

And shows us every shade of black.


Let’s make our own diamonds,

Make glitter from nothing

Have or souls pierce through the dark days

And rise above our crimes

And find new ways.


The diamonds will never come back to our bones

Unless we will them there

And look for the light in the storms.