Saturday, 3 May 2014


This should be the end of my protracted youth
Where the drugs don’t work and my back hurts
And here’s the truth

This should be the start of my extended middle age
The settled end of rage
And my back hurts

But this is the start of the heart
Whose beating you can't rely on
Yes this is the place we prepared for

Like it or not
As soon as your snot
Has crisped in your mother's hands
You set off for this place
Only now you realise it’s not a race
But a sudden arrival at a place

You should have seen a mile off.

Friday, 2 May 2014


They’re dropping a desert here those winds
and no missing planes are found,
and the kids are in the park
or so I’ve heard, but I can’t go
to hold their hands or watch them tear
the dusty ground in pinching shoes.
and I’ve stopped watching the news,
because they never mention you,

nor do they ever help me see
the bits I can’t find in my reflection
the bits like you
And now with the TV off
the kettle on for benediction
and the milk running out
I wonder if the kids can hear me shout
above their laughing friends

But I hope they can’t
because this is not the way to go
it’s not the way we do it here;
to never see things through,

So I’ll see this through with you.