I hope not to be seen

By the knower that’s been

Nor the giver, the taker

The holy thou maker

Don’t ram with I think

When my life’s at the brink

‘It sure worked for them’

This rumouring stem

I hope not to be questioned

No shoulds ever mentioned

No rites to my ‘wrongs’

Fine tuning my songs

Don’t raid me with yours

Those outpouring doors

Fast halting the ripple

Black taping the nipple

Not my world, that’s you

Those rules you hold true

Keep them close, if you may

Your minute, your day

Not mine.



Brewing from frustrations, bulking out minutes, hours, days with thoughts of ‘fuck this!’ You know the kind, we all know.

Ah but what moments of brilliance it brings, to shatter guarded routine and sever truth from damnation.

How much I love the heat of annoyance plaguing morning disappointments, disappointed about nothing in particular but that’s where brilliance dwells.

Vapours coat such disappointments, handed over are medicinal pills to swallow whole.

Breathe in memorable scents of enough is enough.

Trepidation crumbles, ingenious movements possess us, leading us to countless discoveries.

See, where would we be without ‘Fuck this’?

From stillness, those nights when anxieties sweat onto fresh cottons, those days we imprint disaster before the clouds break and dawn freshens the foulness. How invaluable such moments, as what inventions would have pulsed into existence without common frustrations of the everyday?

Stand to attention!

Called to listen when no longer the mundane tickles our tones, the soundtrack to our life is flippin’, side A to B.

If we behave the way we’re told, goodness, what prisoners we’d be. Prisoners to others caged sentences, paragraphs to mould the wounded, slicing flesh with manipulative intentions.

They may have their intentions but my edges ain’t cut to fit their puzzle, I’ll carve my own.

And how brilliant I feel to cross the line, to show impatience and rip the pretty ribbon.

Frustrations burn too hot to stand ridged.

NOW, it’s time and I’ll dance my way. Shoes tapping noisily, marking pavements with excited skips and lightness of swing.

Yes, the time is now so thank you frustrations for your poker fingers, shuffle the cards and deal me what ya got.

Fuck this, I’m ready for new.


Blind Faith


Blind faith got me this far

I’ve no house to call mine

I’ve no children and I’m not struck by certainty when I think about wanting them

I’ve no partner to cradle, I’ve no arms of comfort and reassurance when I crave human, because we all crave human

I’ve absolutely no idea where I’m headed and where I’ve been is rather baffling too

Mostly, I feel like my 20’s were spent repairing the patchwork blanket I unravelled as a child, stitched by the incessant hands of others

Frightened moments feel like I’m sat in a pitch black room but fear is not of the dark, feeling more than feels comfortable and sensing without seeing, this is where true fear lives

Recently this fear seems to be subsiding as my awareness of this slippery existence grows so massive, so beyond the known. I’ve never felt so powerful as I do in this void, I have no choice but to surrender. There’s no prop, they were destroyed by the downpour of salt waters, and there have been plenty of downpours

All I feel is that which guides me

Graffiti obstructs once recognised signs

Not my art

Not my way anymore

When so much falls away so quickly, I’m raw to the elements. I’ve no shell, well not one I’m familiar with and this has scared the crap out of me

Still does

I look in the mirror and question ‘Who the hell are you, really?’

It’s my only job to find out, what other responsibility do I have

Rebuilding, it can feel so overwhelmingly impossible but when I say that word, Impossible, when those 4 syllables bounce from my tongue over and over, I loose all understanding of its meaning

A word, like yes and no and high and low, their meaning is nothing more than a belief, taught truths

Scripts once worshipped and meanings I now question, such misunderstandings leave me deserted. All I can do now is unapologetically feel, to sense and trust this new language I’ve still to learn.

I listen

My place is no longer to dictate who I am and where I’m headed. See, I believed to have that figured out years ago and now, I couldn’t be more detatched from imagined expectations

So I’m in the dark, listening

And keeping those blind faiths that brought me here, writing this

Faith is all I have