Monthly Archives: June 2011


I see the sign Dunroamin’

and can’t fight the urge to peek

at what is hidden from my gaze

who lost the urge to seek

out another breath of living

and how weariness did win

and I wonder how I stop myself

from ever giving in..

I watch a mother settled

in her greying daily grind

and I wonder how the switch grew

big enough to close her mind

to a beauty only she possesses

and eyes that once did sparkle like

raindrops when the sun comes out

was it smooth or did she fight?

I catch the old man stumbling

and it’s like he isn’t there

his trousers they don’t fit him

and he hasn’t combed his hair

his wedding ring is dull now

I guess he’s lost his wife

Is a meal for one and single malt

enough to mark a life?

I glance back at the mirror

as it’s whispering to me

that the very heart of who I am

isn’t what they see

So do the lights go out forever

or just hide for a while

Is empathy just pity

if you haven’t walked the mile?


Ode to Hilda

It’s not like I’m just sat around

Waiting for the shout

That you’ve taken in another breath

 But couldn’t let it out

My ears still ring with all the twisted

Shit you used to spout

But I really do have more important

Stuff to think about..

Like the legacy you spawned

And how it’s fucking us again

Though these clueless public schoolboys

Are putting you to shame

At least you set the rules

To your class-dividing game

Instead of praying on a fluke

While playing at arcane..

I guess that there’s some comfort

To be taken from the fact

That in your demented state

You cannot point out what they lack

Or take pleasure in the pain

Of this second round attack

Or comprehend the lines they’re scratching

With the Union Jack..

Of course we’ll take them down

Just like we did you

Battling with capitalists

Is hardly something new

But I wish your twisted brain

Functioned enough to see it too

And to know how many folks

Have your wake on their things to do..

So here’s to plans to party hard

As your time here decreases

Margaret Hilda Thatcher

May all you stood for Rot In Pieces.


No. No More.

No…no more
Simple words…tell the score
..or should..

For three days straight I said no, no more
but somehow he chose not to hear
I’d told him of waking
with somebody taking
what was only mine without fear..

I spoke of the night that left my trust broken
by someone who couldn’t draw lines
raped by a brother
ignored by a mother
but dealt with through friends, courts and time..

So I wake up again and am back in that place
darkened by twenty odd years
while my children are sleeping
so silence, no speaking
just the sound of his pulse as it raced..

It rings in my head that I’ve been here before
as he pins down my hands with his own
I wrap my legs tight
and with everything fight
and while still in his pants he groans..

He takes his weight off to go ‘sort himself out’
as I show my tears to the floor
I curl up in my ball
with no thoughts at all
but the fact that he knew of before..