I miss my
satanic mills
and grey towers
twinkling the
light of a thousand

the feeling of
running and forgetting
where you’re going

and that being OK
cos running was all
you’ve ever wanted anyway

for Hong Kong


notes from the other side

Do you know
the terror
of waiting for the last straw

as someone turns down
the volume
and the air around

suffocates and you’re
in an invisible tunnel
wondering why people smile


I wish I
could go back
to that forgotten

patch of forest
we remember so
well where we’d

sneak away at
night to spin
threads of naïve

lyrics over broken
guitar strings and
shit wine our

burning fireflies flittering
with the world

in them like
the cackling fire
made from stolen

grocery store cardboard
and still-wet twigs
small but so bright


just a memory of a very special place

god hotline


if I had
a hotline to
god I’d

probably bother
him so much
with petty

complaints like
the oh-so-tragic-


that’d he’d put
me on
answer phone

but I don’t
so I guess
I can moan

Day 19 of National Poetry Month. a piece a day is hard! like, follow and share to support.

ritual III


I stand on this pier
watching in fear the distant green light
blinking, an infant peering
for the first time into this world
the thrill matched only by first love’s
whirling waves impossible to grasp
I try but first only comes once
and the tears- sunken pearls-
fall into the sea that stays
utterly, pathetically the same


Day 12 of National Poetry Month’s a poem a day challenge. enjoy, follow and share to support. 



in my polaroid
memory is a
swing i go

on ‘try, higher
higher’ until there’s
the fuzzy familiar

thrill of earth
letting go and
everything seems

possible why, why
is there only
chaos in the

feeling now as
the person in
the mirror veers

you aren’t bad
bad aren’t you?
I am; am I?

how can smiles
and tears be
the same thing

and I

Day 6 of National Poetry Week’s daily poem challenge. hope you like it.

ritual I


its shell
on an altar
absent priests chant

a northern incantation
in harmony with
the wind(’)s howl

white dandelions
around its pedestal

a stamp-sized
yellow empty

the northern wind
catches its wafer
wings fluttering

a mighty
to life


The Blobbing Fish.

Day 2 of the National Poetry Month April Challenge (a poem a day). Please support by sharing, and even better, do the challenge yourself.



poster I



The small
things in life
like the relief of
a good piss golden like
the sand on which you stand
marvelling at the sun out at 7pm


So I’m trying to do the April challenge for poetry month- a poem a day. Hopefully some good stuff will come out. Show your support by sharing and following 🙂 


The Blobbing FIsh.