Just one more

Influenced by Johann Hari & Matt Haig. “The opposite of addiction is not sobriety, but connection.”   I wake up to buzzing of TV static in my head, Drowning out memories of where I spent the last few hours. Coping mechanism turned demon, binging on my episodes. Taking control when I can’t bear to hold... Continue Reading →

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Seeds

To the man at the swimming pool: You are a … dandelion.   All teeth and predator, And deep-rooted weed, Spreading seeds across gardens you have no claim to.   Only constrained by winds of whim, The broad netting of commandments, But not the cross stitched in your skin.   The toxic orchard, women you... Continue Reading →

This is not a Brexit poem

According to recent polling numbers 48% of poets have written a Brexit poem.   Let me be very clear: “This is not a Brexit poem!” This is not me giving voice to the anger and doubt How I’m the ‘right kind of foreigner’, who won’t be thrown out.   There’s no need to repeat, Experts’... Continue Reading →

Larkiarchy

This is a battle cry, a call to arms, To those who’ve been, for years, alarmed, By what – in latest study estimations, Could be affecting half the nation.   A two-class system furtively introduced, Us to ghosts of our former selves reduced, Until we learned that this subtle oppression Causes sleep loss, cancer and... Continue Reading →

Stage fright – A tribute

It always starts … with silence. Tense … tense … silence. Darkness. Mostly. Anticipation, grossly Straining the drumskins in your ears, bordering on fear, But then … you hear it …   Quietly at first, but growing like a thirst, And each swallow harder and louder and louder, Your head now the drum, the noise... Continue Reading →

A Game of Tag

He is It. She is running. It is an uneven match. He is older, faster, stronger. “You’re It.” He turns around and slowly strolls away. She looks puzzled, walks up, taps him on the back. “You’re It.” He replies over his shoulder: “I never played.” “But … you did.” “That was probably someone else.” “It’s... Continue Reading →

Paper days

Some days are paper days.   When I’m cut down at the ankles, losing touch with my roots, Floating down a river outside of my control.   Stripped of my protective shell, with every naked fibre on display, A soaked through, rolled out, dried up, bleached pale copy of myself.   My skin as rough... Continue Reading →

Toolbox

I started writing again about 2 years ago and over time, as I was digging deeper into my past and present poetic psyche, I unearthed that …   My poetry is a shovel – shifting layers of memories my childhood home is perched upon, their respective colours indicating the stages of decay of the truths... Continue Reading →

Proud

Car door slams shut. 2 seconds grace, while I start the engine. “What do you want to talk about today?”                                                       *kid’s voice* Felix, 9, back seat. “Hmmm”, I reply, “… let me think.”                                                                  *pause*   You seem now at ease, with me living downstairs, While society shouts: "You should be scared!" Relationships change, there’s no... Continue Reading →

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