I put my heart into a bucket of glass this year, but was surprised to see it was cut.

Now each morning over the dirty dishes, I wash up both with fairy liquid and Tears.

I’m not so sure about the combo for Cleanliness, but I’ve made enough Mistakes this year to care less.

Poetry will have to take a backseat for Now, as the driver is drunk on sorrow and rage.

Something that started as one became two; became three and is now left as one.

Some part of me prefers zero.

As a non-drinker; I am drunk. On a stuporous concoction of love and hate; what I thought would numb me has left me drowning.

Money amassing in my bank account holds no warmth at night nor reassurance in the day.

Just another number I cannot hold.

In the gym the person in the mirror only reflects something I hate and resent now. Muscle bound and ripped are egoic terms I attempt to blanket myself with; but I find no comfort there.

That same person reflected is both my friend and my foe. Ready to encase me in stony numbness or erode me with acid rain shaped in thoughts.

What I want to get across is that I’m struggling here.

I’m seeking something I cannot find.

Reaching for something I cannot touch.

God knows the extent of my atheism.


A Sweet Irish Ballad

I just wanted to be gentle,
But the world just keeps me rough.
I tell the world to go and fuck himself;
All he does is tell me, “Tough.”

I’m so tired of self-absorbed
Barbies; Ken dolls;
All the same.
Send them flying all together;
Then throw em off the fucking plane.

I’m tired of cheats;
Of liars;
Of cunts that still exist.
These fuckers want me set on fire,
Then they tell me to desist.

All these tanned motherfuckers,
Do you fuckers even burn?
My Irish skin hopes you go to hell,
Then you fucks will get your turn.

I try to catch my breath today,
But some fuck just lit their fag.
I take their cigarette away,
So that I don’t have to gag.

And as I walk away content,
I hear the dirty cunt scoff.
They’ve lit another fag, the cunt,
And now, I can’t help but cough.

So I say:
Fuck off.
Fuck off, you dirty cunt.
You lot are all the same.
You’re vain, you stink and have whores for mothers;
In my arse, you are the pain.

So fuck off;
Fuck off.
Why don’t you die?
Would it be such a shame?
If the world would let me be gentle,
There’d be one less cunt to maim.

The Illusion of choice

I have wrestled with my Libido
From my youth until today.
In a chokehold it beat me,
Every moment, every day.

To the point that I surrendered,
From the moment I set it free.
Angels cursed me to the oceans,
Between devil and deep blue sea.

Each decision I made through lust
Entwined with angelic voice;
Deceiving demons in my mind,
For it never was my choice.

The sweet infatuation;
Shaped in femininity and lace.
My love, my heart; divinity.
All vanished without a trace.

The euphoria I knew;
That I tasted in each lover’s breath.
Stricken now from my veins;
An addict barren of his Meth.

To feel now; a blessing;
For a bite injected my curse.
To abstain now or indulge;
I struggle to decide… which is worse?

Fair-Weather Friends

Fuck my brothers
That stab my back
Each chance they get.

Caesar had it easy;
Each cut they make
I don’t forget.

Preaching Jesus kindness,
Yet spit lies and sow deceit.
They cut my femoral artery
While they wash my fucking feet.

Again, bleeding insecurities;
Thinking someone else can save me.
Again, infected with impurities;
These fuckers just deprave me!

My smile like a shirt; a tie;
I wear it like a suit.
Fuck you fuck you fuck you;
Fuck you evermore, till I turn mute.

My voice is silent
My fists are loud
I know no other way.

We once were friends,
But now no more.

So stay the fuck away.

All the best

All the best.
That’s what she said;
As though the best is what she meant
When what she meant is goodbye.

Goodbyes ever leaving the tongue sweet
Leave the mouth sour still while
They land heavy in the heart of another.
All the best.

All the best.
Promising a hope of happiness but stealing it away.

All the best.
A gentle farewell that kicks you through a doorway.

All the best.
Incarceration in a padded cell for comfort.

All the best.
A swift kill with a blunt weapon.

All the best.
A love you and a fuck you.

All the best.
Time granted eternal stuck in a single moment.

Fuck all the best.

Give me the worst.

‘Cause in the end;
That was always good enough for me.

To my Ex’s next one

To my Ex’s next one.

I hope you can box;
‘Cause you’ll have 12 rounds
To fight her and her demons
While you keep your guard up
And your legs beneath you strong.

I hope you can lie;
‘Cause the truth is too hard
And every snippet of fact
Is called an attack and each
Rebuttal; a defence.

I hope you can keep up;
Unwell, in pain; yet running;
Running 4 miles to the last train
Just to know the warmth
Of her lips and her eyes.

I hope you can count;
Count on yourself;
Count on ignorance for bliss;
Count on no one for reassurance;
Count the number of times you sighed.

I hope you are patient;
Breathe and prepare
For you don’t just date her
But also, her friends that make
Her every decision as her living conscience.

I hope you fucking love her;
‘Cause if you don’t;
How could you ever appreciate
That look in her eye
When all the world dissipates?

I hope you understand her;
‘Cause if you don’t;
How can you ever truly hold her?
Ever pacify her fears?
Ever soothe her sorrows?
Ever lift her up?

I hope your heart is strong;
‘Cause if it isn’t it will give out;
Crumble amid the isolation
Of midnight’s overhanging clock.

I hope you don’t make my mistake;
Making love to find love;
Being in love with love;
For love’s sake rendering
Yourself vulnerable.

I hope she is happy;
That she remembers how beautiful she is,
Even when she doesn’t believe it.
Even when she is told anything otherwise.
Because I did, do and continue to.

Catch 22

You said our futures don’t match.

You said you Love me,

But you never mentioned the catch

22, 44 or 48.

‘Cause it was 48 hours till I could sleep again.

44 hours till I stopped playing our song

And 22 reasons in my head to never let you go.


But here you go again

Rattling around my brain;

Determined to steal my thoughts.

Dreaming up all the demons that will share your bed now.

Daydreaming the future you promised with lips that leak integrity.

Remembering those eyes that pierced the heart I gave far too easily.

It was just too soon;


Jumping on the joyride without so much as a helmet.

Rear-ended and fucked in the arse by hope.

Eyes cut out by truth and replaced with happiness.

Tongue placed in a straitjacket and shocked into madness.

Finance sacrificed for care as my wallet bleeds into the streets.

Veins injected full of belief and hollowed out, seeking another fix.

Contemplations of pacifying lustful urges on the platform of sorrow.

And yet I remain socially integrated while my mind wanders.


Like the child in the streets.

Like the geriatric infused with the caffeine of dementia.

Like the sociopath set for the kill.

Like the lonesome boatman of Irish lore.

Like the Gypsy under flash flood and thunder.

Like the puritan beneath the steeple.

Like the herd among the stars.

Like the comets painted upon the miasma of space.

Like the chromatin, sperm and rapturous cock between the sheets.

Like the homeless weary of Tory Britain.

Like the innocent’s slaughtered for rich man’s war.

Like the oil beneath unsuspecting communistic feet.

Like the oil fracked by their capitalistic counterparts.

Like 1000 tiny worker ants.

Like 1000 tiny worker ants of the NHS hive.

Unlike their queen who taxes their harvest to feed her furnaces, banks, off-shore account and third home.

Like the sadistic workings of paedophilic posh boys of Eton.

Like the diarrheic mouths of racists, fascists, sexists and bigots alike.

Like the tantalising turpentine tongues of political heretics.

Like 100 swarming bees; the last of their kin.

Like 1000 wasps to sting in their place.

Like 10,000 lies told in the houses of parliaments.

Like 100,000 homes promised on the tide of tomorrow.

Like 1,000,000 coral stripped white through global warming.

Like the infinite tonnes of toxins we pour into the sea.


Alas, I digress.


Upon rooftops with book in hand I will read away my memories.

Colliding fiction and reality to take away the pain.

With song in lungs pursued by abrasive bardic reciting’s,

I purge the dioxide, the smoke and smog-filled poisons we now call air

Into an atmosphere suited more to nuclear reactions than to raise a child.

With or without you, the future holds a grim outcome, so without further ado, I retire.

To sleep and wake to the morning’s undulating tide refreshed;

Ready to forget you all over again.