Wednesday, 28 December 2011

Paper Dreams

Two headed horses climb the walls
The panther stalks the bubbled balls
Dead flowers grow across my bed
Ten fingers crossed by hand that bled
Glass tigers gamble in the stream
The unicorn rides through a dream
Blue thunder clouds roll cross the sky
Beneath the watchful wizard`s eye
The bottled gold, unwanted stands
Untouched by mortal human hands
And silent standing all around
Toxic tubes rise from the ground
The light above will soon grow dim
The time will come to sink or swim
The dolphin smiled, the angel cried
Certificates for those who died
In crystal castles on the hill
They’re blind to all the blood they spill
In pidgeon holes, in shadowed rows
Where heroes hide between Death’s toes
And china lemmings on the edge
Stand in line to take the pledge
The infant smiling on the dead
The Devil bearing words unsaid
And on the moon the sleeping clown
Dreams of stars and falling down
Picture formed in empty air
Fades above the empty chair
White coat drifting through the door
Floating two feet from the floor
A fleeting pain beneath the skull
And once again the world grows dull
The face behind the glass looks on
Until this paper dream is gone..

Monday, 31 October 2011


Looming shadows drawing near
Darkness borne on wings of fear
Foot-steps echo close behind
Conjured spectres plague your mind
Lurking in the endless night
Stalking you as you take flight
As your nerve breaks start to run
Race of Death has now begun
Icy breath, spine-chilling touch
Blood runs cold, cadaver’s clutch
A tightened grip, you can’t break loose
You’re hanging in a rigid noose
Your chest is tight, your heart expands
You’re clawing at those vice-like hands
You know your heart can’t take the strain
You’re blinded by its bursting pain
You feel your soul is fading fast
Your life’s events are flashing past
There is no need to struggle now
You know this pain will end somehow
With open arms embrace Death’s bliss
You can’t escape your Nemesis

Tuesday, 25 October 2011

Mice or Men?

You may call this life a rat race
But to me the only rats
Are the ones in spangled uniforms
Or suits and bowler hats

The rest of us are only mice
All chained to life’s tread-mill
While the rats ride on the gravy train
And eat and drink their fill

They are living in the manner
They have grown accustomed to
While the masses pay in blood and sweat
For the lifestyle of the few

They enjoy all of life’s comforts
Never wanting for their needs
While the masses live in penury
Victims of their leader’s greed

To them our fate is just a game
As they play dice with our souls
The masses are expendable
To their power crazy goals

And when the final war arrives
They will be the first to hide
In concrete bunkers down below
While the masses burn outside

Don’t you think it’s time to show them
Whether we are mice or men?
We should put the rats back in their cage
And then try to start again

Wednesday, 24 August 2011

A Painful Video...

My first attempt at a video poem.

A Painful Truth (from Apocalyptic Visions)
>>>>> WARNING <<<<<

Content Advisory

Contains some disturbing imagery so do not watch if you are
 of  a nervous disposition or easily upset by images of death

>>>>> +++++++ <<<<<

Tuesday, 23 August 2011

Pulvis et Umbra Sumus

A numbness fills this earthly shell
As darkness fills my mind
My eyes are open wide and yet
These mortal orbs are blind
A distant rhythm, soft and slow
Its echoes gliding past
The future slowly fades into
Old memories that don’t last
The fading but persistent beat
Not easily ignored
Attempts to bind pure thought inside
This shell that never soared
The echoes slowly fade away
Forgotten for a time
The silence settles like a shroud
As chains of thought unwind
A key turns in a hidden lock
A darkness shrouded door
Now opens bleeding golden light
The shadow starts to soar
Then suddenly that distant beat
The pile of dust it calls
A shadow beckoned back to pain
And walking dusty halls

(Pulvis et umbra sumus - We are but dust and a shadow)

Tuesday, 9 August 2011

Savage in a Suit...? (More like Savage in a Hoodie!)

Here is a poem I wrote many years ago in the early 90's exploring how easy it is for so-called 'civilised' society to slip into savagery. After watching the news all evening and following #londonriots on Twitter I think I should rename this piece 'Savage in a Hoodie' instead, although these mongrels are not fighting for survival, they are 'fighting' for Nikes and plasma tv's!

Some people consider my poems to be too dark, morbid even. Maybe they are but I only tell it as I see it. I see nothing to be gained by sugar coating the truth, even when it is a painful truth. When you add it all up; the financial crisis, the food crisis, the climate crisis, the water crisis, the energy crisis, the resource crisis, the population crisis - is the world not a dark and morbid place? Still, no need to get depressed about it. I'm still an optimist, even though I know awful things are going to happen...

Some-times it really sucks to be right...

Savage in a Suit

You think you are so civilised
But it is time you realised
How easily cracks can appear
In your so finely groomed veneer

We’re just a couple of meals away
From anarchy, so experts say
I’m sure you doubt this can be true
So I’ll try to enlighten you

The basic instinct in us all
Before which all the others fall
Is that to keep yourself alive
At all costs you have to survive

Imagine now some future date
When all the world’s long pent-up hate
Erupts into the final war
The Establishment exists no more

The things you take for granted now
They are no longer there somehow
No petrol for your fancy car
Well, am I getting through so far?

No food will reach your local store
Your power and water flow no more
Gangs and looters roam the night
Now there is no electric light

But things will go from bad to worse
With worthless money in your purse
No matter, there’s no food to buy
And anyway, the end is nigh

Soon shortages will start to bite
Out on the streets the people fight
For any food that does arrive
Remember, they have to survive

At first the law enforcers try
But soon they start to wonder why
They bother with a fruitless quest
They’re in the same boat as the rest

And that is when the end will start
When our society falls apart
No-one to keep the mob in check
The rats have left the sinking wreck

They talk of concrete jungles now
But they just don’t compare somehow
To millions of our charming race
Competing in a real rat race

Countless starving millions dying
On the streets the corpses lying
And those unlucky ones alive
With only one thought, to survive

Could you survive this brave new world
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When anarchy's flag is unfurled?
Or would you just curl up and die
Cowering as your children cry?

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Sunday, 7 August 2011

Special bonus for my Twitter followers...

As a special thank you to my growing list of Twitter supporters I have issued a 30% off coupon for my anthology of dark poetry, Apocalyptic Visions, available from as a multi-format ebook. Any-one wishing to take advantage of this offer need only click HERE and then enter the code when prompted.

               30% OFF COUPON CODE:-  TK69E

For any-one unfamiliar with my work you can read some sample poems from the links below:

     A Painful Truth
     Prosperity Calls
     Two Eyes

Once again, thank you to all tweeps who have commented, mentioned, RT'd amd otherwise tweeted their support.

Saturday, 6 August 2011

Two Eyes

Two eyes are still closed tightly
To the beauty of this earth
A face still glistens brightly
From the miracle of birth

Two eyes, a flickered movement
As a new life is unfurled
But the wonder of this moment
Is just wasted on this world

Two eyes begin to open
And in wonder gaze around
Youth's bud begins to ripen
As those eyes grow big and round

Two eyes born out of innocence
See the world with rosey hue
Still blind to all the violence
And the evil that men do

Two eyes are filled with anger
As they open to the truth
The mirror holds a stranger
Something missing from their youth

Two eyes now disillusioned
And ashamed of their own kind
In a torment of confusion
Now they wish they were still blind

Two eyes have now grown cynical
Against this world of pain
They've reached and passed life's pinnacle
And soon will close again

Two eyes are quickly dimming
And their light is fading fast
The world about is swimming
As they look into the past

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Two eyes now close forever
At their owner's final breath
In that face like wrinkled leather
Lying peacefully in death

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Friday, 5 August 2011

Paperbacks now available

Paperbacks now available

My anthologies of Dark Poetry are now available as paperbacks from aswell as being available as mulit-format ebooks from Previews are also available from both sources along with the free sample ebooks on

Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.Support independent publishing: Buy this book on Lulu.

Apocalyptic Visions                              Beyond the Mask

Friday, 29 July 2011

Free ebooks now available


Free ebooks are now available for download at A Glimpse Beyond... and A Prelude to Apocalypse can be downloaded free of charge in 7 different formats or viewed online in 3. They are provided as an introduction to my work in a way that allows some-one to read my poems at their leisure rather than having to visit my websites to view them.

Tuesday, 26 July 2011

Waking Nightmare

I feel my mind is slowly lifting
Through hidden doors dark shades are drifting
Last ghosts of quickly fading dreams
Retreating forms of silent screams

In momentary silence lying
With unseen nightmare spectres dying
My drowsy sleep-thick mind is idling
Why is the air so warm and stifling?

I open up my eyes to see
But all is black, how can this be?
How can there be no shred of light?
My god, could I have lost my sight?

Why do I feel so stiff and sore?
Why am I lying on the floor?
So hard to move my arms from rest
Why are they folded on my chest?

I raise my hand to test eyes flawed
My knuckles graze against rough board
My elbows knock restricting sides
With horror then I realise

Like half-remembered memories
Nghtmarish echoes surge with ease
From dark recesses of my brain
Where they were locked to save me pain

I hear the grieving mourners moaning
The distant solemn voice is droning
Of how life can be so unjust
Ash to ash and dust to dust

But these spectres are from no dream
No-one can hear but still I scream
My heart is filled with icy dread
They’ve buried me, BUT I`M NOT DEAD!

Sunday, 24 July 2011

A moment of clarity...

Apocalyptic Vision, the title poem from my anthology of Dark Poetry Apocalyptic Visions, has special significance for me as it was the first. It was written during the winter of 1990-91 as the world held its breath awaiting the inevitability of the 1st Gulf War. At the time I was living in the attic of an isolated tumble-down bungalow on the Lizard Peninsula in Cornwall, struggling to survive on little money and less hope for the future as I mourned a love lost. By night I drank and wandered the rugged Lizard Downs, often finding myself at the cliff top above The Point, by day I slept off the night before. I felt my life could get no lower. Then everything changed...
On a crisp winter’s day I aimlessly wandered the streets of Helston during a rare daytime visit to civilization, noticing the shoppers going about their day little more than they noticed me. I was pulled up suddenly by a strange noise that was not so much heard over the bustle that surrounded me as felt under it; a kind of throbbing vibration in my breast and temple that droned on and on, louder and louder. I looked about in confusion to find the source and saw that no-one else was reacting, the crowd simply parted about me with a mutter and a scowl at my obstruction of their vital journey. Slowly my gaze was drawn upwards as I realised the noise came from above, beyond the low hanging blanket of cloud, as comprehension washed over me like cold rain. I was hearing aero-engines, big ones. Some-where high above this small town English street large aircraft droned across the sky, bringing to mind US B-52 heavy bombers en-route to the Persian Gulf. The throbbing reverberation rumbled on, increasing to a dull roar that surely even the most ardent bargain hunter could not ignore, and yet they did, paying more attention to the obvious lunatic staring dumbly at the sky and blocking their path to the sale signs.
At that precise moment I had an epiphany. I immediately purchased a pen and note-book and boarded the first bus home, sketching out the bare bones of the first couple stanzas of my Apocalyptic Vision by the time I reached the bungalow. I retreated to the attic, my garret, and continued to write...
The contents of Apocalyptic Visions is a direct expression of that moment...

Wednesday, 20 July 2011

Runaway Train

Happy haddock, willow tree
Humpty dumpty, silver sea
Ping pong, bunny, apple pie
Singing haystack, purple sky
Little teapot, grinning cat
Talking horses, silly hat
Parcels, ribbons,tiny tots
Sky blue pink with polka dots
Roasted peanuts, candyfloss
Silver moonlight, springy moss
Rainy mondays, growing grass
Snakes in apples made of glass
Rocket, lolly, unicorn
Bugle, trumpet, rhino horn
Mary poppins, poppy seed
Bill and Ben and little weed
Wibble, wibble, blibble blime
Honey suckle, twist of lime
Silly sausage, carrot top
Pc Plod and Mrs Mop
Ivor engine, rousing song
Hanging baskets, Babylon
Wizard, fairy, crimson grape
Icy snowflake, sticky tape
Milky, milky, gooey cake
Yellow roses, frying stake
Choking laughter, falling star
Deafened by a bridge too far
Floating sofa, fishing gnome
Smokey bacon running home
Howdy doody Mr Spoon
Comfy ceiling, tiny room
Birdies tweeting, bouncing ball
River deep and building tall
Spotty toadstools, angel sings
Brainy badger, ravens wings
Giant beanstalk, puss-in-boots
Mother Goose in big black boots
Scented candles, ticking clock
Climb the ladder, on the block
Round in circles, chase your tail
Falling ashtray, sirens wail
Cabbage corner, smoking joint
Woven basket, needle point
Wedding bells for dusty bin
Bright confetti, creeping sin
Dancing oysters, pea green boat
Bright balloons, they bounce and float
Snowball fights in sylvan woods
Burning crosses, pointy hoods
Teeter-totter, swinging tyre
Metal monsters, spitting fire
Gaudy pennants, coloured plumes
Silent children, cloying fumes
Jingle, jingle, sleigh bell rings
Rising waters, acid stings
Test-tube babies, empty beds
Missing limbs and extra heads
Smiling faces, staring eyes
Crawling beetles, buzzing flies
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Mellow music, padded white
Baggy trousers, jacket tight
Platitudes, a bright new pin
Oblivion is closing in...

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Monday, 18 July 2011

Beyond the Mask cover design.

Here is the new cover designed by Caroline Quin (Facebook profile) for my soon to be released book of poetry, Beyond the Mask.

Have a look at the sample poems:

The Jumper
The Treatment
No Compost Mennis

The new book is scheduled for release on 20th July, 2011.

Sunday, 17 July 2011

No Compost Mennis

There are toys in my attic
But the marbles have gone
There is no-body up there
But the light is still on

Though the lift is still working
It won’t go to the top
A screw has worked itself loose
And it made the lift stop

There are bats in my belfry
And their chatter has no end
So I climbed off my rocker
Up the pole and round the bend
Now I’m free, out to lunch
All the fairies are there
We’re dining with the Hatter
And the rabid March Hare

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