No Entry

She can’t welcome you in
when the doors fully bolted,
from the inside
she’s in a land where she’s faulted.
The memories haunt
as they dance to the rhythm
and her demons
they’re screaming “There’s no carpe diem.”
She seizes the past
instead of the present
and thats why there’s a descent
instead of an up,
and instead of being full
there’s an empty cup.
Not even half full,
or a quarter, theres nothing,
and the people in her dreams
are mocking and scoffing.
These alcoholic drinks
they’re greedily quaffing.
Drink up, keep drinking,
drink til you drown.
Suffocate on vodka bitches
as you laugh, you fake clowns.
She laughs pretty loud,
so fake she astounds
as she takes hold of this tower
and stands at the top,
embracing the air
she gracefully flops.
Closes her eyes
and the air hits her face,
then she’s kissing the ground
and there’s no more space
or concept of time
in the blackness of death.
The doors fully bolted,
its time now for rest.


The Curse of the Righteous Stone

As I staggered softly to my home,

whistling, giggling, I heard a groan.

I stopped, concerned, and stole a peek

to see a bloodied stone  in the street.

My neck, it bristled like a wolf,

a hackle rose, and goose-bumps goosed.

‘Is anyone there?’ I shouted, brave,

but no single answer came.

I shrugged, I turned, continued my stroll,

to reach my modest, lonely home,

when I heard a pitter-patter on the road

and turned to see the bloodied stone.

No eyes as such, yet parts did glisten,

as though some macabre mind was on a mission –

but such thoughts! Thoughts from one so drunk!

I laughed and turned and slowly slunk.

‘An evil stone? What crude, strange thoughts!

I must be half-a-penny short!’

I laughed and carried on my stroll

yet my heart stopped dead when I heard the stone.

It didn’t speak as such, but scraped a whisper

and said: ‘Your wife… do you still miss her?’

I wiped my eyes, said: ‘Leave me alone.’

yet my body shook with icy bones

‘I know you well, oh little man.

I know you are a drunk. I know you ran.

Your stricken wife, she needed you,

yet you ran away, you cared for you.

I am a righteous stone. I right the wrongs.

Your time is up. It won’t be long.

I will take you sir, will take you now.

It can be easy, painless, if you allow.’

I shook my head. I mopped my brow.

A fetid fever, am I sick?

Stones today, tomorrow a brick?

I laughed, my conscience was out to play.

No time for games. I ran away.

I heard the pitter-patter follow me home

this conscience hungry, righteous stone.

A supernatural stone, a ghostly spectre

bought to this earth to bully and hector.

I reached my door, ran in, and turned the lock.

Safe at last, I laughed and mocked.

I opened my letterbox, put my mouth to the gap,

and felt the stone crash against my teeth,

they snapped.

The stone forced itself inside my mouth,

I coughed and choked and fell about.

A mouth full of blood and broken teeth,

the stone rummaged around, a violent creep,

clattering, crashing, fighting to break through,

my throat was raw, my terror grew.

A violent violation, an awful dream,

for help I tried to shout and scream.

Merely gargles burbled out,

my eyes they bulged, my nose a spout.

The stone blocked my airways, the light turned black.

I saw my wife. No turning back.

O Girl Get Under My Umbrella (the Acid Rain is Gonna Come)

O girl,

get under my umbrella,

the acid rain is gonna come;

it’s made of tin and nickel bits

and will save you ’til the sun.

O girl,

get under my umbrella,

the acid rain is gonna come,

you can sit with me

upon the beach

as fish mutate like salted slugs.

O girl,

its just regression

as the acid rain swiftly, softly comes;

it eats the cloth and skin and leaves the bones,

showing we are all one.

O girl,

get under my umbrella,

the acid rain is gonna come.

I’ll put my arm around you

as the world becomes undone

and we can laugh and joke

as that beefy bloke

shrivels and shrinks to none.

O girl,

get under my umbrella,

the acid rain is gonna come.

I can kiss you in the sharpness

as the pin pricks shoot like guns.

We’ll be safe beneath the umbrella

o, girl,

lets have some fun.

Why you shakin’ your head girl,

why you gotta run?

O girl,

I wanna romance you

I wanna kiss you in the rain.

O girl,

I wanna romance you

in a shitty shower that stains.

O girl,

you’re drivin’ me crazy,

O girl,

I’m so in pain.

My umbrellas dissolved to nothing

and this drizzle’s melting my brain.

O girl,

I just wanna hold you,

but my arms have turned to bone;

O girl,

do you think I deserve you

as I stand before you, the rubble of rome?

O girl,

you ran from love that hid under an umbrella

and left me here alone.

O girl,

you shoulda got under the umbrella

why did you have to run?

O girl,

we coulda had something special,

we coulda had some fun.

Blinded by Science

She blinded me with science.

I expected razzle dazzle, pomp, panache;

a bass line hook

and a crescendo crash.

Perhaps little birds and love hearts afloat,

holding warm hands

in Autumn coats

but no, nuh uh, not meant to be

for my fair maiden had a chemical science degree.

She made a potion highly potent

– created with a fine mass of math –

until she concluded the correct quotient

to throw in my eyes in a parks path.

‘My eyes, my eyes!’ my voice did bellow

as a hideous goo

poured out, brown and yellow.

The woman claimed to be a nurse –

a simple lie and my life’s curse.

She took me home

and cared for me well,

I fell in love,

fell for her spell.

I got down one day on bended knee

and she said “Over here!”

(because I couldn’t see)

I tried again

and she accepted

but I know her trickery

and now regret it.

We married in a church of glamour

with a funky priest

and black soul jammers.

When we returned from that church

she told me straight

about my curse.

The bitch, she knew my wallet was bulging

and she felt like a bit

of selfish indulging.

“I’m going on honeymoon”

she said with a smirk,

“With a guy called Stavros,

not you, you berk.”

She left me here

and took a plane

for sun, sea and sex

with a Turk in Spain.

Blinded by love?

No, just a fool reliant

on the devious bitch who blinded with science.

Poetry Challenge: The Elephant in the Room


A petty drip upon ones chair

slipping down the side

to one’s underwear

I look up, confused

what is this drip

that’s wet my chair

so I slide and slip?

An elephant a top the ceiling

gives one a gutsy, queasy feeling.

“What-ho!” I say, feeling quite brave

“What are you doing?”  in a high octave.

The elephant stares with a black, beady eye,

as the ceiling creaks a cracking cry.

“Get down from there you shameless brute!

Back to the Circus with you,

I give you the boot!”

It stares a long and pointed stare

that wets my moistened underwear.

I pause and turn toward the door

and race for the knob, my hand a-claw.

The elephant falls, it gives bold chase,

I’m on the garden grass, racing post haste.

I reach the wall and take a breath

before being trampled to my dastardly death.

If you see an elephant a-top your ceiling

take note of that most-queasy feeling

and remember to run, and run post haste;

do not stop when an elephant gives chase.

The Curs’ed Quill

‘Twas a dirty bird,

’twas called the Quill

a shifting letter

in a sky still.

I’d be on me boat,

two pirates legs:

one made of wood

looked like a peg.

This bird would caw

and caw away

a little dubya

in the sky grey.

I’d gasp and roar:

“Thar be the Quill!”

but with guns a’ready

the clouds lay still.

I’d scratch me head

a befuddled clown

a pure mans dunce

wearing a pure mans frown;

but then the Quill

it would caw again

and in the sky no Quill

as we took aim.

The cawing began

to catch me craw;

my eye a twitchin’

more stress in store

as this beady bird

with black eyes beaming

would caw and crow

as my ears be screaming.

“Shut the bleeder up!”

me men would roar

but the shifting bird

would invisibly caw.

Our eyes grew heavy –

beneath them grey,

our skin grew lined:

a pact was made.

“We kill the bird

with the dirty caw

because, me lubbers,

it be gettin’ on me craw.

We stay awake tonight.

No eye may rest,

’til that birdy’s body

be in me chest.”

A prize booty

worth a year long gloat,

we shook sturdy hands

upon me boat.

The night grew black,

torches be lit;

the only sounds:

tabacco spit.

The caw began

at 13 o’ clock,

the boat shimmied and shook

as it began to rock.

“Who be thar?”

I asked, a cap’n brave,

not realising me men

were a’top their grave.

The bird it cawed

and tingles pricked,

a jittery hearty

jumped and kicked.

We chortled and roared

at his weak livered folly,

in this tense time

a moment to be jolly.

The bird cawed again,

’twas on me boat!

‘Twas on the shoulder

of me cabin boys coat.

We all took aim,

the blam did deafen

and that sweet cabin boy

now be in Heaven.

The Quill cawed again,

a collective echo,

it be everywhere!

I felt the first blow.

A collective groan echoed

as we fell to the floor;

in our final moments,

a mocking caw.

Weird, Odd Little Boy.

I met him on Tuesday,

he walked with a mince.

I thought he was gorgeous;

a little camp prince.

We flirted and skirted

around serious issues,

the start of a relationship

is no time for tissues.

We’d need them all later

as our hope would come down,

our emotions and trust

lost in a sad town.

Suffocated by pain,

I’m sure he did drown

and rise up so hollow

with his head hanging down.

The place that we lived

changed to a ghost town

and the demons of our pasts,

they’d forever surround

and my dead eyed prince,

he was throned and then crowned

as the weird, odd little boy

who messed me around.

Weird odd little boy

could make me laugh

but I somehow felt

he’d been love starved.

He’d be clingy and needy

then push me away;

confused me,

refused me

for the rest of my days.

Next thing you know

ten years have gone past

and we’re surrounded in darkness;

a life’s curse has been cast.

As a wife, as a woman,

I sank to my knees,

scrubbing the floor

and slaving for free.

I was blacked up and jacked up,

paid not even rupees.

I trusted,


and was broke without fees.

If love is involved

you pay with your heart

and my pride’s out the window

as the weird little boys cart

stands at the window,

he’ll take a piece at a time,

he wants me in pieces;

a jigsaw in brine.

I’m his mission in life.

To me he’s assigned.

He’ll rip me to shreds,

then pour me rose wine.

He’ll kiss me and kiss me

until we’re both so entwined

then he’ll bruise me, refuse me,

on my heart we will dine.

This weird, odd little boy who looks like a man,

he is my biggest enemy and my biggest fan.