About Me

My photo

Wrote lyrics"Julias' Song"(OMD).Currently seeking lucrative creative writing projects.On Twitter as Tiggythepiggy.

28 Dec 2010


Fire meets ice on the road to Christmas.
Seagull hovers above the scene on newborn wings.
Tears meet snow on Christmas day.
Seagull circles my head , like some uncertain halo.
Your distillation in his cry.

21 Nov 2010


Sheltering from the rain,
boffins in halfmoon glasses
sniff musky tomes in secret.
Retired fingers search for life
amongst the faded pages of obscurity.
Tight lipped librarian
squeaks across the polished floor
and glares at him who dares to cough.


Tinsel dangling from her wrist,
she's screaming.
Tears of joy run down her face,
she's dreaming.
Holding tight a teddy bear
she's prancing.
Slams the lid of the musical box
to stop the girl from dancing.


Crouched against your garden wall
wondering if you know at all.
Soaked hair plastered to my head,
and you were fast asleep in bed.

Frozen fingers,chattering teeth,
you above and me beneath.
I dream that you could feel the same.
You do not even know my name.

Tomorrow night I'll  strike again
to haunt you in the pouring rain.
The wind has turned my fingers blue.
My only thought to be with you.

31 Oct 2010


Hecate told me in my sleep
to draw a circle round the past
with candles fragrancing cold air.
So widdershins, I chanted peace
and comfort to the '60s child
(the one I swear who looked like me).
In pink clouds learned to laugh at tears.
Black velvet cat,familiar now,
unblinking all the while.
So mote it be.


The poem you are reading now
was stolen by a man of fewer words than this,
who made it all sound very grand
in many ways that I could not.
And so the audience ate the lines,
my own words dying in the wings
to be the poem you are reading now.


When he drop kicked the hen through the open door
she squarked and soared in unplanned flight.
On yellow legs she ran to the barn
and crooned contentedly with her lot
to shuffle above the next generation.

20 Oct 2010


Here next door to the village gossip
it's the kiss of death.
Admirably acute detection skills
employed in blasting speed of light inflations
on garden fence hotlines,scorching songbirds' feet.
...."Him at number three bought some bananas this morning",it's reported.
My life is not enhanced beyond recognition upon receipt.
yet I dare not venture out in my new shoes
for fear that I'll be making headline news.


Bring on the dusky moodiness
of raging rain and crisp cool air.
Crackling leaves in swirling winds
extinguish heat and summer noise.
Bring naked autumn to the centre stage
to improvise dramatic scripts
then wrap for winter.


The guilt, the fear,the anger, the pride
that eats us up from the inside.
Why,how ,when,where and what?
Perhaps there was a detail that we all forgot.
If only this,if only that...
Why didn't he tell us where he's at?
No sleep,no food for those who wait
at the mercy of the hand of fate.
And when they came and told us that the man was dead,
I realised that you cannot live inside anothers' head.

19 Aug 2010


"Too much clutter", they've always said,
"Is a certain sign of a muddled head".
I'd rather hear the pendulum of my deco clock
that steadily trots like hooves, not stop.

They laugh and think that all's not well,
yet Aunty Gertys' sideboard has a tale to tell.
Lit up and polished every Christmas since the war-
its' very fabric bursting with what went before.

As if inside some 70s acid trip,
I visualise that sideboard in a skip
when I'm not there preserving family memories as they should.
So out will go my sentimental world for good.

They minimalise and throw away because they can.
But listen to me when I say
that objects can speak louder than the average man.


From an early age I could speak to horses.
No fear at all of flailing hooves or overwhelming size.
The heady scent of musk can hypnotise,
and like osmosis,fuse our minds as one.
I am you and you are me.
I learn from you the here and now
and how to disentangle from my dreaming.


Remember that  time when you stepped off the world and into the sea?
The seals were calling as you made your way across the waves
and all the gulls could say was"Foolish boy".
I clutched your jacket, wet with tears,
and watched until you disappeared in your new lifes' mouth.
I wonder what you're doing today.
Remember that time when  you stepped off the world and into the sea?
Remember me?

19 Jul 2010


"A vivid imagination " said the school reports,
and yet I can't imagine how I got here,
to this place.
I can't imagine my son firing guns from tanks in blazing heat,
or how my mothers' mind in retrograde,no longer knows me.
I can't imagine what it's like to die.
I can't imagine why the mirror laughs.
I can't imagine life without you.
I can't imagine life.
I can't imagine what imagination means.


I need to shout,and I don't want everyone looking at me.
I need to make it clear that I am a poet.
I need to tell you I'm a tortured soul
who puts down the words you can relate to.
I need to shout that the pen is mightier than the sword,
and speaks its' own subliminal language.
I need to shout that words are feelings you can't express.
But I can tell it how it is and I can tell it for you.
Just say the word.


You haven't got a clue have you?
The boredom of it all.
Same jokes, the predictability.
Habituated nonsense, others call solid.
The dreary necessity of everyday,
the times I drown out your voice,
though you've never done me wrong.
So just like Brief Encounters' Fred,
You love me when my heart is dead.


                         Everybody hates clowns.
                         The painted smile that hides the tears.
                         Tumbling buffoonery diverting pain.
                         The gaudy psychosis of the clothes that don't fit in.
                         Everybody hates mirrors.

4 Jul 2010


       Half baked knotted hankies on bodies like greased lobsters,
      wave Kiss-Me -Quick hats at passing pedaloes
      sliding through paella seas.
      Extended and expended families
      sway like corn to "The Birdy Song".
      Natives ,like gaudy toilet roll holders,
      spin faster than a lager louts' wallet.
      Carlos loves Tracey, chips with everything.
      Plastic keyrings and plastic promises.
      The coach arrives,
      returning them to factory lines on distant shore.
     Carlos sips sangria with his wife once more.


               If I could lose my senses I would lose my ears,
               so I could not hear your voice,
               the one that told me you would always hold me by your side.
               The neurotic bride
               is waiting still,
               Alone, but for a robin on the sill
               who hops small imprints in the snow
                then up he flies to come and go as he pleases.
                How he teases with his winter wings.
                He seldom sings,
                learning not to give it all away.
                If I could lose my senses I would lose my eyes,
                so I could no longer see the lies
                that line that frozen face of yours.
                And space and time no longer mean a thing,
                when like a jester turning endless cartwheels for his king,
                I lost my senses.
                Heart and head.



                   There they lay in a room as one in spirit.
                   "No ghosts here", she said
                    as she sniffed the silvery air
                    devoid of common sense and all the books she'd read.
                    But for his silent dream,that sadly faded fast,
                    the air was cold,
                   And she could see the ghost was from his past.


                   I can't be your lover
                    as I'm just too nice.
                    I can't be your friend,
                    as you want me in bed.
                    I can't see my friends
                    as you want me for you.
                    I can't be your wife
                    as I'm too intelligent.

                    I can't meet your mother
                    as she would not approve
                  (and I might fancy your brother).
                    I can't be your mistress
                    as I don't lie well.
                    So instead of wasting time perhaps 
                     I'll spend my life with rescued cats.

26 May 2010


                            It was the 30th,
                            and on our way to bed
                            you collapsed on the stairs.
                            All night long we sat up together.
                            Panting faster and faster,you refused to sleep.
                            On guard and faithful to the end,
                            My blonde black doggy friend
                            who understood my tellings of the times we'd shared
                            and how much I loved you.
                            A sigh was heaved as the sun came up.
                            Then you were gone.
                             So on New Years' Eve I lay alone with a picture of you.
                             Thank God you missed the fireworks.


                       was a man who didn't listen
                       yet he heard my every word.
                       And when I left,he didn't seem to notice anyway.
                       All he said as I closed the door was


                         My world is grey with no sunlight.
                         Birds of a feather sing atonal.
                         Genius is my first name,
                         Madness,my last.
                         Call me and I'll run away
                         to my own world
                         where animals are human
                         and people don't see me.
                         I hear myself talking
                         but it's  not me.
                         There are,you say,
                         no grey areas
                         in your land of black and white,
                         where animals are just animals
                         and people watch your every move.
                         Lonely lyrics to the air.
                         No one hears you,no one's there.
                         Thank you for your enquiry.
                         Please try again later.


                    As he's a swan,I'll call him on
                    and we can swim together.
                   Well guarded and suspicious though,
                   with him I'm not so clever.

                   As he's a swan, he'd stay too long
                   and I could not glide free.
                   My reflection in the glassy lake
                   Is preferable for me.


19 Apr 2010


                 If karma allows
                 I will come back a snail.
                 A wandering gypsy
                 with silvery trail.
                No overheads, and always at home
                with nobodys' deadlines but my own.
                If someone taps my shell and swallows me, then
                be it a Thrush,so I can sing again.



              Cry if I want to, but party's not mine.
              Wonder if you think of me sometime
               in a stream of faces you see every day.

             Run down endless corridors.
             If you see me, please press pause
             Not throw it all X thousand miles away.


           Remind me again why I named you Jack.
           Inquisitive toddler,Jackdaw.
           The Jackanapes of the classroom
           scaling trees like a steeplejack.
           The Jack the lad like a Jack Rabbit
           goes at it in search of the jackpot.
           Now it's jackboots marching on foreign soil
           with the vehemence of a jackhammer.
           Jack be nimble,Jack be quick,
           I'll always know what makes you tick.

20 Mar 2010


           In the mirror in the morning on the shelf
           I could see someone but it was not myself.
           I looked again and saw it was my dad,
           reminding me of certain times we had.

          Yet childhood days seem out of reach.
           Remembering salty air along the beach
           and crunching seashells as we strolled.
           It's hard to think that he grew old.

          "Your hooded eyes you got from me"
           he said, "and love of literacy".
           I want to say I'm doing fine.
           I should have said so at the time.


           The overloaded world exploded in my face
            and little parts of me were scattered over the years.
           So many things to so many people.
           Like pigeon wings the audience clapped
           to see me glitter like the other stars,
           and like Guy Fawkes
           we lost the plot.

15 Feb 2010


                     The day you passed out, so did I
                      watching soldiers marching by.
                      I never thought that you'd be killing
                      for a shilling from the Queen.
                      I mean
                      that I am on the frontline too
                      and watch TV for news of you.
                      You're closing ranks and closing doors.
                       Perhaps it's me who's in the wars.



                          I am a barnacle, you see.
                          A love of pure tenacity
                          that holds vice hard
                          with teeth that dig beneath the surface
                          to grip each atom.
                           I am hard-shelled, tough
                           and tender inside,
                           enduring bitter waters
                           freezing cold and wild winds,
                           seductive batterings of your waves.
                           When all else leaves you,
                            the barnacle remains.
                           You may see me go under
                           but you will never see me drown.


                 You pull people up
                 I put people down.
                 You're home and cosy,
                  I'm wandering round town.

                  Your words don't show feelings,
                   Yet mine are not fakes.
                  My goal's to destroy you whatever it takes

                  You understand people
                   I couldn't care less.
                   Your world is serenity
                   Mine is a mess.

                  You're content in your tweeness,
                   I'm chaos and tricks.
                   You work with reality
                   Me? never sticks.

                    You give people freedom
                     And I give them hell.
                    You don't wish them malice,
                   I don't wish them well.

                  Your actions speak love
                  My deeds are just cruel
                  You respect all authority,
                  I have my rule.

                  You've got friends by letter and phone
                  But I speak the truth, so I'm always alone.

5 Jan 2010


              I'd like to think there was something extraordinary about it.
              "You're on strike?" boomed the doctor.
              I gazed out across snowclad gardens.
              A robin smiled and shook his tail.
             "Where would we be without people like you?"
               Where indeed.
              Don't do normal or routine,
              Don't do blind conformity or herds,
              Don't do silence when the audience goes home,
              Don't do laughter, life or love.
              My face as closed as my book.
              And the robin ate cake.


                So where are you now?
                Somewhere in between apathy and agitation I suspect ,
                bouncing off the ceiling like your own cheques,
                falling to the ground like a snipered grouse.

                Lion on a tightrope
                tumbling on roses.
                That's me.



               Tell me doctor,which is worse?
               cynical patient or clinical nurse?
               There he is.Such dedication.
               My shaking hand pours medication.

               Never look him in the eye
               he'll never know the reason why.
               The real predicament of the day
               is not to give the game away.

               I'll shine my torchlight on his face
               then disappear without a trace.
               Tomorrow he'll be going home
               and all that time he'd never known.

Search This Blog