About Me

My photo

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

27 Sep 2011


THE HOTHOUSE KID.http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bkwjECcO1PY

23 Sep 2011


You're daddys' big extention.
He'll love you when you're grown.
But knowledge is a dangerous thing
when your mind is not your own.

But this he never told you
when forcefed like a foie gras goose
and brainwashed like a soldier.

Pretentious and precocious,
peace of mind is just a dream.
Academic swagger
fills the family cash machine.

A plastic wife and palace,
with no one else above you.
A life of carrot-chasing
and he never said he loved you.

No longer climbing ladders
like you did when you were young,
your bonsaied brain a child again
and daddy got it wrong.
Thank you for The Perfect Poet Award.

16 Jun 2011


If you take away the people
you are nothing.
Deaf by your own imagination.
No one to react to.
No one to direct routine.
No one to confirm your being.
Who are you?

If you take away the people
you are nothing.
A sea-less shell,defined by objects.
No one to distract you.
No one to aspire to.
No one to remind you.
Who are you?

No one.


The sky is huge you know,
but not too big to talk.
I know your thoughts
via pictures in the sky.
They're meant for me.

31 Jan 2011


She's histrionic,mad,erratic,
the Bertha Rochester of the attic
who feels the words that others cannot hear,
and speaks of torture,passion,truth and fear.
Yet if she's working in the arts,
the audience takes her to their hearts.
So is it genius or insanity
that provokes the sheep humanity?


You didn't bring me irises
yet you know damn well I love them.
Instead,you place some tawdry cherub at my head.
NO ONE LIES HERE,it should have read.
Just go away home to your neighbour-cooked pies
and leave me in peace,
listening to rooks and rustling yews,
sleeping in my own bed in my own world.
You know damn well I love irises.


I asked permission from the oak,
to carve my name on his proud side.
For years we stood in wind and rain,
watching grazers come and go,
and climbers grow from boy to man.
When my gnarled fingers met the bark,
I told him I was going home.
He knew I'd loved him all the while,
and he would never be alone.

Search This Blog