It’s what I wrote (to a son)

for all you saw of me,
all the laughter,
the tears ,
even the venom.
for everything I presented to you,
you may never know the complexities,
or the simplicities.
through your own reactions you’ll see whispers,
but that’s like smoke in mist,
lost too quick.
you will, however, know me by my works,
scattered in the annals,
scattered into folk memory and tongue,
replicated countless times,
adapted in countless ways.
my words and voice have had an impact.
through the most utilitarian of output,
lost of my name
and no longer the same.
I will murmur on,
outliving most.
in the lexicon lives my ghost.

And they will walk in your shade

You will walk in the breath of giants,
Where only angels dare to soar.

And whilst casting your eyes to heaven,
You will dance with the devils below.

All creation will know your name,
For it will be whispered with the revered.

And when you cast a shadow,
Great men will walk in the shade.


Fatherhood is like the sparks from the undercarriage of a subway train
Hinting of power whilst conjuring fear.
Fatherhood is like the sound of thunder where no lightening appears,
Majestic, warmth.
Fatherhood is like dancing through a sudden snowfall
Enveloping where new light glints,
When chilling realities transform into miraculous merriment.
Fatherhood is like the devil in me,
Mockingly reflected back in a fleshy mirror.
Fatherhood is the kisses that the boy wipes clean,
Given freely and taken back with impish glee.
Fatherhood is everything I’ve come to be,
Wrapped in a blanket of this loving family.
But fatherhood is a magician’s trick,
Practiced for an age,
Where a pedestal is raised from life’s grim dirt,
Where a man exudes the strength of polished bronze,
A perfect mirage of exemplary masculinity,
With the knowledge that when as equals they meet,
To his feet this sandy dirt will fall,
And with it the death of a man,
For in my eyes, he’ll see a boy.

Sing The Syllables

Sing the Syllables
Of sentences heard in your head
We’ve lead you to a phonetic oasis
From which you’re starting to drink
Think the thoughts and say the sounds,
Love the words and play around
Dance the jig of language bound,
Express yourself.
Know the words define your thoughts,
Caught in a cultural tryst,
Raise a fist to our monkey minds,
And recognise this domesticated ape,
Does he not the world define.

I declare my love (from Tennessee)

I declare my love once more,
But it’s lost to your ears,
Whispered to the darkness. 
I declare my love once more,
As though the world hears,
As though it may touch your heart.
I declare my love once more.
From half the world away,
From this night of day,
I declare to you right here now:
If the end of the world was here,
If society was broken beyond repair,
If humanity was engulfed by fear and despair,
I would find my way back to you.
So I could declare my love to you there.

My Dad – August 2011

Awkward sod, my dad,
Had the confidence beaten out of him, as a lad.
He created for himself a new set of rules,
A new moral code with which to live,
From the tools he had to hand,
And from what others had to give.

He once met the top man in this and that,
And reminisces of things he’s learned, a lot.
Then he’ll chatter on about the things he’s done,
Bringing poetic license, often into question.

Handy man, my dad, was quick with his fists and his temper,
When he was pissed off we’d run for cover,
Then he got old and a bit calmer.
Still handy though, should have a PHD in using his hands,
His practical skills should be known across the land.
Fix your car, fit your kitchen, plumb your bathroom,
I’m hoping for a loft conversion!

On and on this progression is run,
Copied over from father to son.
Our selfish decisions perpetuated linearly,
Our y chromosome demanding commonality,
Tempered but with perhaps too much similarity.

Great man, my dad,
Thinks he’s somehow insignificant!
Lives for his family,
Has always made us laugh,
And he’s given us all he’s ever had, my dad.

We Three

In bed,
The happiest place to be.
My wife, my son, me.

Leon the Destructioner Awakes

The Boy comes to, opening his eyes,
Wondering if this awakening hour requires his tears.
Normally a few moans are feigned,
Then his smile’s regained,
His eyes glint and glisten back and forth.
There’s trouble in those eyes.
This little Lion boy launches into action,
Presenting himself to the morning.
The battle cry of the bedroom,
A scream that let’s the house know he’s awake
A roared warning to the world that says:
“Stand well back,
I am ready for chaos,
Leon the Destructioner is here.”

This Pacifying Light

After a titanic struggle
Like a colossus born into the darkness he arrived
The crisis caved away
The elements rejoiced
Rain poured, then thunder clapped
Like a terrace of low leaning lions growling his name
Through this a procession to a wet window
Where he was held high in the night
There looked upon by the moon
And reaching for the heavens
He opened all-seeing eyes
Understanding and radiating light
A phoenix birth setting a new dawn on fire
He casts a shadow
And men walk in his shade

Remember the Black Dress (Redress)

Distress and a Black Dress

Put away the pretentions of a night with the penguins.
There is nothing to fear.
You imagine black empress lines clash against the glacial white stares
Well who cares?
We are all fish out of water
Dispel your fears.