A Note On Writing, Passion and Rebirth

Living is a strange thing. It brings up all sorts of strange, wonderful, distressing, complicated, terrible, hilarious, beautiful things.

There is an extraordinary tool called language which can be used to translate these things into what people call stories, poetry, prose. The writer’s equivalent to the artist’s painting, the composition, the sketch.

Sometimes this makes life  more real, more vivid so it can be better enjoyed, savoured. Sometimes it makes life more abstract and distant so it can be better endured and coped with. There is writing that teaches and informs, there is writing which simply plays games, but writing which strikes me the deepest, and remains within me the longest, is that which offers a shared experience.

It is up to the skill of the wordsmith to put the right words in the right order to create within the reader a faithful evocation of what the author had in mind when they started writing. These words – in stories, poetry, prose – therefore come full circle. Drawn from the author’s experience they should create a vivid new reality within the reader.

Life is a story. And a story well written should give birth to new life.


I knew the answer to this one
I missed it by
We wanted so much more
Than what we gave ourselves

We realise
We can take it Now

Fear and cooled down tempers
Hot running water left on
Without fury


True words can’t
Be spoken from
Child’s Mouths

I’m a college graduate


Never Been
Good Enough

Will you
See who
I am through
Your Beauty Eyes

I’ve never Thought
Well enough

Will you
Think of me
Through your
Lovely head

I’ve Never
Quite as Much

Will you
Your beauty words

I’ve never been Kind Enough
To Leave myself

Will You

Living into answers

There’s absolutely nothing I want to know
About you
I’m living in untouching dreams
Any pretty face can fulfill

Theres Nothing I want to see in held down hands and
Told secrets and love making late night conversation
Nothing I have to give in heart connections
No not my secrets.
Not my bent back finger tips
Not my arched spine
They are beauty songs for another time

The floodgates are shut
But damn you
You sprung me a leak

Its all okay

In silence
Some tears fell.
They were not
Sadness only

Tears of
Growing pains

It is hard sometimes
To move legs that do not want to be moved
It is
Exhaustion past the point

It should be no secret no shame
That things hurt
And tears come

A moment of aliveness
Wet eyed, we remember,
And smile again

(I do not like
Keeping such secrets)

Dinner conversation

There is something nakedly desperate in my
Stretching for my dream fragments
Through you

I keep it interminably light for fear
That you may find me

And I breathing deeper, long for another pair of lungs
That sucks in light and air
Like strawberry candy floss clouds
And whiskey plumes and eye wrinkling smiles

I hold my breath
As if some far off etiquette demands it of me
And hope you need the air too

I won’t
Hold my breath

Growing is Hard

My friend
Solitude is not my favourite game
Though I’d rather cut throat silence than
Your song

I know you like my tune
But I’d rather you didn’t sing along

Get away. Get off. You’re clinging to my skin
Like a jacket whelk I cannot peel away
For fear of scars
And the bite of wind

Am I a devil to hate you here in all your

I need you
To suck, and to feed me
Love and misunderstanding

Or I
Will go

And to keep my toes tight warm in these too-small shoes

Or my feet
Will go

Am I coward? Or just
I fancied I loved you.
I will leave you soon.
I’m sorry.


we will go
to dark places
no more
my dear

i see a bright
we’ll watch it rise
and i will go
i will find what i don’t know

we will go
to dark places
no more
my dear

the light hurts
my eyes
it’s hard to see
it will take some time
for us
to be

but we will go
to dark places
no more
my dear

no more,
my dear
no more


it is the doubt
the nibbling gnawing doubt
that can destroy a man
from the inside out

find me a way through the dark
i meet lights along the way
who teach me how to dance
show me how to play

truth, it was not my light that made your eyes dull
i made them sparkle
and flame
you are not accustomed
to being so alive

i was not to blame

A State

Do not get me wrong my friend
I will
Want you again
You tricked me
And you tricked my friends
With regressive games of let’s pretend

And I in pain
And I alone
Take back my light
Take back my home

I was never welcome in your head
Made me a dog
‘Sit up and beg’
And then the only given food
Were skag ends, scraps and bits of wood

Though I found your sharp clawed fits confusing
They got more and more amusing…

Get off the mattress on my floor

some words can easily be confused

I left your incipient control
your ‘you are not allowed to feel like that’
your passive aggression
your little ‘playful’ slap

your insipid nature i stood by
watching waiting to develop
but you are chronically stunted

i did not know you are a box containing nothing
and you do not want to fill up

and I stayed because of my
archaic insipience