beauty, love, men, poetry, women


It’s a long way down

To fall without


Into the abyss

Stained with self deception

And the fear plays its rhythms

On your bones

But this is where

The gods and their

Champions wait

And you stare

Long enough to see

The threshold

Cross it

It will feel like death

Until it doesn’t

But here

She comes to you

Sees you wearing the

Marks of father

And in surrendering,

Finds her own victory

With the surety

She finds



men, poetry, politics


I’ve seen them

Online, mostly

The occasional one

In real life

Rick and Morty t shirts,

Lines memorised

And analysed

A pedestal for every woman

They meet but no volunteers

For a fey adoration,

And they smell of a subtle danger

Women find abhorrent,

Recognizing the tribe

Is a bitter sweet thing

Seeing as I’m outside of it

These days

Happier in some ways

Because things were simple

There were enemies and allies

Lines fed via prompt

But the script needed work

And my writing made me

Conscious of where the lines

Needed work

But it wasn’t my draft

And soon, I struggled

To believe in myself

And the immature grimace

Borrowed sentiment

Doesn’t fit so well

So I see them

Wish them well

See the sour, seething

Sweating need

And give thanks

For the deeper,

Darker truths

Brighter kindnesses

I live within these days.

men, poetry

Fleeting Progress

Unremarkable to most

But there are moments

I can taste, sweet and fleeting

Where the world ushers me

Forward past a sea of burning candles

Broken and faded headstones

Too long a villain believing

Themselves a hero

But the road costs me

With each step

Against the trembling, angry


I sing with enthusiasm

But little talent

Not lost at all

Just wandering through

Places near and far,

And soon, a kingdom

A queen,

An heir

All to earn with the coin

Saved in quiet time

Spent on new books

And old coats

So, see past the ragged edges

To the fine beast underneath,

Gentle as a butterfly

Rough as a bear.

beauty, love, men, poetry, women



And I’ve let go of

Things but not people

Experiences, good and bad,

Their scars shine silver at

Civil twilight

But you run your fingers

Over my peculiar fur

And I breathe you in

Mine, I say from the back of

My throat,

You’re mine

And you curl into me

A little tighter

Safe here,

Warm and comforted,

If nothing else

Redeemable exists

Then I can lay down

Rest my head

And have intimacies

As palpable as

Summer lightning

Not be broken by their


Sometimes a man

Would rather fuck than


But here,

Safe and strong

I’m going to have


love, men, poetry


The plants

Are winning

And the part of me

Which fought,

Lost and retreated

Wants to roll up

My sleeves and fix it all

The scrapes and cuts

Studded along my arms

But it’s not my war to fight

And the only fallen comrade

Is in the mirror

But the guilt

Wraps itself

Snaking across the trellis

Of my bones

And it squeezes with

The strength of regret

Even as I know, had I stayed,

I would have hung

Dessicated from the vines

But there were flowers there


But not mine to tend to

I’d tell you this

How I’ve learned from

The wreckage I caused

That the man I am

Started here but has

Found fresh soil

In which to bloom

And if I’m sometimes

Too much action

Then you’d understand

How I lived and fought

Before, that inaction

Builds like plaque

And with you

I’m not that man any longer

And yet I still look

To show the depth of feeling

Within me without

Turning you away

So, to hearts garden

Where the plants grow

Trimmed and cultivated

And there I sit

Waiting for you.

beauty, love, men, poetry, women

sometimes Kali,

Sometimes there’s

No comfort awarded

The sweep of days

Puts grit between my teeth

My persistence in

Breaking through

To open you with love

There is too much within me

Expressions, boyish and earnest

Tripping over my feet

In showing you

So find inference

In how my efforts

Stand up,

The smooth division

Of labour,

How your observations are taken,

Sometimes inside

Sometimes on the chin

Not as martyred sponge

But your tests come from

Your inner divine,

And when you’re beyond

My ability to reach through

And open you to love,

My role is to

Let you weep yourself

To actualisation,

Have you call for me

Sometimes Kali,

Sometimes Venus,

Goddesses who’s names I’ve read

But not pronounced,

And these things

Are tests,

Failure is possible

Graded on standards

Defined by the moment

But there’s a tenacity

Which I’ve relied on

And here, with you,

Rinsing the grit from

My mouth

Kiss you in your kitchen

Before you can speak

beauty, love, men, poetry, women

The Day, And All Its Colours

Tender for the years

That have passed

Silver in my beard

The signs of wisdom

I hope not weariness

Sit with me in silence

Spill the deluge of your day

And let it soak my skin

But not my soul

You’ve a rock to rest upon

A shelter who knows when

To let the sunlight in

Red in tooth and claw when

Called upon,

Not the wet nosed puppy

Too impressed with you

To be useful

But a larger, rougher

Beast who stays their paws

Except to rub your feet

And growl for you

To tell me of your day

And all its colours.

I shall make you small

Safe but never


Seen but not worshipped

And here, as the sunlight fades

Pastel washes pooling in your


I’m thick with wonder.

Kiss me

To compelling silence