The Gym

The gym
Isn’t part of nature
You rarely find
A potted plant
The cycle machines

The gym
Is made
From old plans
For train wheels
Forklift trucks
And escalators

They have
nothing to do
with nature

Running around
In our natural environment
Is getting to be taboo
It’s best profited
To go to the gym
That isn’t part of nature

Where you’ll be safe
From the bites of squirrels
The claws of birds
And the stings of bees



At the station
There were
Balls of dust
On the edges
Of the tables
The walls were shabby
The floor was dirty

On reception
A barrel chested
Police officer
He seemed to live
On a higher level
He drifted
He stopped and glowed
He moved thinking about something
He turned effortlessly
Into the spiritual
Of his higher world duties

You feared him
Just a little
He was distant
Like a bird
Moving across
Fresh snow
You moved passed him
Like you were passing a giant
In a strange untouchable vision
In another world


They land like bombs
From a volcano
Post traumatic
Stress disorders
Pom-pom powder
The heart and head
And soak into the body
Like leeches

You become conscious
It’s the day after
You have a bulge
The size of an armored tank
In your chest

You move
With anvils
Either side of your head

You don’t know it
You don’t believe t
You’ve changed
From the smoothie drinker
To the metal black creature
From the lagoon

You’ve never felt so hurt
By mankind’s secret weapon


They lost their lives
In the battle of the bathroom
They were all lined up
On the venetian blind
Like a row
Of horrible little black mice

Then they all flew about
At once, around my bonce
I moved in with the spray
Like a man in a police line

Finger on the trigger
I was man – the killer

Now in the peaceful
Autumn days
I keep finding their bodies
Behind the vases


By the river Thames
Where I sat down
I began to weep
When I remembered Zion

As the river flowed
Beneath my feet
And the high rise flats
Grasped at heaven

I walk to the edge
And I dived in
The deepest end
Of my prison

And as I drifted
Down to the sea
I found a place
To pray again

Did you know?
That as a kid
I had an invisible

And mother laughed
Because I cried
When she went away
I missed her

Like sitting down
By the river Thames
And weeping
When I remembered Zion

Never Feel Sorry For the Devil

Never feel sorry for the devil
Never sympathise with him
Or he’ll swallow you up like a big fish
And you’ll enter into his sin.

Have you felt sorry for the devil?
Did you ever sympathise with him
Then he swallowed you up, you morsel
He’s identified you as his twin.

When you’re at the gate to the tunnel
That mirages all over him
And the Garden of Eden melts in the rain
Then you’ve been expelled from within.

Never feel sorry for Satan
Or find yourself melt like a stone
Best to keep well clear of Satan
It’s best to leave him alone.

His condition is of his own choosing
And he vows to never back down
His life is a river of human blood
That flows across burning ground.

If you meet him one dark evening
And he plays on your sympathy
Don’t laugh or cry, but hurry on by
If you wish to stay forever free.

Morant Street

Loneliness from her body
Shines like the moon
As she stares at me
From a dark window.

Her bones shine through
Haunted, jaundiced skin,
Radiating the night coming pain
Of her ending self.

The leaves from the Poplar trees
Sweep beneath her window
In the glass dance of silence
Like timid helpless creatures.

Her face of chiselled solitude
Shrunken in hunger of poverty
Her eyes a glass blowers fire
That melts with accusation.



The discontinuous
English life
As soon as you die
Everything goes

To the sale
To the tip
To the bonfire
The council rules
That nothing stays
They need everything
Cleared away

To the sale
To the tip
To the bonfire

Even the body
Of the one you love
Is cleared away
By the cold hand shove

To the sale
To the tip to the bonfire

Relatives who pick
And peck at remains
Are left with emptiness
And grieving pains

As everything you knew
Of husband and wife
Gets quickly discarded
By this
English life

You go to the morgue
More like a thief
As if you were stealing
Your own memories

From the sale
The tip
And the bonfire

To break from the past
In a thunderbolt smash
Into your life
Your love, your past
That goes to the ale
The tip
The bonfire

Song: Look Around You

Look around you, look around you
Do you see the space around you?
Look beneath you, look beneath you
Do you know what’s really beneath you?
Look above you, look above you
Do you know there’s nothing above you?

And your family are gone
And you have no Dad or Mom
And you wonder what went wrong
With your love

And your nerves – snap
Like branches of a tree
And your heart collapse
Never to be free

Walking home in the night
With the glow of twilight
It make you want to know?
What goes on?

Going to sleep
You could sleep for a week
And wake up not knowing



Song: From the bosom of your mind

From the bosom of your mind to the January snow
The phoenix rises crying, hoping for a tow
I look back down the centuries at the border control
To comic pages black & white and bookworms in the soul


From the bosom of your mind
My love in those days was so very few
I have an eye, this very eye
That keeps focused on the clue

On the clue in the bosom of your mind

From the bosom of your mind to the servants door
The rebellion is gathering for the latest war
I am just a servant urging liberty
Who cannot change the minds of what people think of me?

In the bosom of your mind to the rivers of flame
A wild soul arises, a soul without a name
All the servant owns is left upon the stair
As she goes in search of a love somewhere.



In untreated illness

In untreated illness; in unrequited love; in unnamed phobias and fears; in hopes that turn to depression; in the aging flesh; in the lack of identity; in masks of disfiguring pain; in ungrounded anger; in poverty; I can find and sort through these images in my mind.

Education has failed to understand this spiritual angst. Society in this day and age has failed to recognise the seriousness of this spiritual disability.

The same old conditions prevail now as always for progress in understanding each other. While the world races to build up its comfort zone of materialism and technology, it has begun to corrode on the inside.

The people of the West

The people of the West
They struggle and they strive
They watch the big container ships
Into the port, arrive

The people of the West
They build and they destroy
You seen their cities growing
Right up to the sky

The people of the West
They work hard all the day
To keep the wheels of progress
Moving down the way

And some are more important
Than others in the land
And some rise right up to the top
While others sleep in the sand

The people of the West
They live and die all day
They fight upon the battlefield
Without a reason why

The people of the West
They live a life so strange
They try to make it better
But nothing ever change

And some have business success
And some of them get beat
And many find no help at all
Without the mark of the beast

The people of the West
Consume more than they need
The deserts grow the ice it melts
As discontent it breed

The people of the West
They try to beat the drive
They try to climb to success
They try to win the prize

The people of the West
Turn to democracy
They put their trust in science
And that it sets them free

While the icecap melting
With the weathers change
The people of the west
Become the people of the strange