Little words…

As all the little words will come in ease to cleanse the mind

I find my mind is quite at loss I believe my peace I’ll find

I’m cross still me I’ve paid my dues in ways to pave the lies

To come anew and lose my blues and truly come refined


As dominoes will fall in wavy lines my fate aligns

To find a bride perhaps to get my shit to come in time

My love is lost at quite a cost across my life I’ve tried

To fail and never get the girl oh why am I denied…

Bus stop…

The smell of petrol fumes in the air masked my aftershave. The time was quarter passed two in the afternoon.

Over on the other side of the road was another bus stop. Cars, bikes and motorcycles were continuously zooming passed and even though I had been waiting for nearly half an hour now, it appeared that any bus was yet to come.

After all it was a Sunday.

The creeping threat of rain and the cold wind kept me in a petulant suspense.

The (dare I say) younger of the two ladies on the other side of the road kept standing up and sitting down as if she was playing a rather stagnant game of musical chairs. And no matter how many times she stood up and looked to the right again she could not summon the bus anymore quickly.

The older girl seemed keen to chat to her but she was seemingly and deliberately sat further down the stop as to avoid all the small talk and chitter chatter.

To be honest I felt sympathetic towards the older girl as she must have been lonely. Perhaps her husband had died. I pondered on this and soon began to question the solidarity of my own mortality.

I was soon distracted as my bus had finally arrived. I stood up and stuck out my hand. I was very much looking forwards to a cup off hot coffee and some chocolate biscuits.

After all there is no place like home…

Loneliness (Sonnet)…

As love is lost and never comes to me

The cost of bitter life in crazy walls

I close my eyes to joy as tears may fall

although my eyes are dry so I may breathe


Relax and stay a while as longing seeds

Of deeds may shoot to flower, fruit and be

Of praise and wonderment so slim and tall

The waves of doubt will spread and knock them all


And back and forth and round and round it seems

And loneliness my friend on whom I call

to be my lover true it has been deemed

to death we both will wonder slow and sure


And as my muse a faded glance or cry

I know to not be loved but to despise




In front of the mirrors stood several bottles of a mans cure for loneliness at high percentages of volume.

Three men sat at the bar

one with worn tattoos of a man who would have fought in his younger years, nowadays reputation and confrontation were a mere distant dream.

Another in a striped shirt with a plain hair cut. Two drinks he had to reflect his stressful work and difficult family life.

The other wearing a gray beanie and a lumber jack shirt, his posture was juxtaposed to the other two, still he managed to balance the chip on his shoulder.

The barmaid was away in a back room somewhere on a personal call on the pubs telephone. She was a loud mouth, swearwords were commonplace in her vocabulary and what to her was a normal conversation could cause avalanches in mountains of snow.

The tension between the men was tough and couldn’t be chipped with angle grinders or chainsaws.

They all smiled and adjusted their body language to be more friendly as the barmaid walked back into the bar.

“HI boys” she said with a smile on her face. They all nodded and the tattooed man asked for another beer while the other two smirked.




A lonely pint…

The bright lights behind the bar were in great contrast to the dark and dim atmosphere that surrounded it. The furniture was dark brown and there were lighter brown walls around with warn images of winged mythological creatures with lions heads and strong arms with certain claws directly painted on them.

One man was sat at the bar slowly mulling over his pint in deep thought. “Still waters run deep huh…” the barman said to the customer. The man nodded in agreement and stroked his beard in a contemplative manner. He then swilled his pint around and took a small sip from it.

The clock on the wall said a quarter past six as a large golden retriever wandered slowly towards the man and looked up with kind begging eyes, The man patted her head. The smell of malted dog hairs, hops and musk of unclean carpet merged into the warm air.

The man threw the dog a crisp onto the wooden part of the floor below him. Then dog looked down, ate the crisp and looked up again.

“Not no more” the man said as he took the last sip of his pint.

He slowly stood up, nodded to the barman and walked slowly to the exit. As he opened the door the sounds of rushing traffic and people talking outside overcame the quiet soft rock music in the pub as if there had only been c0mplete silence.

Desert house…

The house was hundreds of miles from anywhere. It’s dry cracked walls seemed as though they had been beaten by the harsh sandy wind for hundreds of years.

Sand surrounded the house for as far as the eye could see and clumps of tall dried grass stood out, dotted around the dry ground like lost beards.

The deep light blue sky above could have been a tropical ocean, consuming every drop of sweat from me with evaporation.

I took another step towards the house. My dry, hot, blistering feet sinking into the ground as it was quicksand.

I was hoping there was water here. I had taken all the water from my canvas bottle and even my tongue felt as dry as the ground below me.

My eyes were now like bee stings and my face was beaten and red.

As I got closer to the house I could see that there were tiles fallen from the roof. Another drowning footstep in the sand and I could see that the windows were smashed.

There was no one sat outside the building. Was anyone inside?

I took yet another grueling step forwards and as I steeped over a clump of dry grass my desperation for water and exhaustion had me crawling on my knees. The hot sand closer to my burnt face.

I finally got to the steps of the house and tried to shout to whoever may have been inside “Hello”. My shout was but a tired painful whisper.

I crawled up the steps and the door was as weak as I was and fell flat into the house with a single touch of my sore hand.

The house had been empty seemingly for several years. I crawled to the kitchen and desperatly pulled myself up to standing by the sink. I grappled with the tap and twisted it but all that came out was a tiny bit of sand…


Inner city pressure…

The face of the clock by the road side was smothered in dirt.

I was only half past ten in the morning and already I was frustrated with the traffic beeping their horns at each other and all the pedestrians whizzing past each other and nearly bumping into me. Attempting to tolerate the impatience of this demanding place left me anxious and hungry.

I walked quickly pacing to a hot dog stand and asked for a hot dog. “Onion” he said without a “sir” or a “would you like”. I handed over the two dollars with a mutual evil glare.

We may as well been telling each other to fuck off.

The light bouncing around from the windows of the gigantic buildings left my eyes sore from the reflected sunshine. The buildings were packed together like battery animals.

All the stores here were too expensive and a taxi ride to a local area with cheaper prices might get me murdered. I was stuck; crappy job, crappy place, crappy life.

I had time to go for an overpriced and pretentious mug of coffee in a cafe nearby full of underpaid, sweaty and unfriendly people.

I looked up to see the tiny snippets of beautiful clear blue sky through the gaps in the sky scrapers and blocks but the smog had tainted them as much as it had tainted my now desperately dim outlook on my monotonous and struggling lifestyle.

I continued along the pavement…