Thursday, 31 December 2009


Dad, Mum, Jayne and the boys.
Tammy in Missouri,
Kev, Simon, Russ and the lads in London,
Andy in Hull,
Tim, Chris, Mike, the 3 Brians, Luigi and Hussein @ UAMHQ,
Cindy in Seattle,
Jim in Alabama,
Thaleia in Bruges,
Suzanne in Ontario,
Sam in Toronto,
Rob in Philly,
Dean in Wisconsin,
Simon in Scotland,
Mike in Boston,
Leanne in the Midlands,
Magnus in Sweden,
Marisa in New Zealand,
Teresa in Leicester,
Andrew in Northumberland,
Kihu in Macedonia,
Taylor and Judith in South Carolina,
Erin in Bristol.
Sal down south,
Shireen in the Highlands,
The amazing Flawnt,
And all the rest of you wonderful people who have
Leant your support, comments and follows ALL YEAR LONG.

Here’s to 2010 (that’s Two Ten)


So I sleep and awake in the same bed my father left
On the last day of his life,
Though I’m safe in the knowledge that his legacy will continue
Long after I have shed my own skin;

For here in my arms is the future and there goes the past,
Trapped in its own little snow globe,
And captured on these pages for all concerned to
Turn to when they wish to know the truth
Of it from a more reliable source,
A better sired horse.

Though be careful what you wish for as it may just find you
Dismal beneath a fallen star;
Arms outstretched to catch the dust of love’s labour
When all that’s available is lust.

But I’m determined to give this the worth it deserves
Whilst trying not to revert to type;
I’m just writing, transmitting, channeling information
Instantly; funneling all the feelings of
Four seasons into one reasonable,
Readable volume,

So that when everything makes to collapse I can relax
And track my way clearly through the ruins,
For even though people may scamper and panic there’s
No need to bleed when events shred.

This has been my year,
And now it’s yours...

Wednesday, 30 December 2009


In the last decade:

I drank in the Millennium,
I left my employment,
I brought another woman home (again),
I became insolvent,
I lost my address,
I worked 62 hours straight,
I wrote 12 books,
I got hooked up.

My country excelled at several sports.
My forties were met,
My Dad died,
My best friends split,
My son was born,
My marriage dissolved,
My sister kicked out her eldest kid,
My first diary was completed.

In the next decade….

WE will be together.

Tuesday, 29 December 2009


When we are together,
Yet parted by the world’s curvature,
We burn time
With all the urgency of gasoline;
All the purpose of
The unseen wishing to be looked at.

Wrecking seconds
As they tick beneath our heart beats,
Stripping minutes of
Their measure with our intimacy
And crowding hours
Until devoured in the wake of our words.

Bending all the laws
Of science and the clauses of religion
As we pitch our voices
Lower and glow ruddier with every breath,
Arriving at our lives’
Design together as we defeat years.

And somewhere in an
Ancient office a clerk is clock watching
As his day drags its heels,
For we have grabbed his share of time
As well to sacrifice upon
The altar of our hypnotic correspondence.

And once allocated durations
Have leaked out of their evening sheaths
We meet again by morning
Light where time resets itself for our use
And we love with
All the newness of a freshly made universe.

Monday, 28 December 2009


I wake up early so
I can take her in my arms anew once slipped from me in sleep;
How bittersweet
For her to return from
Dreams alone,

From where the
Best of our ambitions whistle for a steed to speed us on ahead,
And we shed tears
More slowly as the day’s
Holding grows.

And with all of
My resources I transmit to space an invitation to remove its
Distance from us,
And entertain our
Aims forever.

For here I wait
And there she works to while away the days until we meet,
And set in motion
All the traded words
Of our love:

Promises made
To honour any statements of intent we ventured weeks ago,
Carved in the
Stone of ocean beds
And met forever.

Memories of what
Was, thoughts of what is and the hopes for what will be all
Collide as they
Vie for my attention
Late at night.

Sunday, 27 December 2009


The music in my ears is
Rattling my mouth
To such a degree that I can’t even speak,
And when I eventually
Open my lips there’s
Nothing but gibberish spouting from them.

However hard I try I’m
Left with feeling that
I really have nothing left of any worth to say,
But hey, that’s okay, because
Right now there’s not a great
Deal of anything that I want to fucking hear.

A little muscle has pulled
Itself on my wish list and
Left me in the grip of a rather stern intoxicant
That has locked me out of
The charming calmness
That I’ve been experiencing these last two months.

But I guess the only way to
Go is forwards as the order
Of tunes is increasing in proportion to my needs,
And before these in-between
Days are over I’ll have
Enough reason to acknowledge the verses again.

Saturday, 26 December 2009


For what I received
I will be pleased.

For what I gave
I will be savoured.

For what I attended
I will remember.

For what I became
I will be braver.

For what I ate
I will be grateful.

For what I drank
I will be blanker.

For what I missed
I will never forgive,

But for what I’ve been granted
I will always be thankful.

Friday, 25 December 2009


I’m smiling at you from across the room,
And you’re not even there.
Whistling distant tunes
And I don’t care.
I’m conducting orchestras
With earplugs in,
Issuing awkwardness
You are my Christmas gift
This year,
And however long I live
You will be here.

Thursday, 24 December 2009


All the power of the story is yours,
And the passion play unmistakable,
While the hour of your glory has paused
Before the short day’s light is wakeable.
And it makes us a place of approval,
In the early orbit of our saying,
Where the order of pace is removing
The old world of habitual praying.
And when sleep and it keepers have scattered,
And the day has been splashed with new colour,
All the people who greet me don’t matter
As they’re paved in the ash of the duller,
For you rise in the west to receive me
And we dwell in the vestment of eve’ning.

Wednesday, 23 December 2009


So more snow has come and blown
The country over again,
As the roads are impassible,
And pavements impossible,
And salt at a premium and
It seems only yesterday
When everything ground to a halt
When in fact it was February,
And nothing has been learnt since.

And I’m waiting for a van man to
Collect and deliver the same items
I landed at the wife’s house in January,
And stuffed in a loft space,
And the year appears to be
Ending the same way it began;
All it needs now is a night on the
Phone with a bottle and a bone
To pick with everyone I love.

I missed you yesterday,
And I didn’t wish to, and I guess that’s
Why I buried myself in a loveless
Marriage, and have carried the
Truth of it heavily all year.
The end of the Earth’s not far enough,
The universe’s turn doesn’t put me off,
I would sanction heaven’s end for you
As we enter Two Ten together.

Tuesday, 22 December 2009


So short the day
That came and went,
Yet meaningful
In the scheme of things;
Amid the big themes.
Do you love
To be loved?
Hold to be held?
Speak to be heard
Or listen to the words of others
Simply to indulge them.
Are you here because of it
Or is it the opposite?
Are creations coexistent?
Are they fixtures once whittled?
Functions of your lung power
Left out too long
And song rendered after your expiration;
Splashed upon the walls of public houses
As the last of evening falls
When men have no need of mediocrity
During the longest night.

Monday, 21 December 2009


A saviour was born this year.
My salvation.
He came early to me,
And though late is the hour of
His parents’ path
He still brings beginnings.

A saviour was born this year.
My redemption.
He delivers me from
Fever and each of the many sins
That have wintered
In me and become entrenched.

A saviour was born this year.
My remission.
He eases the weight
Of the world with his eyes and
Barks at sadness
With a turn of his mouth.

A saviour was born this year.
My absolution.
He forgives me all
The hurtful words that brought
Me to his door,
And the more cautious ones.

A saviour was born this year.
My child,
And although I
May not get to see him this Christmas
Morning he will
Forever remain my Messiah.

Sunday, 20 December 2009


In the shower today the soap dish held the residue
Of the last six bars used
As I reviewed the year:
Stuart Broad’s devastating spell at the Oval,
World Cup qualification,
Phil Taylor’s domination,
The Road read,
Athlete’s Black Swan,
Mr. Eastwood’s latest on the big screen,
Miyazaki’s unseen,
Cinema in town for the first time in a generation,
Separating and returning and
Eventually learning the error of that course
And initiating divorce.
My sister’s kid getting uppity and fleeing,
My sister agreeing to it,
Friends leant upon and abused
Lost and then found,
Leaving their lovers,
Climate obsessions,
And generally feeling the decade
Couldn’t end too soon to renew itself
As these words will wilt upon my shelves,
Good food,
A little wealth,
And drinking like a bastard when I’ve had to.
And suddenly I’m purged,
And cleansed again.

Saturday, 19 December 2009


With a sycophant’s laugh,
And a creased photograph,
We marched
To the tune
Of another;

Who with conceited dash,
And a preference for cash,
Would snatch
The heirlooms
Of their lover.

In the hovels of love,
And the grounds up above,
We moved
With the legs
Of dejection,

And with nothing to prove,
And the cogwheels to move,
Their fumes
Bore the stench
Of rejection.

And the mess that remained,
Of our bodies once flamed,
Was strained
Thru the sieves
Of the future,

Until nothing but grain,
And the hope it contained,
To forgive

Friday, 18 December 2009


I will lay awake all night for you,
And make a pilgrimage to your door;
From darkness
To day
I will stay until you sleep.

I will be intimate from distance,
Entranced by the sound of your breath;
From your depths
To mine
I‘ll acquire good timing.

I will call you in your morning,
And gently rouse you out of bed;
From your feet
To the car,
And accompany you south.

I will await your response all day,
And reply in kind till you’re through;
From employment
To home
I will cruise with your voice.

I will love you as long as I live,
In the highs and the lows of the day;
From my heart
To your heart,
And everywhere in-between.

Thursday, 17 December 2009


I haven’t seen my son for two weeks
And as the wife isn’t speaking to me,
And talking through the daughter is awful,
I can see the period increasing.

This is why I sought divorce advice,
And was told to leave it until
After Christmas,
But as I’m missing him already why wait.

And it looks as though she’s received a letter already,
As she called sobbing to say I may have brought
Her low but I would never take her children,
In best brave-heart fashion.

But all I want is access without her stressing when,
Although I would raise him if I could,
And do a better job than she unclouded as I am
By doubt and in tune my own personality.

And capable of independent thought I’d thrive,
Although my choice in wives
Leaves a lot to be desired,
And I’m not the finest listener.

But these are not the issues here, Harry is,
And if it’s had to become legal this season
Then so be it and I will have to clear out and wish
That bitch a Wary Christmas and Tattered New Year.

Wednesday, 16 December 2009


A requirement to share
Has found me with barely
To spare,
Has laired

Itself in me
For years
Without my knowledge,
And sees
To it
I give

With every drop
Of blood that stops
My heart
From hopping
To the farthest
Of loss

I will prove
Myself to you,
And what is left
I will use
In the best
Of truth.

Tuesday, 15 December 2009


My realm flares;
There’s a gleam in its eye
As the horizon smiles back,
And although we’re in different lands
We’re in the same place,
And whatever day
It is,
As long
You grace it,
It’s today,
And however much
You need me
It is not enough
To breed fear as I will never leave,
Regardless of
The peaks and troughs
Of weeks and months.
I’ll be the one with the waiting mouth
And nobody will break my smile.
I love you severely;
Not to the ends of myself,
But from the beginning,
And though I have
A history of suicidal relationships
The monster
Responsible for those
Disgraceful trips
Has left me
With my new travelling companion.

Monday, 14 December 2009


I feel a sudden lack of faculty;
As though there are no more words available
When I find I’m in need of
A saleable few
To trade me through to year’s end.

I’m stumbling over the simplest of lines;
Falling face first over the tape because the worst
Of frailty has clamped me
In its hands and
Is threatening to strangle me.

And I don’t know why, as I’m happier
Than I have been for the longest time this year.
Maybe confidence has ponced
Me out once too often,
And softened my deference mechanisms,

And I can’t reason the difference
Between joy and voyeurism, or it could be that
I’m so determined to get it right
I’ve forgotten how to
Recognize insights I once knew by heart.

Or maybe I’ve just spat out all my
Passion and have no lasting thoughts to seal
These remaining weeks.
Maybe I should wait
Until you return home tell you how I truly feel.

Sunday, 13 December 2009


You want equality?
You want to feel what we feel?
Well who gives you that?
We do.
You’re not strong enough to fight for it;
To take it for yourselves.
You’re not the Papa polar bear who eats his own cubs,
I am.
So don’t fucking pretend that you understand
Our chosen roles.
Come to me with sense,
If you wish,
And ask what it’s like
To strive after your heart’s desire
Only to be told its passion has burned at the coal face;
It’s legacy has left you;
It’s labour has been disabled,
And I’ll tell you.
But you won’t will you?
You peck from the edges;
Snide from the sides
Until you’ve emasculated all that was ever man.
Embittered him to things that were his.
Slipped doubt into certainty.
Turned him around until he’s faint.
So I hope you’re happy when doors
Are left closed before you,
And you don’t get paid enough,
And all the politeness that was in his heart
Has been rudely exhumed,
And we are all left less of us.

Saturday, 12 December 2009


I’ve one mouth and two feet and
There’s still room enough in it for a third
If you should care to lend me one.

Whatever I say is scraped from my face as
Dogshit these days even when intended to be helpful.

Upsetting you is becoming easier
It would appear, and that’s due to either my
Inconsiderate tongue or your discreet ears.

And the more I try to smooth your worried
Mind the more wretched creases my mouth creates;

The higher I pitch my words the further
Away they are, and loftiness is costly when
Misheard from the depths you dwell in.

And there has been no word from you for
These past few days and I fear for my child’s safety.

But I will not allow your moods to engage
Mine anymore; too long a time has been
Spent this year senselessly leant on you.

So the next time you choose to evaluate
Me I suggest you consider that unopened letter first,

And in doing so realize the reason you are
Alone, and apparently depressed, is that you
Pushed me sufficiently far enough away to stay.

Friday, 11 December 2009


Essentially I need to
Re-establish my identity,
As you,
Who six weeks ago
Knew little of me, have
Energized me to such an
Extent that I want to live again;

To surround myself with
The everyday apparatus
Of an operator
Who knows exactly
What attracts him,
And in order to achieve it
Must submerge himself again

In the mundane waves
Of commerce and travel:
Driving licence
And passport torture;
Running the course of
Regular employment and
The toys it allows to be purchased.

And to make you feel like
The only lover ever needed,
Complete with as
Clear a picture of me
As there has ever been,
Or will be, cast upon this land
I once wandered unknown and lost.

Thursday, 10 December 2009


It’s surprising what you can do with one hand,
Especially when telephones are clamped
To ears and attention spans
Are elsewhere.

I’ve learned to entertain myself in tandem
With her who in turn has stamped
Her authority on my land
Line all night whilst

Eating and drinking and opening closures
And trying hard to avoid exposing
Our slightly swollen
Fruit to the air;

Masquerading amidst the delightful supposes
Of networks either social or alone,
And suddenly exploding
Everything open:

Here is my love, and I am in awe of her spirit,
As flown free these past weeks with it
I’ve felt the hand of God lift
Me even higher,

And there are no ceilings to impose limits
Now; no out of bounds for me to visit
As I now know that we’re gifted
To use both hands.

Wednesday, 9 December 2009


So the superstores have begun
Their annual crusade to give away enough beer
To ensure we can’t recall which country we populate,
Or how poorly we’re doing within it.
2 crates for 16 quid, or 3 for 20,
Well why not then,
Thank you sir,
And please return for more.
No doubt we will,
And even with a perfunctory taxi ride
To return it safely
It’s worth every penny,
And even though it will only
Last a day or two,
There’ll be further trips to secure more.
And what’s that I here you say,
Why do it if I don’t approve?
Well because I’m as mindful as you of the fact that if
I don’t get in there, and get my share, then some
Other greedy bastard will.

Tuesday, 8 December 2009


It was a Tuesday morning
As I was readying for school when
My Mother said “They’ve killed John Lennon”
And I shook my head a little and thought “Who?”
It was the way she’d said they
That intrigued me a little,
And set a fourteen year old misfit on his way.

I was familiar with McCartney,
And had heard of Ringo, even George
Rang a bell, but Lennon had evaded me for some
Reason, but once the media had seeded his image in
Me I discovered the music and
Used it to assist me safe
Through the awkward teenage phase that followed.

I’d often wondered who would
Generate the most press upon their
Death and it turned out to be him, and since
That fateful day I’ve learnt more from this man than
Any other save my father, and
Even learnt the art of being a
Pa from Lennon’s house husband lustrum.

And nearly thirty years later
I’m still able to imagine the world
With him in it, perched as he was to return,
No doubt trailing the Earth with him as he sweeps
Up its issues and bruises our egos
With them, and reminds us,
Every once in a while, that all we need is love.

Monday, 7 December 2009


Far away,
In a venerated place,
An angel sat awaiting
His calling.

Presently a message was badly
Scratched across heaven’s screens:
Help needed,

Stations were activated and
Orders were passed along golden lanes,
But our new eudemon,
Anticipating his moment, was overlooked.

After the whistles had hissed, and bells
Compelled, the mist in the halls became incarnate to
Reveal the garnered souls whose woe had so excited the host,
And there, from end to end, all humanity attended;

All save the sender of distress. So after questions
Were asked of the circumstances, and answers were unable to
Unveil the truth, our young saint, still reeling from being unheeded,
Took matters into his own hands.

Deciding to land he set for Earth but finding
It barren he searched for a sign. Underneath a now crowded
Sky he reached into the planet’s flanks and in the soiled
Confines of an orphanage he found the reason:

A small child, sitting in its mess, and left for days to
Confess wishes to the world, had hurled them at
The sky, demanding better, and getting it;
Alone beneath the stars with his own guardian.

Sunday, 6 December 2009


I’ve been to distant halls,
And up to those doors where
Doubt employed curiosity to ward us,
But I still went forward

To the rooms inside where
Pride enjoys his past and imagines
A suitable future for his pawns to wander,
Regardless of their longings.

The far shores have called,
And several have had more of me
Than they ought to, intentionally or not,
But I’ve returned intact.

Made a pact with so many
Present tensions not to enact my
Current self upon their stretched surfaces,
And have still left my mark.

I’ve wished upon the sun,
And its sisters, whose pull has kissed
Me deeper than my own planet’s delights,
But has not yet invited me.

Keep sakes have been promised
To list makers in lieu of tomorrows new
Humility smiling kindly upon my adventures,
And sending me you,

And then today came to stay,
Instead of treading lightly past in case
I noticed, and with it flowed your coat tails which
Were there to be hitched.

Saturday, 5 December 2009


I live in the cloud shade of Drax Power station,
The largest coal fired variety in Western Europe,
And alone responsible for 8% of Britain’s energy,
Regardless of the additional vigour of its two brothers.

If you were to stop atop Boothferry Bridge, which pitches
The M62 over the Ouse, you’d see the three of them spreading
Towards Leeds and realize just how much this country needs their
Electricity even as they cough carbon into the atmosphere’s garden.

But this is the cost isn’t it, the price of our hypocrisy,
When we spout about the planet and its green scenery
We do so from the comfort of our heated seats and podiums
And seldom ask if winter could be passed with less thermostat.

And when we do request less usage it’s seldom only mooted by
The rich and famous fools who shoot around the globe in private
Jets just to let us know the urgency of their concern, and whose own
Palaces are insulated with enough walls to afford less warmth inside.

And though ordinary soldiers of ecology are similarly
Horrified by our species’ waste, they handle their appeals
A little better and try to set their arguments in the real world
Instead of expecting us to burn fat in order to stay warm in winter.

But what do I know; I walk everywhere and never fly, central
Heating is unknown in my abode and I only speak when spoken
To so my footprint is limited to a slight indentation, although as I’m
The proudest of Yorkshire’s men I really should hate its smoking guns.

Friday, 4 December 2009


It’s my wedding anniversary today.
Five years since we cleared the decks,
Made our pacts
And matched names.
Half a life sentence these days,
And quite possibly the biggest mistake
I ever made.

Still if it’s taught me one thing it’s
That alcohol and proposals
Don’t mix,
So I think I’ll stick to tonic
In my gin from now on.

And, if you’ll allow one further thought,
I’ll climb out of my caring suit
And into my
Fuck you boots
To list the last five years’ worth
Of anniversary gifts she gave:

1st paper
2nd straw
3rd leather
4th books
5th wood.

And I’m thinking,
The perfect ingredients
For a bonfire.

Thursday, 3 December 2009


I’m 43 years old, 6‘2 tall, 230 pounds.
Shortsighted and slightly deaf in my right ear,
Although I have been both for 30 years.
I have a plate in my mouth with 4 false teeth, top front,
The victims of bad genes, removed when I was sixteen.
My lower rack is held in place with plaque and currently
The members on the left of my mouth’s chamber are inflamed.
My hair is slightly receding, although there are no apparent
Bald spots yet, and will probably soon be whiter than my smile.
My frame has always been a little stooped and my knees knock
When I cook, which I enjoy as much as writing.

As a teenager I experienced great angst
And suffered from a genuine belief in solipsism and
The possibility that I might murder somebody, or even
Myself. Education never failed me; I abandoned it and
Subsequently wandered into work I disliked. I eventually
Found I could handle Shipping and forwarding concerns and
A few good ports called. My love life, after starting ideally, fell
Foul of reality’s announcements and I travelled far and wide for
Labour and a wife, but after finding them I found neither were
Quite right, although my son was the result of both and I have
Betrothed myself to his well being until I crumble.

But to be fair I have no ill health. Diabetes
Has seen fit to leave me alone and my cholesterol is low;
No asthma or allergies, no hay fevers or aches, no muscle pains,
No pills popped or drugs used and though alcohol and cigarettes
Bet me I can’t, I fucking could quit them if I wanted to. A slight heart
Flutter when I’m sober, a wart in an awkward place and a recently
Discovered abdominal pain, along with occasional gout, are my
Great doubts. And of course my son has made me a better man to
Face my remaining days, and death has made me stronger even as it
Took my father, and I have now left myself upon this list to let you
Know as much of me as there has ever been to know.

Wednesday, 2 December 2009


So it’s all out now then,
And headlong to the end.
Downhill until carved in
Stone at the foot of the year,
Near the new rock of the next;
Building to a conclusion
That will fuse with a structure
To hold it intact and eternal.

And I will decline to change the
Facts of it once burned into the
Backs of actors to recite in their sleep;
These are my not so secret thoughts,
Forced through the keyboards sieve,
And living for the best part of the year
In a vacuum, and come the finishing
Line they’ll bloom in oration’s use.

Everybody has got to have an opinion,
Just as long as it’s mine, as I’ve been told
Over time and come to believe, and now,
Nearing the 21st Century’s second decade,
Most of the people I hate are me anyway,
Disguised as someone else; my viciousness has
Been an inch from surfacing all year, bitterness
Begging me for freedom, until now, and this late hour.

Tuesday, 1 December 2009


Let me be alive
To see you grown.

Let me know that
Truth rejuvenates.

Let me prove our
Little histories false.

Let me miss less of
Your night journeys.

Let my sight catch
Every crease’s birth.

Let me greet you in
Hardships cold yard.

Let me hold you at
The end and rejoice.

Let me voice anger
There one last time.

Let me care for you
As I have been loved.

Let me be free of land
And it’s inhabitants.

Let me grab what ladders
Trail beneath the sky.

Let me know that my
Life was worthy of yours.