The Regimented Heathens


Gather quickly. Gather now
The things you need to take
For the regimented heathens
Will soon be in our wake.




The worst part of waiting is your watch.
Solution? Don’t wear a watch.
I’m almost certain it is
But I can’t be sure.

That clock on the wall
Rid yourself of it
You will only waste half of your day
Gazing aimlessly at it.

Looking at clocks & watches
Will get you nowhere fast.
It won’t speed up time.
Nothing on Earth changes time.

Bigger Than Love


He found true love
In the strangest way.
She was married with children
He was not & didn’t.

It’s not physical.
It’s beyond that.
Way past words
Or definition.

It’s no superficial love
Where people talk in sign language
And somebody ends up getting hurt
Until the next time anyway.

With them there is no next time.
They both knew the moment they met
But it’s complicated.
They can’t be seen together.

Their meetings are covert but full of laughter.
They can’t take their eyes off each other
And innuendos abound
But nothing more.

This is bigger than love.

It’s frustrating that a man & woman
Can’t even be best friends in public.
The human condition annoys them constantly.
So many hypocrites having physical affairs.

Especially when it comes to true, non-physical love.

Weighing Up

High Class

Shall I go?
There more reasons against than for.
There’s a thunderstorm happening
That seems to have set in.

I’ll never get a parking spot near the venue.
I’ve left it too late for that
So I’ll be drenched on entry.
My best suit too.

Then there are the guests.
Women with cheap perfume
And men with berets.
They’re not my type

But it’s a goood opportunity
To promote my latest book.
Is it worth thhe bothher at this late hour?
Me thinks not.

I think I’ll write a poem instead.

Overly Familiar


I met a chap at the supermarket a couple of years ago & got chatting to him at the checkout. It turned out we were about the same ages, both of us were musicians with a similar taste in music, Namely The Rolling Stones,  we were both divorced & both saw our children every second weekend. His children were younger than mine. It also turned out that  he didn’t live too far away from me. We exchanged phone numbers.

About a week later he rang me & invited me up for a coffee. I found  his house  easily.

These phone calls began to increase in frequency & I have  trouble saying “No.” Always have. I can’t not answer the phone in case it’s my kids who need me.

I then got to meet his children one Friday. By the time I was up there (after he called me) I couldn’t believe that they were the same kids. They were rude,, badly behaved & demanding. “Dad can we do this?” Dad can we do that?” Dad can we go there?” No discipline whatsoever, The term ‘loved to death’ is the understatement of the decade. The way that he was with them was nauseating. It was fake.

Then, as time progressed, he began to randomly turn up at my house. Is it just me or does courtesy dictate that you call to see if a visit would be convenient. His visits increased, sometimes 2-3 times a day. I can’t pretend to not be home as my car is visible under a carport.

He then began talking pompously & quite aggressively about world politics totally unresearched & obviously his own homespun theories….& if I hear another homespun theory I’ll punch him. He also tells you the same stories over & over again.

His latest trick is to take my cigarettes. I don’t mind him having a cigarette here & there but ‘forgetting’ to bring his own every time? Give me break.

As if this isn’t enough, I’m an author. I can’t just switch on & off like he does. He’s usually ‘on.’ He’s manic & jumps from one made-up  subject to another. His  rude & erratic behaviour doesn’t get me down. It winds me up. I sit writing with my ears & half my mind focusing on his  car speeding down my driveway. He’s down the driveway, out of his car & on my doorstep before I can  get my backside out of my chair. I have to  take Valium while he’s there as he generally stays a while.

I can see the day coming soon, for thee sake of my nerves, that I’m going to be just downright rude to him & point out a few things.

He won’t like it & will take it badly. I also have a gut feeling it will only last for a short time.  At least it will give some peace & quiet & lower Valium intake.

The Irritant

There’s something in my eye.
It’s annoying.
I don’t know what it is
But it won’t go away.

I’ve tried flushing it
With no success.
I’ve tried eye drops
To get rid of this irritant.

It’s keeping me awake
& ruining my day.
Oh! What a surprise.
It’s you!


In his eyes
The world owed him a favour.
Goodness knows why he thought this
As he contributed nothing to the world.

He thinks he’s doing you a favour
By visiting at random hours.
All he does is pinch cigarettes
And start blabbing about the world.

Well, I should say
Blabbing about his version of the world
Which is bastardised
To make himelf seem superior.

He can keep his opinions
If you can call them that
And save his random visits
For his ever-dwindling friends.

Worlds Apart

WARNING! This poem contains extremely coarse language.

Wilted Rose

We live worlds apart.
I no longer miss you now.
It happened so gradually
That I didn’t fucking notice.

In recent times
There has been no communication from you.
You direct messages via our children.
How fucked up is that?

It’s a recipe for disaster
And communication breakdown
Leaving the children
To wear your wrath.

At a social event you said “Hello”
Then avoided me like the plague.
I have seen you once
In the past 18 months.

You have not set foot in my door
In countless years.
Am I going to bite you?
Or do some evil fucking deed?

No response
To phone calls, emails or texts.
I have decided to give up
Instead of continuing like a cunt.

Perhaps if I could get you your stash
I would become a star.
I did it for you years ago
But not now, my dear.

It all seems a bit juvenile.

You live like a hermit because of it.
Still in your fucking dressing gown at 4pm.
From all reports
Your mood varies depending on your stash.

I refuse to get back in your fucking good books this way.

Stay in your fucking house.
And make a cunt of yourself in private
Put up your front for work
And keep leaving me alone.

I don’t need to be treated like a cunt by you.

Perfectly Hiding


Not enough time has gone by
Since you treated me badly.
But I can’t write a breakup poem
For it would bore you.

I have met nobody else
Nor am I looking.
Perhaps if somebody knocked on my door
I might consider a friendship.

Innocence is gone.
Lack of resposibility went with it.
I am no longer living somebody elses life
I am living my own.

All of a sudden I woke up an adult.
It totally sideswiped me
But do I have to take it seriously?
That is totally my decision.

Who was I once?
Why & what am I holding back?
I guess the laughter in love went away.
Maybe I’m still heartbroken. I doubt it.

The more successful you become
The smaller your life becomes.
How can people enjoy me
If I’m living a small, mad life?

Having said this
I would rather be around people
Who will say “No” to me.
Rather than mindlessly agree with me.

When the pressure is on
There’s further to fall.
Where have I gone?
I am perfectly hiding.

So Far Away


I knew it wouldn’t be for long
But she’s so far away.
She’ll be back soon.
Not soon enough.

It has made me incredibly sad.
I can’t see her.
Hear her.
Even read her.

My only solace
Is knowing that
She is enjoying herself
& is in good company

It has only been a few days
But the nights have been long.
I miss our daily chats
More than I think she is aware.