After the day


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As the sun sets

below the roof of the house

and the last remnants

of scent from the barbecue

drift into the evening air


a couple say goodbye

waving from the door

to family,

until the glint of the car

shining in the evening sun

turns the corner,

and return to their seats

by the pond.


The wife wanders around


the husband finishing a drink

and a frog watched

perched beside the water.


Although it can’t comprehend,

all it has witnessed

is love.


Dotted on cars


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Outside leaves

cover cars and paths,

they flutter on a breeze

or are churned up

to float

as a car drives past at speed.


The overflow of colour

brightens the grey pavement

in a rush of yellows, oranges and gold.

They crunch under footsteps

with the ever present bite of the cold.


As they amass

with each passing day

nearer to winter,

nothing is forever

only prolonged.

Cliff edge


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While wars are fought

for religion or space

the same old culprit rises;


inspired by a need to compete.


We feed our need

for culpability

listening and reading to

stories of crime and negativity

looking for someone to blame.


We fuel ourselves

with a screen at our hands,

gorging on likes and dislikes

unaware of a world

that simply passes us by.


We can’t keep blindly stumbling towards a cliff

to keep blindly stumbling towards a cliff.

Sad face in a lab coat.


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I still remember

that night

so vividly on my mind,


you walked by and turned me away

from the alcohol

I didn’t feel like a Desperado

but you saw something in me.


On the dancefloor

you led me to a different beat,

a happy change in the lightness of my feet,

I’m just a skeleton boy

but you made me feel more.


You saw a sad face

in a lab coat,

wrote your name and number

on the lapel,

kiss on the cheek

a smile and I’m weak.


I’ll be Brains

and you’re the beauty, Audrey.

like oxygen


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I’ve spent too long

with the taste of heartache

in my mind,

it consumes me and is ever present


like oxygen in air,

when I breathe

I wish you’re there.


I’ve spent too long

with the discomfort of loneliness,

I need to feel your presence

to soothe me

when I am home.



I’ve spent too long


for a dream

that fails to become real

with every passing day.



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All we do is wait in rooms

discoloured by the absence

of created memories,

our voices stretched and lingering

for someone to love.


An answer is short-lived when heard,

the continuous monotone silence

pallors against the skin

and breaks in unending



The discord of a lack of being


fills the void and leaves

bitter blankness.


We become soul-sick,

it is not enough to be alone.

Fire dwindling


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I can’t keep

holding you up

on shoulders that were only

built to break,

on bones too brittle

to hold the dream of you alive.


I can’t keep

wishing coins

in a darkened well;

dropping anchor

in a storm

trying to stay the course.


I can’t keep

blindly stumbling

with you on my mind,

nothing but a broken compass;

a fire dwindling

a light waiting to go out.



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I am plagued

by thoughts and fears

of my future self,

“when I’m older”

always seems to poison my mind.


I worry.

Not least about how things will be,

but if I’m still me,

or whether I’ll be a lesser version.


Though there is one

overwhelming, presiding fear;

what if I cannot hear.


And if I cannot hear

music, talking, laughter,

nature, waves, walking,

your voice

meaning will come to an end.

Dictation of Time


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save for the flutter of TV life

and murmuring

of a car outside.


A kettle boils

and the mug is stirred,

footsteps creak on floorboards

from sofa back to sofa.


My days are unlived

by the TV guide

and changing of channels,

I’d be lost

with nothing to watch.


The dictation of time

whirs on,

only noticed by the end

or beginning of another TV show.


Hours are taken up,

when not working,

sat in the same place

remote by my side

replacing the absence

of another person.


Minutes pass

in no semblance of meaning,

I haven’t said a word.

Illusion states


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It took a lot to find you,

through grey skies

and long days,


I spent more time

travelling alone

trying to see you

through the cold.


It took a lot to find you

years and years

of hoping,


I spent more time

trying to wish

on a God I didn’t know

for a change

in life’s undertow.


It took a lot to talk,

make myself known

or be heard,

writing wasn’t enough,


I couldn’t keep the dream alive

that illusion in my mind

that maybe I’d be good enough.