Showing posts from May, 2015


I thought I'd smash some glass,
spill some liquid,
so I clicked it, clicked it.
But the bottle was not tangible,
though before my eyes
in three dimensions
it was flat as paper.

Only static rises, so it is never wind that blows your hair. Plastic progress masks the faces of unnecessary despair.
What tastes remain in your pixels? Your pockets of MSG delicacies? Your dunce assimilation and mind-ache? Breathing silly soundbites, broadcasting solutions to the vast ocean of immediate me, my and mine: Shackles for time in mirrors.
Only static rises, so it is never wind that blows your hair. Plastic progress masks the faces of unnecessary despair.
All who take part are lost in mirrors, but somewhere, somebody is still breathing and should write their breath with ink and paper and truly commit in the truth that there is some freedom in patience.

A poem I wrote about Patience, roughly 3 years ago. I did something Bluesy to go with this poem... 


Home is changing context,
and that takes some time.

It has to happen around you first,
then seep in through your pours
and unite your spine
with your skin
with your surroundings.

Like with new language,
listening, bumbling,
confused, improving,
trying and smoothing
into rugged fluency.

Home is changing context
and that takes some time.

Three weeks ago, my wife and I moved to Montpellier, in the South of France. It's a wonderful city but of course it takes time to adjust to new surroundings, new language, new culture. Last week I took some time to reflect, to feel that adjustment happening around me, to me and in me, and I wrote this.

A Close Horizon

The Horizon looms closer
than the edge of vision,
or the curvature of the earth,

and the sky's third dimension
stretches miles beyond the land,
empty of clouds and stars.

It draws me with compulsion, this great nothingness of the edge of all things.
I'm sick of things, of bits and pieces, they get into your skin.
They lie of necessity and draw themselves out across your walls,
In front and in the way of every view of nature you've had the opportunity to see.
I want to peek over the edge and experience that desperate lack of things.

Tomorrow (4th May 2015) My wife and I will be moving from Northwest London to the South of France. I have been living in this area for almost eight years, since I started university, and have never lived away from the UK, so this is a big change for me. This is something I wrote last month, whilst making preparations to go. When you pack your life into boxes you realise how much 'stuff' you have that you don't need. As part of this move I am endeavouri…