yet not vocalised

my very being

is scary


dark of countenance



I frighten the horses



men of a certain


in some as yet not vocalised


way of doing

in the world

& there I was contemplating

the garden the view

wondering just what

was going on


it seems

her boys

towards the end

of this tract of row homes

lives an older lady

gently frail bent

she looks after us

her boys she calls us

as we are weak & feeble

men in the world

but never man enough for her

we are the straw men

shadow hollow men

playing out our boy games

struggling to get on

while she

has raised four children

had three difficult births

buried two husbands

these dying of cancers

after long wasting illness

where they slowly shrank away

so we do her chores

drink tea with her & listen

& wait

while she dictates

what we can

& cannot


these ladies

getting to a certain age

& butter would not melt

they act like life

never laid a finger

& I don’t care to think

linger on ideas of the things

they’ve said & done

one with three marriages

one a widow for so long

raising five kids between them

men are nothing to them now

they die & leave them alone

& we pretend together

that lust sex & other profanity

is not up for discussion

love is only left for children now

on this final stretch

before home

those children making mistakes

they are gone on now

leaving all of this behind

& if I listened to their words

they could never live to or by

those children making mistakes

having fun creating poor destiny

& when my time comes to me

all I can hope is the damage done

I ever made in my life

is less than that

they ever did to me

those children making mistakes

having fun creating poor destiny

I hold no bad feelings for this past

but you know full too well

the bottle calls from time to time

& there are wrong feelings there

I hope to take some place better

rather than leave unanswered

to those behind me who care

arcs of fire

I think i know how the dinosaurs felt
watching those meteor arcs of fire
fall short of the horizon
to feel the same all around me now
we had solved war we thought
were working towards happiness
in love, care, health for all
& resting after what felt a long fight
thinking we’d won the great battle
we took our eyes off that wandering ball
& the bastards snuck around the back
restarted that vicious tired old game
sending boys off to fight in foreign places
killing off the hippies was only a starter chore
for the military industrial complex
who need to build the numbers of the poor
in the craters of what we thought we’d built
they came back to win the war, stealthier, sneakier
stronger with the might of the mainstream media
& now we know the aim of their game is
our children will not have our standard of life
can’t afford, can’t get a home country built car
no houses, no money in a long two job day
I voted honey sounds so pale to say
as does I trusted politicians to deliver
not just for themselves, their very rich friends
but for us too
I think i know how the dinosaurs felt
watching those meteor arcs of fire
fall short of the horizon