BLIND PERCEPTION: 100 Word short (2014)

 

The Thames hurled torrents upon Londoners into an onslaught of suffocation. Tempestuous rainfall engulfed its city cage like a servant ridiculing its master. Enchanting aromas floated into the darkening sky like heavenly hosts, before being devoured by the mephitis of the London ruins. The skies were an abysmal darkness, casting the city into shadowy worlds. Alas, the paradisiacal London City held neon dreams by nightfall, but in the city crevasses the nightmarish forces sprawled out from wells, promulgating themselves everywhere, corrupting the soul of their fatherland. Or so the youthful boy imagined, his mother guided him downstairs, he was blind.

 

FICTIONAL piece: (2014)

 

Home  is  where  the  heart  is.  That’s  what  they  say  isn’t  it?  People  may  tell  you  with  impassioned  glee  that  they  have  found  comfort,  peace  and  serenity  in  their  home;  but  I  must  disagree.  My  first  home,  that  brutal,  barbaric  place  where  I  grew  up,  embodied  discomfort,  conflict  and  confrontation.  The  ‘adults’  who  made  me  would devour  my  thoughts  with  their  cacophonic,  discordant,  berserk  cawing  that  was  only  aimed  to  disgrace  and  belittle  one  another.  Their  incessant  bickering  used  to  poison  my  mind  on  a  daily  basis  and  forced  me  to  loath  everything,  yet  it  still  amplified  the  grotesque  nature  of  the  building  we  shared.  Their  wounding  words  stopped  intoxicating  me,  for  in  so  many  solitary  years  I  grew  resistant  to  their  ridicule  and  destructive  sarcasm  and  yet  I  was  still  reminded  of  the  haunting,  pernicious  effect  that  they  had  on  me  at  all  times.  It  was  inescapable,  like  their  blind,  drunken,  rampageous  wrath. 

 

My  pulped,  compartmentalised  limbs  became  a  vehicle  in  which  they  could  inscribe  their  own  macabre  messages  and  their  callous,  authoritarian  propagations  into  my  moribund  flesh.  My  shrivelled  eyes:  witnesses  to  their  unfathomable  schadenfreude,  for  the  only  occasion  in  which  they  united  was  in  the  gratifying  destruction  of  the  one  thing  that  incited  nostalgia  about  their  peaceful  past-life.  My  drooped  tongue:  a  gagged  voice  of  reason  that  represented  my  enshrouded,  entombed,  benumbed  brain.

 

My  ‘father’  had  consumed  my  room;  the  room  that  belonged  to  me.  In  my  ‘parents’  all-encompassing,  guerrilla  warfare,  ‘mother’  pushed  her  primitive  husband  back  to  my  room,  which  sat  awkwardly  between  her  room  and  outside.  He’d  found  more  comfort  in  my  quarters  than  in  anything  before,  and  yet  I  could  only  discover  desolation.  Whilst  his  physical  abuse  and  psychological  and  racial  slurs  were  sure  to  crawl  menacingly  up  the  stairs  and  slip  insidiously  under  my  weakened  flesh  from  his  flickering,  serpentine  tongue  and  penchant  for  indifferent  remorselessness,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  keeping  company  with  the  objects  that  he  truly  kept  most  dear  to  him.  Littered  around  my  bed  was  his  mistress’  money,  who  only  visited  once,  yet  her  stench  still  lingered  like  a  cloudy  agent  of  his  escalated  vulgarity.  Around  my  desk:  disturbing  attempts  at  crosswords;  the  only  cross  words  he  delivered  were  the  ones  he  spat  and  fired  to  his  beloved  wife  through  his  repugnantly  smug  smile  of  tombstone  teeth.  Around  my  bin:  crushed  cans  and  urine  that  permeated  the  suffocating  air.  Around  my  neck:  scars  that  cyclically  bled  afresh  and  marinated  my  skin  with  a  crimson  liquid,  ready  for  their  devouring.  His  malodour  disorientated  my  nostrils,  which,  infused  with  his  vociferations  that  rose  from  below  like  beasts  from  crevasses  of  Hell,  presented  a  fatal  concoction  that  was  reminiscent  of  his  midnight  indulgences.  Even  if  I  managed  to  pass  such  dominating  sensory  onslaughts,  the  decaying,  inky  walls  imprisoned  me  into  slow  panic.

 

I  became  a  phantom;  a  frail,  stale,  malnourished,  maltreated  form  to  be  cut  up  in  cross-sections  by  my  nearest  and  dearest.  In  the  times  between  these  blood-black  nightmares,  I  would  watch  the  seasons  drift  by  like  living  imagery  within  the  casing  of  my  bedroom  window;  that  layer  of  glass  between  the  world  and  I.  Thick,  deep,  crimson  ridges  of  scar  tissue  seemed  to  often  weave  up  my  stomach  like  venomous  vines,  unaware  of  their  looming  fate  of  cyclical  openness.  I  attempted  to  leave,  but  as  a  slab  of  scarred  meat  I  was  immobile,  banished  to  this  bed  that  had been  soaked  in  yellow.  My  dreams  would  only  encapsulate  wandering  through  sable  cityscapes  as  an  undeveloped  character;  early  on  I  realised:  my  life  was  timeless,  dateless,  meaningless.  I  was  nameless.

 

Outside  loomed  menacingly  high  council  flats  like  sentinels;  glowing  night-watchmen  that  leered  upon  my  every  miserable  jerk  or  shriek of discomfort.  Collaboratively,  they  seemed  to  guard  my  prison  like  Cerberus;  preventing  my  two  morally  defunct  parents  and  my  ghastly,  discoloured  cadaver  from  escaping  into  the  inky  night.  Similarly,  they  halted  the  living  from  entering,  thus  in  that  dwelling  that  befouled  my  youth  with  hideous  tragedy,  I  was  doomed  to  an  eternity  of  nothingness.  I  was  but  a  lone,  derelict  vessel;  abandoned  to  silently  wade  through  inky,  endless  seas  aimlessly  and  without  direction.  In  my  lightless  room,  that  very  hopelessly  sinking  ship,  the  moon  would  only  keep  me  company  by  lathering  me  in  an  ethereal,  silvery  scaling  that  could  cleanse  me  of  all  impurities  that  restricted  me  to  this  residence  that  dominated  my  growing  up. Such  a  serene  image  was  always  severed  as  I  peered  outside  at  the  shades  of  the  cerulean  sky  and  was  met  by  gnarling,  tangled,  skewed  trees  that  were  silhouetted  into  ominous  obstacles  between  freedom  and  I.

 

Often,  whilst  I  would  lay  lifelessly,  I  would  listen  to  boys’  repugnant  cackles  as  they  carelessly  play  fought  upon  the  heavenly  Elysium  I’d  always  dreamt  of.  I  was  destined  to  shrivel  away  in  my  paled  flesh,  shackled  to  my  coffin  with  plastic  tubes  keeping  me  alive;  torturing  me,  sentencing  me  to  further  time  in  this  hellish  place.  As  the  years  needlessly  passed,  I  would  note  time  by  the  growing  number  of  scars  accumulating  upon  my  midriff  like  dark  parasitical  insects…but  I  apologetically  digress,  I’m  unaccustomed  to  conversing.  Their  cackles  haunted  me,  ridiculing  my  imagination,  for  I  couldn’t  venture  from  my  home.  Their  sniggers,  whilst  not  directed  at  me,  taunted  me,  my  gaunt  frame  and  beastly  presence  was  kept  concealed  from  the  other  citizens.  I  was  a  freak  show  exhibit  left  alone  to  rot  like  the  very  bewailing,  neglected  place  in  which  I  grew  up  in.  As  much  as  I  would  dream  about  communities  and  neighbourhoods  through  endless  sleeps,  my  growing  up  constituted  of  that  one  abhorrently  ungodly  room,  in  which  day  returned  bloodied  and  purpled,  manifesting  my  throbbing  limbs. 

 

I vaguely recall that once…roaring  footsteps  engulfed my  thoughts,  they were  my father’s;  clumsy  and  heavy,  like  a  bear.  I  prayed  that  the  impish  creature  stumble  past  my  room  and  sprawl  himself  upon  the  balcony  chair  for  his  hourly  smoke.  Yet the  noise  deadened. 

 

Door  swung,  almost  willingly  as  to  escape  his  fiery  wrath.  His  nauseating  breath  bewildered  me  as  he  fumbled  towards  his  defenceless  victim,  blurting  fusillades  of  complaints  against  my  unfortified  flesh.  His  reddened  eyes  fixated  on  me  as  he  swayed  around  frenziedly,  raising  an  arm,  then  a  fist.  His  teeth  clenched.

 

Home  is  where  the  heart  is.  That’s  what  they  say  isn’t  it?  My  heart  bled  out. 

 

Sirens  wailed,  rushing  for  me.  As  alien,  glowing  figures  propped  me  upon  another  bed  and  into  an  ambulance  I  for  once  felt  warm  and  wanted.  In  the  short  time  I  had  to  bask  in  such  radiant,  natural  light  that  had  only  ever  stroked  my  walls,  I  euphorically  witnessed  my  dreams;  for  my  scars  faded  as  my  skin  illuminated  into  purification.  This  town,  though  cramped  and  derelict,  was  marvellous  and  spectacular  to  me.  My  bedroom  window  seemed  insignificant  and   backgrounded,  I had  overcome  that  mocking  obstacle.  The  skyscraper  sentinels  stood  muted,  forced  to  spectate  my  release.  The  play  fighting  halted  as  boys,  youthful, healthy,  spirited  boys  watched  me.  No  longer  did  their  cackles  provoke  envy  from  my  dying  soul.  The  light  intensified,  the  long-yearned-for  chaotic  attention  hushed.  The  trees,  now  melodious  and  calming,  faded.  The  brightness  relaxingly  overcame  me  as  the  place  where  I  grew  up,  but  never  touched  nor  smelt  nor  saw,  evanesced.

 

Nature (2014)

 

Mankind  used  to  respect  nature.  Symbiotically,  both  parties  once  enhanced  and  developed  hand  in  hand.  That  is,  until  they  bit  the  hand  that  fed  them.  We  humanely  offered  mankind   oxygen:  a  component  of  their  most  significant  life  force.  In  exchange,  with  their  metallic  monstrosities  the  puissant  humans  ravaged  us.  To  equal  our  selfless  act  the  humans  poisoned  our  oxygen  with  their  filthy  fumes  that  spurt  out  from  the  underbellies  of  their  ominous,  malicious  mechanisms  of  pure  negligence.  Such  venomous,  spluttered  emissions  were  redolent  of  their  gaseous,  ancestral,  orange  agents  of  ages  past  that  were  almost  ethereal  and  forebodingly  apocalyptic  in nature.

 

The  buildings  came  first:  permanent  settlements  to  house  the  barbaric  fiends  who  invaded  and  populated  this  once  peaceful,  untroubled,  noiseless  domain.  Only  a  considerate  few  sought  to  benefit  us  through  restoration  or  heartfelt  preservation;  the  rest  scorched  Earth  to  create  documents  in  which  they  disseminated  developments  that  only  prophesied  the  thieving  of  our  leaves,  the  incineration  of  our  bark  and  the sundering,  even  eradication,  of  our  very  heartwood.

 

Our  flesh  and  livelihood  was  forged  into  playthings  and  entertainment  for  their  younglings  to  abuse;  only  for  such  promising  infants  to  be  corrupted  into  mindlessly  following  similar  branch-littered,  down-trodden  paths  which  resulted  in  further  woodland  devastation.  Evidently,  we  were  cast  aside  whilst  we bore  witness  in  immeasurable  horror  as  concrete  jungles  grew,  displacing  the  natural,  cohesive  world.  

Grotesque  concrete  systems,  with  widespread,  epidemical  slabs  further  condemned,  even  plagued  nature.  Meanwhile,  enshrouded,  labyrinthine  drainage  systems  were  concealed  underground,  the  inauguration  of  which  damned  insects  and  cast  away  pusillanimous  wildlife  that  was  only  destined  to  be  episodically  excommunicated  until  compelled  to become  stray  in  the  humans’  new  colourless,  lustreless  land.

 

Through  time,  which  seemed  only  to  elongate  the  sufferings  of  my  species,  mankind  evolved  into  morose  savages.  In  the  very  first  age  of  man,  groceries  and  marketplaces  littered  cobbled  streets.  Our  ripe  children,  that  we  give  our  lives  to  produce,  were  (and  still  are)  snatched  and  boastfully  displayed,  only  to  be  traded  through  nightfall  as  slaves.  Mankind  barely  attempt  to  cover  such  atrocious  vice  via  the  grocers’  canopies.  The  second  age  is  marked  by  spluttering,  coughing  chimneys  that  hoarsely  exhale  sable  haze  and  embody  the  darker  era  of  industrialisation  whose  Victorian  structures  have  evidently  profoundly  impaired  the  natural  world.  The  on-going  and  perhaps  most  sinistrous  era  is  signified  by  slithering  vehicles  and  lampposts  that  artificially  illuminate  such  invasive  communities.  ‘Light  is  life’1,  and  yet  such  alien  materials  that  forge  such  tall, looming  patrollers  displace  organic  matter  and  still  cannot  clarify  the  human’s  maladies  to  them. Whilst  these  lampposts reveal  mankind’s  hamartia,  the  humans  purposely  cast  mocking  shadows  amongst  the  bare,  broken  trees  that  stand  scarred  and  marred  from  their  own  unjust   maltreatment.

 

1 - John 1:4

 

The shooter (2015)

 

Armed, I dart through the forest, preparing to take my final shot. My victim, unbeknowst to my being present, timidly brushes past a tree whilst searching for food. It dips its head. I raise my arm, tipping the weapon cautiously. I zoom in with the scope, ready for the killer shot. Ourselves distanced, I creep closer, carefully placing my eye to the rear of my arsenal. Snap! My subject accidentally crushes twigs underfoot. Armed with my camera, I had taken the shot. Now for my reward. 

 

Clarity (2015)

 

Eighteen years of existence, it’s taken time to see that people are strengthened through difference. Labels are useless because possibilities are infinite.

(I wish I’d known this from the start for definite.) Suffering in an instance, with only time, the great healer of things, as an instrument of experience and distance. Only now has my character become clear, although I’ll never understand my mind, I used to fear that but now I cheer. I have come to realise every mind, thus everyone, is unique. All people have their own cliques and the most expressive ones are branded as ‘freaks’, which is wrong but listen to me. Lend me your ears, it doesn’t take much to fend off stigmas or fears belonging to the ‘higher breeds’ that are perpetuated by a corrupt society. We must tweak this system, please learn a lesson for just a second. In essence, what I’m saying is that from the realms of insanity I released the shackles of my qualms and ventured to clarity. And I feel free. A loaded term, admittedly, but I have found peace and purity and I don’t feel demons luring me as heavily as before, that I am certain of – I’m sure. I hope and pray that one day everybody feels the same way. I have issues, dampened tissues and abandoned wishes. We all do. But I am not superficial or superfluous, but super. We all are. We’re not marred, just gifted: stargazers able to see the world from a difference stance. Every cloud has a silver lining, and it’s about time I was finding mine and now I believe I have discovered a most gladdening maxim. It’s maddening to think how taxing it is that I never noticed. Focus, what I’m sharing is no daring hocus-pocus. In the viewpoint of healing the world, this really is my magnum opus. From the tempest comes a rain-bow, shot as a kaleidoscopic arrow, which bursts all shadows. First, the darkness – a restraint, a harness. This tainting issue clouds all regardless. But through the thunderous rain comes something wondrous, pain-less. I’ll confess, let us be ponderous for a moment, nobody’s asking for atonement; no sins have been committed, this must be clear for we must be content in our own skins for more than just a minute. We must accept there will be problems, but it is through these that solutions come and opportunities blossom. Hark. Tomorrow comes after the dark, and believe me it’s darkest before the dawn, there’s no need to be forlorn though because it is through our struggles that our truest qualities show. Be yourself. Own your distinctions, for everything we do, say and think is that manner because our brain is unique and cannot at times act in other ways and this does not make us weak. But strong. So sing your own song.  Have pride, don’t hide away but be assured. It is by the night that springs the day, and potential is left unobscured.

 

Choose life (2016)

 

(Adapted from Trainspotting)

 

Choose health. Choose fitness. Choose working out. Choose starving yourself. Choose warm-ups and cool-downs. Choose Waldorf salads with extra helpings of fancy-pants pretension. 

        Choose immunity. Choose low blood pressure and high self-esteem. Choose posing and pride and posting pictures of your perfect little lies on social media for others to see and desire.

        Choose jogging and higher climbs and hogging the veg at dinnertime. Choose adventure, leaving technology behind and discovering the beauty of the world ahead. Choose the skinny culture and selfies and withering away on eight-hundred-calories-a-day diets.

        Choose sleeping in on weekends and rising early on weekdays, squeezing in the gym before a full day's work of being a smugly arrogant asshole. Choose Barbados. Choose Bora fucking Bora. Choose Instagramming your constructed façades and proving to the world there's more to you than sticking your ass out and stomach in.

        But why would I want that lifestyle?

        I chose not to choose health. Or fitness. Or the skinny culture. The reasons? Who needs reasons when you have sofas to lie on and pizzas to eat and your phone to cry on and posts to tweet.

 

Animal farm (2016)

 

You’ve heard their side of the story, but you need to hear mine. Let me tell you about the side of Medway that council-led pamphlets won’t inform you about.

 

Welcome to the Medway towns, where giggling girls shop in dressing gowns and phlegm swims down pavements into the next dank, God-forsaken spit of sewerage. They push prams whilst homeless men force their fingers into wallets to fund the next few grams. Synonymous with excretion, amalgamating towns into an area and calling it Medway was a shit idea that will never see true completion. 

 

Wandering eyes and trembling thighs and that’s before the morning. The local cuisine for the people with no pot to piss in is chips with more grease in than a Broadway schedule, with bacon, but watch out the pigs in blankets are on your doorstep – your entire world – and haven taken your warmth give you an official warning about that underage girl. Don’t find yourself stranded around Gillingham, where the stores of yesteryear mope like sheep to a slaughterhouse, and cows, vociferating viciously, meander and drunkenly slobber to the hip-hop beats and add to their rap sheets. Here, the main attraction is Medway hospital, serving the people fittingly; sobering up the drunk dissolutes, fuelling addictions or making dreams come true by fitting benefit-funded boob jobs.

 

In Chatham, the beggar Billy the Quid, fresh out of prison no less, stalks the streets looking for some fine ass to harass. Parking tickets litter stolen vehicles whilst the morbidly obese, wildly staggering druggies and inked-up, unwashed imbeciles carelessly crawl on like a tubbier, more hideous parody of Day of the Dead. Medway desires to punch above its weight, but unfortunately its physique, paralleling a corpulent, intoxicated wife beater, prevents this. Most mill around in the uniform of the benefit scammer; rip off this, look-a-like that, and have attained a single crutch or missing teeth to accessorise. There is usually a dishevelled dog dragged behind which is but a muzzle away from a mutilated child story.

 

Stay far from Medway because the Howard School runts with pounce on any sign of weakness. Stay far from Medway because it’ll rob you blind and you’ll get lost in the bleakness. Stay far from Medway because all you’ll find here are crop tops and pound shops and crepuscular characters that render you sleepless.

 

Stay away, stay away, stay away.

Take My Heart, It’s Yours (2015)

 

I was going to create a playlist of romantic Elvis songs,

But somebody stepped on my blue suede shoes and called me a hound dog

And besides, there’s no ballad or lyrical brilliance that would even come close to doing you justice.

 

But I’ll try anyway.

 

A beauty unparalleled, your smile illuminates my life with an unexplainable glow.

Your eyes; chocolaty (then hazel, then chocolaty) swirls that read of openness, trust and unconditional love, no

Sonnet or serenade could tell you how I feel.

You’re my soulmate, my beautiful lady that I aim to nurse, care for and heal.

 

Take my heart, it’s yours for the taking.

I give it up to you and I’d have done you a wheat-free cake but you can’t expect this kitchen imbecile to be baking…

But what you can expect is unrivalled affection and a devotion to making your life as perfect as can be,

Because that’s what you deserve, you see.

 

I’ve tried Shakespeare, St. Valentine and even Sam bloody Smith,

But I know now that I don’t need to imitate anyone – love to me is no myth

Because now that you have me and I have you,

I feel like we’re in this euphoric bubble, just us two.

 

I would compare thee to a summer’s day, but you’re northern so you don’t really know what one is,

Each time I hold you I’m in the heavens, fireworks burst in my mind each time we kiss.

You complete me, inspire me and challenge me to be better,

I look forward to creating some gorgeous moments and memories, because we are more together.

 

Until Fate placed you in my arms, I never believed I could be so invested and intimate with another human being,

And I devote myself and Time itself to treating you as a queen.

Already all of my dreams have been fulfilled,

For my darling, I love you, and I always will.

 

Repulsing (2016)

 

 

Our suspicious minds don’t find time

to look at those facts staring us in the face.

I fail to entertain those qualms of mine

And why you’ve stopped wearing lace.

 

And those things we’d do for each other unconditionally,

Out of our undying love and affection,

But heavens above, now there’s lying and spying, you see,

At this lonely hour I come to trust my perception.

 

Why do we do this to ourselves?

Allow the pain to mount

Until we’re crying out for help

And have used all lifelines we care not to count.

In sickness and in health,

Through good, the bad and downright ugly,

Returning the skewed images to your shelf,

I’m just another picture to be sundered abruptly.

 

Our mental list of things in common

is now but an empty page,

I pry on your every jerk

Just like you scrutinise every sloppy sentence ‘til we feel encaged.

 

Those gifts you bought me buried in the bin

Are torn and irreclaimable,

Your smile: tombstone teeth hiding sin

But I guess that that’s relatable.

 

Why do we do this to ourselves?

Allow the pain to mount

Until we’re crying out for help

And have used all lifelines we care not to count.

In sickness and in health,

Through good, the bad and downright ugly,

Returning the skewed images to your shelf,

I’m just another picture to be sundered abruptly.

 

I’ve done you wrong I will admit,

And I guess you too could confess,

‘Cos we’ve become two repulsing magnets,

How could a bond so unbreakable become a monstrous mess?

‘Cos we’ve become two repulsing magnets,

How could a bond so unbreakable become a monstrous mess?

Now my old friend consoles me, at least she knows me,

Even in my hour of need you have the audacity to chastise,

Your lies become your fury and I must entertain those qualms

of mine.

The bond unbinds.

 

Negative space (2015)

 

How? Why? When?

Will I ever see you again?

How many 'sorry's will it take

Until you see that you'll break me?

I see, you bleed, you do have feelings then,

So irrational, count to more than just ten

When you finally cried I was joyous inside

But now I realise a part of me died.

 

What? How? Who?

Someone else's hands have caressed you?

Their lips have touched yours? No doubt

Must be their fault, please don't shout,

You're infallible to me, so why are we through?

You were my world, I thought you knew.

You did? I've lost in this bid

For your heart, I wish I'd known from the start.

 

Chorus: (Because)(No no)

I've never loved another the way I loved you,

Never cared for someone in such a way,

I gave myself up to you, you said

'Too much' and now you touch in his bed.

Help me understand where I went wrong,

Let's talk, rewind and do things right,

I devoted myself to you before,

Now have more space, I won't hold so tight.

 

Yet still, I wonder, why?

Why did you erase me out of your life?

Like 'us' never existed in time, you lie

And hate everything you once loved, just why?!

That afterglow smile - now it's hated,

Perfect times we created - now they're slated.

You jumped ship, I tipped you? Never.

I thought our love would last forever.

 

(Chorus)

 

Everything reminds me of our time shared,

The more I think, I realise you hardly cared

And whilst you had my all, unconditionally

Now I'm told there's more fish in the sea?

No way, none like you. I'm blind to notice,

You never reciprocated, on that I won't focus,

Just know after all this you're still in my thoughts

Even if I refuse the lesson I've been taught.

 

(Chorus)

 

Depression (2015)

(Adapted from Anders Osborne's 'Mind of a Junkie')

 

I'm losing myself and turning into him,

My chances of a happy ending will always be slim,

The closer I get the more I push them away,

Please somebody come brighten up my day.

 

I've tried to control it but the clouds hang overhead,

Those days immobile, my best friend's my bed,

Livewire; when will it turn to fury?

Please somebody discover the cure to me.

 

I've been living in the prison of my mind,

My psyche's just a ticking bomb of time:

When will it come? Will it ever go?

God knows my soul's an abyssal woe...

 

Tempestuous insomniac; I'm grizzly'n'fizzle out,

Control mechanisms can prevent oncoming bouts.

My soul's a volcano waiting to erupt,

Please somebody tell me why I should give a fuck.

 

Directionless and wayward but facades of limitless joy,

Expected to man up but I'm really just a boy,

Fidgety, frustrated; from this where can I go?

Please somebody on your way out close the door.

 

I've been living in the prison of my mind,

My psyche's just a ticking bomb of time:

When will it come? Will it ever go?

God knows my soul's an abyssal woe.

 

(Oooh I'm an abyss of woe...)

(Leave and close the door...)

(Save me from my broken soul...)

(I need somebody so please don't go...)

​

Metamorphoser (2016)

​

You will never know the extent to which I change.

There are some days I can't be read like a book

it's like you return to the wrong page.

The same on the outside, but different in the mind,

It's like Russian roulette, today what Jordan will you find?

I need time. Please learn to understand.

I have this cancerous chemical imbalance inside

that morphs me from a man to a delicate frame of mind

that I never ask for but suprise,

It's back,

launching a fresh new offensive that has no estimated time of attack.

It's woeful. I know full well what to do to halt it

but never can ignore this brain of mine that's faulty.

But only I understand it, and pathetically at that -

Hypothetically it's the rubix cube of conditions

that renders me cracked.

Depression, a most puzzling, dazzling, maddening of expressions,

Well thats the impression I get when there's nothing to get

just an intangible beast ready to feast on any doubt or iota of fear

it's here.

Its her.

It's them.

It's thee,

everything now bothers me to the motherfucking Nth degree.

I lose myself and turn into him when in fact in this interim version,

a diversion away from a grin,

the chances of chirpy endings will always be slim.

The closer I get the further they're pushed away,

Expected to man up but I'm really just a boy

that I can't decode but can decay,

I can delay this doppelganger, stop all anchors

before it nails me down to getting hammered

like Gascoigne in the slammer.

I'd go hammer and tongs if it meant I could right my wrongs

or fight the demons that cling on like Gru's minions.

Residing in the residue of my prison walls of a brain,

My psyche is a ticking bomb with an insidious aim

that ensures there's nothing more to me than an illness on a page.

Until I exit the stage but this mask is glued on,

Until I exit this stage all I wish for is to move on.

Because all my world's a rampage of rotten thoughts

that that logical head of yours could never be taught.

 

Love Will Tear Us Apart (2015)

(with a female vocal group)– in 6/8 (Inspired by Love Letters, Just

Pretend & You’ve Lost That Loving Feeling covered by Elvis Presley)

 

Love…will tear us apart,

Yet you’re the only one who can mend this breaking heart.

I stare (I stare) at your letters,

Because there’s really no… use in forgettin’.

 

Nothing’s the same…anymore,

Since you went and closed the door,

And now I’m alone…pretty baby,

Beggin’ you to save me, please baby.

 

Chorus: I’m gazing at the pictures and listening to our songs,

Going crazy, thinking ‘bout how I’ve done you wrong.

And I’m so sorry…if I ever made you cry

But let’s talk (talk!), rewind (rewind!) and not say our goodbyes.

Let’s talk (talk!), rewind (rewind!) and not say our goodbyes.

 

I’ve loved you tender, now love me true,

I wish I had my own words to describe my love for you

But baby please (please!) Notice my pure soul,

I’m waiting by the telephone, waiting for your call.

 

Life without you…is dull, grey, meaningless,

And when I’m not beside you, oooh I’m feeling less –

I just need (need!) you, can’t you see?

I devote myself to treating you as a queen.

 

I’m gazing at the pictures and listening to our songs,

Going crazy, thinking ‘bout how I’ve done you wrong.

And I’m so sorry…if I ever made you cry

But let’s talk (talk!), rewind (rewind) and not say our goodbyes.

Let’s talk (talk!), rewind (rewind!) and not say our goodbyes.

 

Bridge:

Baby, baby baby, I’d do anything for you…

(Can't you see I love you? Can't you see I love you, sweetheart?)

I’m even willing to…start anew…

(Can't you see I love you? Can't you see I love you, sweetheart?)

Just please (please!) don’t tell me that we are through…

When I can make you happy and banish your blues…

 

I’m gazing at the pictures and listening to our songs,

Going crazy, thinking ‘bout how I’ve done you wrong.

And I’m so sorry…if I ever made you cry

But let’s talk (talk!), rewind (rewind!) and not say our goodbyes.

Let’s talk (talk!), rewind (rewind!) and not say our goodbyes.

Because if we do…love will tear us apart

And what good are…two broken hearts?

 

Football? Bloody Hell... (2015)

(Adapted from Billy Joel's 'We Didn't Start The Fire')

Founded in ’92, incomes the new,

Falling Forest, Cloughy gone, biggest win 7-1,

Tissier and his flicks, Fergie’s timekeeping tricks,

Klinsmann with his famous dive, Villa’s hopes kept alive!

 

95’, Keegan’s vexed – love it if we beat them.

Sugar’s finger, Merson’s tears, United’s 9, Saints’ fears,

Fowler’s 3, Beckham’s chip, Yeboah’s strike, Wenger’s grip,

Shearer in, 25 scored, record fee, oh my Lord!

 

Chorus: We didn't start the fire
It was always burning
Since the world's been turning
We didn't start the fire
No we didn't light it
But we tried to fight it

 

Cantona versus Sunderland, Crazy Gang in cuckoo land,

Spice Boys, Collymore, Keegan bows his head on board

Dennis Bergkamp, Filbert Street, the Dutchman hits a magic 3,

Paolo’s push, 11 week ban, Michael Owen rubs his hands,

’99, treble time, Giggsy’s hairy chest shines,

Yorke and Cole, Ginola, Hasselbaink and Zola,

Solskjaer the super sub, roll in three more clubs,

Reds win 6 in 8, Scholesy’s goal at Valley Parade!

(Chorus)

Campbell controversy, Gerrard lights the Mersey,

Keane-Halaand, Rooney’s here, all the blues raise a cheer,

Henry’s Va Va Voom, new teams avoid their doom,

Lampard leaves West Ham, Mellberg’s throw beats Eckleman…

Gunners are invincible, Mourinho from Portugal,

Roman’s Chelsea empire, Dyer versus Bowyer,

Pires and Henry’s penalty tiff, where are ya Delia smith?

Mendes’ ghost goal, Roy’s paddy in tunnel!

(Chorus)

Glaziers, Lasagnegate, Gallas Ash and 5 mil cash,

Pardew versus Wenger, Gillett and Hicks takeover,

Tevez-Mascherano through the door, Portsmouth 7 Reading 4

Ronaldo’s swerving ball, Kinnear blurts out all,

Berbatov, Abu Dhabi, Robinho, Phil Brown whacky,

Eduardo, leg maul, Rooney’s bicycle!

(Chorus)

Benitez’ rant on Man U, Adebayor’s revenge out of the blue,

Beach ball, Pompey bust, on deadline day Redknapp’s a must,

Suarez-Evra, Keys-Gray dropped, why always me?, Torres flopped,

Terry in racist storm, Aguero in title form,

David Moyes on his bike…Odemwingie in his car,

Suarez nibble, Bale sale, Pardew headbutt, Malky’s marred,

Wrong red, red mission, Gerrard slip, Adam’s vision,

Thanks fans and BPL, football? Bloody Hell…

 

We didn't start the fire
It was always burning
Since the world's been turning
We didn't start the fire
But when we are gone
It will still burn on and on and on and on
And on and on and on and on...
(Chorus x3)

 

 

'Verbal' skit (2015)

 

Bye to everybody who ever doubted me,

You oppose me? what you gonna do? Shout at me?

No, so close your hole while I choke your soul

I’m a suffocating calculator that’s stolen

All breath when you learn this is no test

This is a declaration, a quest that claimed the rest.

I am the best. No need to debate,

Demonstrate against me and I still won’t hate.

‘I’m not angry, just disappointed’,

I feel blessed every day like I’ve been anointed,

It’s pinpointed, my flow isn’t disjointed,

President of lexicon always being reappointed.

Setting a precedent, so focus, take note

That I’m always willing to go toe-to-toe

With any tomfool that threatens me,

Any clown who bets against me

Will get stomped on and thrown to the ground,

Chomped on and fed to the bloodhounds.

This is no sport, it’s war bloodsucker,

You’re the laughing stock character like Chris Tucker.

Meanwhile, I’m on the rise no diggity

And you’re the only fool who’s trying to have a dig at me,

No dignity, just sit down, take a lesson.

I’m no gangsta gangsta, no need for a Smith and Wesson.

This is the autobiography of the JB,

So watch what you say to me.

Don’t interject you jerk

I’ll hurl abuse to wherever you lurk.

It’s all about the words I use, diction, flow,

You ain’t about that just a lot of dumb show –

Kathy Selden. You’re melting, begging,

I’m setting a new bar with my superlative spelling.

Stop yelling, or vociferating should I say,

I’m a juggernaut, to you I’m mentally laying waste.

Bottomless confidence and competence

But you got more drama than a Corrie omnibus,

It’s ridiculous, I’m meticulous with my grammar

You’re just lazier than an OAP caravaner.

Look, I’m bringing back your stammer,

I’m untouchable just like MC Hammer

With a mind to rhyme and two hype feet

That defeats all I meet.

 

(Acapella) So take a tic tac, freshen up before I launch my attack,

You’re more childish and fruitless than an S Club 7 comeback

Haven’t you seen my mentions on Yik Yak? Face facts.

I remain as insidious and mysterious as Rorschach.

Watch man, I’m masked, no task too hard

Peerless, fearless but dignified – you won’t see me on placards.

Your reputation will be marred worse after I leave you in a hearse.

And a message to the new generation of writers,

notice there’s no mention of a curse word.

You cursed turd, cursing worse than a man with Tourette’s 

who’s so illiterate he’s never read a word of verse.

It’s absurd to think such an insanely titanic lyricist

Will never sink or need to pay a visit to a shrink.

I’ll pass the mic to you, wipe that sweat off your brow,

Go ahead, tell me about how there’s none holier-than-thou,

that you’re my phobia.

In reality none are lowlier-than-thou: you are a personalised

dystopia and nobody knows ya.

You disgraced verbose, base waste of space. Go ahead and tell

the place you’re wordier than W. B Yeats.

Maybe next time you’ll face less of an ace that’ll lambaste you way less.

You weigh more, a burden. Re-read my script, take heed and

this as a creed. I’m Kaiser, so say I.

You’re unsure of how to follow?

Just admit you’re uncertain…At least you tried.

 

Heartbreak blues (2016)

 

I feel you're slipping away,

Can't face another day,

Without you...my friend.

You just can't be going,

This girl I used to know and,

Is this...the end?

 

I want to be with you,

As long as you want me to,

Why must...we part?

Don't know what you're doing,

Seems this has been brewing

All the way from...the start.

 

(Chorus) Now I know how this must go,

And why you...say we're through.

But I never wanted you to throw

Everything we worked for, for you.

Yes I know how this must go,

And why you...say we're through.

But I never wanted you to throw

Everything we worked for, let's start anew.

 

Your touch has grown cold,

Your eyes seem so lonely –

Love we'll never again behold

Now it's like you don't know me.

 

I'm just a drifting shadow,

Why's your mind-set so narrow?

Yet I'm still waiting by the telephone.

Just know that you're always on my mind,

I'll insist that I'm fine

But life's colour's burnt out to two-tone.

 

Baby just know that I tried,

That the sand still wants the kiss from the tide

And my door's always open for you.

Most of all I want you to be happy

I never intentionally treated you badly,

So hear my heartbreak blues.

 

(Chorus) Now I know how this must go,

And why you...say we're through.

But I never wanted you to throw

Everything we worked for, for you.

Yes I know how this must go,

And why you...say we're through.

But I never wanted you to throw

Everything we worked for, let's start anew.  

 

Your touch has grown cold,

Your eyes seem so lonely –

Love we'll never again behold

Now it's like you don't know me.

 

Funeral blues (2015)

(Adapted from W. H. Auden's incredible poem of the

same name, and taken from my novel The Illusionists)

"Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the android from humming with its busy clone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the machine, let the...mourners...come.

 

"Let aero-drones circle moaning overhead
spluttering on the sky the message 'She is Dead'.
Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic automata wear black cotton gloves.

 

"She was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
We thought that we would last forever: we were wrong.

 

"The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
Pour away the ocean and welcome the pseuds;
For nothing now can ever come to any good."

 

Chemial instability

(Depression ii) (2016)

 

So it's sleep!

That's the secret to the welfare of me.

There's no need to think negatively,

For I can control this chemical instability.

 

sonnet to god (2016)

 

Where was you when family members cried?

And when your counterpart burns the world red?

Knowing you will hide makes me die inside

And I would rather disbelieve instead.

Where was you through depression and divorce?

And when dementia destroyed my ill boy?

My life is but a directionless course

Now that I’ve realised you are a killjoy.

For an entity with celebrity,

Turning a blind eye to pain’s criminal.

Your Graceless: I’m faithless, this exequy

Just publicly proves you’ve no principles.

              So abandon me in my final days.

              Leave. Leave now. Do not stay. Let me decay.