In cafes

I was blue until I sat in a cafe with you.
Years later I am here, thanks to you.


I pressed stop, then delete.

The first to go was the cage around myself….things I had invented myself, naturally taking milliseconds.

Then longer to process was every invention every clever person had previously invented.

When it finished I was stood their naked.

An interesting place.

To start again.


I was not designed to process this. It is not good for me.

Loneliness, punishing myself for previous naivety, daily routine reminders, a wicked horrible path I weave, cigarettes, strong coffees and terrible food, an occasional outburst of terrible blues. I was not prepared for this.

The music stopped and I carried on dancing, way into the darkness of the night. Nobody left in the building as I went to retrieve my coat. The only coat left on a once bustling rack.

Outside into the cold air of the night, a long walk home, now on my own. Loneliness, years pass, sadness grows.

I am now an overweight wreck.

I can barely breathe, with nothing achieved.

Longing for a previous optimism. No there is not one second of it.

I do not allow myself to stray towards a pleasant thought, the land of inclusion.

I wish to be mended.

I am nearly there now.

A Siberian winter and the Sahara heat both compete to make me retreat.

I remind myself.



As the years wore on and they tore each other limb from limb all that succeeded was the grim reality of harsh hostility.


Life wiped away his smile, like a parent cleaning their child’s face with a cloth. The elements he became provided a kind future. Kindness, laughter and love lighting the dark. Sincerity and tranquillity, peace and sanctity. She arrives with a smile and an immediate handshake. Everything is recycled here. Your elements immortal in their passage through time and space. Changing form infinitely.

The price we pay

Just give me your last gold coin. Just your soul, with full paypal control. Give me your time, a view of page, I’ll watch while you age. Rich content with a sprinkling of discontent. A video, a link, don’t over think. That is when you may start to sink.

Just neglect yourself and sacrifice your health, all that matters now is whatever currency you calculate your wealth. Maybe it’s one, maybe it two, maybe your fortunate with rather a few, a couple of bits. Don’t stop there, fly over here. Let me fuel the jet while you try to forget. I never could of dreamed that you would stop by. Counting the mere mortal minutes until you are deceased. No way to live for a civilised world. There’s conflicts, there’s crime but ultimately we all short of time.

That is why I have chosen to write in rhyme, you see for me it saves time. It is fastest, most effective way, to brighten my day. The words flow, as you should well now know. I sit here seconds pass, another sentence at long last. A cold blast.

Please feel free to dispute and take your chosen route. I’ll make something, a flask for the journey, and sandwich perhaps, to give you sustenance for your thoughts as they stray, as you leave me behind on your way.

There is this moment, break it down, split it up, divide it, second by second. As you age, it may one day be your last page. It may be all our last page if the world becomes consumed with rage. Let us hope we never get to this stage. Perhaps just fast forward, skip, that coming of age. You, play something, you dance, you do both, you paint it all. everything, don’t miss one vibrant fabric of colour or one pleasant whisper of a thought. Record it, send me the data, I try to produce you an info-graphic that you may not as easily forget.

The validity of the basis of life which we all rely.

For now good luck and good bye.

Give it your everything, your very best try,

Do not die, I will try auto-draft you to the most finite infinite of time.

You bastards, try to behave appropriately.



Je ne comprends pas

Hours! Floating around on his laptop dreaming of tall towers and spare hours, as the days whistled away I good hear him dismay. What have I achieved today. Before bed a late hour he would try to convince himself to have a shower. After crawling away from his laptop dreaming of having a cause. He did have a cause, but no platform, no voice, an internet generation lost with choice. Comprehending campaigners that fought so hard. The lady who threw herself under a horse. He imagined her YouTube channel filled with passionate cause.

Now bring yourself do those mundane chores. House cleaning and washing up, the world can wait until you have cleaned the last plate. Come here and put on a song, let the kettle boil it won’t take long. He put in a minimum amount of water so that it would boil fast as possible though enough to make the tea sometimes a coffee occasionally a hot chocolate.

The style of that man with his endless cars and private jets sandy white beaches high resolution mountains and sparkling babbling streams was this all that was left of his dream.

Like and share fill your boots this is now. We are live on YouTube, subscribe! I promise not to steal your precious time and monetise it into mine! Come this way, Oui Oui! can’t you see this is what separates you from me. Put on your glasses and immerse yourself.

Just a couple of minutes……put your family and work aside…..pretend as if you have died.


The burden of her heartache,

showing through an indecisive smile,

will this take long?

she asked the mechanic,

as he worked to fix her heart,

her solid disbelief,

that love would walk away,

the mechanic shook his head,

kicked the tyres,

concluding, ‘bloody liars’,





Patterns and paint

Draw and paint,

express yourself with art,

don’t put it off,

make a start,

mix some colour,

draw a shape,

put down on paper,

let your mind escape,

write a song,

it may help you carry on,

blank paper a bless,

in context that can feel a mess,

let your tears mix with colour,

what have you to say,

that is in your DNA,





Don’t leave for too long

Her wonderful adventures,

mountains and streams,

really the stuff of fairy tale dreams,

beaches, sea, sand and sunsets,

romance and friends,

occasionally she thought of home,

I hope they are well,

after some years,

she made her way home,

she walked the old garden path,

where her family played and laughed,

they were still there but older,

tears came to her eyes,

never again shall I leave,

not a single travelling story she cared to repeat,

I am home and here I shall stay,

not a second shall they grow older without me there,

tending to the flowers with a cup of tea,

seasons pass,

home feels familiar again,

she is content,

precious time,