Atomic Age

Call this the atomic age
because we’ve split
separated right down the mind’s eye
and even my own selves
are strangers

neurotic and afraid
it’s all just a wait now,
for the wind to blow,
expansive clouds to form
and the disjointed
to become the destructive

Pay Down on Beauty

I want to put beauty down
create nothing more than delicate wonder
with a few simple words
laid down with no force
and no thought
but even beauty now seems to have owners
and whatever I can see
and love
seems to step into the copyright
of an indifferent class
who don’t see what they hold
but keep it in a death grip

And all I still own
is frustration
and anger
that no one values
at least not until markets shift
enough for even that
to be taken away


You own the houses
the streets
the shops
the grass
the grey
the ground
the walls
the sky

There’s no taking them back
but do you have to take the rest?

Do you need the feelings?
the love
the anger
the security?

Do you need our past?
do you need every memory
every lost evening
every lazy day
every fear
and every hope?

You don’t even know you have them
but you do
and all we’ve got left
is the long list
of your possessions
and a fading memory
of where they came from

When We Loved

You cornered me with love
a contortion into hate
between what you said
and what you did
who you claimed
and who you were
a chaotic contradiction
out of which I ended up believing
that to control
was to care
and to fear
was to feel

You wielded over me all the power I longed for
through force you shaped my self
while I wished to have a different form
but incapable I gave myself over to you
to make me what I thought was better
but which turned out to be just you,
your image,
your dream
and your ideal
broken imitations
of who I used to be
and corrupted lies
of who I should be

In the end I broke our love
or so you said
yanking at frayed ropes which had bound me
trying to drag me back into your world
as I sought out a new one

I’d like to say the power is mine now,
that my hands took over
but I know that’s not true
over every move I make
lingers your so called love
eager to recount
another cruel fable
of who I used to be
and who I should be

Time stands at my side though
the time I need to forget
and regrow
beyond the chaotic contradiction
of your love


Nothing became the action
Nothing became the word
Exhausted of all content
Nothing was all they heard

For more from me you can check out my collection No Cure for Shell Shock – available in paperback and digital formats. Or you can try any of my other work here – variously available as ebooks or paperbacks.