by Poetry

I have no song to sing
no tune rises from hard lips
as no pattern emerges
in the dance of this weak flesh
as no pattern emerged
from weaker bones in the wind

I have no song to sing
busy myself with proof
with evidence
in the digging of prisons
in the excavations of our bones
in the study of our wings

I have no song to sing
I shiver in the winter
I am too weak to fly south
I consume the weaker things
to survive the frozen rivers
to survive the snow

I have no song to sing
knowing that songs last forever
almost silent on the wind
I consider my wings
beating silently at the door
of eternity

I have no song to sing
yet I have witnessed the singers die
leap from heavenly scaffolds
blind into the dark waters
with its promises of fresh life
their tongues swelling
their feathers turned against them
their jaws tear open with the applause
of lidless eyes

Free eBooks

modern poetry


The mirror haunts me and turns my words to air, my love to grey light that starves, burns, screams beneath red-hot fluorescence. Madonna; can I pretend to love and know these love poems in my rotten pancreas? Can I pretend that this sudden obsession has the merest...

Albert Docks – A Poem

So, you guys remember 'Albert Docks'? That mini-trilogy of poetry I did a couple of weeks ago, which has earned me world-wide acclaim and thrown me into the spotlight and I will forever go down in the history books as a rival to Shakespeare, Eliot, Poe and Johnny...

Hollowed Out

You hollowed me out and lived in my skin.
When I opened my eyes, it wasn’t me looking out…


instead of simply grazing
the surface of your breasts in desperation
& could overcome their wild passions
for the logic & mathematics of poetry
or the campaign of ecstasy I execute
as Thanatos delivering your body