Tom. Tom, my only Son

I don’t like children, All those runny noses and smelly bottoms And constant emotional demands And loss of freedom And Thomas the bloody Tank Engine and Winnie the Pooh Over and Over again ad nauseam When there were other more important things I need to do Like wash...

Poems are meant to be clever and rhyme

Poems are meant to be clever and rhyme They are supposed to be deconstructed and analysed Well not mine Do you Think With some random Capital Letters and some really Strange Sentences, I can fool Them Perhaps I could grow my hair long and become A performance poet...

Push off and leave me alone

Push off and leave me alone And take your phoney sympathy with you. You don’t get it do you … he was special. Not in that Everyone’s special new labour way He was and so were we We didn’t meet at a dance or in some cheap nasty pub We met in a place where the lovers...

Its not the first time

They were there again last night, They sit there accusing Unforgiving Reminding me That its not a game They are shouting now: “You did your job. So well done you But what are we supposed to do? Now, that we are gone? You took the credit for your courageous actions,...

The First Time

She looked just like me, but I wore a uniform and she was in rags Take my baby she said, you look well fed. I turned away, thoughts of my son in my head. Back home 30 clicks away. He was safe, happy, chubby, and waiting for Mum. Gospoda, I can’t. That’s not my mandate...