Dear Aliens

Dear Aliens,


I would quite like to be abducted because this world my people constructed is fucked, it sucked from the get-go of cities. Shitty , gritty, smokey , hokey , pokey places , utter disgraces of design. A place were money rules right next to time. Where being naked can be a crime. People killed for a dime. Post-modern slime seeps into the pores of our skin and causes cancers within. So , to go back to where I begin…Dear Aliens,I would quite like to be abducted…




High Definition / Low On Meaning


the 99% choose illusion

The 1% have no confusion

They see the world as it is

They’re under no delusion

They know their place in the game

Every players name

They love to explain through a fractured frame

High definition / Low on meaning

We’re more obsessed with theming than dreaming about a new world order

Transgressing broader borders with more military quarters ,

soldiers paid to spin on a dime for pennies and nickles

The irony would tickle if it wasn’t so raw

Life is intense, there’s too much war

Somebody please tell me what are we fighting for ?

A dead planet after the rich ran it

Dead into the ground

Dead piled up in a mound

Dead static the only sound

Things are getting worse

We all remember the chorus but rarely  the verse

Those who forget their past find songs will last a life time

Ignorance is so much stronger and easier to swallow

All sugar coated but essentially hollow

Some plan down the decades

Others planning for tomorrow

False dichotomy as a lobotomy leaving you hollow

‘Fuck You’ Fame

It’s the kinda fame that says ‘fuck you’

‘What the fuck are you gonna do ?’

‘I got mad bling now’

Somehow, some way , this is the state of our modern day

What are you famous for ?

I won a contest

And at best

That should warrant a prize

But keeping you in front of my eyes


Your talentless cries bring tears to the eyes of Engels in heaven

The working class mass live in one giant Butlins land

The good life be damned,

Everybody just wants to be famous

Aimless, shameless, say-less and be more

Fame these days is fucking hardcore



Just Get On With It


Unbidden infringements dent democratic bumper stickers,

Living on a sphere can make it difficult to avoid walking in loops

Bombs in air/Ground on boots

Blue sky thinking/ Too big to be sinking

Not paid to do the thinking

So we just get on with it


Poetry Is Dead ( Gunned Down )

Poetry is dead

Gunned down in a slam battle

under a microphone crackle

and too much reverb

Poetry is dead

Bleeding on the curb








A Couple Of Cotton Candy Kisses


Just a couple of cotton candy kisses

                                     giggling under the covers

                                                            of a Sunday morning smile


Scottish Coast

Scottish Coast