Little Sister

I’d called to say I’d be late,

But she’d tried to stay awake.

She lay there dreaming on the sofa.

Afraid to scare, I gently woke her.

And despite the lines around her eyes,

I saw a childhood in her surprise,

It came to me as I leant to kiss her.

She has your smile, little sister,

And as I continue my journey,

I’ll swing this memory,

Like a beacon,

Against the cold.


Cloud Gate

Wait for me at Cloud Gate,

Just before the day breaks,

Before the fray come calling,

Before the rain starts falling,

At the place we used to stray,

Despite this state we’re in.

I won’t talk about mistakes,

As we trace the cityscape.

We’ll create a new view,

But only if you choose to,

Despite the state we’re in.

Staring up at Cloud Gate,

Waiting for the daybreak.

As dawn climbs the cityscape,

Cotton corals blind me,

And I see you stood beside me,

Where I knew you’d be.

You looked at me,

In the eye directly,

But you didn’t know me.

It was someone else entirely.

And if only for a moment,

I thought I’d find you there,

Waiting for me at Cloud Gate,

With a flower in your hair,

To retrace our origin,

Despite the state we’re in.


The veins of this place are etched on my arms,
For my A to Z has been prized apart,
And countless amoebas of leaking beats,
Seep and smear on London streets.

Rhyme and reason are gagged and bound,
In the lost and found of the Underground.
The leeches and seeds of a fading dream,
Raiding the landscape of a life unseen.

So I’ll navigate tonight by cityscape stars,
Divide myself hieroglyphs of scars,
Wash my memories clean in the Sheaf.
And watch you dancing in my sleep.

Yesterday so far away.
Decorate a sea of grey.
Daybreak wakes to blind me.
Iris wakes to find me.

Nowhere Street

Meet you in the light of nowhere street,

From the moving steps of grey metal sheets,

The crush of loners or lover’s heat,

Of directions, maps and emergency signs,

And endless silent meet and greets.

I’m dressed to the nines in costume clothes,

Designed to hide the kind of half-truth,

That the deadline closed,

We missed our connection,

The train on its own line, different times,

Same station.

And now I face a rejection,

And the cancer of hopeful wonder.

My innermost crimes acted out,

From the hideous to the sublime,

The reverie of this divide.

I meet you now on nowhere street,

For our own silent meet and greet,

And already I feel the specter,

Of my own silent retreat.

Met Line

Catch a suit in a sky blue eye.

Business links and commuter ties.

You done this ride that many times,

But you ain’t blind to me brother.

My mouth closes on a half mock smile,

We both know, we’ve compiled our profile,

We run on different lines,

He be starting and I just finished mine.

I feel my sweat play and crawl,

Its sweet mate, but sour an’ all,

Hope you share it with your pay-for friends,

Rolling and chancing to make ends meet.

Double-glazed from time and gravity,

Filed into a sometime mercenary,

We come, we go, we reside in the far away.

We copy and paste the everyday.

Judder and clack chatter and feedback,

Cut and rumble on tracks as sparks live

and die, scatter and defy the sky.

Think of Blake and distill the Blues.

Feint and move with nothing to lose.

Stretching away in this river of tubes.

Eyes prized open in Amersham,

A Damflask stranger in a ghost station.

Jump the joint and trundle back,

Eyes on the cracks for spare change,

For an ace in a place that stays the same.

For a sunflower, a silent contract,

And a kiss for Grandma.

Map of lines so kind,

She’d stayed up to worry.


The following is a tune my close friend and esteemed collaborator Sean Bradbury has created based on my lowly lyrics. As you can see (or hear), we’re both very indebted to the late and great John Martyn. We’re continuing to work on the tune so expect a proper beat soon. Comments and groupies welcome.

Come home to me.
Build a fire right here.
Let the embers burn,
The ashes blow away.

Pray against the break of day,
Let’s lie in our shade of grey.
And pretend the sun will stay,
Exactly where it is.

Wrap yourself in me,
Make sure I stay near.
So I can feel you breathe,
As you fall asleep.

Dawn fades and falls away,
And takes our shade of grey.
Let’s hold our truth at bay,
Exactly as it is.

All the lovers in the world,
All the spaces in between.
All the things we left unsaid,
All the things we could have been.


In Lycia a man takes her hand.

And leads her from the curve of the beach.

Pulling tendrils from her feet,

The sea beading in her hair, a strand

Breaking into millennia.

She clings to him beneath his coat,

As he leads her from this open place, from those

Who remain, their faces cracked to dream anew,

The closing dusk of a land of man.

Over moors and valleys and shadows fought,

A home as rough as his hands.

An oak close by from where he glasses the land.

Of sea and sky that fuse entire,

Of  clouds that seem to swallow clime.

The tin roof drums with sudden rain.

He wraps her in his arms as he asks her name.

Her shivers, all moments of night and day,

These rags are burnt without delay.

Her iris fathomless, Sibylline.

Their freckles align, her cradled spine.

Winged feet dart through time.

Fingers bound and palms concealed,

Words whispered only Chimera hears.

A beast that only sees itself.

Of flesh and blood already known.

They skate white streaks on a black-ice pool,

Hands smeared with clay, bloodied torso.

Kick and faint throb and sign of thumb, of tiny mouth.

The dust from the earth, no gust from above.

He eased from her, wrapped like a child.

He stood by the door and looked at the surrounding hills,

Through the rising sun he knows his panacea sought.

Their sharpened teeth, their stomachs empty.

Love and shelter more a dream than memory.

Eyes cataract as the sky.

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