Walking with the birdsong,

Sun shines a path of light:

I don’t see it;

Can’t see it,

For swirling mind lies in mist.

I hear footfalls on the pavement,

See the feet.

Are they mine,

Is it me?

I wish to wake, long to wake,

But seem lost in the whorls of a coffee that now sits before me.

I’m swimming in an ocean of ochre uncertainty,

Gasping for air without knowing why,

Or how, 

Or when.

Daydreaming in plain sight,

I go unnoticed

By all 

Including myself.



Does a Cane toad walk with a stick?
 Does a Firefly get hot when he’s sick?
 Does a Hyena laugh when he’s sad?
 Does a Penguin not fly to be bad?
 So much to ponder, my friends,
 That at night it drives round the bend.
 These funny, old questions of life,
 Like how Turtles decide on a wife?
 But the question I ponder the most.
 Is if we can’t all just smile and toast-
 Each other with smiles and aplomb,
 Instead of thinking who we should bomb!
 DOES anybody know?
 Because I’m not sure anymore.

Greyscale Worlds

 In greyscale brickwork,
 Tunnelled hole,
 A passageway to someplace else.
 Darkening transgression
 To a realm of nothing
 Bright, yet without definition,
 It glimmers.
 Inviting the inhabitants of arched bricks
 To investigate,
 To sample,
 To explore,
 It advertises adventure,
 Conceals far more.
 I have heard of this world beyond solidity,
 But the taste of it perturbs.
 I shall wait in my tunnel,
 And wait,
 And wait,
 For now.


 Weightless, I drifted through a stellar sky. Worlds floated by as bubbles blown upon the wind. They shone for me those wondrous globes, beacons in the darkness, and I knew joy. To be lost in a childish dream with the soapy tang of those bubbles crashing against me thrilled and amazed. It was bliss, a moment of joy lasting an eternity.
 But, as I looked to the blue upon my hands, the emerald and ochre plastered to my skin, I realised it a nightmare. Whole civilisations cast themselves upon me crashing against my shores. I was powerless, a deity of destruction.
 I panicked then arms flaying, legs kicking, but it only made things worse. There was a futility to my actions a pointless waste. I could no more control the colour of the night.
 All I’d wanted was to swim amongst the stars and watch the worlds drift by. Instead, I’d destroyed a universe. Such is the power of a God and the difficulties in wielding that power no matter the good intentions.
 Now, as I sit in the nothingness with my head in my hands, I ask: where are my bubbles; where is my joy?
 They are gone.

 (Image courtesy

The Traveller

 There is no view,
 No life beyond the next footstep.
 A world in mists to some.
 No more than a passage
 From here to there.
 But not to the traveller.
 For within their realm
 Of non-blinkered existence
 The traveller is free.
 It matters not where they go,
 Only that they do.
 They shall see what the world looks like
 When they get there.

Quite Mad

 Laughing in ruins,
 Shuffling in chains,
 A world on the brink
 It’s almost in flames.
 I spin on the spot
 Around and around,
 But on opening eyes
 I’m still on scorched ground!
 I’m chopping down trees
 With only my fists,
 This just shouldn’t be,
 This mould can’t persist.
 Or maybe this madman
 Is worrying too much,
 I hope that you’re right
 That it just isn’t such.
 But neglect and fear
 They go hand in hand,
 And we’re beginning, I think,
 To lose this sweet land.

Caffeinated Thinking

I apologise for the picture, as the cup was fuller when I started writing this 😉

 Coffee in hand,
 I sit in repose,
 As the aromas of another continent
 Assail my senses.
 I can only imagine,
 What they would be like.
 I suppose,
 I could put on the news,
 Catch a glimpse
 Of reality,
 Or unreality?
 But then my coffee would seem tainted.
 What a shame;
 What a waste,
 I think I’ll stick to dreaming.