This Silent Tirade - a poetry collection

This Silent Tirade

Simulated grace,
A table of stone,
A picture painted,
A lifetime of bliss
Walls, a simple problem,
Lenses, focused view.
Time, a moving constant,
This silent tirade.
Out of view,
Out of focus.
Camera captures silence.
Could we accept this polaroid truth?


Commas dotted like scars on vellum,
Periods dark holes driven through the page.
Blotted tears
And written with a razor blade.
Clichés beaten into metal sheets,
Dull and grey under a white hot hammer.
Oblivious, a tragic waste.
This comedy has a copper taste.

Father Robert Lost His Glasses

Now he can’t see clearly,
The words, they make no sense,
And the world, a dark blur.
Odd shapes,
And heightened senses,
He hears the silent whispers he never heard before.
Opticians appointment,
He turns up late, and yet
They order replacements.
Back home,
Father Robert had his glasses with him all along.

A Lament For A Forgotten Poem

I wrote a poem on the bus today,
Inside my head,
Inscribed it was, behind my eyes,
But never read.
Exquisite in its irony,
This mind of mine’s betrayal.
Now a forgotten memory,
In memoriam, this tale.


I want to file a formal complaint
Write it down, put it in the box
My mind’s made up, it’s a disgrace
Write it down, put it in the box
I won’t stand for it any longer
Write it down, put it in the box
All my concerns seem to get misplaced
Write it down, put it in the box
This isn’t the first time, I hope you know
Write it down, put it in the box
Thank you for listening,
your paying customer.
Write it down, put it in the box.


Dressed up in words so bright and pretty
Like a festival parade
Without a marching beat
And as they walk they give no thought
To the feelings underfoot.
To the pseudo-intellectuals
The blind, the broken men in sewers
Wading through a world of filth
With bitter tongues
From all the foul words in their mouths.
And they are better,
To walk the one true path
To know and yet,
Unknowing, they condemn
Themselves to just one window
Staring out at a world
But not the world
To the fakes,
The unbelievers
The practitioners of art
So perfect their conception
Craftmanship beyond mere mortal hands
The one eyed man, his kingdom blind
Only half a story sees
And the people on his blind side
They are free.


Given a handful of stones
And several casualties,
In a broken down town square
You married me, that day.
On a ground adorned with the reddest silk
That I ever did see.
With petals falling silently
While children wept,
I took you aside,
We couldn’t watch the bridesmaids dance,
We couldn’t bare the pain.
Happiness, a stone for every name.
In shady, quiet spot
Beneath an old oak tree
Ripened fruit fell at our feet
And you bequeathed yourself to me.
We lay there for hours
We counted every star
But when morning came, we went back to town
And I gave you away
A marriage made in silent vows
Tokens of stone exchanged.
They’ve hurt, beaten and broken you
And I have done the same.
Our pride,
It is our shame

Nonsensical Stream of Consciousness #1

I’d give you memories after dark
In a silent harmony
Tell you stories that I
Don’t remember;
Something’s eluding me
When we walked out in the rain
And you remarked: “the weather’s fine”
It came crashing down,
All the same;
I retreated while you laughed
We spent the morning in the cafe by the park
The one with oil-painted tea leaves
Curled round the urn
Of his mum’s ashes that
He kept in the back
For a rainy day
Like this
Because what he wanted
Was to be with her again
Like I am with you
Though where and when, I don’t know how
To make any sense, as the words
Run through my head
Forever after.


Jesus was crawling inside the walls
I could hear it, the tap-tap-tapping
Of a crucifix against drywall
It wasn’t rats, it wasn’t cats or birds
It was Him, come again, back from the dead
Inside my head to tap-tap-tap his awful tune
I tried to cut Him out, to find the tapping.
Digging holes out of the walls that trapped Him
But He never wanted to be found
Just to make again, that awful, awful sound
I moved away, I ran and hid
Going mad, I surely thought I did
And the noises; they didn’t ever stop
The tapping, rapping, cracks and pops
He was hiding beneath the counter top
But when I looked, was gone
I booked into a hospital,
Under a different name
Convinced, I was, I was insane
But didn’t want Him to find me
And put this tapping, rapping in my brain.
But His plan, it turned out all the same
St. Dymphna’s, I should have seen the name
The Saints, all part of the same game
No escape, caged in, a noose inside my vein
His face inside a picture frame
Inside a drawer, the book that held his name
And despite broken glass and page torn
Still the tapping came

A Sentence

The places in-between, dark corners and white beams
It’s a given that those greys aren’t always what they seem
I could talk of it for hours, if you know what I mean
Perhaps, to partake of a chance, a fabricated dream
I’ll simulate my suicide, for the pleasure of the scene.

Amor Vincit Omnia, or so the Latin says,
I gift you with an ampersand, a comma and a grave
The modern end, the final twist, the past has passed and all forthwith
We put up our arms in weariness and pray for the deceased,
Then grease the wheels of progress; just for a little peace.


Encased in metal
To protect this bruising fruit
Love: my peach’s shield


Step upon the Murdertron my dear
And be whisked away to heady delight
A fright, a shock and final glance
No chance, escape will fail
Hunted down and stabbed, you’ll feel
Every penetration, very scrape of metal on bone
Every bleeding slit, heat ebbing away
Things going black
And you’re back in the room
The Murdertron my dear is sweet,
A most macabre, shocking treat
Just step right up, and meet your doom
For just five minutes of your afternoon
Live out your darkest fantasies
Of rape and murder, darling please
You can satisfy your victim’s crave
A pound a go, or just for you
Because I like you as I do
The first one’s free, what will you choose
Your life, your dignity to lose?
Perhaps your soul, in a twisted deal?
Maybe your children we will steal?
A murdered spouse, the tragedy?
Succumbing to a malady?
The Murdertron my dear is sweet
A dark ambrosia of devil’s teat
We’ve been around the country far
Left many scars, caused much pain
Insane, the weak left in our wake
No guarantees we make, you might enjoy
Rather the Simulated Hugger,
Than the virtual rapist/mugger
But you, I see it in your eyes, you wish
to die, to know true pain, to suffer once
and then again, to feel the knife, the blunted club
the beatings, sodomy and blood
You want it now, you want hard
And with one swipe of your credit card
The Murdertron will set you free
And a tragic victim you will be
Of course, you may ask “Why pay me?”
For what you can obtain for free
I offer not a single guarantee
Why not seek your doom down some alley
Dressed with a target on your back?
I offer only simulation, why hold back
the full sensation? Why not suffer actually?
True pain is given out for free.
That may be true my dear but hear me out
For think, who might come to your rescue
when you shout? You will, you can not help yourself
Those last moments take over.
The Murdertron, is simple, sleek
It does not matter just how weak, how pitiful
is your resolve, your willingness to die
When you scream for the Murdertron, you scream for me
And I’ll not come to set you free. You’ll die there, in that hell
You’ll get what you paid for, a pound a go
to know only what the dead can know
and when your session’s done
You’ll know, you’ll know which one
Reality or fiction, has the better price
So victim’s come to victims be
The Murdertron will set you free
The first one’s free and then you pay
a pound a go to die today.

Till Death We Part

Cavernous and grey
Herself a tomb
To lay my body in to rest
For I am dead and she is stone


One goes in and one goes out
That’s what the okey-cokey’s all about
Pornography is cheap, but it aint free
You gotta pay for this snakes and ladders fantasy
I’m bored with this game and these party tricks
So throw caution to the wind and we’ll see what sticks

I don’t mind, you can take my seat
I’m done playing musical chairs with you
Done with lies, done with deceit
You can’t have this cake and eat it too

Ice cream ,jelly, scream and shout
I’m blowing these birthday candles out.

Pair of Kings

Axis of evil
For a five card flush
With corners up for the count
A whiplash pain in the neck
It’s all a wreck, a plane crash party
For the ballet ball
Noose-tied licorice, dark and sweet
You come to meet; eat; taste defeat
Blessed are the meek
Take a seat, they got something to say
They spilt chocolate on your carpet
On the dry-clean rug,
you shrug, it don’t matter, what a sweet mistake

It’s too late to kick up dust, to cause a fuss
Let the yellow rust of irons cloud up in disgust
It’s already happening, crops growing saturnine
Time to reap what you sow, as the saying goes

On and on in sweet platitudes, begging for gratitude
With the right attitude the punch of a fist, a slap on the wrist
The taste of a kiss it’s all the same, a shame, a blame game.

The Red Guard

At the entrance to the keep
The Red Guard stands
Lance in his hands
And armour slick
His princess to protect
One man versus a siege and yet he must
Each onslaught endure, each rocky sphere
Each bolt, ballistae firing 
To break down his defences,
To penetrate to his demesne
Alone, the Red Guard stands
His princess safe upon her throne
And behind his silent mask he rasps
Whispered lips-spoken words
How he will take them all to task
These men of the lowlands
Who dare to siege the keep
This man from the high-lands
Can never be defeat.