previously published poems



It was almost closing time after a long shift (1-11).
A girl came in with her boyfriend and shouted
“I need a piss!” She left
and squatted down in front of the fish shop next door.
Her boyfriend went out after buying a £4.99 bottle of vodka
(“keep the penny mate”).
This lad watching her shouted

Oh I was mortified


I was reading about the people who burned the pigeons.

They are worse than the scum of the earth.

They are the most vile people going about,

apart from the paedophiles.

How cruel can they be? It’s terrible

They should make them clear up all the mess they have done. .

These people should be put in a hut

and set on fire to see how they feel about that!

 (both from Push #2)


I grew up in six-bedroom house and owned a horse,

but at school I was bullied.

Then, at 17, I met a group of drug addicts

and saw my chance to fit in.

I sold my horse to buy them crack cocaine

so they accepted me.

Then I started taking drugs

and became a prostitute.


Cheryl went into a long room;

it was relatively dazzling and vibrant.

It was filled with joy and laughter.

She did not know what to do.

She was very anxious,

but at the same time excited.

Cheryl is quite timid,

so she sat in the corner

and said nothing.

(both from Push #3)


Diluting the city air with a new cigarette.

Ignored on a low wall near the library.

Ten years since I left with letters after my name

and a job. Looming.

It’s all gone; mortgage, marriage and son;

slipping through a weak fist.

Things happen and I’m sad; most of the time.

Somebody’s chalked a message for Joe and Tony,

saying he’s in The Fenton.

Uninvited, I’m joining them.

 (from Push #4)


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