L’homme Expurgé

Il n’existe pas

On m’a dit un jour

Et les registres en confirment !

Personne ne l’a pas vu

Ou entendu

Il faut qu’il soit un être virtuel

Un fantasme

Issu de l’imagination

Un nuage fugace

Mais qui est l’homme

À l’état sauvage

Qui a le regard fixe ?

Un sujet tabou

Et vraiment épineux

Pourquoi respire-t-il profondément,

S’il n’est pas réel ?


Ils ne lui ont pas dit

Et il ne pourrait pas


Il n’existe pas

Il n’a jamais existé

Car il est l’homme expurgé

Letting Go

Knuckles round knife

And cutting the slice,

Peeling and paring

The earthen skin.

Searching the puzzle

And picking apart

Easing the seems

In integral heart.

Swollen of toe

In junior school shoes,

Casting away,

The things I must lose.

Barnacle’s grip

On memory rocks

Washed by the tides,

To loosen the locks.

Time is the oil,

Of Sesame’s call

Choosing the future

Amongst potential’s all.

Taking the grey ships

Into the West.

Death of the Old,

And pains in my chest.

Left on the beach,

In seaweed embrace.

Turning away

And looking for pace.

Leaving behind,

The more that you take,

Footsteps in sand,

And thirst that won’t slake.

Melancholy’s magic,

Tempers my mood

Washes the cheeks

And deadens the food.

Waiting and watching,

For sunrise in East,

Birth of the Knew,

Is bringing its feast.

Release is elastic

And stretches the thread,

Taking the knife,

And paring it dead.

Pulling on chord,

In navel hue

Eviscerate and cleanse,

The time it is due.

Letting it go

Is hard and IT aches

Letting it go

Is sad with BUT brakes.

Letting it go

Is now and IT takes.

Letting it go

Is time and IT makes.

Letting it go,

Is free and NO fakes.

Go to the door,

Yell at the sky

Open those wings,

It is, time to fly.

Raising above,

And looking down.

How small is the past

How distant, its town.

Ginger bread houses

And icing sugar roof

The future is here

Please, give me some proof.

Letting it go

Is hard as nails.

Letting it go

Is hard as ….

Letting it go

Is hard……

Letting it go



Not now, not ever

Sodium yellow faded night

in trash can alley

where all the dreams go to die

the Neon signs buzz wasps

Rats scurry into their KFC homes

for that last bite of chicken

the deep ammoniacal doorways

still wet, pungent and steaming

Tin foils and methadone

bottles lined up on a wall

if one should accidentally fall

what would Odin do?

Strung out for Yggdrasil

a strange fruit pendant

where all the Stigmata

still bleed in his palms

He has no more

alms to give

his bowl now

stamped VOID and empty

From out all the alphabet soup

can find not now a word

though he can see plenty

and hear all, those whispers

On the sidewalk of shame

he sees the resting place

a white chalk line

shaped like a man

… … his totality

The resplendent banners

fluttering triumphant in the breeze

saying; “Do Not Cross”

are bathed in the flashing blues

… … of his final siren song

they were too late

John Doe was DOA

clutching at straws to the very end

there a single celluloid lay, crinkled

… … beside him

No one noticed as the city wind

carried it silent away as

the first teardrop rain

lands sidewalk slowly

… … the night it sobs just a little

The pitter-patter of tiny feet

with chamois softness

start to work on him

and before the commuters

…  … he will be gone

His Etch-a-Sketch life

all iron filings

has drawn its last

and no photo-fit

… … will ever capture him again

Not now, not ever.

Mess Limericks

There once was a terrible mess

All over the house I confess

But it was not mine

Who made it this time

I will not clean it under duress

The room is an absolute state

There is not a second to wait

Two nights in a row

The dreams they did show

That people have lost touch with fate

It looks like some Branston pickle

Has fallen in ways which are fickle

All over the floor

Now blocking the door

And things are as sticky as treacle

If the right questions are found

When Mr Chaos abounds

One might start

To look in the heart

For ways and means that are sound

For behind secrets which are kept

Under grievances’ duvet well slept

One might find a clue

As to what is yet true

And not far under the carpet swept

A bacterial culture E. Coli

Multiplies under the sky

And this little strain

Enjoys a refrain

Feeding on fear in the pie

Two nights and dreamers both twice

Have dreams of messes and mice

Not ours to solve

Nor to evolve

It all hangs on a throw of the dice

So now these little rhymes

Are but signs of the times

Action quite quick

Before falling sick

Will stop anymore crimes

So in all the houses and homes

And beneath the sacred domes

Look for debris

Related to me

For what can be done to atone

If things continue to drift

Will open further a rift

That will not heal

Perhaps forever I feel

Now time to get on with the shift!!

So on this most misty of mornings

And just as the new day is dawning

The poet did write

As day follows night

To issue this song as a warning.

Une vérité qui dérange

L’écureuil cherche avidement

Les noix cachées

Ses mots qu’il a déjà dits

Il y en a tant

Dans le brouillard de temps

Il a beaucoup oublié

Il blâme tous les autres

Les doigts comme les épées

Il chauffe l’huile brûlant et

Aiguise ses histoires élastiques

Avec un verre d’advocaat

Il est devenu plastique

On ne pourrait jamais accepter

Un colis juste comme ça

Madame la factrice

Je ne suis pas chez moi

Même s’il reste

Sur le lit de mort

Il peut tricher Dieu

Qu’il n’a pas du tort

Les mains aux oreilles

Pour les protéger

Au cas où ils vont roussir

Les mots de la vérité

Le singe de sagesse

Va nier tout car

Le boomerang prodigue

Jamais retournera

Les poings fermés

En grinçant les dents

Il n’avalerait jamais

Parce que, parce que

Le sage lui a donné une pelle

Pour trouver ses noix perdues

Et il creuse á l’Australie

Parce que, parce que

Le maçon en pierres

A finalement écrit

Sur sa pierre tombale

« Il avait toujours raison, parce que, parce que »

Justify Your love..

As you emptied the magazine

of .357 reasons why,

did you pause to reload?

Each hollow point

spreading traces

of shiny, justified lead

Did you keep a tally

as they mounted up,

your casings on the floor?

When I couldn’t prove

beyond a reasonable doubt,

did that gavel strike?

And when they chalked me up

to experience

did you applaud?

In the blue flashing lights

my mortal imprint fading

in the winter rain

And when Sherlock comes

looking for proof,

will he find it?

That line by line refutation

did it convince your heart?

Does it now?

I am sorry that

I could not justify my love


and you couldn’t yours….

Johnny Two Worlds

He was never the same

When he came back

Those eyes

Had seen too much

Those ears

Had heard too much

He often joked

About the crack

In him

Quiet as a mouse

He scurries down the corridors

Polite and friendly to all

Johnny is warm

And he laughs a lot

On the turn of a penny

He is at the front again

Running down the chattering nests

Of Kalashnikov rain

All battle plans

And lights, camera, action

And then he is far away

Lost in the tranquil dreams

Of another land

Of rustic charm and mystic dew

Of soft and yielding maids

And battleaxe dragons

When he isn’t looking

The passion plays

And he speaks in ways

That no-one forgets

Yet each time he does this

They all know

And look again

And then pretend

They haven’t heard

For somehow it is impolite

To stray from the weather

Johnny knows that

People seek him

So he hides

He told me it was gravity

And it was better to hide

Than to say no

Because he rarely takes

People are somehow

Ill at ease

They want him to give

Yet know there is no balance

Johnny said it was the crack

That made him a little mad

And that, lights were best


Under the carpet

Johnny two worlds

Is a practical man

He gets stuff done

Johnny two worlds

Is as reliable as bread





And Johnny two worlds

Walks the thunder

And the wonder



He was never the same

When he came back

Those eyes

Had seen too much

Those ears

Had heard too much