The Tyranny of You

All I ever wanted to be:
your elements of earth, wind, fire and sea.
And the world that you roam – nothing more than a dome;
regimented by I, and my tools in the sky,
that create the flowers you smell, and the sunsets you see;
and the paths that you wander, and the illusion you walk free.
And your reflection in the water – controlled only by me;
these insidious tools of love,

are your ultimate tyranny


Leaving in the Rain

And there you finally go
just leaving in the rain;
on a moody monday morning
to never return again.

All these years you said you would,
your soul was not here, neither your home;
and just like a lost soul with gypsy blood,
you were doomed and destined to forever roam.

And I know there is something I can’t give you,
something that cannot be stored in a home;
a love and family only found in the wild,
a joy of connection only felt when alone.

So with pain I now let you go,
and watch you leave into the rain;
just watch you fade among the grey,
to never return again

And I feel my tears now fall,
like these drops of crying rain;
because I finally see that your wild heart
was never mine to tame



they say everyone has their place
that everyone is apart of the puzzle
but I am bent-shaped, awkward
a jagged piece of the jigsaw
misprinted; badly designed
or perhaps from the wrong box
I do not fit in; I do not fit in
these eyes tell me that
I do not fit in

so I fall away from the edges
retreat beyond borders
watching the others slot together
building, building the jigsaw
accepting that I’ll always
 be the wrong piece
just lying on the floor


No Vacancy

I live in a world of empty minds and loaded mouths, where barking dogs rise to the top while introverts sit in therapist offices paying for the right to not go insane.

I live in a world where parents spawn sentient beings into a dangerous world and then pressure them to chase a life of security.

I live a world where corporations destroy the earth and profit off war while the human race sits enclosed worshipping an electronic reproduction of life. And try to point this out and you’re considered strange. A hippy. A communist. A conspiracy theorist.

I live in a world where thinking for yourself is considered a sin; and trying to break free from mindless conformity and you are met with the smiling devils of anxiety and alienation. Egos spitting; ideology kicking.

This is it – the organism of society in action – and if you’re not joining then prepare to be killed off like an infection.

Because I live in a world not designed for the thinker; a chaotic circus where all that is left to do for those who refuse to act is drink beer, and sit on steps, and stare up into skies.

Waiting for something – anything – to bring them home.


Security is a dangerous thing.

It is a dance with death:
a journey into desert lands to find rumoured treasure.
But it is illusive; floating like a mirage,
leading you on into nothingness.
Because the more one constantly chases security,
the less one lives in the process,
and the less effective any real security can ultimately be.

Those with the most security have the least life to protect;
and those with the most life have the greater need for security.
But there is no middle way.

Security prevents life; it corrupts it
– it seals it away.
Security can be bulky steel locks.
An avoidance of others’ opinions.
A decision to not visit somewhere.
A double-barrel shotgun under the bed.

Security can also be hatred.
It can be found in treachery and ignorance.
Racism. Fascism. Sexism.
Security is a state of mind;
putting up bars between the psyche and the world;
an immovable rock between the eyes,
hiding any inconvenient penetrating truths.

Show me the most secure people in the world and I
will show you the poorness of banality and fear.
Show me the least secure people in the world and I
will show you the riches of fire and soul.

In Too Deep

In Too Deep

I walk this urban jungle
and I see people so lost
wandering through life
desperate and depraved
clinging onto lottery tickets
and shopping bags
and briefcases
and beer bottles
looking for the way out

I see people so lost
stuck in a movie they never asked to star in
working for causes they don’t believe in
trapped in lives they never imagined
a life where the tramp and lawyer
wear the same frown

I see souls starving and dying
behind counters
behind desks
behind steering wheels
mothers, fathers,
bus drivers

people so lost
in too deep
drowning in traffic jams
while turning the radio louder
and louder
to escape the reality

that kills us all

The Secret Killers

The Secret Killers

I see them everyday
out walking the streets, smiling
unchained, untouched

their greatest crime hidden
in a heavy hand on a shoulder
a judgemental stare
the moment that they told her

“it’s time to grow up,
it’s time to join the real world,
we only want what’s best for you”

They are the killers
the murderers of dreams
the mutilators of spirit
the destroyers of all things good

they are the ones
fucking and spawning
fragile beings
into a dangerous world
to make them chase security
and normality
and to merely exist
in a living prison
where dreams rot

behind a television