Driveless Points – a poem



None believe the truth when

It comes for them, blindly
Stark and bearing down, all
Alight in the mind, huge
Where it is too close, bloomed.
Surely something can be done,
They say, well wishes and talk
Of insipid phrases grating dry
On a mind not resigned but true
To itself in trying and more.
The calls of enwrapped voices
Scratch sharp grooves in matter
Which have fooled uselessly with
Anodynes and addiction where
Now truth is the only anodyne
True and fair.

To Burn One’s Armour – a poem



What lives is winding, wending elsewhere,

The black cruelty of starless tsunamis

Swishing, slushing, pouring in tides
Tyrannical for no substance, weight,
Wild only in imagining, forever wispy.
To wake when the stars burn out, pseudo-
Alive as the nebulae preceding proto-stars
Simply exist, in perpetua, dying to give birth,
Those old suits of heat blackened armour burning
To give some approximation of warmth, to soothe.
A cenotaph worthy of lives slipped through
Cracks in systems smoulders in the dark, tied
To entropic forces undying when even aeons
Have aspired to their true ends, perforce timing
Victims to take with them, with eyes forever blank.
Vulnerable, the body shakes without its shell,
So many discarded yet not enough, death knells
Struck in air thicker than butane, explosive
Tendencies leading to vile thoughts on those old
Suits of armour, suitable to fit bold pyrotechnics.

Nameless Priest – a poem

I am a nameless priest of dead gods,

Deities with forgotten names, erased

From man’s busy history, disavowed

By those of fickle considering worship.


Mysteries of the bardo are now minor,

An afterthought following sought for avarice,

Those dreams of multitudinous commonality

Realised in sameness and droll banality.


Let us escape, hail once more gods

With names lost to modern tongues,

Draw on manna long musing, entropy-ward trickling,

Become the new gods, the disparate and disowned become deified.

Perceiver – a poem

How far is too far when silence



Thunderous silence, enforced stillness,

Motion without movement, superbly grown

Mass besides size, dichotomy of storms

Forming super worlds, dream talk

Glimpsed on the far ruby horizon.


Did we gaze through difference

Only to find similarities closer

To home than sense common may

Have wanted to allow, to be,



Differences, desire, the growth

Of self compares rare to that

Which others think of us, aura

Outside of our selves, defined

By that infernal web, fraught


Black Hole Society Web – a poem

When the black web of regard looms large,

Shot through with infinite dark forms,

Every movement, every vibration,

All possibilities a concatenation

Fraught and deadly, no joy, only



Frozen by the largely looming mass

Formed from dense relationships,

The collision zone of the black web

Draws in unsuspecting visitors to



No motion may be made herein about

Within the grasping confines wide

Of the black web, grasping, warping,

We tumble amidst forces unseen, visible



Torn apart and frozen by great force,

The web turns on, whirling mass fierce,

While we break apart, the web shatters us,

A storm of sociability made destruction,



What ends lie without the grasping realm

Of that strange whirlpool so horrible?

Few remain to say what went before us,

Torn into streamers, aeons swirling,