The Vagrant

Beneath the news he lay to sleep
Upon politely absent down
Within his makeshift castle keep
The public, private clown.
The world wends about his feet
Ignorant of his dream
To laugh, to bathe, to calmly eat
And to a man beseem
Again the day, again the night
Again the naked chill
Beneath the news, upon his plight
The world evades him still


changing the clocks

stars don’t look the same
the sun has lost its shine
it’s like we’re living in a different world
the kings are leaving
the queens are gone
transition is the new dirty word
the new drivers are here
with their beautiful hair
and their beautiful gift of denouncement
it’s the way of the world
renewed and recast
it’s like a hastily arranged enthronement
bow down before them
new gods of the divine
as they tear down the temples we made
they will build their own
for new kings to disown
when the stars in their sky start to fade


please don’t ask me
to be the strong one
I can’t fight the falling rain
I’ll stay the storm
‘til the day is done
or the sunshine rises again
strength may come
or strength may go
maybe that day will never rise
I’ll wait and hope
and salve my sorrow
as we say our long goodbyes

The Ignorant Smile

She smiles a counterfeit kindness
With gender on her mind
Age fear, becomes her blindness
Unknown and undefined
She doesn’t know him, doesn’t care
What lies behind his smile
Because he’s a man with greying hair
He’s a danger to her child.
So she smiles a dishonest rainbow
Filled with shades of black
She only feels unknown disdain so
She calls her baby back.

Once Upon a Politician

We live our lives within versions of the truth
Smoking their bespoke definitions of a proof
Proudly living life like a sad, cuckolded stray
Supplicant to manipulative makers of the day

Our paths are planned with an ignorant smile
As we’re turned and twisted like a radio dial
Reaching our destination in bewildered haze
Like prizes to the show, or cattle to the graze

Where were you in the near death of equality
mercilessly slain by the “in it together” allegory
obfuscating the bullshit of their ordinary deceit
inequality of the masses and the bloated elite

Mr & Mrs Shallow

Mr Shallow is on the move I guess
Under the beautician’s knife
He’s got new neighbours to impress
With his painting by numbers life
And box fresh Barbie wife.

No mundanity for Mrs Shallow either
She wears the bullshit so well
She thinks everybody wants to be her
Suppose you never can tell
What rings her fucking bell

Think I’ll stay happy with what I’ve got
In my boring, perfect existence
I’ve hit my nail on the head somewhat
I kinda landed on a sixpence
With my little life of substance.