Here are some edited, versions of poems written primarily for performance.

Written as spoken word pieces they are designed to evolve, be adapted, improvised around and to be honed over time. As such they may change when you hear me perform them live. that is kind of the point.

The Poet Beanz The Poet Beanz

INK

A poem about tattoos.

INK

Here is where you draw the line

That draws me in

And marks the space

The edge of me

Where you begin

And break the surface

Punching through

With permanence

The sketch

You made

Upon my skin



The bond we made

Will never fade

The trust your earned

By following

A line that leads

Here deep

Within

My heart

And pulls

All those

I love

Back in

Symbols etched

On taut

Shaved skin

Half the joy's

The suffering

Body awash in

Adrenaline

First line work

Then colouring

The tiny pots

The vibrant hues

The cover-ups

The choices rued



The machine buzz

The workshop blood

The vinyl chair

The rubber gloves

The artist's hand

The love and care

The sterile scent

That tints the air

The tattooed beat

Of steel on flesh

The cream to clean

The cling film

On the artwork fresh



New ideas

That sit and wait

Originals

That you create

The flash artwork

The twist

The theme

Tributes

That pour

From waking dreams



The tribal vines

That creep

And spread

Like ivy twisting

Toe to head

The dot-work

Blooming

Pointillism

Decoration

Slowly filling

Décolletage

Pretty flowers

Over years and bodies

Still for hours



Five thousand miles

The swallow soars

The sailors rest

From distant shores

Return and mark

Anchored and moored

To coasts that host

The names of those

We love the most



Dragons,Tigers

Japanese

Cherry Blossoms

Maple leaves

Golden Koi

That swim upstream

Warriors lay

For huge back piece

Waves and clouds

On which Geishas bask

Samurai

And Oni masks





Images mused on

Tough decisions

Tiny marks

Start

Sweeping visions

Restless nights

In which we choose

The bruise

That will not fade

Like wounds

The hours and hopes

And cash we sink

There is still nothing

Quite like

New Ink















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POEMS TO COME

  • TWIT

    The idea for TWIT occurred to me whilst having to absorb yet another episode of Fireman Sam which my youngest (who was about two years old at the time) was obsessed with. It features a character called 'Norman Price' who could test the patience of saints.

    Most of the fires in Ponty Pandy can be traced back to Norman. I usually perform the main body of the poem in an approximation of his whiny annoying voice. (Somebody recently asked me 'why the Alexi Sayle voice?' which I was quietly pleased about.)

    Obviously the whole poem is inspired by John Copper Clarke's TW*T and my even worse approximation of his voice bookends the live performances of TWIT. There is no lifting of lines though. No complete lines from the original, only the spirit in tribute I hope to a legend. The challenge lay in trying to keep it both profanity free but acerbic and I hope fun. I love to perform it.

  • IT POISONS EVERYTHING

    I am not sure if I am an anti-theist rather than just an atheist, but there are times when looking at the irrational , ignorant, tribal divisive violence religion still seems to inspire, that make me quite sure I am much more aligned with such a position than the ‘edging my bets style’ of agnosticism that I adopted in my late teens after a horrendous childhood in a Christian cult.

  • AND THE NIGHT

    This is one of my oldest poems written at a time when walking at night was both a meditative and necessary act. It is as much about the auditory landscape as the visual and of course is a metaphor for the end of our own short time on this planet. The photograph is my own and part of a long scale project about cities after dark.

  • M.I.C

    On the 5th September 1981 a group of Welsh women, a group called ‘Women for Life on Earth’ arrived outside RAF Greenham Common to protest the Governments plans to site American Nuclear Cruise Missiles there and changed history.

  • EAT YOUR GREENS

    This is the poem with which I open most after hours sets. It is an opportunity to pay tribute to poets past and present on the screen behind me and loosen up those vocal chords. Will it work out of context and written down as text? I am not sure but you can decide yourself when it arrives here.

  • Clothed in Garments Soft

    The joys and challenges of fostering when you are neuro divergent.

  • I HID MY PLANS ON POST-IT NOTES

    Daydreaming at work when you are in a factory, warehouse, building site or office repeating mundane mind numbing tasks is something most of us have done. This is a poem about never giving up on your dreams. Your never too old ...even at 50.

    If you are In a cult,religion,marriage,job,contract,band and you don't want to be you can always put on women’s clothes and do the hoovering.

    Do you ever feel like Indiana Jones with a giant bolder behind you or that you are stuck in a trash compactor like Luke, Princess Leia, Chewy and Han solo in Star Wars?Be like Steve McQueen.


    It's never too late
    To escape

  • TREES (You are the Bees Knees)

    A poem about Trees.

  • Know a city by it's people

    An ode to Plymouth through the sculptures and statues on her streets. Monuments, artefacts and plaques that pay tribute to citizens, visitors, moments and events that have helped shaped the city.

  • Boots and Cats and Council Flats

    Beauty within Brutalism and the urban on walks within my home city built the shapes and sounds within this poem

  • Those were the Greys my friend

    What would you do if Aliens visited you? What would you ask them? How do you rhyme extra terrestrial? Why was Mary Hopkins the first release on the Beatles Apple label?