To the clouds

I opened my pad hoping for inspiration on an uninspired Swansea day, When 3 pigeons came and sat by my side. Bodies wobbling as they made their way to my words. I could see one had a sadness in his eyes, Watching the zombies walk to work, Slaves to a wage. I tell him I’m…

When there is no hand

He stood staring out at the nothingness like a bird at the edge of the world. Gazing at the coming waves and washing away of time. What is out there? What is inside? What will be? I see the questions drowning in his eyes, piercing the passing sails. His shadow shaped like a broken heart…

Swansea

I spent my teens infront a furnace, 9 years of melting away my soul, while Swansea multiplied my sins. Empty beer cans and hollowed roaches painted a puddle of angst on my pavement. Dylan’s city of broken ambition held true to its roots for me. Surrounded by paper flowers whose petals withered away through a…

A Spanish street of somebodys 

Some days it gets a bit too much. The desperation in the broken woman’s face, begging to money tight tourists that beg her to stop. The look of lost love that dresses the skin of the newly born, yet slowly dying widow, sat on the bench beneath the oldest oak. The man who sits on…