There is something intelligent about an animal that only considers it’s next meal and contemplates when and where it might next sleep. The irony is that that intelligence wouldn’t be recognised as such if it wasn’t for a species such as us to be stupid enough to consider all of this in the first place.




I have possibly posted this before. I admit here openly this is not a poem written today, but was written last year. I’m struggling at the moment to write a poem every single day of April. I’ve tried prompt words, nothing is coming. I’m creatively constipated. So I figured I’d find an old one.

Hearts transparent in the crevices of our smiles
Those who know what to look for
Always find
The sorrow lurking behind
The laughter in their eyes
Humour is a bridge
Over sorrow
Transcending us through the waves
Frothing grievously at our feet
Trying to drown us whole
We laugh at the stench of our morality
Becoming clowns in our own rights
Casting illusions over doubt

Invisible man

I am the ghost in between these walls
I write and write
I writhe and writhe
I cry and cry
I scream, I scream
I shout, I shout
I have an entire ocean of

I feel so much
The earth could crack under the weight of my feet
From the pendulum that is my heart
Swinging to defeat
I’m the invisible man
Everyone has another
Explanation for