On Being Literate 

What a wonderful place the Internet is!

Where we can fall in love with carefully selected photos and a constructed persona. 
Where we can be read like open Facebooks. 
Wooed with words, music and wit. 
Plan, draft and edit our off the cuff comments and replies. 
Write to an audience of whom we think we’re talking to. 
If ever there was a time to teach our children the power of being literate,
Now is it.  



Intelligence could not influence me,

The real world,

Was the solid walls against the sand.


Went in and out with the tides.

The sun,

Rose behind me and set on the bay.

And I

stood like a cliff,

comparatively motionless,

In Watergate Bay.

The tides went through their turns,

And moulded me.

I faced the sea,

My back, for two months, against convention.

Not ignorant,

Just escaping.

Discussions, directed at my degree,


Degrees to me in Watergate Bay,

Passed the marks on a thermometer.

The established knowledge in my mind,

Constructed with blocks of books.

Stood in my heart

Like a tower-block.

And as the tides passed,

The tower block transformed.

The waves washed its sides;

Eroded me.

Storms almost wrecked my will –


I stood on the cliffs,

Like a cliff.

Part of the coast,

Part of the cliff.

The water, whirling away abstract thoughts,

Left me with the world.

The sea, pulled me to it,

To catch me in reality.

And although the temptation enticed me,

I declined its impulsive invitation,

Returning regretfully,

To reconstructed reality.

But in the world of brick, roads,

Buses and taxis,

Into which I externally fit,

Internally my world is waiting.

I will be a cliff in the city,

Until once again

This cliff

Matured by the waves of words and books,

Can stand

And be bewitched by the sea,

Then follow its motions

Across the earth.

Watergate Bay 1989

Anticipated Eruption


Emotional confusion.

I want you,

I want you, more than ever before.

I love you, denial is half hearted.

Can I have you, hold you, hate you?

Despise is now half hearted.

You love me,

Lead your heart away, from the head

That governs you.

Throw yourself gale force at me.

I’ll stand and adore

The wind that flies my hair and soul,

Awakens my emotions

And blows away any reservations, ever.

I watch you, in your deepest darkness

And I yearn.

I yearn for the climax,

Of all the passion

That has been bred in your body.

I want it to embody me.

I’ve caused it,

Let it happen.

Greedily devour me, satisfy my hunger.

Set free the love that has become

Claustrophobic in your mind;

It tortures you, let it torture me too.

The love we have is both damned and deep;

Let us leap from the ledge,

And drown in it.

Silent Thunder



Lightning flashes, cloud to cloud,

Sparks fly across the spaces.

This charge has served to fuel

Desire and searches for open places.


The deafening sound of silent thunder

Pounding in the air.

Heavenly static, enticing lure,

Rolling shadows, in the glare.


Billowing out, one nudges the other

Mixed air, it shrinks away.

But fingers and thoughts entwining

Grey mists begin to play.


Rolling, turning, merging, leaving,

As two lovers the air caresses.

‘Till consumed with each other’s powers

All tranquility it suppresses.


Energy, more powerful and selfish,

United this storm can proceed.

To tear up unsuspecting nature,

And satisfy its greed.


It will whip around in its frenzy,

Spoiling Mother Nature’s loves.

Rip out the heart of what was stable,

With its powerful, selfish shoves.


And when all are but exhausted,

There will be debris strewn and scattered.

Leaving all breathlessly wondering,

About what really mattered.






Skate Park


In to the gated den.

Gleaming wheels whirl.

I ignore the

breaking voices that shout

“Fuckin hell, tosser..ha ha ha”

Next year’s dudes in floppy woolly hats

fly from ramp to ramp.

Bikes, boards and balls

create missiles…….

Can I do this? Stay the distance?

Without embarrassment?

At the top of the ramp

my heart is pounding

I try to look cool…..


Screeching wood signals

the end of each intrepid ride.

Shaking hands

Sweat on my palms

I can’t bottle out yet!

Shrugging off a graze

Wincing as a boney buttock

hits the deck.

Biting my lip as excitement mounts.

Speed……..triple jumps and grinds

I ride them all out

with an air of outward calm.

My flesh and blood

smash up all over the park…..

Until I can tempt them away

with the bribe of an ice cream.

A Moving Sculpture


Perfect image in my head.

Us two

Lying in bed.

Sunshine streaming through the blind

Onto the bed sheets, that last night

Spread around us,

A sea of ripples

As we found each other again,

And steered ourselves to oblivion.

As always.

Our skin the map,

Our souls the pilot.

The destination, perfect and untainted.

And we lie there,

Total sublimity; stirring,

In the light and warmth of our sleep

In which we mirrored each other’s movements,

As we rolled and caressed

The contours of our limbs.

Where we kissed as sleep walkers and

Moaned as we moulded

A monument, of love.

Our creation,

Full of energy and light,

Sparks to life and moves itself.

Hands reach to touch.

Lips brush with lips.

Arms gripped and we slide

Into the swell.

Thighs against hips,

Breath into ears like seashell hush.

Every stroke blurring the lines between

The separate parts that form it.

Us two,

A moving sculpture,

Of perfection.


Dreams shattered
Guilty of 
Loving too much. 
Whilst yours was only reflection;
You never loved my soul. 
In debt because I rescued you 
And rearranged your bones;
Breathed life into your cold winter. 
Mourn the season’s passing, 
As I open my palm
And let the wind blow the dust.