Friday, 27 November 2009


if i could fuck at all
in that bedroom I
I can feel so small
while this is growing
in the back of my head
I draw a quick breath
as the rain hits my neck
to shield short pain my collar is lifted
the fact is my skins a little sensitive
like Feist- i feel it all
but like Dizzee- i stand up tall
as everything i see
is apart of me
mainly the london city
from hobbs to tuff and finsbury
all my writing does embody
everybody but... it's still me
view me by looking through me
see what i see, see if you'd do what i'd do
if you where in my shoes.
(Like you wouldn't wanna sing the blues)
so could you
give two heartbeats to a cricklewood crew
get off the heath but still have a kite hill view
lay beneath the world you want.
give your past no excuse to haunt

Sunday, 22 November 2009

A letter to myself? about two years ago now.

A couple of weeks ago (not really, but lets go with it) I was feeling pretty down. It was just a realization that me and this chick weren't gonna get together. It's not a big deal really. At the time though I was feeling pretty blue about it. Like i didn't want to do anything anymore. So, my friend, he's a good friend but not the brightest dude I know. he invites me out. Though he brings his girlfriend. They just love each other, it's really sweet. Sickeningly so. It was terrible. I was just watching these two be 'in love' in front of me. She even took out her camera and took pictures. Why do that? Some Abhu Grhraib shit right there. They wanted to set me up with their friend, she was also rather depressed about something. A Death in her family I think. I don't think they really thought that one through. Could you imagine? The only thing that would have come from that would be a bonafide suicide pact. I met her once before though, She was quite good looking, but she blacked herself up. Y'know what I mean? Gothic. I don't get that. It's an embrace of death right? I don't really like that. Not one for the embracing. I prefer the ignoring. It's a lot more polite. Why let someone know you're like that though? Vulnerable is what you become. You don't want to do that. If there is advice I could give you, it's don't open up to anyone. Maybe write it down, or one of those letters that you never send or something. But opening yourself will only make things worse. Because people will always let you down. No one is going to love you. No one is ever going to help you out of the whole you're in and no one can ever make you feel good. Live by that, and you'll never have to put yourself in someone's hands. Just love yourself. then, I don't know.
It's weird watching my friends beat myself up over stuff like that. Relationships I mean. I tell them I don't know what the real reason is, like I don't know why they go through it. I know though. I really do. They need that special someone that 'gets' them and stuff. Although I can't really do it. I'd fuck it up. Mainly because I'm lazy. I'm just a lazy guy and I think that would drag people down. I mean, I'm not that lazy, I have reasons for it as well. Maybe it's a cycle or something.  Should check into that.
Also, my friends are young, of course. Some of these relationships are so intense it's insane. I mean really. Where are they going? And some, I see, I know people are going to get hurt because nothing really last's forever. You hope it would. Maybe it's a joy to have those arguments. That would explain it.

or does it? Relationships end, but the people don't. It wouldn't be all that bad perhaps. I'm talking about those 'Ican'tleaveyoueverandwakemeupbeforeyougogo' ones.

Saturday, 21 November 2009


The school was grey
ice cream van was white
the pitch outside was red
we'd go there to fight
other than that there's not much more to say
six years at hampstead school was one long day
i stepped in english once to say- nothing.
no words came when asked to come in
tell the class some poems/lyrics you find interesting
i should have told all how foday was misunderstood
Think foday's no good
only gets by on dumb luck
i should have told them foday's smarter than all of us
because fodays the only one who learnt from the teachers
by learning how to not give a fuck
do the sheet, sit down, don't speak
get in, get out,  they don't expect much
so we accept we're not much, live to wait for lunch
I can never say i've met a teacher from that place
that perspires to aspire to inspire
and if they tell you different they're a liar
and if i tell you i cried there i'd be a liar
for i felt nothing, what heart could they break?
when there's no heart to take?
and she wonders why I'm numb
provoking an angry and ignorant reaction
"bitch you don't know where i've come from"
i sometimes forget the diference between guilt and regret
but i feel neither about pissing on that school the day i left
i only wish my cricklewood crew can spare two heartbeats
for the few dudes who tried to do good, but got beaten down
with old textbooks and suspicious looks.
that so solid crew album. asked for it for my birthday listened to it twice. knew all the lyrics. didn't even like it didn't even want it. i would have asked for something better if i knew what i wanted! (air force ones or jeans with holes)
so yeah give me spring i'd bloom like a flower
winter i'd be cool like the winter river
flowing under an icy exterior
summer i'd let the flames get me even hotter
but give me hampstead school
give me hampstead school
and the best i could give you
is a suicide bomber.
But it made it's mark, and at the very least
i went to hampstead
call me shit
i wont give a shit.

Friday, 20 November 2009

Brimstone ballet.

Kid lifts his head up
To the cloud bursting with water
A beautiful release showering the dirty cement
Absolving the bloody pavement
Then he laughs, realizing
After all these years
He still can’t tell the rain
From the tears

white guilt.

"for all my ------
all my real ------
if you ain't a -----
then get the fuck out!"

fiiiine then!

Monday, 9 November 2009

Come through (be true)

"That's nice"
leaving a once living room, blue shadow of what looks like a lie
the window was a magnifying glass and in the lens
was a truth i did not want to see but it was too big to avoid
I love the feeling of a dreamcast controller.
"Okay, I'll be watching Seinfeld"
the door was a door, but closing it was like a double door
y'know like some sorta metaphor
I've always wanted a dennis bergkamp arsenal shirt
That rustle of tightened bedsheets was louder than a plane
taking off, on a run way, convenient comparison.
I'll always want that shirt
One day I'll be more.

Baby steps.

Two pounds change
spent on chalk farm chicken
with varicose veins
the sky is dark blue
in the type of winter
you wade through
In my hand is a cold can
of mirinda, the poor mans
fanta, but i love orange soda.
The bus comes slightly ahead of me
so i sort of jog and quietly hide my fatigue
It's more of a rumble and my head rattles
on the window. The light blue bus going past
hampstead heath musics played from behind
my seat I'm writing about london clouds
then throw an evening standard away from me
the front cover was about the casualties of haiti.

Saturday, 7 November 2009

good shit from the vault 08

I can’t perform this poem
Unless I’m on a stage
And I refuse to appear in the paper
Unless I’ve made the front page
I wont make a splash
Until I’ve made the grade
Don’t watch me learn
Just wait till my persona is made
And when that time comes
Don’t be surprised if you see a different person
Don’t be scared
Don’t be afraid
Because money changes people
And I’ll be different when I get paid
Oh lord
let this money change me
Let the red fifty pound notes
Take hold over, 
Until I crinkle and fold
So when straightened out
I’ll be both the brave and the bold
Strong as knights from books of old
My presence will be felt around the world
And whenever I’m absent, you’ll be left cold
lets begin
take my eyes, nose, ears, teeth and chin
Take them all and throw them in the bin
And when you see a man with no face
Staring back at you
Don’t be scared
Don’t be afraid
Because if I want to make a living
This is what I have to do
And we will all be wealthy
And I’ll be saved. I’ll be saved.

Friday, 6 November 2009

to my second best friend

drowning my sorrows at a party, her hair
becomes a lamp post, shinning a light
on a night that was so close to being lost
the kid drunkenly walks towards.
"This guy is not a threat"
the club was big but not in V.I.P.
after-work actors do extra acting off-stage it seems
jumping off sofas, rolling on the ground
really, like you're that drunk.
"Actually he's right I'm very unthreatening"

and turned it into a cross between
the best and the worst moments of my life.
for weeks on end you where a friend
then for about a year i was pretty sure
I'd never see you again.
but there was a return.
and life was never the same
we tried for a relationship that wasn't
a relationship. It was rather ridiculous,
you can't tell someone you love them
fuck them then turn around and introduce them
as "just a friend". it was bound to end
and end badly and end badly it did.
with many tears but only from one side
it seemed the love you gave was a lie
for i never saw you care to try
looking back, maybe i tried hard
enough for the both of us.
i put the winter months behind me
and tried with you too
but being without a thunderbolt
was something Lightfoot just couldn't do
it seemed like, to you
I've never been needed
but, i've learnt a few things since i was nineteen
and one is that not all things are as they seem
i think... i think i help. And...
yeah. Keep yourself good. be good. Nah. Keep good.
how do i put this? how do i tell you-you
you're what i think of when i think something right.
you're the light at the end of the tunnel
the smile someone would come home for
the eyes that make a hard life worthwhile
It's never been about the money
It's been about doing what you love
and sharing success with the people you love
and how can i bless if you're not flying with me?
like, flying above?
Like, looking like a dove?
looking good.
Looking like we should
in short,
the more you there is the happier I'll be.
read them. reach out. you'll never be denied
I couldn't if i tried.

Thursday, 5 November 2009

She's close. I'm closer

to everyone
there's another one
and she's ust like the last one
it's ridiculous I know. To be the type who has a type
as i type i wonder if I've got this situation overhyped
but i fell in love with her writing before i fell in love with her
the type of script that was written over a heartbreak,
by one who thought flashy words where a good enough cover
in that world she only has to give a minute
the type of script that thought it could hide it.
my years as a fighter put me in good sted.
heart was a sled
white snow of sorrow.
glide till the end of tomorrow
She sounds and looks the same as my old girl but carries no baggage. so maybe i could manage. yeah, right. like im boyfriend material. I remember being clearly told... talking about feelings bringing me to the kitchen. and even when in the living room i didn't look at her as she drew on her wrists. throwing away each plea i did suggest. so as if. im not. That typeofguy. im a loner. im a loner. that doesn't mean im alo-... yes it does. that doesn't mean i can't enjoy it. that doesn't mean i cant get with someone else. i just have to up the game. more nights out, less looking at this new one. the new one. she's great, you'd like her.. she's good looking, funny and most importantly cutting. never had much of a sweet tooth me. it could work.
she's got a man, I've got something deep inside mocking every move I make, so every time she looks to me, I look away. before love, before, before i thought I had a chance I was charming. I actually remember her eyes. Deep dark green.  i never remember anyones eyes. Apart from The American. Why do the loves of before define the man I am now I could get her away from him. I could charm her away. into  an above chicken cottage life. what would i support her with? I got nothing. fuck. it's ridiculous. no chance.
I just want her. just so, i mean, she's so like the last one. it's so close to being perfect. I can get her. then get her to love me. and then... i can break her heart.
and i can finally be the winner. and watch her cry.
is that so much to ask?

Monday, 2 November 2009

i like your bits

click clack click clack
The sound of my cold walk home
after a chat
a man who didn't really converse
but talk
another night wasted now
how many now is that?
In the cold of the night
I find comfort in memories
when I'd laugh in a chat
dance in my flat. now...
click clack click clack.
I'm looking at the train track
Finsbury park station.
I'm looking at the track.
Thinking about how i'd look
laid out on that click
click. clack. click, clack.
The train will arrive
In two minutes time
and I've click clacked
past the yellow line.
such a stupid idea.
It'd really hurt and I'd definitely die
but the feeling of pain begins to appeal
to one who has forgotten how to feel
and the train is roaring towards me.
I haven't moved back
And the train is getting closer.
that dudes voice is in my head.
man he got me mad
is that how click i want clack to go out
because of him?
step back clack click man I'm thick.
the wind from the train
is like a slap in the face.
fucking idiot. That really would have hurt
i would have died!
click clack click clack.
the sound of my boots
walking home after a chat
Of course I wouldn't have
... killed myself
but i still cry a little
for thinking about it.
to fall like that,
and then get hit.
on how cool it would look.
if it was being filmed.
if, my life was a film.
Some sort of romance to the desperation
some sort of arc to the character
a third dimension
a story
an end.