I live in Fareham on the south coast of England, although I was born and raised in Littleborough, Lancashire.
My writing started in earnest when I was asked to write some lyrics by my Daughter to a song she was working on. I went on to write over seventy songs, some of which she will return to at some stage hopefully, but not before she has given the acting a real shot.
There is a YouTube clip of my Daughter singing the song I wrote called ‘Platform666’ should anyone who hasn’t heard it fancy a little listen.
Around ten years ago I found myself writing in poetic verse and have since written around six hundred pieces. Although for eight of those years I wrote predominantly in rhyme owing to the lyrical straggle hold.
However I have written in many styles since exploring the art and find that free verse allows me the freedom to tell the story of a piece and so I prefer to use this method.
I continue to learn from many poet friends, most significantly; Clifton Redmond, who understands the journey I am on and helps to hold back my ambiguous nature.
This piece is intended to relate to the religious and political madness that sends young men and women to their graves
Mislead pilgrims, marching onward,
as labelled soldiers fall in line
soulless, sightless, the grand illusion
broken bones beneath the shrine.
Nervous laughter, cries from trenches
thoughts of love, and arms extended
taken chances in the moment,
ashen faced as gas descended.
Solitude amongst the masses,
sodden branch to light the fire, as
pure at heart subside, with honor
despairing howls fade on the wire.
Fondly breathing in the vapor,
fibers twisted, knuckles white,
taking refuge in the rushes, with
sadness blocking out the light.
Nearly perfect, almost flawless,
exogenous to tribal law,
a vision altering direction
wrapped around a fateful flaw.