lucy let go

a pigeon who marshalls
a hall of endless queues
lost laptop tizzy dash,
fined for excess baggage
bang to rights.
unlike lucy letby
who should be lucy let go
over doubts so reasonable
that incarceration
can not be condoned
there is no greater evil
than the power of the state
wielded against justice.

this is a bit light hearted for a protest poem, but i do think lucy letby’s conviction is unsafe. i think we are too trusting of a criminal justice system that is deeply flawed. i have jury service tomorrow and will try not to propagate any further such miscarriages. if in doubt, one must acquit.

the lost laptop tizzy dash — this was the first time this happened to me. my laptop was the same colour as the airport security tray. so i just left it in the tray. then had a nervous pang an hour later and ran back and luckily the security people had found it and returned it to me. then a few months later, at a different airport, i did the exact same thing.

obligation iii.

overwhelmed by the burden
of reciprocal generosity
a pang, an anxious smell,
the sense of what childhood felt like
tiramisu, creamy goo,
live laugh love
like death from above
trigger habit, sunny meditation,
why did i feel
so undeserving of love
get a kingfisher peacenik
from a funky beatnik
a bus comes to pilot us back
fifty times bigger than we needed

happy valentine’s day. i hope it wasn’t alienating for you. i hope you have romantic love in your life, if you want it. but more important are the other loves. self-love. love of your fellow humans. love of the animal kingdom and the plants that nourish us. love of the sun and the stars and of the weird place that the universe is.

growing up autistic is confusing and traumatic. being loved is difficult when you have low self worth. but everyone deserves love. every human, every plant, every creature, has intrinsic value.

lanzarote iv.

fly a magic carpet ride
on the greenback camel trail
and bury my radar
deep at wounded knee
boquerones on the lounger,
bocadillo by the sea
agree to be fleeced
for an airport charter
nintendo cheesecake
or deep fried mars bar
waitress seems genuinely surprised
by everything we say
or order
last day jog 12k
no joint issues
hoppipolla yoga

i love eating cheese sandwiches on holiday. with a little tin of beer. then a little cake. or ten. bike rides, lounging in the sun, loads of carbs. feeling very tempted to abandon writing for the day and book a holiday.

web

@poet’s corner, 21 jan 2026

web. the web. it makes me think of the culture war that’s been vibrating my pocket since about 2013.

i’d just read primo levy’s masterpiece ‘the periodic table’ and was touched greatly by it. the vile inevitability of war, hatred and suffering, coexisting, always, with the fantastic beauty of the cultural world. as the bombs dropped, the poets mined further into the dark.

the culture war will exist forever. because there will always be the poetic and the curious on one side, and the bullies on the other, who think that poetry and irony are an affront to them. but they can’t win. there will always be poetry.

this is called

atlas tugged

earth is comprised 

of water, mud and metal

so is the human body. 

and as we pump pollutants into the air

we literally incorporate them, 

a singular ticket to where?

i’m in my prime and, 

unlike miss jean brodie, 

atlas tugged

people expand in space to take it all

when i just want to be so small

hitlerism is coming back 

and i’m as depressed as i am scared 

as we lazily recycle a century’s 

old colonial nightmare

my next tenuous link is that we are born into a complex, kafkaesque web of demands and constraints that nobody can really make sense of. a complicated global mass of billions sort of winging the rules as we go. but as a child, i guess i thought someone was in charge. turns out, nobody really is.

this is called 

obligation, parts i and ii

as a child the buildings §

and roads scared me

in their scale

the work of a million lifetimes,

where did they come from?

and what was my obligation?

all my life i’ve suffered

discrimination

just because i’m shy and lazy. 

and inattentive

imperceptive, defensive

stand offish

and prone to mischief.

well, today i made 

a lovely little loaf. 

am i a valid toiler?

instead of, 

or as well as, 

a poetry mine despoiler?

have i met 

my productivity minimum

am i entitled to a break yet?

i posit that if workers suffer 

ceo’s should go to jail

follow the money to personal wealth 

and pierce the corporate veil

i am terrible at job interviews. i am naturally averse to self-celebration, and not fast at thinking. a bit overly literal. dumbfounded by even the most predictable tell me about a time when. however, there is one question that i could answer endlessly – tell me your greatest weakness.

this next piece picks up the idea of the poetry mine. are dictionaries tangled webs of poetry, and is it our job as poets to untangle those words, and spin them back, into their right place?

this is called

reverse engineering

every poem, novel, recipe 

and joke 

exists quiet in the ether

the poet doesn’t create 

she discovers; 

with a notebook she uncovers.

a subterranean homesick miner,

reverse engineering blueprints

of a universal designer

following on from that, this is sort of the philosophy of the common law legal system. when judges set precedents, they aren’t creating laws… they have applied legal principles to novel situations, and hence sort of, found law that isn’t new, just they never had to use it before, so they didn’t know about it.

so this is called 

a very short poem about the criminal justice system

convicted, bailed,

acquitted, jailed,

the four court outcomes

how nice that they rhyme

so it’s easy to write poems

if you’re on trial for a crime 

and i would recommend writing poetry if you are going through that sort of experience. trial, divorce, diagnosis, bereavement. lots of good material.

i’m returning to web as internet. calling back to web 1.0, circa y2k.

this is called

the failure and possible redemption of language

we don’t yet have the language

for the time in which we live

the 2010s, the 2020’s, 

don’t feel lived in like the 90s

like naturally stressed 501s 

two sizes too big 

in each direction

y2k was the last mass adopted nickname

there is no confidence yet

in the unfolding millennium

so i propose a radical redetermination 

y2k of d2k, 

then d2k.1, 

now 2k.2, 

or, i posit “point two” 

in practice 

that’s all from me

lanzarote iii.

lizard pulse pathos
and egrets on the gravel cut
fling a ring around the thing
regret declined burrata
fact checked on carbon i rediscover
archaeomagnetic dating,
did you know the poles
will switch
and north will
become south.
prohibito biciclette
celestial waves
lapping rusty mounds
baps boobing
a breasty boundary
round emphysema
cowboy country

before i went on the bike holiday i’d had a period of poor health that culminated in a trip to the hospital and a spinal tap. i was on medication for migraines, but it made me sluggish and slowed my heart rate down, so i started the last climb of the day a bit ahead of my pals in case i struggled. i was fine, but i got lost and had to reroute my way back and i went over some very sketchy ‘gravel’ roads. quite stressful. being lost in the desert alone is not what i hope for.

lanzarote ii.

el grifo abandonado,
aquapark de los muertos
pizza tres quesos,
no blue,
snide salad.
poolside morning yoga
and think about the future
fall asleep in my clothes
fresh from the waffle shop boys
sick in the toilet at midnight
maybe thanks
to the waffle shop boys

i eat a lot of cake on cycling holidays. on this occasion, i think the late night waffle after dinner was a refined carbohydrate too far.

lanzarote i.

exhausted by the tyranny of choice, 

unable to sleep

four alarmed hours, 

panic 

then mile-high boredom.

bad pizza is still kinda good, 

parched stroll less soo

cacti burrito, 

a visage 

of the village 

in the mirage…

reinforcements parachuting in

petulant torrents of surf, 

energía de la patata grande

pumice piss, 

curtain of cliffs 

and scattered sand 

past the chain-gang (squared)

by fag ash straits 

of jagged lava, 

literal poetry in motion

i’m not much of a photo person. i’m not sure why, as i have total aphantasia which means i cannot see anything in my mind. i can’t just look once at the view and recall it forevermore.

maybe i should. but this disability has meant my internal world has always been dark and wordy. so when i’m on holiday, i like to record the holiday in poetry. this short series describes my cycling holiday with friends in lanzarote last year.

why i support scottish independence but only if i get to be in charge

i long to modernise scotland
to the revue of my imagination
to restrict actors to a single role
depiction in our nation
and making them legally change their name
to the one they portray in fiction
punishable by death
and claiming global jurisdiction
then i will reduce the toothbrushing time
from two minutes to 90 seconds
and thus sanction my cohort
to luxuriate over breakfast
then i will retire to
the camper-van i’ll embezzle
proud of my augmentation of
our cultural endeavour

this won’t make me especially popular but i don’t support scottish independence. i think we live in an age of empires. that sovereignty is meaningless in an era where the usa might invade greenland. i don’t think independence will make the average voter more powerful. we should accept our powerlessness and work towards global government within whatever existing supranational structures available to us.

but if independence does happen, i would like to be president and these are my main policy priorities.

haw yuppie

i shout haw yuppie at a prefect
on a flip phone
citizenship is over,
we are now brand ambassadors
sold off forever,
forever strong and stable
wrap up warm for the gilet years
lasagna al forne and an afternoon of beers
it’s like 10 thousand spoons
when all you need is the bus fare to partick
ah well, we’ll get there in the end

how come nobody says yuppie any more? is it because social mobility was like a once off event that only benefitted a small number of baby boomers?

remember when only poseurs had mobile phones? remember when it used to be very difficult to find a recent enough photo of yourself to use as a profile pic? i was just flicking through my photos there, and they are thin on ground until about 2010. very little record of my many fashion missteps over the years.

all the king’s memes

i despair we are so selfish
in such a self defeating way
meritocracy is not
a real-world thing
it’s a pump and dump town
and there’s new mayor in clown
so double down
to top trump
they say
all the king’s horses
and all the king’s memes
couldn’t repair humpty’s
defective genes
he pulls fascist faces
and pardons racists
we can only prey
for a ceasefire that sticks

a new leader had been ennobled and he was promising to end wars while at the same time pardoning violent people who were in prison for storming the capitol. a mockery is being made of the rule of law. corruption is open, bragged about. it’s depressing. so turn the news off and write some poetry.