Sky God



Sky God gets dressed

behind a grey cloud,

little window of light.

Sky god peeks out whilst slipping on his yellow socks.


Sky God puts the kettle on,

I can hear the lid of the tea pot.

Green tea for him, it makes him yearn for the jungle.


Sky God yawns and scratches a wayward feather on his eagle head.

Am I happy?

He asks himself.


Sky God picks his nose

and drops it through the clouds.

A twinge of guilt ruffles his ribs as he realises they will

blame the birds.


Sky God sits down in his cane chair

with his fine china cup and watches his creation….

he hawks but thinks twice and swallows.


Sky God lights a cigarette….a small vice

and smiles as Chief Yellow Dog

interprets the patterns of smoke.


Sky God looks down at his toenails

and wonders lightly where he last

saw the clippers….?

They must be somewhere!


Sky God finishes his tea and gets up to start his daily chores

as he does this thousands of tiny flowers fall out

of his bum……

‘I must get that seen to’ he thinks,

A worried frown upon his beaky face.

‘Oh yes….’ as he dials his doctors number, ‘better to be safe than sorry.’



Stealing People?


To ‘steal another woman’s man’…

The phrase is old and unreliable

it reeks of guilty blame

and shying away from responsibility.


Stealing; a concept seen cleanly when

speaking of chocolate and cheap jewellry.

Woman; a word associated with shame.


The guilty party is not the stolen nor the thief

but the water upon which the woman states her


the mobile depths

the lack of firmament.


Stealing a man indeed

whoever heard such rubbish.


But what speaks here?


The use of abstract to deny the fact; the reality of pain in this world of grey matter.

Does it?


Matter I mean, really… DOES it?

Do we kill the abstract also, with our guilt.

Our need to claim, to drive our stake through someone elses heart?


It’s not as though I picked him up and put him in my pocket,

then scurried home to get him out

and thrill at my bold action with delight.


Or do we make real the theft

by doing just that in our lonely mind?


Is the purety of experience lost

in the hackles of a jealous thought?

Notice This










Which lips?


Fresh smell



Notice this,

this lip

that lip

kiss lip

fat lip


Love me see me, touch my hips




n o t i c e t h i s i a m s a y i n g n o t o t h i s!


The Paintbrush

The paintbrush sits on pale skin

and slides scarlet over kissing plain

it touches and presses

like time

and strokes the distance

between my fingers and my desire.

Eyelids close and a breath is taken…..


a small movement,

a perfumed step

The paintbrush leaves the skin

hair by hair

and patience tempers the dancing

in my chest

I am the night

and now,

my body is full of stars…….

In Your Hands




In your hands



a temporary prayer

a sweet slice

of merging space


dappled dusk

a glance of playful light


shadowed by grace

through velvet felted umber.

Something More Than Mediocre

Push dangle

wringle wrangle

Fiddle squish

make a wish………………..

Little joker great Heyokah

something more than


Come here,

go away

walk slower,

run faster

fuck you

zen master!

101 ways to

trust you

love you


Find it in the



’Rufus round and  round.’

Sylvester’s magic pebble

his Father finally found

His mother wished

His father kissed









The Edge




breaking up



into bits




pressing in



broken out.



break me

take me…









hard tongue knots.


Broken bits



silver soft

liquid free



Running Water



The River is wanton,

it speaks to me

and I listen.

Restless creature I AM

a mossy rock by this river.

It’s earthy fragrance entices me,

I stand quiet and let it touch my body.

I put my face close so I can feel it’s voice in my mouth and

on my lips.

I love its accent of running water,

Its wonderful gurgle makes me thirsty,

I drink it in.

I like it.


The Chameleon



In the Apple tree after lunch, he sat.

His eyes shimmered and I was a mermaid.

I am what you think I am he said to me.

I am the sea.

I am the shells that shine a maternal pearl.

I am the tears that taste the corner of your lips.

I am salt and air.

I am the dark, red dirt of Earth’s womb.

I am you.

Touch me, lick my surface, bite into me like the apple that I am.

He turned his face away as if to gather his thoughts or breathe.

Then looked into my eyes, storm intense, a shocking lake of liquid fire.

There is nothing between us…..he said and I began to cry.

Not a thing, he repeated, to separate our being .

He pulled me onto his branch then, in the Apple tree, will you sit with me?

The golden hairs on his body dancing in the sun.

And I did

like sugar,

on the tip of God’s tongue.




L  O  V  E

There is love and then there is LOVE.

Love with a little ‘l’ the one that we dream of and wish for.

The one we fear we’ll lose

the one we go to the movies to see.

is like a lollypop,

you suck it,

savour it,

occasionally bite into it but soon it is done.

You might claw at the stick with your teeth to extract the last skerrick of sweetness,

the illusion that was the lollipop is gone, never to be seen again.

Hmmm….. disappointing….

Love with the big ‘L’

the heat beyond the dream,

the truth within the wish,

the one that can’t be lost,

the Love that caused the movie to be made.

It is like the big bang,

the never ending sugar pop,

the kiss of God,

the sparkles that make the air we breathe.

LOVE with the big ‘L’ is the IS that lies at the core of ‘ex IS tence’,

the poem that concedes to You and I as ONE and shares a tear at the beauty of it all.

No thing can be lost when we rest in true love.

No other thing exists.

Take of your cloak and dance with me to the song

that holds US

as it’s harmony.


Silver Poetry

All That Glitters Is Not Gold

Unfettered BS

it is all just bullshit anyway.....


Your Brain is a Radio that Does What its Told

Post Scriptum Poets

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musings on life | bits of psychology | attempts at poetry

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Finely Spun


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poetry that speaks to you

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The Poetry Monarch.

Jeffrey Pillow

Life, death, and everything in between



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Darkness, delusion, smeared with a stick of butter and laughter. Words collide, they bring forth death!

The Lonely Author

Pain goes in, love comes out.

The Realm

well, come on in. bite. chew. spit.

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