never fear the sun that sneaks into your morning window,

he is an old friend from the ash of your yesterdays,


with his slender arms and ghost-like touches helping

bring back the golden years of your iridescent spotlight


that can rid the snarkiest of frostbite,

of your beauty and leonine might


that your former beaus used to write

about after declaring love to you every night


you are poetry refined, spirituality solidified,

a kaleidoscopic lionness dignified by love of her pride


spotless glitter

all over elegant clutter




and be everyone’s best kept secret

once again


“Free Pass”

drifting off

zipping brown

dancing green

driving away

just being


forgetting deadlines

singing choruses

listening to

beating hearts

passing days

sleeping around

releasing tension

among others

cursing off

letting go

of responsibilities

of inhibitions

you thought

once locked

you down


what nice

temporary fantasies

to keep us asleep

from the harshness

of the realities

calling us

like an alarm clock

breaking out of snooze

“Gold Linings”

Tube strikes didn’t care at all that day.
Sprinting from Piccadilly to Gower Street,
you’re in the interview of your life all sweaty gotta pee what is oxygen,
with the residential nerves all dragged out from the run.

Get home, get the sniffles from the February showers,
oversleep the alarm again, back to water diet, resort to social media
for entertainment, sneezing your way to a freshly posted ad:


Yet you’re still too tired to fulfil your fourth promise
to support your star-studded friend in her singing pageant.
Turns out the world just wasn’t ready for you to meet her band
and her singer friend who’ll you’ll fall in love with come September.

Look out the curtain, spring is peeking through the clouds,
unemployment cuts your schedule to nothing, but you have the bus money for it.
Check with your friends down Roehampton for some laughs,
and you forget what was so bad all along.

First published on Parallel Ink Issue 2, Vol 2 (2014)

“Blasé Blues”

The fun part is about to be over
Gravity your head is pulled
to fro every other direction
Your mouth speaks but you hear nothing
The clock’s stagnant time’s disappeared
time has stopped (that’s how it feels anyway)
and it’s ours to play with
Thoughts and words copulate
emotions step on oneanother
not knowing you’ve lost your grip
of almost everything
You know that secret you’ve been
hiding for yourself
Well don’t worry
that’s what friends are for
Memories oh god damn memories
all come stampeding back even though
you can’t even remember your
own two feet
The fun part is over prepare for the pain
But come on you know
you had a good night

Excerpt from Lost in London


the last fall hit me on the head
and that should have been my lesson
but my head wasn’t split open?
so why should this hurt me?

there is a light
within those portals
mortals call your eyes
that make it so impossible
to correlate your name
with the breaking of hearts

and even after your third no
to my promises to love you
with all the strength my old dog of a heart,
it persists to bounce back;

you remain true
a combatant against my blues

and even if the paths
don’t let us walk the same one forever
and maybe one day someone will
wake me up to love them instead

but for the time being
you’ll forever be
my poetry pedestal
my coloured dream come true
my antidote against the winter monster

and there it is
my heart is yours
my breath caught in you