A LIFE ALONE

My heartbreak is exhausting as

I sit alone, missing her, wanting her

Craving her touch, her smile

Her warm sweet brogue of a voice

It is too much for me to handle

When all I want is to see her

Hug her, tell her I’ll do whatever

She wants as long as I can see her

Because I miss her more than

I could ever know or confess too

As my eyes grow heavy, all I want

Is to be with her but her silence is

Deafening and with every passing

Moment my heart breaks just a

Little bit more as I sit, on the verge

Of crying tears of an old man

Who knows that this life is hard

And it seems will be spent alone. 

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A LIFE LIKE YOURS

With life going well for the first time

In a while it’s odd now that I can’t think

Of anything to write

No bad neighbours at which to channel my rage

Against as when life is this good

It’s hard to be the angry old man

Who sits in his room describing a life

That is hard to comprehend

But no not here as the days move on

Peacefully and at last I get it that

No great art can be made from a position

Of happiness so what shall I do

The other night I went out to try and

Rediscover my old self, got drunk

But this time it wasn’t just about the drink

As a young gorgeous girl was becoming

Attracted and I couldn’t really believe it

So maybe I’ll have to change my tone

And get used to writing from a positive

Perspective as this life is pretty easy

As I sit here now, writing with my heater

On, yes a heater to keep me warm

As life becomes easier but will it mean

I lose my soul and eventually run

Out of words to describe this life

As it moves off towards a pleasant

Middle-aged existence maybe just a

Little more like yours.

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HOME SWEET HOME

London I gave you my soul

my life and all my damn cash

all in a bid to stay where I grew up

but then when it all ran out

you shat me out to down here

on the south-coast  where I know

no one and sat in my room

waiting for death;

Once all my money had gone

you gave up on me and flushed me

away leaving me down here just

bored and alone in this soulless

excuse of a town; I was then desperate

to escape, to return to the old

town but that simply possible

right now.

London has changed, that is for sure

a rich persons' paradise it now is

without any sense of soul or rebellion

the things that made it my home

and now, down here, the tidal wave

has begun, drowning us in hipster

shit, craft beards and tattoos are

simply everywhere.

They come from the north, the city

of plenty just up the road where it don't

matter how you make your money

just make sure it loads as the rents

are enough to drive a sane person mad

whilst the drinks are enough to drive a

mad person to the grave

and the tube is somehow more expensive

than all the taxi fares down here.

Brighton you are dying a death of a

million cuts, as the quick march to gentrify

comes at a time when most of us can't

afford a beer; You are driving out anything

of interest which is the reason I landed here

I came seeking a cheaper more interesting

life down here by the sea, away from the

muggers, the bankers, the super-elite

who are all basically the same, ever

desperate for money to maintain their

champagne lifestyle which is slowly

creeping in down here.

This town used to be my kinda place but

now we have people thinking of it as a

cocktail, a dirty martini for pity's sake,

which just makes me more determined to

just plain escape and never more so than

when I come home, to a country where I

must confess I struggle with the language,

but at least here the booze is cheap,

the people friendly and unpretentious

and the sense of community is second to none

so I sit in my room dreaming of what my life

could be like back at home, away from those

who bring me down, leaving me just wanting

to go home sweet home. 

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I THOUGHT SHE WAS GONE

Once we were through she was gone

Gone from the street that we lived on either side of

Gone from my life and that made me glad

As she was one I’d nearly fallen for until

It became apparent that we just couldn’t work it out

We had similar vices, the drinking and the drugging

We loved it all and when we parted she

Told me she wanted to stop drinking

Something it’s apparently impossible to do with me in the equation

Then one day I was stoned, walking through town

When from out of nowhere she was there, almost

Right in front of me, so close we almost bumped in to each

Other but fortunately I noticed her presence before

Her mind realised what was going on and I turned and dashed off

In the opposite direction, worrying how she would react

If she spotted me

Then the next night I was sat in my new local

At the bar and happy with how my weekend was developing when

Suddenly there she was again; walking into the bar with

Her new man.  This time I knew she saw me but it appears

She chose to ignore me as her new man ordered drinks and food

And I just sat and remained as I felt her eyes

Drill through to my very soul until I finished my drink

Got up and walked out, off to drink somewhere else.

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MY ENVIRONMENT

An abstract mess of a painting hangs by its frame

From the upturned leg of my desk

One to stare at and another that’ll never get used

Not here not in this home

Too small this room is for me to really stretch out

So I remain sat in my armchair either scrawling on a pad

Or if the power is on typing freestyle on yet another borrowed laptop

This room is crammed; records, books, films and even a couple

Of cheap pieces of furniture such as this chair on which I sit

And that thing there, the worlds’ most uncomfortable bed

But they’ll have to do for as long as I stay here in this room

Three months from now until then before the whole drama begins again

I guess I’ll work something out

I usually have to.

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I CAN’T SURF

I sit and watch the waves

The gentle surf lapping against the shore

And it makes my mind turn to bliss

To have it back as my view

Now when I sit it’s by my window

And when the traffic calms or late at night

The calm and pleasant sound it brings

Remind me of the very best slow Beach Boys songs

But for me, despite living so close,

I don’t really like the beach where it is

I prefer the beach in my mind

Where there is sand and quiet

The days get lost smoking down by the surf

Getting high near water but without

The fatal mistake of Dennis Wilson

And please just remember you can’t surf

Bradford Middleton