Saturday, March 31, 2018


I used to write a lot of poems that started with the words
'I look out my window' and would invariably get to talk
About the sea, the people walking pass and how it all affected
Me but here I sit and all I can see is a bulging stack of films
And a bunch of walls and the merest hint of a sky from the
Top of my window all offering very little inspiration until now.

Now I sit, composing these words, and look up and out and
The grey drabness is all enveloping from the shade of those
Walls to the dankness up there in the sky suggesting that
Spring still ain't arrived.  Occasionally I stand and the outlook
Ain't much better as then I get to see our awful backyard and
The one thing that truly inspires, the saddest looking plastic
Bear anyone will ever see.  He sits grimacing, just like me up
In my room, surrounded by weeds and a beaten-up bench
As if he knows he'll never escape and again I think he's just
Like me.  Sad, alone knowing that his situation will never change.


The dryness of January is soaked to the skin
On a Saturday night when nothing else will do
And the need, desire and willingness to just go out
Get blasted, get fucked up and stagger home
Could not be resisted and for once I knew from
The moment I left my room that
Sunday would bring with it horrible memories
And a head that hurts oh so much all because
This drunk knows just what drinks to get
To ensure some marvellous drunken fury
A pint of that, a double of that, another pint
Of that and simply repeat, repeat and repeat
Until the point where I know it'll be safer
For me to stagger off home than risk the
Stairs, the ever so steep stairs that if you
Should fall that'd be that and trust me this
Drunk just wants to keep on drinking
Saving the bitter end of dying until much
Later in this drunken life of mine.


The dog downstairs whines and wails
until, at last, the peace comes only to be
destroyed moments later by a harsh
barking fit that leaves me convinced
the poor thing is down there alone again,
just like me sat up here the room above
as his owners leave him to squat their
space allowing them time off to enjoy
their lives away from the worries of
being held responsible for something
more important than their Instagram
account which no doubt will be a dog
lovers paradise full of cute looking pics
of a dog about which they no longer
care as downstairs the wailing and barking
begin again, desperate for release and
freedom from this evil situation.


A smile creeps across my face
Smirking with the knowledge
That it is back, the muse has
Returned as the words come
Tumbling out.  This is the third
Sheet of imaginary paper I've
Destroyed this morning and it's
Still only just gone eleven and
That makes me so very happy.

Let's just hope number four is
Going to be better than this, I'm
Sure it will but now I'm just happy
To see these words flood out.


The weed crumbles into paper and tobacco
As i yet again prepare for another high
Just another high in a life spent hitting the ceiling
Dragging me towards thoughts of sleep
As the weed works its magic, a magic elixir
Destined slowly to drive me insane as
It grips me, sends me nodding all the way out

This smoke takes me out further than any i've
Smoked for years and years, out to a
Psychedelic wonderland of elevations and downright
Despair as it melts my mind until i can't
Understand what the hell is going on
And all i can think of is nothing, a blankness
That seems all consuming.


I was bored of my four new walls
So rolled a joint and decided to go for a walk
The night was closing in
And with summer here the air
Still reeked of its freshness
As I stumbled again along the seafront
As far along as to be near the pier
But then those girls I saw around me
They got me thinking, feeling horny
So I walked back to the street of ill-repute
The one named St James’s
I decided to get in one of the bars
The duck quacked at me even if only for a half
And maybe a shot at which point
I turn and notice there is no one else in the room
So out I go and spark the loneliness
I walk back towards my room
Smoking that loneliness whilst bored and alone
That is until I land at the door of my beloved tavern
Then it happens as a woman I recognise
She comes over and says “Hi”
Stoned and lonely I engage her in chat
She follows me in as I decide to grab another drink before she
Then follows me home, smokes some of my weed
And eventually she goes off into the night and with this one

I don’t really mind if I don’t see her again.

Bradford Middleton

Helpless I do not know if good intentions prevail among the elected, among the appointed, leaving me apprehensive that the fate ...