Why do real men go to war?
Why do real men bounce back for more?
Why do real men like to stay in bed?
Why do real men think chivalry is dead?
Why do real men not think of God?
Why do real men take a friend in a dog?
Why do real men wear women's dresses?
Why do real men read their wives confessions?
Why do real men need a Searchlight?
Why do real men have trouble being bright?
Why do real men drink so much?
Why do real men have a sweaty crutch?
Why do real men like all the sports?
Why do real men cut pajama cords?
Why do real men like to go fishing?
Why do real men say "Gee the water's cold" when they're pissing?
Why do real men drive so fast?
Why do real men want to go last?
Why do real men grow their hair?
Why do real men cry when they're no there?
Why do real men form clubs?
Why do real men own all the pubs?
Why do real men chew gristle and bone?
Why do real men hate the phone?
Why do real men find women attractive?
Why do real men feel attracted to the jacksy?
Why do real men call themselves manly?
Why do real men chastise the saintly?
Why do real men do all the work?
Why do real men clean and jerk?
Why do real men like greasy food?
Why do real men think "Tits and arse" is rude?
Why do real men hate brussel sprouts?
Why do real men avoid the bar-room shouts?
Why do real men stay behind the scenes?
Why do real men ignore the Queen?
Why do real men die all alone?
Why do real men feel cut to the bone?
Why do real men shave in the morning?
Why do real men hear the afternoon's warning?
Why do real men have holes in their socks?
Why do real men have skid-marked jocks?
Why do real men pick their noses?
Why do real men see themselves in garden hoses?
Why do real men feel obliged?
Why do real men know their mates lies?
Why do real men cook at bar-b-cues?
Why do real men leave the seat up in the loo?
Why do real men like the taste of fish?
Why do real men carry the life-long wish?
Why do real men drive big cars?
And lastly
Why do real men always go too far?








To be black velvet and ease her hurt
to take away the loss
to be something else.

They'd grown up so young
now to be no more
to not be allowed to be old and to remember.

She's shaken
and if I could still the tremors with a word or deed I'd earn my spurs and still a dragon forever.

The shock sits heavy.
Time lifts the weight but adds the maybes as memories know the truth.










You lurk in the shadows, the dark parts of my mind
I'd shine for you now if lightness I could find

Press me, preserve me
Taste me, don't waste me

You sit in the corner nursing the glass of your dreams
distance and time we're apart not as far as it seems

Tease me, please me
shove me, but love me

Where did you go with your gang you're away?
You change as I change we're both different each day

Beat me, berate me
believe me, don't leave me









One day the gift arrives outside your door, the next you're gripped by an overwhelming urge to nail yourself Christ-like to a life so full of downs that even sideways would be an alternative.
The gift, like sight only more wondrous, like taste only far more subtle and less prone to teeth-gnashing over bitterness. The sense of hearing unable to approach its richness, while it seems all those unpleasant odours are removed for good.
I've checked the label a hundred times over and still am unable to find the sender.
The wrapping that covered its plain exterior shed, what two going onto three years ago, and as unmissed as the ones caught in its silvery reflection.
Although over watering caused worry when appendages became sodden a good dose of light and a little consideration rekindled the vitality I knew dwelt within.
The gift itself was LIFE.









With footsteps ringing hollow on empty lamp-lit streets
from the shadows a form walks out, the one you're out to meet.
You talked a while, the shuffling stance, as nervous hands founds pockets
then move off to find the place to be while the clock's tick-tocking

Passing by others with the same intent unable to meet your gaze
then you're there with business done in your nakedness do you laze.
The offering up of herself to you as if you're a Earth-locked God
then asked of pleasures and what delights, your answer a single nod

Lost you are away in time, alone the eight limbed beast
you arise for air amid the reeking flesh on which it is you feast.
Outside these walls, the bed itself, all humanity could be dying
but while you're here entwined as one you'll fail to hear their crying.