stars

stars,
in the window
dazzling bright lights
between the roar of the motorway
and the place i live
with the knowledge
the Refinery is all that there is
i had the good thought
to witness this
vision of a city - scape
that would shame a metropolis
a series of smoking chimneys
mistaken for towerblocks
the illusion glimmers
like a view from above
across the town i live
the bonfires burn.

new address

hi there and welcome to Dead City Streets, a blog writing from and about the streets of Merseyside.

i have recently changed address to a new part of town, facing out across the industrial area of ellesmere port. the view from my window is reminiscent of Blade Runner and i hope that is what i am creating from my workstation, situated in my kitchen of my apartment.

newcomer's to the blog should check out the most recent entries and maybe buy my book - Dead City Streets from Amazon, (the link is available on the right hand side of the page - click the image) and then go on to have a read of the rest of the poems available on this page and the others'.

the purpose of my writing this blog is to explore my diagnosis with paranoid schizophrenia, my hallucinations, my worries, anxieties and fears - all stuff that may remind you of some difficult period of your life when you, yourself tripped out on the doubts you may have had over your earlier years of being an adult.

i dont mean to make anyone afraid or repulse some widely held opinion. i merely hope to give my opinion on topic issues such as those found in the newspapers, the web, on TV and elsewhere in the media, but all with a schizophrenic slant. satire and hypocrisy to the utmost!

but still, i hope you enjoy your stay here with some of the most crazed and contraversial witterings on the net.

this isnt in vain, i am sure to have at least one nasty incident before my creative urges send me to oblivion.

but then we wouldnt be having fun, would we?

schizoid neighbours

from raging, haunting and shameful beginnings
i listened till the tortuous, bitter end
plumbing the depths to find the firstborn.
and though i implore my certainty
i ignored the noise, distracting me from slumber
though i could not demand the resolution
that she was in fact not one of my own.
and to the one thing that plagues my conscious mind,
'Lies!' i scream,
mindful that others' are watching me
listening and repeating those cussed words
even when i dont sleep sound.
but the clairvoyant knowing,
makes my blood boil
each time
the raised voices make themselves heard.