A little about me and my blog

In September 2012 I posted my first blog post on another site.  It was a vehicle for me to say what was inside my head but incognito.  To write poetry about my thoughts, my feelings and fears without the world knowing it was me.

The blog in question was called “Poems, thoughts and ideas from an occasionally confused mind”

I stopped writing the blog and decided recently that I wanted to bring it back.  I would still rather be Penname as opposed to saying who I am, I don’t want anyone who knows me to read my thoughts and worry about me.  Dumping my thoughts in this way helps.  So doing it under a pen name is fine by me.

I have accessed the old blog and whilst some of it may feel divorced from the me of today, I am going to post the majority of its contents here just so as to have all of it in one place, to document where I am, where I have been and where I hope to be headed.

I am about to turn 43 and have come to terms with the fact that I am what I am.  I am an ordinary man with a sometimes over complicated thought process that leads me in to dark times, moments of despair and anxiety that cripple me, but I am also a lucky man with support from people that love me.  For that I am ever thankful.  I hope one or two of my poems strike a chord with someone, that someone can realise they are not alone by reading them.  Or maybe someone will just enjoy reading my journey through my poems, to see the ups and downs.  Whatever it achieves I hope its positive.

I would ask that my poems or thoughts are not reproduced without my permission.  Thanks in advance for respecting this wish.  Images on the blog on the whole have been sourced from Google images.  If I have used your image and in doing so abused your copyright or you simply don’t want the picture used, please contact me and it will be replaced right away.

x  Penname.


Make Britain great again

10 minuite walk,
Town centre;
A provincial scottish town.

6 pubs or clubs,
4 pawnbokers
And a host of businesses closed down.

The storefronts tell a familiar story
2 loan companies,
3 casino arcades.

2 pound shop chains
3 accident solicitors
5 lads i will evade

5 betting shops
4 fast food joints
2 phone case stores, yes really.

1 optician
1 restaurant
Both hanging in there dearly.

Very few big high street names
‘Cept Primark
And a couple of banks

And I wonder what it must be like
To leave school here,
Join the adult ranks.

What is on offer to me in this town?
Where’s the future
I’d hoped would be bright?

Not in Betfred,
Or the pawnnshop,
Or the lure of the boozer each night.

What chance do we give to our nations kids
When borrowing and boozing
Are the norm

When pawning your belongings
And filing compo claims
Is the maner to which they are born.

This Scotish town was just unlucky,
That it was here
That i quietly observed

A provincial town like many more,
That our leaders
Seem to have spurned.

Throughout the UK,
This scene is replicated
Over and over again

Yet Westminster tell us
That Brexit will
Make Britain great again.

Instead it forces great divides
Making enemies
Of friends

Whilst in parliament car parks
You cannot move
For Jags and Mercedes Benz

Our government want to keep us down
Keep us borrowing
And boozing

Whilst they go off in summer
To some private island
Or cruising.

Lets not allow them anymore
To tell us
What to think.

Lets embrace our multiculturalism
Black, yellow
Brown or pink.

And stand together
And demand
A UK we expect

Where equality
And justice are
Not just for the select.


A hidden agenda

How many people
Are needlessly

How many grans,
Grandads, sons
And daughters

How many husbands
Or lovers

How many mums,
Dads, sisters
And brothers

Fighting for their country
Or civilians
Just caught

In the crossfire of another war,
Our children’s children
Will be taught

Was righteous & courageous,
Our nations leaders said.

But it won’t be their names
Added to the list
“The glorious dead”

If our leaders donned a uniform
Lead us off to fight

Then believe in their wars
As right for the nation,
At that point i just might.

But they won’t, they don’t
They just sit back and
Send off you and I

Cannon fodder;
Its ok if we die.

But dying for what?
Protecting our home soil?

Or much more likely,
A hidden agenda,
To control the price of oil.

War is not great,
Not glorious.
Those who die will die in vain

Because world leaders,
Soon enough,
Will send us their again




I’m tired at the best of times,

my wife calls me the doormouse.

But when anxiety takes a hold,

I can barely leave the house.


All my energy seems to vanish,

disappear, be gone.

and it’s all I can do to stay awake,

with this conclusion now foregone.


With concentration shot to bits,

depression’s waiting at the gate.

For my body’s defences to go to sleep,

so it can come and seal my fate.


But now i’ve learned to see the signs,

I can sometimes keep it at arms length.

No longer am I totally helpless

and I do have some defence.


Its a fight I can now occasionally win,

I’m not always doomed to submit.

And whilst I know I’ll lose more often than not,

its good that I no longer just quit.

Just thoughts

Not poetry, just some thoughts.

I realise that I am not right, that I have “issues” and that I don’t function the same as others do.  And I realise that I know I have it within myself to make myself better when things get dark.  What I don’t understand is how I get to darkness in the first place.

I read my own poetry and see that I am utterly convinced at times that I have beaten this, that I will come out of the other side and never head back behind that dark curtain, brightness for me from there on in.  But its never the case.  The darkness hides and waits.

I want to understand what makes me this way.  Why can I not just see the joy in life.

15 Hours

15 Hours


Heartbeat today audible

Thumping in my head

Breathing short, stifled

And I’m not yet out of bed.


It’s odd because it feels as though

Everything is closing in.

I know before I’m even dressed,

Today I will not win.


Everything inside my head

Is muffled, impatient and loud.

A feeling I’d love to run away from

But apparently, I’m not allowed.


It’s not a feeling to me that’s new,

Had this since I was in my teens.

It’s like my brain just turns on me,

And to fight, I don’t have the means.


Because how do you fight something,

Something which only you create.

When “IT” only really exists

As a part of your self hate.


OK self-hate, well that may be

A little, a tad strong.

But in the moment, it’s how it feels

Because everything feels wrong.



My head has turned against me,

When what always keeps me sane,

Is being able to rationalise

That it’s just a short-term pain.


And I cannot apply that when I’m like this,

There is no rationale

And it does lead me to think about

A trip to the canal.


Where cold and dirty water,

Shopping trolleys and debris,

Would release me from this torture,

To the next life, pass the key.


Here death by misadventure,

A simple accident or fall.

Could be an inquest’s finding,

Suicide too hard to call.


You see I’d not want those that I

Leave behind me to believe.

That it was them, the reason why,

This earth I choose to leave.


So, an accident, a trip or fall

Would spare some of the pain.

Enabling them to carry on,

To live their lives again.



This day is done, a lot of it,

Spent quiet, contemplating.

Self-recrimination, tears

And plenty of self-hating.


But breathing now has stabilised.

Heartbeat no longer thumping.

As on the couch I close my eyes,

My body now just slumping.


Feel like I’ve run a marathon,

Though in reality I’ve barely moved.

But an emotional 26 miles plus

Is just as tiring I’ve proved.


And then I’ll sit, calm and warm,

And safe, quiet, content.

Whilst wondering where the despair

And hopelessness just went.


In 15 hours I’ve been through an,

Emotional roller coaster for sure,

Now I’ll retire with a cup of tea,

Draw the curtains and lock the doors.


Read a chapter or two of my book,

Be thankful I’m alive.

Then close my eyes and simply wait,

For the sandman to arrive.

Time to move on

Time to move on.
Apart from a few years in your late teens,
when for work you moved away.
Home has always been this place,
where you presumed you’d always stay.
But today you’ve posted paperwork
to your solicitor to state,
Your agreement to both sell your home,
and also relocate.
This concrete jungle of council estates,
the bridge and medieval castle,
rarely caused you any grief,
It was a life of little hassle.
But recently the draw to leave,
Up-root and start again.
Grew more and more as each day passed,
You were leave and not remain.
You grew up here and went to school,
the roads you know them well.
Most of what you did here’s fine,
but you made mistakes as well.
And these mistakes, well they weigh heavy,
squashing the positives in your mind.
and the solution that you feel is best,
is to leave it all behind.
This place it will still play it’s part,
via family in your life.
But it will no longer be a home,
for you and your new wife.
A new life for you on the horizon lies,
it’s definitely time to move on.
To write this books sequel acknowledging the past,
but acknowledging that it’s gone.
The future now is what matters most,
over that you have control.
And I know that you’ll give it your all,
your heart, your body and soul.

Self image

Self image


Self image, as the name suggests

is about how we see ourselves.

About how we feel, self esteem,

the depths were no-one else can delve


And its easy for your self image,

to take a massive dent,

When careless words are thrown your way,

regardless of how they’re meant


And when such words come from a source

unexpected, close and dear.

Self image takes a massive hit,

as it feeds your greatest fear.


That even those closest don’t know,

the real you, inside and out.

two sentences was all it took,

to sew the seed of doubt.


Apparently scruffy is a way,

to describe your daily attire.

And your language in front of the families kids,

well, apparently, its dire.


You’re not expecting to be judged,

so harshly by someone you love.

their words cut like a bolt of lightning,

right through you from above.


And in that moment a relationship,

you had thought completely sound.

can’t really be the same again,

a new positioning has been found.


What once felt like a friendship where,

you were on an equal footing.

Well you’ve just come to realise,

that down on you they’re looking.


You don’t think you’re a bad man,

a good dad, brother, uncle, son.

Someone who would do anything

for the family, for anyone.


But maybe its you who’s got it wrong,

maybe you are what they have seen.

If not then why would they say so,

and so cutting had their words been?


Time to look in the mirror again,

are you the man that you think you are?

or are you scruffy and foul mouthed,

the one who lowers the bar?


Propagated by hate

Originally posted 23rd May 2017

Propagated by hate


I woke this morning to a news alert,

yet another atrocity.

But this time the target was kids and teens,

that’s just wrong, it has to be.


When will the world we live in,

come to realise how flawed

an ideology based on an eye for an eye is,

And how such points should NEVER be scored.


The taking of another’s life,

For me can never be right.

Whether it be as an act of terror,

or a show of military might.


One, you see, perpetuates the other,

gives fuel to the appropriate fire.

Attack after attack, it just gets worse,

and the situation becomes dire.


Life is precious, a gift, a joy,

and no-one has the right.

To take a life for any reason,

when will this world see the light?


Sadly I think it never will,

and greed and power dictate.

That the world will slowly disintegrate

propagated by hate.

and that’s where it paused

I don’t know why but I stopped writing and posting my thoughts, my poetry.  Until 2017.

Quite a break.

In that time I divorced, re-married continued to fight my inner demons and faced some of the most difficult times of my life so far.  And most of that was sadly lost as I no longer sat and wrote about my thoughts.

And then

A concert in Manchester where terror struck in a way we couldn’t have expected as a nation and I found myself drawn to write again.  It is that poem that I posted here as my first entry,  but have now deleted and will post again now to fit correctly in the timeline of my writing.

This entry is like my directors commentary, a linking of things together.  I will try and do this every once in a while.

Thank you for the likes, the follows and the interest shown in my poems so far.

Please feel free to like, comment or make contact if you feel moved to.



Originally posted on Friday, 6 December 2013


From the moment we are born
We’re all in a race.
And the prize that we get at the end?
Its to depart this place
To where though? I have No idea.
Heaven, if you believe
Or if you’ve been a bit of a shit
Hell will give you no reprieve.
But if you’re like me and don’t believe
That there’s an almighty god
Then were do we go, what happens to us
When we’re under the sod?
Was there really no point to this whole life?
Is that really the just end?
Do we just simply stop existing
And become a long lost friend?
Life is a terminal disease
Along the course of life there’ll be highs,
And some painfully crushing lows.
There’ll be things you happily tell the world
And other things that no one knows
About yourself, your feelings,
Or about your inner fears.
About the times you sat alone
and shed your private tears
If you’re lucky enough that you were born
Into a life that’s known love and caring
Then this seemingly pointless race to the grave
Can be okay, be good, be worth sharing
Just share it with the one you love
The one who truly makes you smile.
The one who when you need a hug,
Is the first number you dial
This life is short, of that I’m sure
There’s no cure for its obvious goal
So spend as much of it as you possibly can
With the one who makes you a whole.
Because sadly, life is a terminal disease