Mushroom Head

Mushroom head is full of scare

There’s a goat stuck up my nose

A nightmare’s in the wardrobe

Where a cabbage normally grows.


A bus slides past, on its roof

Down the icy street of blood

Monsters in my mushroom head

Want to suck my blood.


My brain – it ain’t that normal

Since psychosis settled in

I’ve let it have the front room

And I live in the bin.


The doctor don’t know what to do

He’s given me some drugs

But the nightmare took them off me

And fed them to the slugs.




It stood there and laughed

With dark and hollow eyes

Then told me very calmly

“I will turn you into pies”


It forced me into the kitchen

And took a knife in hand

“Don’t speak to me like that again”

“I hope you understand”


“I’m not your psychosis”

“Look in the mirror and see”

“You are my reflection”

“It’s you who’s buggin me!”


No I don’t know what is true

“WHO IS REAL” I shout

So I’m going to hang myself tonight

And then I’ll soon find out.


If I’m not successful

And find that I still live

Then I will know that I’m the madness

And in mushroom head I live.


But if I gasp and choke and die

My reality will be known

Mushroom head will vanish

And I’ll die in peace, alone.

Collecting Days – But I Don’t Know What For!

People like to collect things.

It’s a natural human experience.

Some people collect friendship.

Others collect grades and marks

As a result of collecting information.

Most people collect comfort,

With food or clothes or to

Make a house a home.

It’s no compulsion, for them

It’s the pleasure of life

Where meaning is made


Collecting connection.


For some it goes wrong

The hoarder has to have the shit you throw away, that’s no use, it ends up in a charity shop or the car boot sale. Your waste will fill my lack of space, as I lost it with the need for more, of bits and pieces, more and more goes through my door and I HAVENOSPACETOBREATHANYMORE

But I don’t know what for.

I don’t    know     what



The dull train goes rickety rack, along the track, you stand and snack, with twisted back, you lean to hope, you have to see, to look at me, with pen in hand, as I go past, you search so fast, for my number,  for my number, write it quick, write it fast,     I’m going,    and     you           smiled                    at


But we know your not free, and you never will be, because now in the rain, comes another dull train – white and black numbers. Look.

Look  look – write me in your book.

But you don’t know what for

You    don’t    know    what



I don’t know what for

Why life? There’s no meaning,

And I’ve given up gleaning

for bits to make sense

Get up in the morning

I act – and I do what I do

Because something needs doing, it has to be done, no matter what, just do it, then do something else, and then do some more. Sometimes it happy and joyful, or sad, or full of the crippling energetic bursts of anxiety that make me stiff and yet shake.


There are times it’s so engrossing that you find a flowing life that runs so easy and so free it happens so quickly and time has passed and I stop.

And I can’t tell you what I’ve done. What have I done?

But I find

In bed at night

When stars shine

That whether or not

The day has been good

Or bad! Positive or joyful and busy or



Or sad, HEAVY and SAD

That all I have done is


Another – meaningless – pointless day

And I go to bed knowing

That tomorrow I will collect

Another – meaningless – pointless day

To add to my growing collection

But I don’t know what for

I    don’t    know    what


All that is left is to find meaning.




Passive Agressive

Roses are red

Violets are blue

Sugar is sweet

I deeply hate you


Mary had a little lamb

It’s fleece was white as snow

I wish you would divorce me

You really have to go


Amazing grace

How sweet the sound

You once were sweet to me

Your voice it hurts

Your touch is rough

Like sandpaper can be


Five fat sausages

Sizzling in a pan

Threw it in his face

And his nose went bang


Remember remember the 5th of November

Gunpowder, treason and plot

We had our own fireworks

Divorce is what we got.



Do the Chicken Rap

I was on the farm

With my feathers and my beak

When I saw this bird who made my knees go weak

Went and had a chat

Thought I’d try my luck

She said “go away and cluck”

I’m not a chicken I’m a duck.


Do the chicken rap, you know you should

Do the chicken rap, it’ll make you feel good.


I wrote a dating add

That I sent to the press

I got no replies

Now my heads in a mess

I hate this farm

The only chicken, I’m alone

The last resorts

To snap my own wish bone


Do the chicken rap, you know you should

Do the chicken rap, it’ll make you feel good.


All I want is to sit and share

The water

And the corn

With romance in the air

It’s not gonna happen

It’s a real rough ride

So I’ll slice and dice myself

Chicken suicide


Eat the chicken wrap, you know you should

Eat the chicken wrap, it’ll make you feel good.


Paranoia Says…Mindfulness Replies…

Paranoia – The thought that my neighbours go to bed at the same time as me because they are spying upon me.

Paranoia – That feeling I get that the people who live on the other side of the road are spying on me as I make coffee and toast.

Paranoia – The cautiousness I have about talking on the phone because my phone is bugged.

Paranoia – That man talking on the phone, the one with the glasses. He’s watching me, following me and talking about me.

Paranoia – That car that just pulled up with the two men inside, that was on my street, in front of my home when I left this morning. Why are they following me?

Mindfulness – Naming. I am aware I am experiencing paranoid thinking.

Mindfulness – Acting opposite. I have decided not to follow the man who has been following me.

Mindfulness – Sharing. I have told a friend about my paranoid thinking because I know it will help me to gain a better perspective.

Mindfulness – Writing. I’ve written my experiences of paranoid thinking in my journal. Getting things down in black and white helps me to stop mentally creating the story of paranoia.

Paranoia – Shame. I don’t like to experience the feeling of shame, so I subconsciously create the story called “My Paranoia”.

Mindfulness – Meditation. I sit with my feelings of shame and say “Welcome shame, come and sit with me. Be as much or as big as you are”.

Mindfulness – Acceptance. When I accept my feelings, no matter how painful they are, I am far safer than when I create a story out of them.

Chasing the Dragon (Carnival Clown)

I went to my own carnival

A dragon it did smoulder

Chased it down, that line of brown

I wish I could have told ya.


I wish I could of told ya

Exactly how it felt

A cold hot breeze, down through my knees

I felt my body melt.


I felt my body melt

I was wrapped in a moist, warm womb

10 more hits, 10 lines of shit

Without them – just gloom.



My raspberry ripple, melted ice cream, rush

Has vanished, I’m now scuz

A knock comes loud, fall through my cloud

Bollocks – Fuck – Shit, it’s the fuzz.


Bollocks – Fuck – Shut, it’s the fuzz

The scag has now turned stale

I’m in a fix, I NEED a fix

I face a stretch in jail.


Inside is so much easier

I even get to eat

It wern’t like that in my dismal flat

I’ve landed on my feet.


I’ve landed on my feet

But the H is hard to score

I share a pin, and sell my skin

I am a heroin whore.


I was a heroin whore

Initially – what a rave

But six foot down, now whose the clown

In my six by three feet grave.


Royal Leisure – Nonsense

What is the life if full of care

The Queen she wears no underwear

No time stand beneath the boughs

While Charlie stops to talk with cows

No time to see when woods we pass

Where Harry grows his hemp and grass

No time to see in broad daylight

The Duke and Duchess have a fight

No time to turn at beauties glance

Look out, Phillips in his lovers stance

No time to wait till his mouth can

Offend the race of everyman

A poor life this is full of care

The Queen she wears no underwear

Just Simply – There is

When I let go of ideas about who you are and who I am – There Is

When I let go of reaction and the limitations of response – There Is

When preconceived ideas of how things should be compared to how they are – There Is

When FACTS, drop down to BELIEFS and beliefs turn into the realisation that nothing is actually known – There Is

Beyond thoughts and ideology, beyond shame and guilt, beyond love and peace and hopes and dreams – There Is

You Are Not Who You Think You Are

Who am I?

I am not who I think I am.

I am not my thoughts, my feelings, my actions, reactions,  ambitions, distractions.

I wear the clothes of hopes and dreams, failure and loss, projection, rejection, fear and dejection.

My outward imagine is not who I am, it’s who I want you to see, and my internal reality makes me want to flee and hide and bury what I do and i see, with possessions and wealth, with more than I need of food and the drug of activity.

But who I am when the image has gone?

Who am I without these clothes and my hair?

Who am I really?

What lays beneath?

Tell me What’s real?

Who’s there underneath.