Saturday, 28 January 2017

Riding the dragon

I may work this poem about coming off hard drugs into a song. It's not autobiographical, however I'm pretty sure allot of us have been affected in one way or another by addictition, all be it a friend or loved one.

Riding the dragon

You don’t need that to get by
Do you have to get so damn high?
You shut me out
I scream and shout
You ride the dragon flying high

Steel railings round your heart
Me one side keeping us apart
You slam the gate
I want to hate
Scratch your arm a muddy dart;

You don’t need that to get by
Do you have to get so damn high?
Gave your loved ones a bag of tears
Gave your loved ones a bag of despair

You’ve opened all the rotten the doors
Lain on all the piss stained floors
You run the line
Things ain’t fine
Love’s run raw, hard to stay yours

Crazy trips you’re up like a Kite
Take cold turkey it’s time to fight
You cry for help
I hear your cry
Your soul is safe wrapped up tight.

No more Lady Caine or smoking dope
Rehabs hotel a holiday from hell
No more Lady Caine or smoking dope
Anxiety and pain glimmers of hope.

©Julian Clarke 2017

Sunday, 22 January 2017

Wishing Well and Last Hope

The following two pieces are for this months open mic evening which are loosely based on the non compulsory theme being, Hope.

Wishing Well.

Insanely balanced on the brink of blue
A parcel of jealousy tied with sisal
Ardour, so emerald green, wanting you,
To triumph your love without reprisal

Flick of a coin, heads or tails, your call;
Hoping for a wish, a dream to come true
Down into the darkness can’t see it fall
Oh wishing well, my last hope lies in you.

Slowly the emerald green fades, vivid red
Wishing well? But a mere hole in the ground
How loves foolish obsession ruled my head
Who was I kidding? And I’m ten pounds down.

© Julian Clarke 2017


Last Hope

The visions are clouded for the cynics of mankind for blindly believing it best not to believe; but Layla’s last hope for her sick one lay in the palms of a pagan priestess. And so the priestess cast her circle upon the ground and with eyes closed she rode the latitudes of time. From all points of the compass winds were weaving weighing mystic chants from the shaman of nations to dance in spiritual trance. Karma gathered and harnessed in heart and so the priestess returned to her own awareness; her rainbow gown laced in white flowed silently while hands circled the air as she sang incantations of spiritual care. With gratitude Layla wore tears on her cheek that fell to the earth as she wept with joy at the breath of her daughter’s soulful re-birth.

©Julian Clarke 2017

Saturday, 7 January 2017


The interminable writers block has struck again, and so the following is something completely left wing for me that perhaps should be consigned to the waste paper basket.

Colour race creed diversity
introvert extrovert opposites
superior inferior, (that’s complex)
genders, male female
other (exclamation mark).
Do not delete cannot delete,
genetically encoded  D.N.A
programmed to label we’re
classified chromosome X or Y.
Cyber café, searching, found profiles # tag X
blind date (question mark) bio’ # tag Y... send . . .

© Julian Clarke 2017