I caught the stars dancing last night.

They didn’t see me see.

They were twinkling away in the velvet blue,

As normally as could be.

When they must have heard a penny flute,

Or the beat of a tom-tom drum.

Because right in front of my honest eyes,

There began a strange procession.

The stars abandoned their usual posts,

And shuffled into a line.

Then began to march across the sky

In a quivering celestial spine.

You won’t believe this tale I’ve told,

Without evidence, I think.

So jump into the cyber web,

And Google, “Aliens or Starlink?

All Yours

Have you looked outside the window lately,

Or up into the sky?

The world is filled with beautiful things.

Do you want to know why?

They’re here for you to see and smell.

It’s all ours to explore.

With countless gifts and pains to solve,

There’s no need to ask for more.


The government wants you stupid.

The farmers want you fat.

The factories want you to sit on your ass,

Eating a bunch of crap.

The shops want all your money.

The bankers want it too.

The media wants your attention;

Eyes stuck to the screen like glue.

The Ad Men want your data.

The Boss — he wants your time.

And they all want you to pay for the pleasure,

Down to your very last dime.

Weep Not

Do not look upon a loss and weep,

For it was never yours to keep.

Do not bask in bright sunlight,

And wish against the coming night.

Do not tie your loved ones near,

For love always escapes the snare.

Do not curse a wind that blows,

Thank it for the seeds it sows.

Do not fear or run from change,

The only constant is exchange.


Celebrate today,

Celebrate tomorrow,

Celebrate your joys,

And celebrate your sorrows.

Celebrate your friends,

Celebrate your haters,

Celebrate the real ones,

And celebrate the fakers.


Celebrate it all because

These are the things that make us


Il Pleut

We can do a lot when it’s sunny

And almost as much in the snow

But when it’s pissing down with rain all day

There aren’t many places to go.

Everywhere is dripping and glistening wet.

The dogs are as a damp as they’ll possibly get.

The clouds groan full with more rain to fall yet.

Which sea god did we upset?

If Only

If only things were different,

I wouldn’t have to be the same.

I could be tall or short or fat,

Or get paid for playing a game.

If only things had been different,

If I’d done that instead of this,

I’d probably be sat on a beach right now,

Immersed in perpetual bliss.

If only things had been different,

If I had been there or then,

I could’ve been stupidly rich and cool,

But then I wouldn’t get to be Ben.

Do it

Do it because you’re happy.

Do it because you’re sad.

Do it just because it feels good.

Or do it because it feels bad.

Do it because it’s easy.

Do it because it’s tough.

Do it because it fills up your cup.

And don’t stop till you’ve had enough.

Do it every morning.

Do it whenever you feel.

Do it just because you only live once.

Do it till it’s lost all appeal.


We don’t need a reason for everything.

Sometimes we do it for bants.

It could be a skydive or a trip to Milan.

Or a magnum-sized bottle of champs.

We don’t need a reason for everything.

We mostly just do it for bants.

There’s a prize to be had, even when it goes bad.

And that’s the prize of having a bant.




Art doesn’t come easy.

What to say?

No wisdom to expound. Or inspiration to share.

It would not be missed if it was never made.

But there lies no escape.

What else to do but make?

Hammer down those dumb words.

Lash the paper with ink.

Rip a chunk from the mould and hack hack hack away until the tears flow.

There. It is done.



The Hive

There’s Safety in the Hive.

There’s Knowledge in the Hive.

We Share Art in the Hive.

We Find Love in the Hive.

We Fight in the Hive.


Share Your Truth with the Hive.

Spread a Lie through the Hive

Make a Wish to the Hive.

Take Men’s Lives with the Hive.


Can’t Wait without the Hive.

Can’t Make without the Hive.

Gut Aches without the Hive.

Can’t Escape the Hive.


Keep plugging away

Back when death was cheap and disease was rife, a young man wrote a poem about persistence that still rings through our language today.

Like all the best poetry, it’s simple and yet it sings with wisdom.

The wisdom comes from countless generations of people who had no choice but to “keep a-pluggin’ away” when there was little hope. When the only success and the only certainty of respite came from a clean death.

When the clouds have rolled away,

There will come a brighter day

All your labor to repay,

Keep a-plugging away.

Paul Laurence Dunbar published a dozen books of poetry, four books of short stories, four novels, lyrics for a musical, and a play before he died of tuberculosis aged 33.