The Idiotllectual


I like to treat poetry as an instinctual reaction, a flowing out that creates a new little corner of the world. My pieces are quite varied, some have structure and rhyme some don't, whatever comes out in the moment is lord of the realm.


Tender Fists


A poem about the time I had a fist fight with a small Asain girl.

War Machine

I know you probably think war is a good thing, but I don't think it's that great.


The Wine of the Evening


Looking back on a visit to the park.

Some Bar in Old Street


A poem written while out in a bar with some people from work who were so dull I had to resort to absinthe and poetry to entertain myself.


Phoning a Lady


How I feel when calling someone I want to like me.






Ego Destroyed


I went away on a human holiday, distant from London's broken smiling slabs. The shore I washed up on was a different world, a silent, night time place, uncluttered, unfiltered. [...]


Ode to procrastination.


The Empty seat (Un-kissed)


The tragedy of that seat on the Tube that no one sits on.

White Lightening (dedicated to Richard Briers)


A lonely evening of introspection and BBC Radio 4.











There's a freedom somewhere that needs an invitation to my soul, because at present there is nothing, an empty bowl, a room bereft of guests; even silence stays away. Tonight I'm not drunk, but the words are stuck regardless; [...]

Self Portrait






Memories of my Nervous Illness


A sabbatical from life; that grating, wearing away machine. The propping up of the drooping facial equipment is the carrying of an super-incumbent weight, crushing all torsos without organs [...]









My Life Right Now (things I shouldn’t be saying).


This is the stuff that happens when you’re not looking.


Alone on a limb of the idiot tree trying to keep all the leaves facing the sunlight [...]


The Idiotllectual © 2013. All Rights Reserved


The City Is Melancholic


Some Poetic ramblings from the sombre one.