Poem: End of the World


You tell me

You have a packet of cigarettes

Tucked away in a drawer

Just in case

The world begins to end

But, for me,

Every moment is the end of the world

My own personal apocalypse

As I send out booming heart-waves

To tear the pants off you all

I think about the splendours

Of being a woman

To be able to invert my head

And lay naked

Upon my own breast

You can always lay here with me

My chest is room enough for two

Then I’ll expand into infinity

To squeeze in the rest of you


More Live Poetry

Here is a seven minute video of me reading out poetry at festival on the weekend. The poems included are: The Devil of Meekness; Hair-Trigger Heart; The Power of Lust; The Yogis of Tibet; Warning Label; and possibly some others I have forgotten. Hope you enjoy the video. Many blessings:

Poem: The Potential For Touch



Oh, Eunuch, Eunuch,

Eunuch, Thou!

Paisley The Genderless

Has come back from the dead

Bringing with him, his sense of

Sexless wonder

Sexless despair

Free from every defilement

When I was want so desperately

To be defiled

I do not blame any of you

For staying away

Even I would not dare

To approach this beast

The Beast of Me

You cannot be gentle with me;

You must be brutal, sharp,

And quick

Or slow, smooth,

And insidious

Like a long, drawn-out kiss,

I am like the frog

That needs to be boiled alive

Place me in

The pool of your love

While it is nascent and cool

So that I do not try

To leap away

When the fiery fires

Become too fierce

I cannot relate to the daylight

At this moment

What have I

To do with light

Twilight demon that I am?

Stuck in the hands of the evening

I just cannot wrench back

This flesh of sorrow

I look down on this

Thin, able body

And almost wish it were

Padded, voluptuous,

So that I could be the woman

I wish you were

How I wish you were here!

Whoever you are!

Immaterial doxy

Of the seventh heaven

Shaking up

The inaccessible memories

That cleanse the skirting boards

Of my mind

You deva,

You Dakini,

You invisible, mysterious


Invisible womanhood,

Naked womanhood,

Curving womanhood,

Prying womanhood,

Phallic womanhood,

Non-Euclidean womanhood,

Drifting through the diamond mines

I sell for chewing gum

Dining on the living ages

Death forgot to cook

Only life cooks;

Death is always served cold

Like some terrible Mediterranean soup

That always remembers

How we used to dance

You, so insistent and vigorous,

Whilst I, the wild horse,

Just wanted to run free


Sentimental for space

And the spaciousness

Of a room with you

Your Dakini presence

Never leaves me

Yet, I still long

For form,

For Nirmanakaya,

For form, however dubious,

That can be loved,

And squeezed,


And pleased,

A form I can drift

In and out of

To and fro from

Getting lost in the park

Just to be alone

Then screaming back to you

And dialling your number

On the phone

I remember London

And what a turning point it was

Two days

At The V&A

With Miss Saigon In-between

I was so heavy and dead

With only art

To keep me alive

Falling in love

With memories,


But not the living naked woman

Standing beside me

I don’t know how

You tolerated me

For as long as you did

But even in my torpor

And manic depressions

I am still godly,



Impossible not to behold

Like a great Grecian statue

You’d rather keep behind a curtain

I got impatient with you

For your slowness

For your dreamy emotionality

Like a viscous pond

Unable to modulate

To the restlessness of existence

Whilst I was always clutching

To an irreversible future

Some fame-studded tomorrow

Where my talents

Wouldn’t just feel

Like imperishable obstacles

To the intimacy

I’ve always craved


It’s been a rollercoaster since then

I fall in love

With men

With women

With animals, trees,

Ghost, Dakinis,

And sensual textures –


That will stand still long enough

To let me love it

And behold it with lust

And self-directed disgust


I am in awe of myself

As a phenomenon

But not as a being

Being this being

Just seems too much

Excellent on paper

But often revolting to the touch

Spirits in the other realms

Might flick through my life

As one might a brochure

And think to themselves

“This one might be

Nice to try

For a century or two!”

But they put me

And find it’s not

Quite the holiday they imagined

40,000 kalpas

Squeezed into a single second

Just as much

As I’d like to squeeze you

I feel so hopelessly dependent on it

That potential for touch

Yet so sex-rejecting

That I just don’t know how

To re-draft the contract

Of how I have intercourse with life

I feel virginal again

Just propelled from the womb of fear

Just figuring out, awkwardly,

How to come near

To what I hold dear

I love you, Woman #1

Girl #2

Man #3

Bumble Bee #4

But why must I choose?

Why can’t I

Just take a bite

From every fruit

In the bowl

So that none of you feels excluded?

But, in the process,

I exclude myself

From the potential of touch,

Too carved up

By past mistakes

The Past-Masters

Reality bakes,

I hope in the silence of time

I shall find the right thing to do

Here are the names you’re looking for:

Me, Myself, and You


Poem: Insecure Lobster



We have no


You might think you’re a crab

Or thick-shelled lobster

Or some indomitable pachyderm

With sandpaper skin

But that soft-flesh

Can always be pried out

Even when you think you are safe

And free from harm

Harm waits within you

Waiting to save you

Harm is your saviour

Your glorious underminer

The magic carpet

That falls limps beneath you

Just as you’ve begun

To fly

As a suicidal crayfish

I capsize myself

And expose my pink underbelly

To the seagulls overhead

“Eat me alive!”

I scream

I claw

“I want nothing less!”

Perhaps this shell

Must be pecked away

Before I can finally open up

This claustrophobic chest


Poem: Climbing and Falling


There is no difference

Between climbing and falling

I realized this

As I ascended a gnarled mountain

Barely able

To hold onto

Its horrendous face

I clung to

Raggedy weeds

Forgotten flowers

Forging their pain

Into its neuralgic nerve-endings

And pain to everything else

By extension

I felt so confident

So sure of making the next step

But there was no next step

Only a dearth of handholds

No flowers for support

I gave into freefall

As oblivion licked its lips

But just as my heart

Felt sure to explode

I was surprised to find myself

Landing on the summit

The next step was not grasping

But the triumph of letting go

No sooner had I reached the peak

Than I graduated to the sky itself

I found the secret projectionist

And gave her a loving shove

I became space’s conquering consort

And became the one above


Poem: Kurukulla


My beautiful lady, Kurukulla,

Dancing through the clouds

From your Himalayan vantage point

You see all the suffering of the world

Ever poised, with your flower-tipped bow

You fire off shots incessantly

Without ever seeming to move

You know just as well as I

That in

This samsaric abyss

When devotional love

Is so far from people’s hearts

Sometimes, the only way

To get them to embrace it

Is to use the non-violence of violence

To savagely inseminate them with it

Incense clouds become cumuli

As realizor and realized

Meld into one

Sashaying through the ether

In satin pants

Who wouldn’t think

You’re the loveliest of them all?

Victim and lover

Are always indivisible

The coemergent bastard of nirvana

And cyclic existence

Troubled water flowing

Through untroubled times

Who knows which atrium

Will be the first to burst?

Realizor and realized

Merging into one

As the knot of delusion

Is finally undone


Tao Te Ching 81



Sincere words are seldom pleasant

Pleasant words are seldom sincere

Good people do not argue

Argumentative people are not good

The wise do not know everything

And know-it-alls are not wise.

The sage is not possessive

The more he does for others

The more he has for himself

The more he gives to others

The richer he grows himself

The Way of Heaven

Helps without harming

The Way of the Sage

Never goes against nature


Poem: The Ultimate Romance


My erotic, sensitive,

Feminine, sensuous side

Got killed for a time

Destroyed by the wolves of winter

And the hardened arteries

Of a hardened heart

That no longer permitted

Love to flow through it

But now, it is back again,

With blood-thirsty gentleness

I find myself

Both man and woman

Dakini and Heruka

A beautiful and hideous hermaphrodite

Unifying the lotus

Of day and night

I hardly know

Whether to put on a dress

Or dance around provocatively

In military apparel

Tossed out of all the functions

To which I was originally invited

As a Guest of Honour

I find no difference

Between a throne and a floor

Between sky and earth

Between rejection and a door

I wriggle in the fluidity

Of this delicious ambivalence

This all-inclusive dance

The yab and the yum

The ultimate romance


Tao Te Ching 80


A small country

Has few people


Give them

A thousand different implements

And they’ll have no need to use them


They take death seriously

And do not treat it

As a distant thing


Even if they had

Boats and carriages

They would have no place

To ride them


Even if they had

Armour and weapons

They would have no fights

In which to use them


May the people

Rediscover the use

Of knotted cords

Take delight in their food

Beautify their clothing

Be at peace wherever they are

And take joy in their ancient ways


Neighbouring communities

Live in sight of one another

Their roosters and dogs

Bark and crow at one another

Yet people grow old and die

Without needing to come or go