Nice to see you.

Poet. Author. Videomaker.

Debut Poetry Collection Caged Without Walls and Novella Bottomless River on sale. 75% Off

Nominated for the 2014 Pushcart Prize. (more)


Merry Christmas to you and yours

I hope you have a Merry Christmas, no matter what you're doing.

I want to thank you for your support throughout the year, whether you commented, or shared something or even only read a few poems or articles, I appreciate it. There is so much demand for our attention these days, and with so much crap in the airspace, it's easy to become distracted and waste our time. I hope I haven't wasted yours.



A couple of very good friends made the finalists at Tropfest this year and won an award.
It's less than 4 minutes and I urge you to check it out. Here.
Look at it as a Xmas present.


People of the Sydney siege - a poem

          I wrote this the day the siege ended (16.12.14), before I really knew about the Pakistani massacre, which was by far a  more horrific event, but which in no way diminishes the horror of the Sydney siege. All of the politics and bullshit aside, there is the human element which should never be overlooked.

(On a personal note, my daughter's mother was only a few blocks away and was in lockdown at her work. It was quite worrying, especially in the early hours when nobody knew what was taking place.)

Poem for the people of the Sydney siege

A bright Monday morning
Like many others
Aside from the expectant hum
Of a looming Christmas
And the purpose laden crowds.

When a spectre emerges
A court jester escapee
Driven and deranged
Seizes the day
Blocking out the sun.             

The night draws its cloak around us
Closing off options
Shutting out the world
Narrowing all hope
To this.

The only place left on earth
The last place
To wish to be.

When familiar adored faces
Beam elsewhere
The brush of fingers – a trail
The soothing, all-encompassing joy
Of a mere hug
A paradise lost
And all that has ever mattered…

Will it come again?
A forgotten land
A discarded map
History rewritten
To encapsulate the new theme
The alternate slant of light
With a permanent stain
The dark brutality strikes
To alter the spectrum
For us all

With the fallen
Left in its wake.


I’ll wait for you alone
By a tree
A river
A front door
I’ll meet you there
In that place
Far from here
In tomorrow
Or yesterday
A time alternate
It matters not
Envelop me
And I’ll commit a lifetime.

Rest In Peace
Thoughts with the victims and their families and all those held hostage that day.


Top Ten Songs 2014 - No. 5 - 1.

Click Here to See tracks 10 to Six.

Best Five Tracks of 2014

In no particular order.

Chvrches - Strong Hand was an extra track on the Special Edition version of their 2013 album, which wasn't released until early 2014. Though not officially a single, it should have been.

The Kassassin Street Band - The Royal Handkerchief Ballet

Spoon - Do You

Tears for Fears - My Girls

A cover but it's hard to deny how effective it is. Their last album ('05) was brilliant but long overdue for new material. This proves they can still cut it.

Future Islands - Seasons-Waiting on You

Chvrches, Tears for Fears and Kassassin Street Band are from the UK, the others are from the U.S.

If you missed them, numbers 10 to 6 here.

There wasn't much difference between the Top Ten and the next 10-20 songs. I don't believe in certain music being that much better than others. Favourites are individualistic in nature. Yet I recommend you check them out if you like what I displayed here. There's always great music; some years, it's just harder to find.

Thanks and cheers.

In good company with:

Queen - Perfume Genius
The New Pornographers - Brill Bruisers
Seasurfer - We Run
Delta Spirit - From now on
David Gray - Mutineers
Sereialarm - Miragem
Spotlight Kid - A Minor Character
Miracle Fortress - Even In America
One of These Days - My Name is You
Stars - No one is lost
Screaming Maldini - Islands
Suntalk - Darkness
The Naked and Famous - A Stillness
The Flaming Lips - Think Like A Machine, Not A Boy
Sounds like Sunset -

Best songs of 2013


She tried to cross the bridge in a flood

She underestimated the power of nature.

New story Don't bring me Down - at One Page Lit.

Please share if you like it. It's never easy getting the words out there. One Page is a good publication too. They offer a voice for the underdog. With the amount of snobbery in the Australian Literary scene (and the world in general), God knows we need it.


More Stories


Top Ten Songs of 2014 No. 10 - 6

In no particular order.

The History of Colour TV - The People Who are Close to You

Tennis - Never Work for Free

The Pains of Being Pure at Heart - Eurydice

Cold War Kids - First

Spookyland - The Silly Fucking Thing

The first band is German, the last Australian. The rest are American.

Next post, the Top Five.

Best songs of 2013


The Fat Albert Blues - a new poem by Bill Cosby

Hey hey Hey!

Gunna have a good time!

I've brewed up a fine old concoction today!
Time to find me some white bitches
and have a lil one sided play.

Now don't ya go believin' all that hype
Daddy still got what it takes
I can match it with a humpin' pit bull
when I is on the make.

All I need is a lil celebrity alone time
A drink and one little capsule
Time for a lay me down
And then I get my hands full.

I been doin' it so long
That if they make a fuss
I pay them off with a song
And dump their ass on the shuttle bus.

Ain't nobody messin with
The greatest TV dad in history
Mom's the word yo
Keep that shit a mystery.

Hey hey hey!



Should the word c**t be used in a poem?

Slut and other inappropriate words

So... this word that begins with C. Is it right for a poem? 

Five Poems at Subtopian

Decide for yourself. I used it in a poem, as well as other nasty words.
As with much of my poetry some of the stories below are based on actual events.

Here are snippets of the poems in question.

Skank Stepper

She was a dirty ganger  
They said
A push-up bra selfie junkie slut...  

A very open wound

There are better things than hellos
There are worse things                                                                                                                  
Than goodbyes...

The Night Journeymen (boys)

The night is ours
Our town
We are teenage chieftains...

Hit On or Hit Out

...Her expression changed to
that of the shocked, amused, horrified
All at once.
She tried to slap me.

Welcome to La La Land – A True Story

I’d spent a week in hospital in Ireland
After having my head kicked in...

This particular publication is quite subversive so I went through my unpublished collection and pulled out these er, gems. Know your market as they say.

You can Facebook comment at the bottom of the Subtopian page.
Please help me and them out by making us know that you're reading, even if you don't like them.

All five poems here in one page.

More of my Poetry here.


Dr. Bale has some serious issues

Warning: Not for the easily offended.

Perihelion Science Fiction
Click to go to Perihelion

After some considerable time, my story, It's the Last Great Ice Shelf! is finally available for people to read. They've shortened the title. As you can ascertain, it was more relevant some years back. I first wrote the story in 2006. It's been through quite a few drafts. Yes it was rejected numerous times but it's also sat forgotten on my computer so it's great to see it out in the world. It's up to you now to read it and share it and give it life. Without you, it's still dead.

Jesse Jennings
From the Front Cover of the Nov 14 issue

More Stories.


Berlin Wall and I - 25 Years

November, 1989

In 1989 I was a young chap making my way overseas for the first time when the Soviet Union collapsed. It was November and I was in London. A friend and I caught a plane to Berlin to witness history in the making. It was an incredible experience.

The joy is evident. The atmosphere was incredible. It was like New Year's Eve. Not possessing a chisel I was unable to snare a piece of it. People were going crazy trying to garner a souvenir and every little crumb of it was scooped from the ground. There was only a couple of holes in it at that stage.

I went through Checkpoint Charlie to East Berlin and literally went back in time some thirty plus years. Advertising on walls was faded and long out of date. Everything I saw was drab, dreary and depressing. Poverty appeared universal. It was also cold, as you can see with ice on the bonnets.

I have other photos but they are in an album somewhere. These were scanned, hence the streak marks. I have shots of Checkpoint Charlie too as we had to pass through there to get in. I've never put these online before, so thought it was time to share them.

This was one of the albums I was listening to at the time. Street Fighting Years by Simple Minds. It bore the No.1 song Belfast Child. The song Mandela Day pre-empted the release of Mandela two years later. It was a time of change, no doubt.


Famous After Death #5 - The Rambling Guy

Robert Johnson

One of only three verified photographs

The actual life of Robert is somewhat a mystery. For the last six years of his life, he traveled from city to town along America's Mississippi Delta, often changing his name along the way. Even his death, at the young age of 27 in 1938, is open to conjecture, as is the location of his grave.

Robert sung and played the blues, basically on street corners and juke joints. He became famous decades after his death thanks to the skill of his songwriting and guitar playing . In 1936 and 1937, Johnson recorded 29 songs in Texas and that was the extent of his recording career. Eleven 78 records were released during his lifetime. Fortunately the original recordings survive along with multiple takes. It wasn't until a compilation reissue was released in 1961 did his fame take hold.

We've all heard the story, that Johnson made a pact with the devil to secure his fame, apparently documented in the song Crossroads. It's certainly central to the Johnson mythology, of which there is much discussion.

You may be aware of the 1986 movie Crossroads, based on a search for Johnson's missing 30th song. The film wasn't a hit, but Ry Cooder's soundtrack was.

The reality of Johnson's life is that he was a poor black man in thirties American South. Fate dealt a tough hand from the outset. He also had a reputation as a womaniser. He fathered a child with one woman and married another, Caletta. She died in childbirth and he hit the road again. His early demise is a mystery. Some say syphilis. There is also a real possibility that he was murdered, perhaps by fraternising with the wrong woman.

We do know that Robert was a blues itinerant, a travelling man, a rambling man. He had talent and gave the world 29 songs. There's much more to the story, open to debate, more than can be covered here. I suggest you do your own digging. What we can be certain of, it that others have been profiting from his music and legend, long after he left this earth.

Official site

Previous Famous After Death


the featureless prevail

Distressed Poet - William Hogarth

Them vs. Us

Why is it that the featureless
Academic poets
The middle to upper classes
Professors, teachers and other
Unmoving particles
Inside the swirling dust bowl
Profess to love the classics
Both writers and poets
When many of the admired
Though far from all
Came from nothing?

The bourgeoisie know nothing of the endless struggle

The artistic urge
Like blood flow
Pushed down
Below the need
For sustenance
And the methods to reach it
To pay their rent
Among other things
Creative luxuries less affordable
As they had no one else
To cover for them (Mummy Syndrome).

They merely wish to be well read
To tick the boxes
Van Gogh
To be cultivated
Like Van Gogh’s perfect sunflower
Years after the severed flesh
Lost its atoms
And vomit stains
Faded into fabric.

I never knew these artists
Yet know what it’s like to yearn
And to go without
While occasionally pondering
The value of my own contribution.

I guarantee one thing
That those artist's work
Was never for Them.



Sex, Mates, the Comet and the Banker's Daughter

Heavenly and Earthly bodies

We went to her house at night
She was the bank manager’s daughter
And therefore of a higher class
My best mate
Was fucking her
It was a victory for the working class
Though I could only cheer
From the grandstand.

I was 18
He 17
She 16
She had long flowing blonde hair
Pleasant, blemish free skin
But we both knew
She had the personality of river trout
Though she wasn’t a bad person
And that counts for something.

We stood on her back doorstep
To observe the stars
With her dad’s binoculars
For this once in a lifetime event
‘Can you see it?’
‘I can see it.’
‘Look dickhead.’
‘Ah ok. There it is.’
‘You mean, that’s all?’
‘It’s not E.T.’
It was small but strong
White end proudly
Leaving  a faint trail
Across the bottom of the night sky
Halley’s Comet
It didn’t seem that impressive
As I’d seen
Many a shooting star
Growing up in the country
Halley's Comet - 1986
But we were told it was special
So there we were.

We watched it for awhile
I did appreciate that I wouldn’t see it again
(Though it’s feasible
I’ll be almost 100)
Yet I didn’t mind
Getting out of there
Returning my friend
To my car
And the night
And a little joint I was saving
Kicking back by the river
Listening to the ethereal
Electronic voices
Within Jean Michel Jarre’s                                                            
Which seemed further out into space
Than some steady white blip.

That comet’s burning somewhere now
And will keep going around and around
But people do not
And though I could not know
That my best friend only had four years left to live
That night,
I enjoyed the company more.


Cock conquers all

A player's market

Through time
And experience
She realised
That the way to his heart
Was not through his stomach.

She worked that knob
Like mud on a lathe
Like a plumber with a spanner
Like an architect with a T-Square.

She got this
Which led to that
In simple terms                                                                         
And quite simply
She achieved results.
She saw it as her strength
Rather than her weakness
Which, in time
Became her downfall
As placing faith in one notion
Leads to shortcomings
(So to speak).

She took the lesson
And rewarded the next
While the first was left
He hadn’t been so scrupulous.

 More Poetry.


Afraid of no emotion

Meeting ends

Death is eternal
It waits for us
Sometimes impatiently
Yet will not be denied.

I am not afraid of death
The option is to never have existed
To have been without
Emotion of any kind.

I am afraid of dying languidly
Of obstinate pain
And much time to think.

I am afraid of being afraid
I am not strong
I don’t want to be scared.

I am afraid to leave my daughter behind
Before she has grown up
She needs a father
She needs me.

I can say goodbye to the world
But I cannot say goodbye to her.

Dance of Death - a woodcut by Hans Holbein, 1538