A Convent Girl Prays For Her Real Education To Begin

Christ, let me fuck them

One by one

The long boys

From the Grammar School

Their delicate cocks

Like snowdrops in the spring

Their breaking male aroma


Urgent and confused

From beneath their pressed blazers

And figure hugging

Farah slacks

And then let me be done with schoolboys

Then let me fuck a punk rock boy

In some dark squat

Both of us stoned

And Merrydowndrunk

His hard body pressing me

Into the bursting mattress on the floor

His pierced penis charging in

And jabbing like a needle in a vein

Till I am just

Another stain

And then let me be done with punk boys

And let me fuck a married man

On the back seat of his Mondeo

Let him come inside me


For he is old and trapped

And I am young and free

And then let me be done with married men

And I will fuck with firemen by the score

With bells and sirens clanging

Let them wear their uniforms

And firmly handle me

And let me ride atop

Their hard uncomplicated shafts

And I’ll cry out with wanton joy

And then let me be done with firemen, cops and uniforms

Once and for all

And I will fuck a sad-eyed poet

Who’ll recite breathless verses in my honour

Even as I run my lips

Across his pale and haunted body

And let his soft uncalloused hands

Caress my breasts

And let him write a thousand lines

Upon my memory

When I am gone

For by then I’ll be done with poets

Let me fuck a city trader

Who will pay for holidays

In Barbados and Portugal

And let there be cocaine

And swimming pools

Beneath a David Hockney sky

And my bikini line will be


And he will lose a million

To be with me

That day

And then I’ll leave him anyway

For I’ll be done with city boys

And then let me fuck a priest

An old man in a purple cassock

Stinking of piety and self-denial

Let him take me on his altar

Unable to control his need

And let him then renounce his vows

His God, his Christ

All for my perfect tender cunt

And then let me be done with fucking priests

And then

And then let me lie down alone

My fingers penetrate the space

That no man knows

As well as I

And let me guide myself to pleasures

Never before reached as I

Remember all my conquests

All the men who wanted


This flesh

And let this body finally be mine

And let me then be done with fucking

Let me then be done

(from Hard and Holy, (c)2009)


Eros Unbound

Your beauty is boring

Your legs go on and on

You fill me with such dull

Predictable desire

Your bounteous breasts sit pert and proud

Impertinently they demand

My full attention

Yet each one is quite the same

As its companion

Feigning interest I

Fondle a nipple while

My eyes meander aimlessly

Across your naked body

Seeking in vain an interesting flaw

I run my tired tongue between

Your tedious thighs

And taste the bland vanilla flavours

Of your neatly trimmed


Your pubic lawn is so suburban

Your stomach flat as Norfolk

You open up obligingly

I slip inside

Your warm wet orifice

Like stepping in

A tepid bath

You moan discreetly

As we mate

In 4/4 time

Until at the appointed hour

I send my sluggish sperm upon

Their brief and pointless journey-

Afterwards I stroke your skin

Soft and smooth as any

Supermarket peach

Such tender perfection!

Will it never end?


(from Hard and Holy, (c) 2009).

Krautrock Poem


One. This is

One. One, this, this


One, this one, this one, this is, this is one


This one

This one

This one, this one, this one

Song. This song, this one, this song, this one, this is

The song, this is the song, this is the song, this

One, this song, this is the one, this song, this is

This is

We are all one, we are the song, we are

We are the song, we are all one, we are

We sing the song, go on and on, we are

We are the song, the song goes on, we are

The song

The song goes on, the song, the song, this is

This is the song, we go beyond, we are

We are the song, this is the song, move on

This is the song, this is the song, go beyond


The song, we are the one, we go beyond

One. We are the song, we are all one, we are

All one, the song, moving, move on, we sing

The song


Machine rain

Heart beat

H bomb

Death camp




Love song

Screaming through the wires of Europe-

We are all one, we go beyond, this is

This is the one, the song we’re on, this is

We are the song, we go beyond, this is

We are all one, we all belong, we are

The song.

(from Hard and Holy, (c) 2009).