Category Archives: Random Poetics

The armband

In sports, the captain is considered the leader. The person who is responsible for the team during their game or competitive output. They are the manager’s mouthpiece, the one who will drive the team to win when facing defeat.

When a friend of mine asked the question, do captains of football teams matter these days, I duly fell down the rabbit hole.

I looked at the list of captains that had won the English Premier League since it began and saw a list dominated by central defenders. The average personality, the footballing phenotype was that of the hard man, the rock em sock em type. Pull you up by your bootstraps and hang you by them if you fail. They set the standards, command your respect and demand your attention let alone application.

For me we are in the era where that role has been greatly reduced and leaders now need to be throughout the team. They need to be able to communicate in more than one way. A prime example would be Ander Herrera (currently a Manchester United player) who will have his arm around a player one minute and have strong words with others in the next. All of this while looking to do his own job on the field of play.

I believe captains should be emblems of their team. The game is more cerebral now. It takes poise, speed of thought and skill to truly play at the highest level. In ice hockey we are no longer in the era of the enforcer, a player who exists solely for the rough stuff. In modern business we are no longer in the era of just whipping the work force until they get to the level you want them to be.

Masculinity has evolved to allow a greater range of types to make the team. It has evolved to grant the diversity of voice or playing style, a degree of value, and the ability to work without fear.

A captain may epitomize the team’s hard work or even their manager’s style. Those familiar with ice hockey will note the use of the letter C and A. With several assistant captains, the emphasis is on not being a 1 man team from a leadership perspective.

With that in mind, I consider a potential winner of the 2018/19 season, Liverpool’s Jordan Henderson and what he stands for. I see him as a “keep it simple” captain who prefers to lead by example. He’s not a brand, he’s an honest fellow and that’s it. While he may have been usurped in terms of visibility, a Jordan Henderson may be all you need to get a tune out of the rest of the team.

An architect will create a blueprint but you’ll need a labourer with knowledge of tools and materials to build. Who’s the captain? Is it the one who screams at you to get it done or the one that spots something to be done, communicates this to the team and fills in the gaps if necessary?

We like to think of ourselves as the captains of our own ships. If that’s the case, what are you doing to ensure that the team on the journey with you is doing what it needs to?


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Crushing pulses of pandemonium pilfer my purposes.

Pathways of reeds rushes and leaves distressed with canned candour cover cracked screens.

Wearing patchwork seems fashionable when colours fill a shape.

What’s a super man without a cape?

I escape. Into waterways washing banks with interest.

Though laundering loveliness is endearing even Bambi died.

Can’t expect a leopard to have a spotless mind.

The carousel of well fayres have finite loops.

They say ride the one that suits you.


I keep tailoring top and tales hoping for a body of work

Sell me for what I’m worth

A magnetic moment ironing flaws as I walk steeled

Tired of staring at my bruises.

I want to heal, I want to feel.

For once this onion can remain unpeeled

Just give me A and B so I can see the road and walk along

Somewhere I belong

Wherever that is.


I’m sick of tripping from this slapstick

I searched my soul so much I asked google to map it.

If I must burn than can it be without sack cloth and ashes?

If I must burn, how come everything I think is fire strikes to take away my matches?

Cashed in passion feels like a coma because I’m strapped into this madness.

Thought there was treasure at the top, all I see is a flat chest

Pawn in this mad chess

There’s no checks, every move is contactless and strafing with strife

Blood drips so much I wonder if I’m cut for this life

Since they let the electric slide, I can’t fight the power.

The death of I in team and time in our, has come.

Let us dance


Let’s dance to algorithms of these coarse decisions

Hold the baby in an unwanted divorce and call him Moses

Fill our faces with roses instead of head stones.

Let him grow in the hope that this shall be lauded.

Give ourselves the life we were afforded

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Carry me home

Slay bells toll

A maze in this mould, bridging the gap

Burning soles find heaven I’m trying to put my face on the map

Why smash your pumpkin when you’re a sweet potato

I carry me home on this crowded railroad.

Adding carriages can be painful and I hate reservations.

Carry me home shattering webs and fathoming dust.


Die? Me?

I rust raging rainbows

There’s levels to this painting.


Your stares dress me on fleet streets where you’ll find that I’m a neon pink and lime shrine

You’ve got to be a pupil to see me in more than black n’ white

Oh, you think death is strange?

So it’s not just I.

If life is a cycle I’m here for the ride


I’m here to shake chandeliers of shamanic tears till diamonds find their way to their crown.

Is death an emergency stop or a slowing down?


Carry me home canoodling setting concrete.

Carry me home crowd-funded by choruses and crashes.

Feed me clashes to comb

There’s science to the magic but I don’t want to know.

As I know sure as the slay bells toll

I’ll just use it to carry me home.

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Squatting in Space

Railing from missteps

Time slips through my fingers

I can’t catch breaths

With every blink, I beat my breasts and suckle solar flares

Somehow I’m running from my right to be bare


I wash in polarising pools of platitudes and curses

What’s love if they only say patience is a virtue?

My life ain’t chapters they’re verses

I hammer definitions like a wordsmith.

Flattered by my flaws there’s no iron in my steel.

I’m arrested by bars but.

Somehow I am the keys I can’t feel.

How can I drive my life if everything else takes the wheel?

You tell me

What’s the formula one needs?

Is it bleed, heal and repeat?

Is it greet, grope and retreat?

Is it please, police, preach and never teach?

When you’re aiming for the stars….

You don’t lighten the darkness reaching for bleach!

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Home Is A Diving Board

diving board

Trapped between the sound of splashing and touching water

Wearing fanfares to allay fear

Fostering first finishes from ticks glimmering

They say…

Stand within ear shot of the gun to know your target

Is clapping the fruit of the harvest?

Drown, and become a compass from a floating carcass.

Another one who did the math only to make up the numbers

Saddled with sackcloth, shame and numbness

Straddling feint margins, seeking waves as markers.

Struggling to strum the melody of the barking.

Seeking to beat this with heartstrings.

A war-torn dome is only enlightened by stillness.

Choose your weapon before tumbleweed kills you.

Strike with every breath, release gold or reach home.

Time the trapeze, then reach and step.

Let your soul know this was a good body to rent.


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Cloud Control


I thought I could handle it.
This is my 99 final
I’m writing a manuscript.
I’m a royal male
Stamping my authority on the situation enveloping.
I hit the post, and caught a P45 for arrested development
Had to face the music but couldn’t sell a tape.
Feeling 21 again except
I’ve gained a lot of responsibilities and different education.
Job applications, eat n sleep them , play station.
Go to church, be grateful, remix, repeat, template it.
Don’t leave the screen, or time waste.
Just, keep your head up and eyes straight.
What’s patience when you’re gaining weight?
Wait on God for your phone call, an interview.
They say, a head on your shoulders is a stage for greatness.
The inner you, is pained but heal and grow bro.
I’m left wondering how the gravy train became an engine less stage coach.

I thought I could handle it.
First in last out, I thought I’d get the hang of it.
That’s the way I planned for things.
To be, shunted, that’s the manure script.
No more banter filled, days that raise you from the grave workload your facing.
No secret santas, random nights out or days to stuff your face with
Sugar laced platitudes are crack when you need a fix.
Unkempt nuns aren’t the only ones with bad habits.
Things fall apart when you’re barely playing a part.
Would wisdom have seen my false start?
I thought I could handle it

Name changed from Adrian to bastion.
An analyst in a battalion banking on being valiant.
The canon changed so much I was a candidate for valium.
Alarm bells were haranguing me.
Ropes disguised as ribbons were asking to hang with me.
I saw through the eyes of the needle.
That year I’d, had more hits than Ed Sheeran.
More scars than Killmonger.
Some firsts were longer and the endings sweeter.
As the facts started to pan, hopes started to Peter.
Blip, blip, blip, bleeeep

Now my last wage has to stay past my birthday.
That’s months away and there’s bills to pay.
Everyone’s a sage and their advice is playing on one of 5 multiplex screens.
I’m praying I’m not brought to my knees.
Telling myself I’m a man, I’ve got to handle this
Don’t prolong the shame on your family.
You’re not penniless with Jesus sandals begging in the city centre (Hanley) yet.
You’re not a father so it could be a lot harder.
Yes, darkness smothers the brightest of days.
Create your own karma.
Replace that window pain with thankfulness.
Let your actions anchor it.
Be a man in this

I am not my father, I am more than his son.
I can’t wait to announce that Karmas pregnant because I’ve overcome.
Until then I shall feed my vision with knowing the mission is cooperative.
The new world I desire will take more than thoughts and prayers to populate.
Because I am built to handle it.

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Down Day

Image result for feeling down


They say men are made from stuff women aren’t.

Stronger hands, harder hearts

You can take a beating and dare not flinch

The measure of man’s tiers found in grit not ink.


He’s made of wildest dreams and infinite schemes

A man is built to last.

He can plot a tree and chop down forests.

Just women’s ages he dare not ask.


A man should have money, a man should have style.

A man commands the stage.

Men have no fear, knows lust not love.

Being a MAN is all the rage.


So why do good ones fall and bad ones rise?

Is it safe to even ask?

Is it weak to cry, will he be despised?

Is it wise to be about that?


I’m drowning in supposed to be.

What I’m not has been my yoke.

If I’m a man or so I claim will my man card be revoked?


I guess I’ll hang from ropes you beat me with.

My failures and dented pride.

When love is lost we count the cost.

No hope and suicide.

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