Oh the innocence of pure lust…

a sleek Les Paul and a stack of Marshall amps,

The desire to be a rock star,

Not for the sexual opportunities,

But for the approval,

The desire to be venerated…

The desire to belong.

A black and silver specked premier drum kit,

A invitation to be accepted as a nutter,

Because the beat you sold was rocksteady,

And every band needs a beat master,

I didn’t want to wreck hotel rooms,

I wanted to feel that buzz,

When everyone connected

to the groove.

A Fender Jazz bass sunburst,

Still sounds like pure pornography,

Standing with my back to the crowd,

attuned only to the buzzing beat of the drummer,

Smiling to each other as you become one.

Thumb and forefinger producing

A perfect reason for opposable thumbs.

Or even a mini moog synth…

Antiquated now but then a revelation,

Developing loops and whirls,

That took music in new exciting directions…

And finally,

being naked with just a mic stand to hide you,

The chance to hold the audience

in your hands,

Could you do it?

More pertinent, could I do it?

Patently I could not!

I had the stage craft and the look,

But I could not sing.

Even the Punk revolution,

With amateurish vocals

Did not shift the culture

Far enough to make my voice acceptable.

I still lust for the accoutrements of music,

Still wish that someone had showed me how.

I would have been happy then,


do you think?

Dale M 2021



Seems I might be a lot sicker than I thought. I was labouring under the impression that I was faking it successfully, until my other half of the we continuum pointed out that I was not there when talking to her… In fact I wasn’t anywhere. All the things that I have thought about myself need to be shelved. I have always been able to control my depressive nature by myself, always been able to pull myself through it with bloody minded determination… And I thought I was doing it until J made me realise I was making excuses as to why I couldn’t go visit her or my kids… Always had a potential excuse which saved me facing the reality… I couldn’t face going out. I seem to have developed anxieties about meeting people, even my nearest and dearest. Does anyone else feel like this? Is it a by-product of the lock-down? Is the very real mental health disaster that this pandemic has engendered probably a worse consequence than actual virus itself?

I’m asking the question because it feels pertinent at the moment.

Will it cause the socialisation of our society to fail?

In my sixty odd years on this planet I think that this could be far more deep reaching than even things like AIDS or the fall of the Berlin Wall… Its not just this country it is world-wide… All have become isolates, not part of a community, I think this could be devastating.

There I go again, turning away from my problems or issues, trying to turn it into a universal problem rather than unpacking what it is that’s going on in my brain.

I’m getting into a blind panic about socialising. I went to the shop the other day, and wanted to scream at all the people there… Terrifying.

Even going downstairs and talking to my parents fills me with dread. I think its the fact that I have to act. Make out that I’m more buoyant than I am… pretending to wave when I’m really drowning.

Please be assured that this is not to say I’m suicidal, I’m not… I would rather not be here, but the thought of causing pain to my family and loved ones is not something I can countenance. I’m not that type of person. I have never put my needs first in my life.

I am just searching for a way through this minefield. Anyone got a map?

Dale M



Born to wander,

born to wonder,

born to seek out our destinies,

never alone with the road our friend.

The itch to keep moving,

is paramount,

Soul searching the moon,

whilst lost in the deepest forest.

The thought of stillness,

An invitation to a wake…

your have to try

or else you die.

Even in rapture the thought remains,

must move on along the road…

A hard lesson to learn,

no matter where you go,

you always find yourself.

We learnt well,

It took long enough,

33 years in the wilderness,

Constantly searching

for peace of mind.

Strange that it was always there,

Right where we started…

Shame that we had to go through the process,

to realise that love was in us…

And not somewhere else.

So how do I work this alone?

So used to us as a pronoun.

Do I need to hit the road again?

Or wait for the peace of mind,

only you can provide…

Dale M 2021




In my youth

we laboured under the vestiges

of a forgotten religion.

Lip service was paid and played out.

We were dragooned into Assembly every morning.

A teacher would read a lesson,

we sang hymns and said the Lords Prayer.

But it was no more than superstition.

The only people I knew that went to church,

Were Catholics.

Church of England was no more sacrosanct,

Than those ancient credo’s of Vikings.

We were fed Easter, Christmas and Lent

As if they were Christian but are patently not.

We had weird traditions,

May Poles, Easter Bonnets,

Processions and blood sacrifice.

I would smirk at these,

for they were a mixture of pagan tradition

and an over-arch of cult worship…

The cult we were fed was that of royalty.

We were born into servitude,

and known as subjects of the Crown.

I refused politely this nomenclature.

I’m nobody’s subject!

Yet we were forced to partake in this

ludicrous pageant.

We had no knowledge of the meaning,

May pole fertility,

Easter bonnet meant nothing.

And now these rituals have been further corroded,

Even the vague lip-service has gone,

nobody is indoctrinated into a mystery religion.

Just the

corridors of elite patronage,

hold tight to these spells,

And are forced into the Sunday service.

As we grew into knowledge,

we rebelled.

We took the Pagan elements

And fused them with Gaia,

We preferred a Matriarchal deity,

Given that war was always fought,

In the name of God.

Perplexing to me given that

Jesus is the most pacifist prophet

In the cannon of prophets.

Yet the right hold these

diametrically opposed views,

Jesus is Lord and might is right…

So where are we now?

The mainstream sell Satanism as cool.

Sneakers with blood in their heels?

And the elite using Adrenochrome

from tortured children, allegedly,

To maintain the look

of eternal youth.

I’m not sure this is what we sought,

When we searched for a better way,

To venerate the beauty of nature.

I fear that we have evoked the devil

whilst seeking A benign supra-man.

Dale M 2021