Music plays in the other room

The past gets heavier every day
for the man at the back of my imagination
who put the last of his heart
in a newspaper boat
and set it adrift on an unknown sea,
waiting to be rescued,
wanting to be held
like the love letter you’ve kept all these years,
the one you read when no one is watching,
the one with your tears
trapped in the discoloured crease.

© D. Archer. October 2015.
Photograph © D. Archer 2015

Mrs Robinson

Much like conversations with shopkeepers and old people
I skilfully avoid the coil of dog shit on the cinder path
as the arse crack showing cyclist
swept passed me like my youth,
all his cares de-frosting in a bag for life
low slung from the handlebars;
dangerously close to one wheel;
translucent to the light.

His reckless rolling scattered the complaining birds
from the car driven to ashes
and the weeds and wildflowers
the names of which I never learned in school
but whose smell dragged me back
to where I found your candid Polaroid
that I kept and hid in my room.

© D. Archer. June 2015.

(The names have been invented to make me sound vaguely interesting).

I’m not OK Cupid

Be Prepared!

Be Prepared!

I’m not OK Cupid.

Days like today make me realise that it is perfectly OK not to be OK. Celebrate our differences and accept our idiosyncrasies my arse. Nobody wants a relationship with someone who lists their quirks as “bestiality and defrauding the tax office on a massive scale”.

My personal profile reads, “I am short, fat, 46, shit with money and prone to bouts of depression”, a brief but accurate description of myself. Needless to say this has not endeared me to the masses nor brought me fame and adoration from all corners of the globe.

I have tried, (insert preferred deity) I have tried but the fact of the matter remains the same, my life is exasperatingly dull. I wake, I work, I over eat carbohydrates and I sleep. My life is a veritable catalogue of things not to do with your time on this rock. I have travelled very little, my refrigerator is unadorned with exotic magnets that have have place and emotions woven into them (apparently the energy efficiency sticker does not count and is a poor substitute for the vista from above Mach Picchu). There are no anecdotal photographs dotted around my living room depicting past lives or close friends in riotous holiday poses captured on yellow edged paper. I don’t, I just don’t.

I am a difficult person, I can be stand offish, aloof and even just plain ignorant but when you’re in, you’re in; I am loyal like a dog, an unconditional lover because you are a friend, a family member, a pet or a cactus.

I hope this days brings a connection for someone, somewhere. Personally I am looking forward to February 27th which is “International Tidy your Sock Drawer Day”, can’t wait to see how many cards I get. For me it’s time to move, mentally and physically and try to love like a verb.

Oh and in case you are wondering, I don’t have a profile on OK cupid did you not read the above?

© D. Archer. February 2015

To follow is too late

Once upon a time
there was no time,
only you;
it’s when the talking stops
and I am left to think
about the size of the night
in the small numbers of the clock when
I miss the radio the most,
the audience of one,
the place for homeless thoughts
and mis-shaped, guilty love.

I have no more reach left in me
so I take myself to bed
because no one else will;
there I close my day
with you in the picture on the shelf,
the remains of someone else,
knowing the hole in my heart
is where you forever are.

© D. Archer. October 2013.

Good Grief Morrissey

Charming Charlie

It’s a sad day when artistic expression is crushed under the weight of the corporate pressure. has received instructions to remove posts relating to their juxtaposition of the Peanuts strip and The Smiths lyrics. Strange times indeed considering that 99% of Tumbler is based on plagiarism and good old cut and paste with scant regard for authors and copyright.

I suggest you visit while this charming site is still up and running.

In a futile act of solidarity I post my own two penneth of disobedience. Good grief Morrissey, have a heart.

The Boy Next Door


Obviously the words are not copyright myself and neither unfortunately is the artwork, I came across the image on the inter-web just as I was having my daily dose of Morrissey and by-jingo a contemporary juxtaposition of worlds collided (not as oblique as the Peanuts’ strip I admit). Also, I’m a bit miffed that I can’t see who the artist is on the Vader illustration as I would sing your praises and give full credit without a doubt.

The black frame and the drop shadow are © D. Archer 2013 but that’s all I have contributed, all the interesting and talented stuff belongs to real people.

When we were young

I had a master-plan to the grave
when we were young,
when the world was smaller than my fears
I’d send you flowers on paper
that needed neither vase nor tending
and every white expansive Sunday
promised “that” look
as I would write unacademic verse
and you, you would go gently grey
watching me listen
to the seasons begin their change.

© D. Archer. September 2013

Mirror mirror on the page

I broke into your mirror
and spent hours under your words
where you sentenced me to be forgotten
just as pages turned,
while you remained elusive
as the corner in a circle
as the sunspot in my eye
I remain a fool for chasing
the shadow of a love
that I know
long since died.

© D. Archer. September 2013.

Mr Fifties. Motivational Speaker


I’ve decided that this here poetry malarkey is never going to make me rich, I mean come on, Poet Laureate! £75 and a case of wine, that’s hardly going to last me an afternoon, therefore, I’ve decided I’m going to move into motivational speaking and possibly creating my own religion (move over L. Ron, there’s a new spaceship in town!) so lets kick off our first session by all chanting Mr Fifties’ really positive, self affirming statement…..

© D. Archer. August 2013.