Doubts Are Powerful 

The poison that lurks within your thoughts 

Slowly making my heart cease to beat

You stand there falsely distraught

As I slowly unwind us back to zero

I see through your eyes

As you smile and say I love you

A brother a father or just someone else

What you want isn’t me

And so I smile try and doubt furiously

Living a life in a live stream

Hearing my own words said back to me

And you can only be kind while you hope I leave

yet somehow you’re better than most

Sometimes I doubt whether you and I are even here

Finding out would shroud me in total fear

Yet I hope someday to find

You and I cannot be unbound

My heart will start ticking again

Because baby you gave me life hope and dreams.

This is the best I can do

Be it not enough for you

I try my best for you and only you

All that I do

I want it to be you

Please don’t hurt me

Don’t let me be weak

© Alex Turner 2018


I’m Not Alone

I’m not alone, I’m not alone, I’m not alone.

Frightening figures, fucking forever.

Death is looming over our minds.

Warp our imaginations some more!


You are a bore

to the hand that feeds you

Laying out in the night gazing upon the stars,

waiting for the morning dew

Tomorrow can come no sooner,

everyday is becoming the same,

sick and tired from the day to day games.

I’m not alone, I’m not alone, I’m not alone!

(c) Alex Turner 2016



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These walls, they’re closing in on me,

Ruminating rumours,

Only doubting their authenticity,

Show me the light, the one that I need,

Only on the inside do I bleed,

I walk on and I smile or I glare,

Meeting their eyes with mine,

Seeing how much longer they dare,

I always win!

I always win!

I always win!


So come and ask me,

I don’t bite,

nor with with my hands shall I smite your presence,

I’m playing your games and I’m winning.

Until I die I shall be on top,

Bully me,

I could use the energy,

Hate me,

I’ll only love you back,

Do as you please,

I’m infamous till death do us part,

Take me away,

Harrow my soul some more,

Because it makes me laugh,  and I have grown to love it.

(c) Alex Turner 2016


I Fell in Love


Is it possible to miss a love that was never real,

So cold she was at times,

It made me feel,

A love, a hatred,


I can’t explain,

Her fake love grabbed me,

and slapped me in the face,

Every ”I love you” burning in my veins,


I’ve been around the bend and back,

Thinking of her,

The others haven’t seemed to fill the void left by your smile,

Only for a while,

Come and kill me with your love.

(c) Alex Turner 2016


Blue Blood

His once blue-blooded veins now flow with vodka,

He walks down the roadside,

Only seeing lovers entwined,

Fingers, thumbs,

Interwoven with an ivy vine,

Street lamps pulsating revivifying electricity,

Reviving lost memories of brighter times,

Seeds of despair and regret,

Blooming in the cage of his mind.


© Alex Turner 2016



there is what sounds like a middle-aged man sat behind me on the coach.

He is drunk.

How I wish I was drunk!

He has made the same phone call about four times.

He goes on to talk about work and how he hasn’t been paid for over-time.

He goes on to talk about how how he isn’t going to stand around doing nothing at work.

He goes on about how he wishes to get even more inebriated on the bus.

His voice is common and husky.

He sounds like a plumber or something like that.

someone who is used to the daily graft.

manual labor…

He sounds confused.

I imagine he has stubble.

And a short back and sided haircut.

I can’t help but wonder.

Has he found love ?

What are his hobbies?

Is he happy ?

Does he have children ?

He speaks with authority.

I think he is a boss or a manager of some kind, maybe self-employed ?

His life seems simple.

His problems ordinary.

I think I possess some kind of envious feeling towards him.

You know how some people are just plain and simply ordinary humans nothing more nothing less.

Like plain rice, casually just managing with no errors, just plain sailing until he dies.

Nothing else seems that different.

Just kind of generic…

A nine to five sort of guy.

I want what he has.

© Alex Turner 2015


A Plea For Freedom

I’ve done a lot of things wrong.
I’ve done a lot of thing right.
Rabid red haired whores.
You see, I just want to be left alone.
To be given a chance at a normal life.
Yet I am so alone, craving, wanting the touch of another human being.
Wanting away from your fascism and psychopathic mind torture and ideologies.
I’m going to run.
So chase me if you care to do so.
This is an appeal to you.
I’ve been a lot of places.
Seen a lot of faces.
I’m not so naive.
And only slightly psychotic.
What harm could my happiness have on humanity.
Amidst clouds of smoke, vanity, profanity.
So, no more secret agents please.
It’s fucking my head up.
I don’t know if I can ever trust again.
I’m hoping you shall see this plea.
Whether you are one or a thousand.
This is me on my knees asking for my freedom.
So just this once listen and let me get what I want.

© Alex Turner 2015


A Journey

As I sit on the coach;
The wheels, they just keep turning ,
friends talking , strangers ignoring.
You see, we don’t exist, not to each other.
Although, you do get the occasional chatty soul.
I see cows huddled together.
You know, they say that when cows huddle together it will rain.
Walls on the hills, connected like road, lingering around up until the horizon engulfs their presence.
I see cracks over foundations, where nature fights the iron fist of man.
I see cars and people in them. Each with their own story. Their own lives.
Executive saloons.
Small hatchbacks.
Fragile and curved, rounded like balloons.
I see lorries, dominant steeds of the motorway.
I turn around and see a beautiful blonde woman.
For all I know, she could be my one true love.
Alas, I shall never find out , as I am much too timid whilst sober.
Which makes me feel sombre.
I see, you see.
I am not blind.
I see trees shedding their leaves.
Malting gradually, as they stand roadside.
Observing, patiently, for the rest of their lives.

© Alex Turner 2015


Town Street Blues

A lonely night on town street.
Many apples to be picked among the remains of lost youth and innocence.
Many a brew to be consumed,
until I am blind with joy  and distortion.
The clear sky of night, blissfully ignored,
due to the beautiful ladies of night.
Eyes meeting eyes.
Shivers up my spine.
Big brews and fine wine.
Exciting flaws anticipating rejection.

© Alex Turner 2015


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