A europe wide search for love


My poem Lost Highways came 2nd in Cultured Vultures poem of the week competition this week. After a third place previously, I am hoping to hit the jackpot next week with one of these two. Both are about the futility of homelessness. Enjoy.



As I pish pash down the monstrous streets of Paris

The rain makes the cheap neon shimmer and shiver

I am approached by a creaking vagrant

Shuddering and Grunting

Coughing and Wheezing

He pushes a shopping trolley containing maize

I secretly wish he will pass me by

But of course he does not

‘Want some corn’ he asks

‘That’s maize.’  I say

‘That’s not fit for human consumption’ I say

He laughed

Raised his hands to the skies

‘None of this is fit for human consumption’ he screamed

I bought some maize and trudged on

How could I argue


We were sat on the U-Bahn in Berlin

My soon to be wife and I

After a long day shopping and sightseeing

A tramp boarded at Gleisdreieck

He stank of his own shit

Wretched and base

Freshly lain

He shuffled up the middle of the train

As people leered and ogled his plight

This once proud human

That bleeds the same colour as all of us

Reduced to a foul shit stink

My wife and I sunk low in our seats

As the man begged for change we all had

But would not give

He got out at Prinzenßtrase

Leaving the foul stench of disappointment

Thick in our throats

A couple of stops later we disembarked

Returned to our hotel

Through snow lined streets

Our breath exploding in front of us

Hands deep in our fleeced pockets

As soon as we got in we ordered room service

Laying on our bed

Our stomachs full

We made love amongst the wreckage

While outside the smell of frozen shit

Lingered in the air

Like so much regret

Both ©Stuart Buck



By midnight we had destroyed one another

Razed cities to the ground

We had dethroned kings

Shifted plates

The tremors could be felt across the world

The rising black smoke poured into the sky above us

As the sparks we made caused fires

Earlier that day we had lain together

For the final time

Our souls alight

The death of our love pushed firmly to the back

As we stained our memories

With sweat and semen

And false promises

Yesterday you broke my back

Punctured my lungs

Caused despair

Where life once grew

Selfish and sterile

Ripped from your being

An unwanted tumor

Three weeks ago we knew

How we detested one another

The mask slipped

The facade ended

We orbited one another

Afraid to make contact

Ashamed of our failures

Daring to look forward

A year ago we began to drop

Self hatred replaced by loathing

We still smiled

Not daring to admit

We had made a mistake

Not daring to speak

Of universal truths

Before that was sterility

Beige banality

I became a hen pecked cuckold

Dry and disappointing

My being diluted

Until all that remained

Was no part of me at all

The first month was wonderful

We knew we would never part

How could two people so similar

Exist in a finite world

We licked and smacked and gulped

Drank from each other

Sating our thirst


He came to my bedside
And told me all things must die
I stared through him
At the teeth chattering on the walls
At the decaying bouquets
At the bodies piled up
In the corner of the room
Light replaced dark
I took his hand
And he smiled

©Stuart Buck


I remember him now and then
When I’m feeling brave enough to recall my childhood
Mr. Strathclyde
He was a welcome break from the ceaseless banality of the suburbs
I’d see him every Saturday morning on my way to work
Damp panatela clamped between his gums
Stained string vest and pyjama bottoms
Smirking like he’d just told a dirty joke that no one had heard
‘Morning sport’ he’d yell at me over the thrum and whine of his lawnmower
I hated sport
But I liked him
‘Morning Mr. Strathclyde’
His lawn was immaculate
Set square perfection
He’d tend that lawn until they took him away he used to say
I never saw Mrs. Strathclyde, although I knew she was lame
Sometimes you’d see the curtains twitch in the bedroom upstairs

One Saturday I was walking to work when I noticed a weed growing in the centre of the lawn
Right in the middle, defiling it
The next week there were more weeds
The grass was getting longer
Clover and moss burst through the pristine layer of grass
A crisp packet lounged in the corner, its garish maw gaping obscenely
After that my dad lost his job and we moved to the other side of town
I never saw Mr. Strathclyde’s lawn again

©Stuart Buck 2015

Lost Highways

Later on we walked down to the jazz bar

Where Charles Mingus and Duke Ellington

Threw out wah-wah dreams

The trumpets whisper mysteries

Martini false dawns

Hi-hats leading us through the looking glass

We danced until death

Folding into each other like a deck of cards

Until we could take it no more

And as the saxophone reached its violent crescendo

And the jazz man collapsed on the floor

We fell into a fever

That has lasted forever

© Stuart Buck 2015


Hello everyone and welcome to the blog of semi-proficient poet Stuart Buck. Here you will find poetry, music and more poetry. Some of this will be mine, some of it will be pieces I like and that have influenced me, and the music will just be good music (which needs no reason to be here).

Whilst I have been writing for a while now, it is recently that my poems are picking up a bit of praise/infamy so now seems a good time to start up a social presence. I will also get a twitter account soon, as I am told they are all the rage.

New poems will likely go up every day, alongside plugs for other artists I enjoy, other books I have read and all sorts really.

I have an alternative blog available on WOL which can be found at http://www.writeoutloud.net/blogs/stubuck

If you are a poet and want to be featured on here, give me a shout @ stuartmbuck@hotmail.com

Ok, new poetry up later tonight.