The Inner Within

I’ve been as fas as I can go,
but only with myself.

through the physics of love
and mental breakdown;
depression and petulance;
I have been within.

I cannot believe a love for me
possessed by someone else.
it cannot be and shall not see
the light of my heart.
I’ve been as close as I dare go
to that fickle flame,
and only I will feel its cold…


what shall I do?
whatever it is,
it won’t involve you.
whereever I go,
away from here
where you can’t know,

whatever I chance,
are you threatened
by my independance?

there’s me and thee
and me and myself.


through the doors of bedrooms
you can hear my songs.
if you listen close enough
you can hear my heart.
I fill pages of books
with thoughts about you,
still I live off your looks,
my tongue set alight.
through the folds in my jeans
you touch where I feel,
as cootchie as ten bears,
my god, I could hug you!
but you must love me
from your heart
before you can tear me apart.

Go Home To Mother

even his long-time love
who said she’d never desert him
has failed him.
where is she now the line has cleared?
the warmth is cut like ice, for
she is cruel and cold – he’s bitter.
this flaxon haired – and bonny-built
lad has saved one hundred pages
in his diary for her.
she shows no emotion.
all pinafore strings are severed,
cut with blades of frozen sweat,
he falls apart from long-time lover:
he could always go home to mother.


morning sweetness!
I woke today
with you on my mind.
while hot and bothered
I felt your arms
as I showered.
hot and horny I
thanked my stars
I had woken without
you on my pillow,
and I hadn’t been raised
on “Ask The Family”
or you might have slept
with me in my bed
and there could have been
a hot-crossed bun
in the oven by now.

I’ll Phone You

I’ll phone you from work –
I’ll feel safer there.
my brain will be on,
have been exercised
and I’ll be amongst
fellow people and machines
that will rush together
to support my mass
if I fall from the chair
when I hear you speak.
I’ll stay late and I’ll phone
where I’m safe and sound;
where you’ll be a voice
like the others thru’ the day.


you like talking
and the sound of your voice.
I like listening and playing your accent.
you give what you want
and I take what I need.
now smell the curries and valium
and mountains of cream in my teas.
how I’d love to cry
but there’s nothing to cry for;
and I grow everytime
in a charming, sensitive way.


I could have been a model,
so I haven’t been told:
I do not have a neck
which could commercially
be sold.
it’s been said
that I have not the head
with correct structure,
the bones are scaffolded,
my skin is folded,
the cheeks are tucked:
my modelling career is
not very promising.

Show Biz Superstar

Show Biz Superstar cover
A selection from “Show Biz Superstar”
by Scott Hill.
Originally 81 works spanning August 1988 – August 1990
Executive producer: Bobby Bristol for Scottsburg Productions 1990
Artwork by Alma Weldon and Scott.
Published by SCH copyright on all titles 6th September 1990