Morning Haiku – 10

Blue stings my fat eyes to Summer blandness in France and a Finch flies forth.

Jul16

I was yours to be seen, yet I put out my eyes. Blind and unclean smoke ghosts drift across widescreen flickering scenes I despise. I was yours to be seen on the high street between mannequins and the beggar’s sunrise. Blind and unclean on moonshine runs, as amphetamine blurred visions catalyse. I was yours to…

Jul09

A List of Demands. I demand that people be kinder to me. A woman blends foundation to camouflage her blue/yellow bruises. I swing wildly with the cricket bat my Granddad made from scraps. I demand that I get more hugs. A fat bellied kid dies in an African village. I savagely rip the coverings off…

Jul05

A Sunday Stroll through the Village The sun lensed a hole in the canopy enough to etch rainbow flares across the undergrowth and the trees had coughed up a phlegm of bark. Rolling banks of buffeting gusts roiled their sticky goo and made me imagine a keg chested wolf exhaling furiously while above unimpressed squirrels…

Jul04

To Sleep in the Shadows   Dense is the umbra: A crawling shadow, Sombre as dusk, Cascading tones of darkness Into a matt, flat pool.   The sable hands of night Reach out with raven Strokes of unseen fingers To steal the colour and Snuff out the light.   Sightless, underexposed eyes, With veiled, visionless…

Jun15 [🍻]

Barley had I eaten when I marked another drink – “Too the Kinga!” – Our glasses overflowed, and I saw blur. My fiends doubled and my foes troubled. I flowed like a brick and made a substantial wall – “Too the Kingu!” – out of my stubbed toes, that stool, that bloody stool did it,…

Jun14

The battle lines were drawn on the day she received her vagina – Her virgin scar. Although she didn’t choose the burden of that box She’ll have to wait, like the rest of us, in order to tick it. And above, the “man” who made her smiled when “he” cut her so. “He” is still…

Jun13

Modern Life is Rubbish VIII Death is the great equaliser. In the ground we are all dust and rocks And worms can eat our brains. Forgiveness is the splatter of brain matter Against the wall, the twelve gauge still Smoking in the still warm, twitching dead hands. Grief is the gentle sniff and muffled sob,…

Jun11

Give to me good earth as pillow and the sky stroking tonic of willow to plant within me the root of home that will grow dominant as I roam from the Northern lights natural wend that inverts to Southern tip of rugged Land’s End, from the Eastern edge of Lincolnshire spire to the western crown…

Jun07

The Circle – V Kate Kate longfully stares at the empty vase wishing it could overflow with fresh life, but when it whithers on the vine, she’s sparse and, though majestic, she is a drained wife. At the group, among friends, she cries in vain, her mane of curls, her royal strength is crushed. In…