Aug28

Modern Life Is Rubbish. “Modern life is rubbish”, Old Tom Clifford knows Waking every day at six To get his deadly daily fix, Smoking twenty so his cancer grows. See him off down Taunton road again To get in before his boss – Tardiness only makes him cross – He hopes his heart can take…

Liebster Award Nomination

Today, I received a notification for the Liebster Award from Peaks of Cheeks, who digs, digs, digs into our mine the whole day through… Thank you so much, I am honoured to be nominated. So, (Deep inhalation of breath) here goes…. The Rules: Thank the blogger who nominated you and add a link to their…

Aug03

Poenitet. There each new morning, emerging from the shadows darkening in all four corners of the room, awaits each aspect of Poenitet. The first holds a pitchfork with prongs to turn back time just to that excruciating moment: The rasping of a voice, shouting; The strain within muscles, lashing out; The muddle of misplaced promises…

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,…