SHE USED TO DREAM OF BETTER THINGS
The I, me, pajama striped shirted,
Ignorant, stand alone, shout-out nutcase,
nonsensical words blurted,
staggered with burp and belch
under caustic breath;
ale breath, shot breath.
He gives a show of
none stick comedy,
and imperfectly performed
puerile knobbery.
“Huh! Huh!”
Pint, betting slip, kebab
“What’s that? Yea,
I'll be home soon, Bab”
Tells her t...
Monday 31st January 2022 10:37 am
LADY WALKING
She walks a marathon distance each day,
passing people she has known for years
now unrecognizable, vague, like shadows.
She no longer engages with them,
struggling to distinguish between the faded faces.
She retraces each step, regardless of the weather -
always dressed for it. Back and forth.
The same handful of routes trodden in sequence.
The same street corner where she...
Monday 31st January 2022 10:16 am
CUTS
CUTS
When I think of her I think of scars.
She told me when she touches them they remind her of the cuts;
of how the cuts made her feel,
“it’s a purge”, she said, “a sense of being real".
She spoke to me with honesty of the incremental cost
of destroying the things she held so dear
now irretrievably lost.
Of how, through her inner turmoil,
she could meet the gi...
Sunday 30th January 2022 1:41 pm
BLUR
Give me a broken mirror.
Hide the blemishes and blotches
That impairs and disfigures.
Give me renewed youth.
Re-circuit my memory
Rewrite the truth.
Give me made up days.
Turn action to fiction
Blow my mind away.
Give me turning tides.
Give me caves and crevices
In which I can hide.
Give me light, give me dark
Give me dressings to hide
...
Wednesday 25th July 2018 1:38 pm
MOTHER OF A COLUMBINE MURDERER
I watched a Ted Talk the other night. The speaker was the mother of Dylan Klebold, one of the columbine killers. It struck me that it must have taken a lot of courage to do this thing and gave me an insight into how it also affects the parents of killers such as this. I wrote this...
MOTHER OF A COLUMBINE MURDERER
With quaking voice the woman stood
in front of a thousand strong crowd
and s...
Wednesday 28th February 2018 12:46 am
YOU COULD SMOKE IN PUBS
Back in those days
you could smoke in the pubs,
we’d suck on those sticks to our finger tips
then casually, carelessly drop the stubs
and twist them into the floor with our feet,
openly, brazenly, never discreet.
The stench of burning carpet, the smell of spilt ale
would meet in a plume of noxious gas,
fetid, fusty and stale;
like a fart in a working man’s café.
A flo...
Sunday 11th February 2018 8:00 pm
TRIPPING OVER THE WELCOME MAT
The mainstay of guests,
Their backs against chairs
That are backed against walls,
Readily seated and settled
Into tight knit sub communities
And discussion cells…
Thrashing out social failings
And political ineptitudes
Gleaned from broadsheets
And RT News updates,
Mumbling agreements
Or gentle dissents,
Some too stoned to participate
(should have “passed the kouchie
‘pon the left ha...
Thursday 8th February 2018 6:45 pm
TYPE III
I was challenged by a member of the writers group I was part of to write a poem from a woman's perspective. I had recently watched a documentary on genital mutilation which inspired me to write this, Type 3 being the harshest of the practice -
Colonial history will still dictate how the men around here
Practice love through hate
For aesthetic purposes; an ethnic marker
Gender controlle...
Thursday 8th February 2018 4:52 pm
PERFECT PAMELA
Positioned provocatively,
picture perfect Pamela
poses for porno photos
in a seedy studio south of the river.
Purring and pouting and protruding
her pumping breasts,
bending for a plump posterior moon shot,
parting her legs for a pussy close up,
panting and puffing, providing
point of view pics procured by
self proclaimed perverts on the internet
pulling on their p...
Thursday 8th February 2018 6:43 am
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