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For the broken stones
Veronica pulls off her red haywire wig then she peels off her repellent rubber clothing. An aged snake shedding skin nightly. She cares nothing for...
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- 460 reads
Come on you Blues
8:30am. The alarm clock triggers its quadraphonic jangle, ricochets off the walls and splices into my brain like a swarm of hot bullets. It remains...
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- 366 reads
Release
Grasping at bubbles dissolve in my hand Knowing life's troubles are small specs of sand I'd like to be the the sun that warms away your chills I'd...
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- 747 reads
Time
I don't know what time it was Snow was falling, voices calling Chills were running up and down my spine Caught in the wreckage of a ship I sailed...
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- 976 reads
She
Her beauties everlasting Though, no reflective glass Can steal her gaze She lingers in seclusion Earnest in her ways Painting, the heavens above So...
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- 673 reads
Opera singer
A true story (as far as I know)
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- 850 reads
D: THE RIPPER
THE RIPPER Mizzle spooned against the shutters. Dusk steadily creeping mingles, With tar like pools in the gutters. Stone-tiled earthworks...
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- 501 reads
D: 4/2/03
Work Diary, 4/2/03 As the cheerleaders say: "U! G! L! Y! You ain't got no alibi! You ugly! You ugly!" I haven't had a haircut in months and I keep...
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- 859 reads
Whoever You Are
Whoever You Are Staggering I wailed lost songs to you, You were my sweetheart, you were my blues, Choked to find the words to say, You can come and...
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- 232 reads
Report from heaven's agent
Psycho who thinks he's heaven's agent
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- 775 reads
Thanks for Strangers
Man overboard!
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- 484 reads
Urban Wildlife
Wilflife report on the vermin of neds
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- 592 reads
Pitching In St. Ives
A very short but sadly very true story
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- 835 reads
Democratisation at the Mesukanian
A parable about British
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- 518 reads
Arms Around A Dream.
For Paul. 1968 - 1986 ARMS AROUND A DREAM. The cruelty of daydreams, served with melting sun. You never saw the winter. Life had just begun. Candles...
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- 859 reads
Pink lady on the skyline
As I walked up the hill to the station in Durham, my hands full, scalded now and then by the hot tea I carried, I was miserable and tired by my long day and stressful evening.
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- 509 reads
Modern Monk
I'm sitting writing, at a table for once, on this habitual journey. A Franciscan friar in full regalia has just walked past me, if you can call it regalia.
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- 551 reads