Style vs Substance

Some poems and some attempts at poetry.

Night Music

And our song begins to call out In soft minor keys Tonight children will die! Tonight children will die!


And the bones of it: The skeleton remains forever Fleshed out by living memory.

Callous Parallels

Done some editing...still not too sure...


They are celebrating a murder whooping and cheering like New Year’s or the Champions League like fresh death takes the sting out, makes old death softer, somehow sweeter


Embellish his name clean it polish it shine it up just a little bit please reach down pull it from the mud- isn't that the kindest thing a person could do? say something


It's going to take more than a bloody bunch of grapes you say you care though. They will sit there going yellow. Neon fat with sugar. Bursting their skins flirting with fruit flies. Sweet

Twenty Million Five Hundred Eleven Thousand One Hundred Forty-nine

One thousand five hundred and twenty nine products to clean your sink Five thousand, two hundred and seven brands of toothpaste I am not satisfied.


Your secrets, your confessions are dark crystals slipping quietly into my ocean

Go Gently

What do you see, a feeble figure? Urinating in the bed Brittle ribs fractured by resuscitation. Plastic and alien, all tubes and beeping.

Maintaining Excellence in Credit User Services (MECUS House Longterm Facility)

We are here because we are naughty. We are here to make good. Georgie went and shacked up with her man. But oh dear. Didn't do her Change of Circumstances did she?
Poem of the week


Maria She was born in a Mexican prison Nestled at the breast, her mother cursing cockroaches in the dark. She was taken and raised by the nuns in the convent courtyard she closed her eyes,


For jarring fascinating minutes. It was in my ribs. Your voice, the bench, my bones.

The Chauncellor

He's round the back smoking crack with underage girls Writing heartache manifestos we'll roll up our sleeves and say “bloody” smiling on production lines holding up his little red box.