Autobiography
Inexplicable
Get the subtle Betjeman reference - luv a bit of Betjemania, me.
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- 1782 reads
Orbital, Aphex Twin and Squarepusher.
He deals with problems the same way he deals with the dripping tap in the bathroom just puts on his music until he can't hear.
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- 913 reads
Lily Allen Dream
'How's Lily?' people in the office would ask and I'd tell them the things we'd been up to.
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- 4 comments
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- 2085 reads
STAGNATION
STAGNATION I am being swallowed by quick sand, I am being suffocated with a plastic bag, I am paralysed from the waist down, By the ferocious ocean I'm being drowned.
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- 275 reads
a photograph of summer (a sort of sonnet)
A shoeless wanderer roams, blind from strife over hot, short grass; this boy was you once - whose world consists of never resting suns and waves deeper than the meaning of life.
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- 747 reads
Childhood's End
Adam strapped in the patient's chair, a sugar-coated phial loaded between his teeth. Dr Wu drilling key-holes into soft crowns of skull, injects fizzy sherbert
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- 1548 reads
Detox Advice
A conversation about food neuroses
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- 693 reads
That money would have turned you into a bastard
Poem about this story http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/howaboutthat/6535813/EuroMill...
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- 4 comments
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- 1513 reads
Working for the mouse
Live to work.
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- 2 comments
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- 849 reads
Snapshot of my brother
Edited re-post
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- 19 comments
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- 5234 reads
Note To An Aspiring Poet
I'd been in pompous mode considering myself a Poet, trying to get at meaning when my friend's 2 year old decided to tell me about his day. Under his guileless paw
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- 4 comments
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- 2427 reads
My Pen
Posted in Dec '09 This may be getting published; more anon.... ;)
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- 4 comments
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- 1389 reads
In The Hour Of Their Passing
One story ends following a slow withdrawal, a moulding into outlines of greying sheets. The cells sucking into themselves, the hollowed skin pinned to whitewash walls. Another sees sparks
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- 1485 reads
ONCE
Once I was a child, With everything before me; Then I was an adolescent - Everything bored me; Then I was a young woman, Fertile and ripe; Then I was a mother Believing all the hype.
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- 1154 reads
They Don't Know
Electricity. Bubbles. All because you touched my hand. Dread. Fear. The pain from before still has not subsided. Hope. Trust. You know all my secrets. Warmth. Caresses.
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- 389 reads
Maybe This Time
Me You I cling to the memory of You and me together Your heartbeat next to mine But there’s more than distance between us, It’s a concrete block in the middle
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- 354 reads
You and Me
Touches my face, soft and gentle getting closer. My breath speeds up, his slows down mint on his breath. Nervous, It’s not what I expect but it’s what I want. He draws me to him
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- 529 reads
Intelligent woman
INTELLIGENT WOMAN Intelligent woman Young and free What makes you so different to me? Neglected, Alone Angry and scared You fight for your life, your teeth bared Emotionally Unstable
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- 419 reads
Wallpaper
another look back to childhood - this time a long way back
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- 13 comments
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- 3928 reads
BANANAS ON LINE (IP) True
Off I go with the babe in her pram the bag attached is crammed To see the shops and buy some chops And many other things I pop into a jewellers to have a peep at rings
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- 11 comments
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- 2403 reads
Most people aren't that happy anyway
Most people are phoning work at 9.05, ‘I’ve overslept again. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’
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- 2944 reads
The Crash
I seen it happen, we was spinning like a bottle top And I was praying Lord make the bottle stop
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- 3 comments
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- 1046 reads
Broken
Upon hearing of your demise?
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- 2 comments
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- 1338 reads
Deep Emotions
The journey from sorrow and loss to love and kindness is a painful one but not impossible .
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- 722 reads
Friendship
Do you like me coz I’m crazy Or because I made you laugh Or is it coz we’re family Or I am your other half Do you like me coz we grew up Chasing boys and climbing trees
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- 622 reads
ALIENAGE
the sense of never having fit in, the memory of anarchy and suffering and knowledge (swollen beyond reality) of the frailty of life the depression of those who read the sad and glorious
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- 558 reads
I hate your youth
I hate your youth he wrote on a post card when he spoke to her he called her a little minx hating her and wanting her he drank to ease the pain of lost youth and lost opportunity
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- 899 reads
Ma
I close my face into her warm chest under that navy woollen-worn jumper, infused with decades of pruning
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- 421 reads
Broken Bearded Boy
Long drawn out coffee granule days. Deluded. I sit staring at his current life.
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- 429 reads
walk
for kids again children of a young again stil have there innocent and we should let them have it beucae your only a hcild once in your life.
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- 662 reads
Look at the mood
i bet we all feel like this sometimes
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- 761 reads
I'm a painter not a writer
I'm a painter not a writer an artisan art-maker splat-splashing my concoctions Pollock-like big and bigger.. See my multi-coloured multi-layered landscaped mindscaped pebble-dashed
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- 26 comments
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- 9146 reads
I donated money anonymously
£5.80 to Haiti anonymously.
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- 4 comments
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- 1767 reads
Now We Are Parents
Our faces are changing, my love. Your face and mine. We're growing old, not in years so much, but together. The light is lowering in our eyes like a dying sun.
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- 13 comments
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- 6627 reads
The Park
It wasn’t much of a park If park is what you wished to call it Two swings and monkey bars That the big boys used to dominate when the sun went down The grass was a dangerous place
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- 1 comment
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- 656 reads
Eye Test
When Mr Chin Leaned in And frowned Flashed his White light Told me To look right Then left Then into the corner Read those letters Behind me He said I looked Past his head
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- 2 comments
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- 1172 reads
My boy
Today it is twenty years ago that you were born. 11 weeks to early, weighing no more than 3 pounds.
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- 5 comments
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- 1060 reads
Postscript
In all our fanciful talk of crisp, white bed sheets, Romania, and teaching English, I never thought to mention we would call our son 'Ted'
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- 32 comments
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- 10989 reads
weekly routine of a weekend raver
prose poem weekly routine of a weekend raver
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- 3 comments
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- 1063 reads
A BODMIN MOOR EXPERIENCE
Coming back from Cornwall, we came face to face with a fog, like I've never seen before.
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- 20 comments
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- 7489 reads
Missing You
These words have been a long time coming...
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- 22 comments
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- 7052 reads
A Million Miles of Sky
And now a new path, step by step Unfolds before a cautious heart And with each footfall comes afresh A new and hopeful start So onward go, with courage strong
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- 738 reads
The Fissure
Frightening but gloriously so...
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- 762 reads
In Our Time
What are you going to do about it?
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- 658 reads
Back in the Olden Days
Last night, back in the olden days, I was a very different person- full of youth, optimism, extra cold Guinness and whiskey chaser. Last night, back in the olden days, it was all sorted out-
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- 626 reads
Born to Shop
Shop till you drop
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- 3 comments
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- 1078 reads
PHONE CUT (IP)
Oh! what a dilemma We had gone on a big retreat to a holy shrine All in different cars prayers and devotion all kinds of emotion for many offered there It was pouring hard when
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- 1130 reads
"CORNED BEEF HASH" (IP)
I have heard and had cornbeef hash but never a hash key don't know how to use So I dial a number hello! hello! A voice says I will put you through yes, wait a minute music is shoved on
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- 4 comments
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- 1362 reads
Remix
Wednesdays are like album tracks you want to skip past to get to Friday.
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- 2 comments
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- 1111 reads
walking with angels
this could be for anyone who lost somone. read about john dye who pass from touch by angel and this pop into my head. For his family and anyone who lost someone. i say if you cant fine the words hug.
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- 524 reads
And do what?
OH NO, we're all going to die!!!
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- 597 reads
you left me crazy
two people saing goodbye
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- 760 reads
Because I can’t talk (to you)
Words are where I am, so now your hurricane of mere language has blown me right out of sight. Out of range.
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- 1546 reads
Because of you
It is a silence. It is a grey-ness.
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- 8 comments
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- 2141 reads
Your heart doesn't look like a valentine
What is a heart other than a fact: a radio fluting french disco, 4 head boys holding doors, a traffic jam of atoms, a plug socket overcrammed, a sound system of lub-dub,
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- 571 reads
I need to know
Oh, when did Jimmy Stewart's plane crash and the Duke depart upon his horse? Charlie Chaplin is certainly quiet now -along with Marylin Munroe
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- 492 reads
Thank The Lord
I remember driving home through the hood at night Pistol on my lap at every single red light
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- 1 comment
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- 691 reads