Category: words

  • A Doom That is Doom, Not Dhoom

    Impending Doom, like Dhoom, After twenty abandons from that, Havoc, a world-wind, a gust, Only doom, like dhoom but doom. . A dhoom that is doom, not dhoom, A creation of havoc with pace, A Wipping and curling and billowing, As It’s doom, like dhoom but doom. . Doomedy dhoom doom dhoom, Moonery moon moon moon, Dhoomedy, moonery,…

  • The Flame Haired Siren

    There she was on stage, way above my head, The lower ground strooned with bodies studded with lights; I sneak amongst them. . The flame haired siren approaches on her belly, And with a marker she takes to my arms. Drawings of a high kick in stockings, Over the Hindi Swastika. . She spits mints into my open mouth, As i wake up in…

  • “Don’t Molt”

    Is it eight am yet? What do i need, lies? Tiles cleaned for girls night, Candy-floss extensions of hate. . Sitting remembering the gemologist, Am i back on the breast? A stubborn cliche A combination of words. . A Maggie A black cat A text A feeling that’s down. A low Another day Another hangover Another inhalation. . Track between England, fog between…

  • Twenty Years Without Death

    Eating hidden flesh, Hurling until the blood rises to the skin. Your mistake has cost you two days and two hundred pounds, Its cost me twenty years without death. Hidden amoncst beans and roots, The screen commits a thousand sins. Your mistake draws tears past the surface, and out, My twenty years without death. .

  • Early Morning Purges

    Finally a beautiful sunrise, A sunrise more than grey. Rising above outer-city suburbia, High above a sorting office and Jews. . Coasting until a crisis, and then one presents. Running imps, The masters of the universe. . Fingertips caressing skin under months of spinney whiskers. Skull under the years of skin. Before the black hole brain, Thoughtful after the news.

  • Days Like Light Sandwiches

    November already, Autumn on my back, Now where is there to look? Eyes closed or stare through black. Darkness gives life a break. Trees, thickets and slugs pause, Humans expected to continue, power on through this icy bitter world. The sleep of trees and the boom of lights, fizzing, illuminating a path to artificial heat, And the drying…

  • Observation of a Tribe and The X21

    A daily two-hour commute on public transport heading to something which resembles a large red triangle of sorts. A town full of supermarkets and pound-shops instead of aspirations. Poverty and push chairs, mothers and mobility scooters. Bellies and breasts, clad in orange, clad it knocked off sportswear, male and female. Tattooed necks, wrists and knuckles, shiny earrings, belts and buckles. Give it a sausage roll, thank god for Greggs. Human…

  • Are Rizla Papers Vegetarian?

    Five roll up ends already smoked before i rise, Poor glue that once lived, such a strange cremation. Clock clicking towards discomfort, real life, Hoofs on my lips, bones in my lungs. The cancer is coming. Trot Trot.

  • No Man’s Land

    Rain, more rain. Rain streaming down bricks along concrete, softening ground is like torture. That desire to run and embrace the liquid downpours doesn’t exist in me when my days are spent in England. No sun to appear and bake the wet dry.Time to become a winter person now. Not even a draw  of the curtain as…

  • Who Are You Internet?

    There is a build or back log of posts that should be published. The ones i think are boring get liked, understanding not like. Are bloggers boring or am i thinking too much about my pitch. Who pitch the pitch. Pitch. Who are you internet? Who are you internet? Who are you internet? A head bobs…