Tag: England
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Early Winter Light
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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.
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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…
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Particles That Remain – October/November and Autumn in England
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Gold Dust and Birds
The keys form cords that induce an eyeball elevation. Flickering frames, birds flying in and out of vision. A pigeon or a crow replacing the mighty ginger eagle of the sea, From way back then. The beach became paving slabs and moss, The sun disguised by brick not coconut. The Arabian Sea profound and distant. Warm Indian…
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Super-Nature Revisited
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To and from the September Floods
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A Different Kind of Dread
The light at times is so bright i am unable to see, temporarily blind, until the next corner leads back to dull grey nothing. Penetrated by short sharp bursts. Window pains clean before being crystallised by sunrise; before the black comes and the earth turns seven A. M. black. The late September brings leather mittens…
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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…
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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.
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Instant History – Polaroids From Then
© pinkybinks
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HamsterJam, Amsterdamp – To Holland by Sea and Back Again
PinkyBinks 
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