Wednesday, 1 January 2014

But I'm a creep
I'm a weirdo
What the hell am I doing here?
I don't belong here
I don't belong here

Sunday, 1 December 2013


fabulous  magic it has been.

Thanks for having us.

Thursday, 28 November 2013


i collect their dead hairs and push them into pillows that i sew and manufacture and then sell.
lace and filigree. satin and velvets.
a selection of cushions and pillows for my customers to lay their heads and elbows and sore spines against.
a feeble industry.
in all the years that i have been selling my artifacts not once has a glimer of suspicion been cast my way.
it is only a matter of time i know but the fun is in the game isn't it?
one day.
but not yet.

Wednesday, 27 November 2013


Midnight Lovers

we danced as though on gossamer heels
i held her close to me,
i felt her hands upon my spine
her fingers wandered free.
we smiled and laughed and laughed some more
and spun like whirling tops,
the moonlight cast us silver soft
as starlight fell in drops.
we promised then a love to last
to last and forever more,
our passion rose in dark shades
shadows danced on the floor.
i took her hand and bent my knee
and asked her as my bride
to run with me with whispered words
forever by my side.
she smiled a smile of dazzling white
that set the stars to shame
and said although she loved but me
she could not share my name.
and as the starlight faded fast
and the sun bleached the sky
i saw my love in mortal flesh
revealed to my morning eye.
'ten years past have i been gone
now with my bones all dried,
that solemn winter stole from me
all breath and so i died'.
i screamed and ran from that ghostly face
as fast as i could run
and no more will i return to view
the glade hidden from the sun.

Thursday, 21 November 2013

you came out of nowhere with a can of kerosene in one hand and a lighter in the other

Another Me

this could be another me.
see the man down there with his suit and polished boots?
all confidence and cock-a-hoop bravado.
feeling this world shift cold glass to chrome with all the emotion of a cactus?
i still recall those tender days when the monkees fell about and television didn't reward the talentless.
the hope and hearts of humankind lay in the hands of children with flowers in their hair and foolish dreams in their rolled up reefers.
not traped within these cold confines that limits imagination and brings my days to a close, a life of chasing paper.
i could dream.
i still dream.
and in my dreams i dance with the ghosts of tomorrow who hold me close, in arms verdant fresh and strong, and spin the dance on polished floors down mirrored walls where silver cobwebs hang and trophies watch from lichen lintels the passing of my thoughts.
but who will hold me when the spotlight fades? when my childrens faces retreat from me?
the door will close.
the light will cease.
a failing of wings and cloudless mumbles of goodbye.
such a waste when summer trips into the fallen leaves.
the crumbling brickface where
ivy marks the windowsill and where lovers once would climb.
and in the garden there is a pond and in the pond a statue stands but the fountain has gone dry.
i'm rambling now
but let me ramble for what harm can it do?
see the man down there?
a shriveled husk of once-a-go whose children used him like a slide, a climbing frame for them to bridge.
arms will grow to jelly and the spine will twist as wire but the darkness doesn't scare me just the missing of them all.
this could be another me.
maybe i could make a deal with god?
cheat the fates and bone collectors as i thumb my nose and skip away with all memories and loved ones still with me.
this could be another me.

Transdimensional Utopian Biscuit Flag

Friday, 25 October 2013


Normal is an illusion. 
What is normal for the spider is chaos for the fly.
- Charles Addams  

Friday, 18 October 2013

A Murder of Crows

Here they come, black as death, cheating the daylight hours,
Eclipsing the sun with their sullen wing beat, flapping a storm.
Tar feathered and ominous like a worship of bishops, as a murder of crows from the pale beyond.