Month: October 2017

Dismember the 5th, 1971

flow and ebb

lyrics’ webb

unseen scales

empty trails

of light unburst

municipal thirst

for meaningful muse

the clowns left clues


the wrong grave’s exhumed


lazy thinking


I’m not down for this up

inflatable cup

no thanks.


You can’t hear

what I’m not saying

unplug your ears

of all your preying

then light the fuse

follow the clues

or not.


Short sentences

are my drop,


they’re not wafting

to your heights…





Inspired by one of my favourite, satirical sites, Scarfolk Council, from their Facebook page, where every Friday is Friday the 13th.

This was, clearly, a very uncharacteristic (cough) stream of thought…but I had been in the sun for a bit…


outstretched heart

I catch the evening as it floats in,

on peppered bird song

and the undulating breeze, salted-


these tiny sepulchres

vibrating with lament,


precious, sacrosanct lyrics of being

funeralled forever

in creation’s sighs



Let Me Bring You Love

If your soul’s a little tired with the world burning, this was such a lovely thing to read!

Jerry Brotherton

Let me bring you love from a meadow’s velvet floor; where the grass ripples from a summer’s breath and the bright flowers of purple and gold dance on its gentle wave. Their perfume glides through your childhood memories and heals your wounds.

Let me bring you love from a winter’s night; where the pale moon hangs suspended in a frosted glass sky and the twitching skeletons of lifeless Maples cast bewitching images onto the frozen white canvas.

Let me bring you love from a low fire at midnight; with you safely tucked beneath my blanket and the soft light of the last dying embers dancing smoothly in your eyes, removing all resistance.

Let me bring you love from my last heartbeat…my last breath…my last kiss.

Let me bring you love until my last heartbeat…my last breath…my last kiss.

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He nodded. With his eyes. Cloudy with the beers they hadn’t shared yet. And she heard it all through the phone.
She hated letting him down again.

The walking out of the ocean. She, wearing the heaviness like a medal. Then she hit the no resistance of the air.
And she flew.

Until that last wave hit.
Filled with shells and rocks, or maybe the debris of shells and rocks. And the clawing of it inside-outed her.

Lying in the sand of her authenticity, she’s exfoliated down to she’s not sure what happened. But the ocean took that medal back.

Or maybe, she gave it back.


He wished she knew.
Those clouds burst, and ran down his cheeks.