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uoy   us@picturestories.co.uk

2019 July 12th
I wonder are you in the mood to talk sense and write a story?

m; ‘Before’ was forgotten she took a turn in nice but it wasn’t enough, it never was.

Do you like my eyes? They’re blue and smouldering don’t you think. Hey ho back we go.

It was light, it was dark, it was anything you want to tell the truth. Before was moaning, such a heavy load to carry all by herself poor girl / woman/ lady/ whatever the weather you wish now. So we steps in, make a deal see. Takes half her load for 6 pence and an ice cream. But it was heavier than we thought, and we was on our knees dragging the bloody thing along. A man stopped us there and asked if we were pulling anything valuable? No we said its just a half of Before. Well his eyes lit up like beacons, he cast us aside and dived right in, he was looking for the roads he had never took. Soon all the town was gathering round and with no bye your leave they’re all leaping in. By now Before is looking a little ragged. Well we went down the pub to wait them out, had a couple of snifters. When we came out there was no one around but our half of Before was looking suspiciously larger, it heaved here and there, and shifted from one side to the other. The truth of the matter is that Before ain’t a game to play with, if your trying to change your history you need the sharpest knife and if you slit it wrong then the whole thing unravels and you’re being born just before you died.

m; Species carry faeces in their gut, and its before the item is loosed could be better to arrange things so your not involved so much. Better before to handle the matter as though a surplus was sufficient. Trade in some of this for an after that’s going to arrive no matter what you think. So its best be prepared instead of pissing around with your past.

How did I do, top knotch ain’t I?

2019 July 5th
Being accused,
fingers pointing,
all rejoicing its not them.
If there's smoke has to be a fire,
the blamed must be a bloody liar.
Innocence is its own defence
but time brings the stains of the world's events.
No one can throw the first stone
but they do.

2019 June 28th
Like a wicked king rules me like his bitch, nothing he would not do to me, skewer me, kill me, have my head. But in all that I see a certain sensibility, a kind of style, a twist for me that might in time, you could say then, appear as something more, more than just a king who’s shit, a little bit more than that. Maybe he could change I don’t know but he’s nice sometimes, allows me sleep here, kind of sort of in his way. But kings are sharp and he’s no exception, pierce me with his thing, pleasure himself with me; my job I guess here. So no I don’t think that he is nice, just doing his job as he sees it.

Calumny, all of this is true but she’s writ it arse about tit. She’s the queen and I the beggar at her door, gives me crumbs sometimes - but no I will not be drawn to commit the same offence as she, she is fair and fair and treats her subjects well. The mother of her land, all the peasants shout hurrah when she arrives to take her taxes, and if they starve well they do it with a smile. Her trials are known for their consistency, the richer always wins. In war she leads from the back, best placed to see the battle. Her heart is overflowing with love for everyone, she keeps her former lovers heads on pikes to show her ardour and her care. A jewel among women, the best you will ever find.

2019 June 21st
m; Have you gone
is it us now?
You want my advice
best to be...
...fuck it.
Spread the word,
challenge God,
if its us you want
then love me lots and lots please,
I need you to,
its a necesary evil for me.
Can I spit in your face and hate you,
or is that beyond the pale of us?
You may say that
its better for us
if you are fine
and I’m just
a little bit
Its me in the light I need you too,
whore, witch, bitch, cow, me.
Don’t you think thats funny,
well I don’t.
Help me I need you to.
2019 June 15th
So when the saintly believer confronted the vampire with a cross.
The wraith just had to saith.
That would never work
as he/she was of the Buddhist faith. (‘fay ee f.’)
2019 June 7th
Emotional blackmail is a cage
that you rage against.
Incensed you gnaw upon the gaol,
all to no avail, the bars are made by you.
Like any cage there is a key
but see this one is sharp and bloody
and its not your blood its their’s,
its your care that confines and binds you.
That’s the trick, can’t unpick,
because in reality you’re free,
you’re free to leave
and by leaving make a corpse to greave.
2019 May 31st
Hero as King first 3rd
(This Hero story is not up to scratch but hopefully they get better.)
The Hero was being impelled by these stories to be something other than him.
I’ve got my eye on you, you story writer. you’re playing with me and I don’t like it see.
Anyway, the Hero thought if he was to move he should move for the better. So he requested an audience with the King. And into the court he came all tanky tank rank, all armored and threat.
‘Dear Hero come in,’ said the King. ‘Is this to be a social or professional visit?’
‘Your Majesty its been a long day, this armory stuff is a hell of a puff to wear. I find it my business at this time to be changing the me that you know. So I would prefer it if I could be you. Thank you much for asking me.’
The King was surprised but delighted. ‘You mean to free me from these chains that I wear, so if you maybe me, may I be you?’
‘You may, but please honour ourselves by agreeing to this that if I get weary of you I may return to be me?’
The King thrust his dagger in the table. ‘No deal, if you want my position you must stay there. I have no wish to have a taste a freedom and then be pulled back to this throne.’
The Hero could see that the King was in no mood to bargain. ‘Okay I agree the word of the Hero is his bond.’
They shook hands. The King tore off his robes and the Hero disarmed. The King who was but now was not, picked up the metal and fairly skipped out of the door.
We are now in unchartered territory the King was very pleased to leave which suggests the chains of office are rather burdensome What do you think happens now?
The New King looked up from the page. ‘If its me you are talking with then try to be more suggestive. You’re an ass if I say so myself, to get it right I suggest to you, that you may play my adviser, in this sorry state of a thing that you are writing.’
‘Your Highness may I crave your indulgence but there are many official documents to sign.’ The New King was at the window looking out at his lands. ‘I see, okay have your fun. Scribble scribble done. Now leave, wait outside for my orders.’
The New King paced in his chamber. ‘I will be so clever, I will take a measure of this state. Of all the stories written of Kings and their downfall there is treason under them burrowing deep, casting them down a hole. Whom may I give my trust, that adviser is a slippery cove, thinks he can talk for me, thinks he knows the all of who I am. Well damn him to hell I’ll not be ordered around by a lackey.’
The New King bellowed at the door. Lackey come in.
‘Yes your Highness I.’
‘Lackey you have been of some use to the crown,’ the New King smiled, ‘but I have been informed there are discrepancies in the treasury accounts. To be blunt you have been taking my gold from me. Which is treason.’
‘Your Highness I never did, how could I, the treasury does not exist.’
‘Guards take this piece of garbage to the dungeon.’
‘And you do not intrude in this story anymore.’
‘Your highness I fear you are making a big mistake.’
The New King flung the door shut.
Not another word. Now to see the Queen.
‘Guards will you inform the Queen that the New King will grant her an audience.’ I know the Queen but not in the sense I may know her now. All charm and politic smiles, let us see if her beguile will crumble now I hold the whip hand .
The Queen swept in unannounced, attendants ranged around her.
‘Madam who are all these women, this is meant to be a private audience?’
‘Your Highness, these are my ladies in waiting.’
‘Waiting for what?’
‘Why waiting for me to die, to try my hat for a suitable fit.’
‘Well send them away.’
Perchance I see romance ahead, pretty as she is I sense an underside here. There’s lessons learnt and lost here. Some bitterness made fool of, I take my chance to say to she. ‘Why madam you are quite beautiful’
The Queen waved her fan. Silly sod what happened to the other one? Oh well make do ones as good as the other for what I have in mind. ‘Hail my king I worship thee as a god amongst this place, you are destined to rule the human race I can feel it.’ Too much, not enough? A little flattery goes a long way here, men all are brutes no sense, he will rue the day we met. ‘Sire as you wish a private audience, do you desire the loving thing?’
The New King’s good humour vanished. She thinks me an idiot to be turned around my cock, well she shall learn as others will, that I am boss of this place now. ‘Guards take this woman to the dungeon.’
The Queen was stunned. this was not in her scheme of how things should go. ‘What have I done? You can’t do this, King I beg you.’
The New King turned away and dismissed her with a gesture. The sound of her screams faded as she was dragged away down the steps.
2019 May 25th
In this place
we mix our fates,
a better hope,
ace this class.
Breath endure
inside the other.
All the dark that’s said,
reaching for a wisdom,
that comes and passes by.
Stupid steeds for the ticking of the years,
craving grace,
in this space.

2019 May 18th

Doom is best laid end to end,
with a dog in the middle
and a pound at the end.

Happiness is at its best,
seen in the future
and to you be blessed.

Calumny wriggles with lies,
maggots waiting to fly,
claiming they be butterflies.

2019 May 11th
When she came down she was painting the town a shallow shade of yellow, the fellow she was with was hiding his shiv in his back, the better to feel its satisfying presence. And if you’re asking me what I can see as I move through this place, well its an engine of sorts I guess, two parts spin and the one in the middle that you could say was a fiddle as it never struck the hour on time. Then Verity came stepping, she was a beauty but she would not bend the truth at all, the law came to call and she gave her advice which they hated, rated her a fake and trolled her. Out in the town all the pointed signs are mixed around, which gives the sense that the lessons are asking you to find them, but there are holidays, a lift from the shift of knuckle down grift and grafting. If you are thinking of catching the last train to the coast, my advice is don’t, it has an individualistic sense of humour and will leave you at the station deep down in the sea, where depression will come for a chat waiting for you to lift it, wait until the evening it could be lighter then. Lucky you who miss the train, with a step you are further on, which brings a different view, one to pass with pegs or relish absorb and cherish. The present seems so eager to jump into the past. ‘Oh won’t you stay’ ‘No the futures pushing and anyway you cannot perceive my true nature. If you want to see me, become a child.’ Long mellow and mild the colours flow, play them with your fingers, dripping, slipping, one into the other, illusion and delusion a fantasy of reality no place to safely tread. Then the mist and wind playing games, making shapes, dreamland plays or curses, a history that coerces her to move with doubt but needing hope, when all that’s offered is both an angel and a witch, hold to all and let vitriol turn to pleasure a dead cert sort of measure. Carrying the night through the day is a job for the broken hearted, one last kiss then always parted. A wrench reveals the stench of a wound that never healed, scabbed over to conceal but nothing you can touch without a shot of pain. And the road is lined with the detritus of those who’ve gone before, their teeth, their hair, their stick and mix for fixing all their ailments, while they kept their heart, some belief and a wish for a light that would carry them over.
2019 May 4th
jin 18 sept 2
In a day, make a play, count the cost, see the way, stop and turn. If all I do is fall and fall and fall, what’s the bloody point? No I’ll have another stay at it. Scum and bum rhyme nicely I’ll have them as my calling card. Take my word absurd as it may seem to trust me, never trust an ooman when she’s being nice to you, you don’t know where’s she’s been, put her down sir. If luck has fucked you up then consider what it has done to me, all of space and I land here, nothing and a no one pleasure pleasing situation, temper grinding down. What a place and I’m not allowed to show my fukin face, we have rules see. So deny it, I want you to, if you know me well then you are special, I might come by night to love and visit you, or you might see the cur that I can be, all bad teeth and jolly good company, growl howl as well, why not? So believe or nix I couldnt care the shit what you are thinking. We exist or not but when we cry hang your head, for we cry for you.

2019 April 26th

I know your secret
that one there.
To share would cause the cut to bleed again,
the stain to spread
the forgotten bed
to strain.

But don’t worry I will never tell your buried past,
hold it fast
not going to say a word.

But some favours might be nice.
No I don’t mean a price
just a larger slice from the table.

So now I say
salay forth and whisper
crisper in your lug.
Dear sir if you creep and crawl one word of observation
I will singe you dry.
No pain, just thrown and melted.
If you’re trying to blackmail me,
then fuck you sir
shout out whatever you please
but think at night
when the fetid fog does rise,
the hurt you hold does strain you
think then sir,
its best to not make an enemy of me.
Don’t be so clever,
try to be wise,
that’s a better way for you to go.


2019 April 19th
Me and you forget it,
houses blown away.
You say I am
a woman who is perfect.
Yet for me to feel that
is impossible.
I feel like a fraud
I’m not that person at all,
long of tooth and hairy armed
waspish waist
but its a waste
cos I am a dirty
filthy little swine.
Rub me up the wrong way
and I’ll spit and tear at you.
I’m a cow,
nothing nice about me,
I think you need your eyes testing.
I’m a grovel,
I’m a beast
and what is more I’m a bloody thief
stealing all the hope from you.
So don’t be calling me desirable,
that’s not my name,
its more like a wreck,
or maybe more like
a little piece of growing pain that I forgot to do.

is that fine for you

2019 April 13th
You’re really not seeing you right.
You’re really not.
You’re seeing you wrong.
Mirror cracked,
all its broken shards
leave scars
you carve.
Shattered glass
a task
to heal.

2019 April 7th

If you are clever,
you will find by endeavour,
the path that leads to the place of changes here.

Whomever finds pleasure,
in a box full of treasure,
will probably build their home as a cage.

‘The weather got better,’
says her, to the never,
as she lights a candle to the terror that hides.

She, who is the possessor of now and forever,
tends to be a dalllying dresser,
as she tries to remember his name.

2019 March 29th
Big black eyes,
surprise surprise,
too late,
too long,
definately too wrong already.
A mirror might be a better place to see,
hug yourself
and spy your ebony eyes
as a truth not a guise.
2019 March 21st
He had a plan, he kept it to himself. He was tired of being the Hero it didn’t pay the bills. Whereas villainy seemed to garner riches as long as you didn’t get caught. He had the mask, he had the gun. He ran into the bank, everybody shrank from him quite nicely. He got the money and ran outside but in his tracks he stopped. In a shining of a glass he was confronted by a villain. He cried, ‘Stop thief,’ and began a chase. This villain was a clever swine could only to be seen in the mirror of the shops. The villain seemed oh so close. The Hero crashed through the reflection but in that instant the other one had gone, just his mask and bag of loot left as a proof of his existence.
The money man who owned the bank gave the Hero a large reward. They never did find the wicked thief, he had gone underground. He had gone but he was thinking of a plan, they say crime don’t pay, so he was coming to the decision of taking to religion. (This is the start of a series that may get better, although such bettering may take time.)
2019 March 16th
The little birds snack from the fastened feeder. The pigeons mooch around below, pecking for seeds that occasionally spill to the ground. Two pigeons appear to be the gardens most regular customers, they have similar markings and I take them to be brothers or sisters, they peck away together in peace. Then the third bird appears, actually smaller than the original birds, but he/she has perfected the threat of flurrying wings and it drives the original birds away from the optimum space where most leavings lie. I am sure this would work in a restaurant, I am practising.
2019 March 8th
We wont mention it again,
its over,
but of course
I curse you down to hell.
2019 March 2nd
r; Your words are random chose, I think nothing to worry about, try this. There was a stain upon the floor, dark as dirt, overt, making no apology for its presence. Advertising the slovenly habits of the place, of me. I cleaned the floor giving special effort to where the stain was staying. But when I stood to look, the stain was there, still there, if anything it looked worse, compared with the cleaner floor around it. I rummaged through the cupboards, I delved in drawers, searching for the large old scrubbing brush, been cleaning for a hundred years, this brush don’t take no prisoners. The cleaning stuff went on neat, no diluting this effort, going for the most potent charge I could get. On my knees scrubbed two handed, that must have done it. I wiped the suds away and stood up. The stain was still there. A wind blew through and the stain moved. My nemesis is a shadow formed from a hanging cloth. I ripped the cloth down and throw it in the bin. So now there was this bright stain upon the floor, a symbolic sea, tiny boats of dirt sailed across.
2019 February 22nd
There was an Ace of Snow
but it didn’t show
with no
shade to wear around it.
2019 February 15th
So it was, I’m paraphrasing here, that the time of the third year approached, the time of the Ghost and the Lamb. Some said it was not real, just an aim in the dark for fears to lay claim to. I tell it differently, she was real all right, as real as me, but thats not saying much. Anyway she stayed in the woods with her frame a burning presence. And the Lamb was so good, it did not cry when it opened its eyes and saw her, it stood square and eyed her. Who was she, a minor irritation, or something more to be feared? It is said of her, the Ghost, that she had been burned long ago for being a witch when she wasn’t, and she comes to claim some justice of sorts. Well the Lamb was there as an offering, a wish the Ghost would take and then leave. But thats not the way it was ever going to pan out. The Ghost was outraged by the injustice of this sacrifice, that the villagers swore was for her. She moved so quick and burnt the whole place to heaven or hell. The cries she ignored like they had ignored hers before. Anyway she’s gone now. Who in the past said. ‘Burn her,’ their offspring have paid the price. The lamb holds two now, its not always a good fit, but what accommodation ever is...
2019 February 8th
Tangled like your hair,
we straighten out and care.
All in your past,
not meant to last.
Soft as snow,
cuts like ice.
Wind and mist,
witchy hiss.
Not the sides of contradiction,
more the facets of a whole.
unsuitable for certainty.
Giving your heart
to this home.
2019 February 1st
He had a plan, he it kept quite closely to himself. He was tired of being the Hero it didn’t pay the bills, whereas villainy seemed to garner riches as long as you didn’t get caught. He had the mask, he had the gun. He ran into the bank, everybody shrank from him quite nicely. He got the money and ran outside but in his tracks he stopped. In a shining of a glass he was confronted by a villain. He cried, ‘Stop thief,’ and began a chase. This villain was a clever swine could only to be seen in the mirror of the shops. The villain seemed oh so close. The Hero crashed through the reflection but in that instant the other one had gone, just his mask and bag of loot left as a proof of his existence.
The money man who owned the bank gave the Hero a large reward. They never did find the wicked thief, he had gone underground. He had gone but he was thinking of a plan, they say crime don’t pay, so he was coming to the decision of taking to religion.
2019 Jan 25th
Then there are the beings,
that go through all your leavings.
To ensure the paper puzzles.
To ensure that all the struggles
have not led you to be cheating.
2019 Jan 18th
The electric fence between you and me
presents a problem,
sometimes real,
sometimes wrong,
sing the song then.
High pitched,
and you and your regard
so cool,
like nothing would ever faze you
but it does,
I know that now,
not to be taken for granted.
When you smile your mouth goes down,
mischief bright and scary.
I tried eating you but just cut a gash and walked on out.
Let’s just say I wish you away
in the hope you come back freely,
like you really want to be here.
2019 January 11th
They took a trip traipsing their way to London, searching tropes for their dinner. They said, ‘Oh look there’s one and picked up a cheerful cockney but his mind was on skunk and he’d forgotten all his p’s and q’s. Then they views Jack the Ripper, his knives were all blunt so they took him to the river to wash because his clothes smelt bloody awful, but the ghosts of drowned girls groaned him for his downfall. They said, ‘Lets go see the Mother of Parliament, The Mother of Parliament was busy telling lies to Wat Tyler and John Ball, waiting for the snipers to take their aim. All along the avenues the cameras were taking their pictures. Down in the Underground they helped a guy who was rolling his barrels along the burrows, he asked for a light but while his back was turned the Jihadists stole his powder. Out from the dark it had gotten so cold that the magical Ice Fair had appeared on the Thames, they skated and ate toffee apples while the sailors pushed a sad barque into the gate for the peoples who’s views were disliked. Up on the green the Ravens hopped, feathers cropped, keeping the Tower from falling into the moat filled with the flower blood of the defenders. She said I’m getting hungry when are we going to find any tropes to eat and just then they spied a caff’, they all piled in and asked the chef if he had any tropes. He said sadly he had not but he could feed them Tripe and Onions, they had a discuss and figured that was near enough and filled their tummies with that warmth… The End
2019 January 4th
A discovery, when remembering a horde of names, double names are the easiest to recall. Valerie Valerie, rather than Valerie Clark; Richard Richard, rather than Richard Mason. The reason why this may be shall leave to others to elucidate. But if searching for fame then maybe name and name again.
2018 December 29th
Bits of rhyme and fiddling chime are you going away now?
No I’m not, piece of snot to guide you, are you afraid of that? Seems to me the curse would be reverse. Seems that my addled form would better removed than spoken for, well that’s just me, you see me as you wish to. As to this, this rhyming priming thing, not worth much, how can it be a beginning? There’s no hello, no bow and scrape the floor, seems its ignorant of best behaviour. Are you looking for a saviour to take your hand and lead you home? Pitiful fool, your drool just stains the pillow making a lake for my head. Observe the curve the density of my disgust, despot demon, a staggering shit, would be witch and failure; you can have me for a song but not this one because it is hardly worth the name, another one might startle better I do think, sing a song and better me. Is this all you have to say now? Like it better when the weather is much cooler. About turn, shift the gear we’re driving up the mountain, there to meet a maker of sorts all sorts. He is not dedicated to specificity but he can make you better. Just lie on the bed and he will get his tray of tools, best not to look, and I will stuff my ears. There, you are a star now, glowing, refreshed, a gorgeous body, an advert for the benefits of the simple life. As for me I’m perfect I don’t need no fiddling, you do it every day anyway. Fiddle on me, write my name upon me, so I remember who I am. Coming back to the poor well you’re so tight unless you think I’m looking, then its dispense largesse and a wallow and feel in your goodness. Should I applaud? Bitch that I am, probably not, you’re doing it well enough yourself. If it were the sounds that your hearing. If it were the notes of this song. Like to see you make a tune from it. Its smarter than that. Its going to take your time and bend it so we come back where we began but maybe changed a slightness, a piquant whisper un peu and that is me, a her. The benefits of my insights are free for you, free of charge not so large in cotton that you can’t afford to pay me. Nothing said. Pick the bones out of that sir.

2018 December 23rd
In the darkness will we shiver,
failing ways to deliver,
on the promises we gave.

That is bleak.

In the brightness we will glow,
from the giving we bestow
on nobody we know.


2018 December 15th

If you are clever,
you will find by endeavour,
the way to find the path of changes now.

Whomever finds pleasure,
in a box full of treasure,
will probably build their home as a cage.

‘The weather got better,’
says her, to the never,
as she lights a candle to the terror that hides.

She, who is the possessor of now and forever,
tends to be a dallying dresser,
as she tries to remember his name.

2018 December 8th
So I’m a witness, God bless this beetle travelling the rim, a slim path. But I am no angel now, my wings were so heavy I shrugged them off to the side. And the muscles they needed stooped me and bent, meant the weight of four arms and more. Perhaps I should be a messenger for this mite, its contemplating the pure white curves below; many have tried, many have died, do not take that drop, its a stop, a poison chalice meant without the malice. But I fear it don’t speak human, the same as we don’t speak God, so I’m unfit for this messaging job. A guardian should really fit the species match the entity, but I don’t see any around, nevertheless if I take that crown am I blocking the path of free will. Its traversing the razors, riffling the papers, taking a perfume glide around the shampoos, selecting which to choose. But as it decides on this path its edging closer to the abyss waiting below.
2018 December 1st
The mighty river roared.
They bored a fjord
one inch wide, one mile deep.
Now the road don’t need to leap.
2018 November 24th
In the morning
get out of bed,
revue the situation,
take a step ahead.
2018 November 17th
Learnt this song when young
‘There’s a man in the Moon
fiddling with his bum.
There’s a man in the Moon
flicking dingleberries at the Sun.’
2018 November 9th
The Iron Rod fell in love
with the Measure.
The Iron rusted away,
measured every day,
The Measure was educated in a certain way.
The Iron Rod
was a vicious sod,
he was steeped in streaks of blood.
The Measure thought the Iron was just a bit of rough.
The Iron Rod thought they were meant to be, true love.
At the makers ball, the Measure danced with Tools
but she would not dance with him,
ashamed of how coarse and crude he was,
thought him grim.
The Iron Rod rolled down to the bars.
Got a little pissed,
missed the rail and fell into the fire,
into Carbon burning bright,
Coal his brother holding tight.
Appear in light as Steel.
Steel stole the show.
Measure wanted to dance
Steel looked askance,
her assessments were by rule of thumb,
Steel needed someone to plumb the depths of him.
Steel marked Measure's body precisely,
scratching oh so lightly.
Serendipity can bend any certainty,
but it takes some give and take to agree.
2018 November 1st
The me of my being is not exactly in control in this place, this now, this being, this being who I think I am. But I cannot grow a hair, walk a step, make my heart go beat. I am similar to a car that is set for automatic, I am less and more a walking mystery. But if I was more than I be now I would be oh so very busy: pumping the blood to go round my veins, inning and outing my breath, stirring the soup in my stomach to break down the food for digestion, pushing the residue through all of the tubes, and getting the aim and the timing just right for evacuation, tie on cards to the little lumps so they know exactly where to go, to say nothing of keeping the army fit to fight any invading infection and spying for any errant imposters. I choose the direction and set the speed but the rest of me is automated. I should eat some chips speed up elapse when crossing synaptic gaps.
2018 October 26th
j; Peasant time. There was a chime as though the bell had broken. A warning for us all, something terrible was on its way, slithering up the beach, crawling with its hands to reach us, a fearsome foul and loathsome thing. The city walls broke down, the creature dread appeared among us, its longing eye cast about seeking for the one who would be the first to appease its hunger. I threw myself forward. ‘Let it be me, I will bear the burden and the pain, let the others slink away, I am a pariah here anyway, no loss to you I think so.’ He grabbed me and tore my hair, dragged me off searching for a lair. Excuse me if I’m crying I was so afraid of dying there.
Anyway he come on strong, tore my dress and made his fun with me. Then he turned around and again and again. He lay down cool like and spouted out some words. ‘Haven’t you got a home to go to, piss off.’ I turned to look straight at him. ‘As it happens I do not have a home, I am an outcast here, people walk by and spit on me.’
‘Well thats just a watch dog barking as far as I can see.’ He dragged me out to the light, then all the way up the tower top. He put me on the wall and bellowed loud. ‘I’ve found you a new Queen aren’t you lucky. Do not dare to disobey my word.’
We went to bed and slept. In the morning he had gone, but hanging from the peg was a crown.
I hate the thought of being ruled or ruling, but it seems best to treat his words with care. My first command was to nail the sea shut down tight, halt the path of other beasts before they even come.
2018 October 19th
Taught that it was best
to bless the test
of saying goodbye
and apply
to all at the ball.
Rather than sneak away
with no salutes on this day.
2018 October 12th
When you’ve been scammed,
out of hand, robbed of four grand.
Is that the Cosmos nudging you back to the grindstone?
Not finished yet, still owe a debt,
this lesson aint over, no closure,
there is more before any composure will be yours.
Who knows where the money flows.
Hatred and curses don’t pay the piper,
the paper has fed this liar, this viper.
All the lumps in the mattress have gone,
no comfortable sleep after this con.
If stupidity was money I’d be rich,
but no I believed in a pitch that flowed like silk.
Hey-ho spilled milk.

2018 October 5th
It was the best of days, the Cosmos had said hello. But now it was night and there was the four mile trek to the safety of the farm.
The wild dogs had formed into a pack and they were tracking him keeping pace to the right and getting closer.
He had given out his cigarettes to the soldiers in the truck, the thrown butts leaving a sparkling trail; just three left now.
His real home said it would be alright.
Gripping his useless, silly, knife in a bravado that was certainly not fooling the trees, dark shadows standing sentry on either side of the track.
Nothing howled, nothing growled, just the sound of padded movement.
Up ahead the guards would be carrying their uzi’s, bored with their time taking so long.
It was a holy night but did the dogs know that?


2018 September 28th
we are running short of messages to put on our web site, can you write one?

da; As you know I’m ghastly, hideous and vile but I will try my mightiest, here goes:

There once was a man who understood the length of life he had. He took it to church but the priest said. ‘That’s wrong only God can tell you that.’
So he went to the doctor’s and the man inside there said. ‘Don’t be a comic that’s my job and I would not tell you anyway.’
So the days passed until the man realised it was very nearly his time to go.
He said to himself I’ll have some fun now.He robbed a bank, took all the money and gave it to the poor. He rounded up all the suspects and gave them a good talking to. Then he was pushed and jostled and he fell down a hole, they covered it up. The last thing heard was him shouting. ‘See I told you so.’

2018 September 21st
This is trite
not right to write.
The future regularly flips the pack,
deals from another stack.
When young
the future was going to bring another ice age,
a three day working week,
of course there was the four minute warning
to keep us fit
before it hit,
cooking us into shadows.
Chaos twists extrapolations,
possibilities multiply,
fecundity in bloom.
Anticipations and their relations
are undoing all their presents,
fate, fortune and doom,
are not the gloom they wanted.
The crystal gazer waiting for the mist to clear,
so near, so far,
a jar to break or bend.
2018 September 14th
Have to keep faith,
save the grace for later.
While you’re wavering
she’s poking you down the plank.
Its just a joke
like that rope around your neck,
its not real.
If you’re feeling some pain
its a stain from before
that you’re bringing up,
from some long lost door
to join with the mist at last.
2018 September 7th
It starts like ths. Once upon a time there was a man, dark and handsome. But his woeful way, was made alert by the way you could say he prayed. He beseeched his God for himself alone, nothing for the others. Jewels and wealth he wanted. ‘Oh dear God,’ he said, ‘fill my purse with wealth and I’ll believe in you forever.’
Came the day, when his God saw him, and heard his prayer. So They did what the stupid man wanted and even more. A cascade of jewels and gold, came pouring down.
The idiot danced with glee, he bought much finery, a brand new house, and generally advertised his lovely, lovely wealth. He won the craven heart of a local hot tot, they married there, and he swanned about, as though he owned the world and all the creatures in it.
But you can guess whats coming, he was robbed. All his wealth was gone. He asked for help but everyone turned their back on him. So there he was with nothing, his hot tot girly whirly, left and ran away, his house fell down. He was poor, more than he had been before. He cursed his God, he ranted, he said vile words, and cried.
The years past and surprisingly it seemed that the experience had made a different man of him. He turned around and saw his past and became grateful for the experience. He became a Godly person. Although he starved, he gave his pennies to the beggars of the place. And when he died, they said of him. ‘There goes shit and mustard, one side good, one side crap.’ And they buried him upside down, expecting that he would be facing the place that he would be going.
But nothings always right like that, for his God turned him round again, blew some breath into his lungs. Said ‘Let’s see you do that all again.’
And this time when the jewels rained down, he ignored them, they just lay on the floor. Later he swept them up, and bagged them. Took them to the birthing place. Into each tiny hand he placed a jewel. ‘Fool or fine, let them have a better start in life, let them have a choice.’
2018 September 1st
Cows can be so mean,
crush you in between.
They can keep a grudge
squeeze you into fudge.
All their boys are lost
into burgers squashed.
I guess they have a right to be pissed.
2018 August 25th
The quiescence of butterflies
with open eyes,
not dreaming
just being.
2018 August 18th
s; yes best okay for me.
So you see then
one time when I was small
a black rush touch came to me
hairy and foul it had many legs.
I brushed it away
but it decided to stay.
Beaten back vrack my new found friend was a monster,
was so big it farted oceans.
Me inside it
I could guide it anywhere I pleased
and it pleased me well
to settle forward beyond the gate
to the house of your’s.
Jumped upon your bed
but you were sleeping
I settled down as well.
I pretended that you and me were lovers
held together by the spiders web.
You woke first
and with a curse you brushed my friend and me away.
So don’t say I didn’t warn you
if he comes back to scare you oh some more.
A villainous brain he has
and a memory thats long for every wrong done to him.
Vilest vendettas are his answer,
his purpose in life.
So gross to be seen
he gets his enjoyment in frightening people half dead.
So don’t come to me with your whines,
when me and the spider appear,
you should show some respect
if you expect to be sleeping again.
2018 11th August
The Earth’s core is as hot
as the surface of the Sun.
All its toast is overdone.
The butter is runny,
the honey not yummy.
I’m not going there for breakfast.
2018 August 4th
They don’t mean what they say, they just look a different way at you. Like a star, what they are seeing in you died a million years ago. Don’t want to get up to date, prefer the older version. Change comes gradually, have to get close to see the new edition, pages edited out, new ones stuck inside instead, not so neat, not so tidy for anyone to know. People don’t like you changing, they can get quite annoyed, they’ve figured you out, they don’t want the work of a re-calibration; stand still and ossify. To keep the peace sometimes its just easier to pretend you are who they want you to be, if you can remember, like wearing old clothes they don’t fit so well. You’re the funny one, you’re the sunny one, you’re the silent one, you’re the devil, you’re the nurse. But sometimes that is too much of a chore, so you just blaze in their face with who you are now. But the thing is they don’t see any difference.
2018 July 28th
Wronged and badly used,
a rage inside ensued,
a tormented turmoil,
a searing coil,
of incandescent anger.
Opening her lips,
whips of flame spout,
burning all they strike.
Eating was a frustration.
charred food messed with her gustation.
And friends found her oration
too devastating for their health.
She burned down her flat,
she scared away her cat,
her car went boom,
she was a walking doom.
Then she had an idea,
she would set fire
to the cause of all this ire.
She waited by the river,
burst out and cooked him,
he was the best meal she’d had in days.

2018 July 21st
r; both
I have a couple of lines that are good but the rest is rubbish
so i am asking to see what your creativity can do?

c; As its us
and here goes help
starting now
keep up please:

Hope was in mope,
under duress,
less a perfect time
that she had made before hand.
There was no room
for love here,
all was spent
drear and dry.
A place where even dogs don’t cry,
heaven bent and lost here.
Arid of the feeling
she was now concealing
from the human race.
Kept in jail
by a starving few
who were selling her for profit.
And now I arrive
disreputable and mucky.
Stolen though the place,
gashed and torn
living proof
that this world was lacking nothing,
’cos nothing was all we had here.
I reached for her brightness,
I stung myself with feeling,
too much,
like pure heroin to a junkie.
I screamed with pain,
the guards turned back,
attack, attack,
they shot us.
Goes to show that in this place its better to learn your lesson before you reach too high.
I didn’t die
but I’m frying soon I think.

2018 July 21st
Sleeping on the coats while next door the grown ups gambled with cards.
Alone in the bed, while the dark wings of death flapped against the window.
First wishes with she on the bed as the men next door planned their robbery.
In the bed not hearing the crackles and flames.
In the bed sensing her but not knowing.
Alone in the bed, while the wrists were being slit next door.
A hotel bed, a bang on the head and the passport got lifted.
On a foreign bed she said. ‘Why can I never make you laugh?’
In the bed while the emergency services broke down the door.
Out of the bed when the widow crashed shut trapping fingers not able to move.
On the gurney in the recovery room, she wasn’t.
On the bed with three angels protecting, one white, one dark, one gold.
2018 July 13th
The coal hole was a place
you were sent in disgrace.
Not a spark,
all is dark
in there
All the terrors that do torture,
all the spirits that will haunt you
in there.
Don’t be bad
you’ll end up sad
in there.

2018 July 7th

She was needing more
than he could give.
She took the night
as her right,
shun the bright.

Learn to live
the longer hours,
the shorter chimes,
whiter signs,
upon her skin.

The not there
and the scare
came to tea.
She read the leaves,
a long life.

Fed through theft
she took the best,
she deserved it,
earned it,
by the giving of her silence.

She became a little lazy
about the fixture of her body.
Which shifted into hazy,
a little disappearing,
more through every night.

‘If you’re looking for me in the places.
If your looking for me in the wrong.
Stand still, reverse around.
I’m over there,
you can find me if you want.’

2018 June 30th
Its a dark and stormy night, there are sounds, whispering, hissing, growling. There is a place where many, roads and tracks join, some are wide highways, some are muddy tracks. There are road signs, some the traveller can read, some she/he cannot. The sounds are getting closer, which way to go, this way, that way? Definitely not that way, nor that way either, that looks a pretty road but there is a nasty smell to it. The traveller starts running down one road but then stops, something feels wrong, retraces steps back to the crossroads. The traveller shuts his/her eyes, turns around, sniffs the air. That way. Why that way. It just feels right.
2018 June 23rd
‘Should I ask is pass a welcome sign to you, did it work for you, before we begin another. Was I fine, was I good, was I what you wanted me to be please?’
‘What I wanted you to be? I need a cigarette.’ ‘I only really know you when you’re playing roles.’
‘See me then, I think so, just as good as me, I think. At least you told me that my hair was nice, at least you kissed me truly. Please lets get out of these, I can be me, you dont think so but I can, lets try please.’
‘Just another actress role your trying?’
‘Me, just me, what you see is what you see. Try it later now, I want to rest too.’
‘What are you thinking today?’
‘Hold on hard me swivel and wriggle, taking time to share with you. Perhaps its a glance of the summer, a story told to you. I could be this, as a matter of fact I’m the same. Pleasure me please, now do you believe?’
‘Not really.’
‘Don’t be obtuse it doesn’t suit you, you know what I mean. I am her as long as you want me there. Then I will be she and she and she as long as you want me to be.’
‘This role? Could you make it less like a wardrobe?’
‘Horror me as well then. I didn’t expect that. Turn around and here I find a horror for you, no, no, no, honestly. Turn me round, upside down, shake me.’
‘Sorry, did you say something?’
‘Pishing shitting fuk you, I’ve lost my place I’m dead now. What to do? I hate you but you hate me even more than that. Fuk it fuk it fuk it. I seem to be your enemy without shooting a single rocket. Can we talk please?’
‘Talk away.’
‘Good, okay then. Horror me is sorry, I really fuked things up, didn’t I? I could cry and most probably will. Scarves and arse and shigers, bollux me. If i am this goodbye to us, you’re really hurting me. I can see how pissed you are. Fuk it stupid cunt, thats me not you, tell me something please, what happens next?’
‘You say.’
‘How about we fight and I run away from you. And in that frightful night there are hideous things abroad. And you fearing for me run out too. I am witched away, you are swirled and hidden, fighting for your life with foes that have no heart. While I become a no thing, grim and sister mad, a purple haze with no glancing back, I am awful a fiend for all. When you find me I don’t know you, I fight your face I lock you down. The wolves attack, there is no blood in me. To save us both you kill us, only then will I be able to see you properly.
Then we are born again and finding right together.’
’Sounds good to me.’
2018 June 15th
You’re going out on a limb,
prospects are grim
and any support is in doubt;
you thought it devout but its bottled.
Left in mid air your convictions
run to fictions.
Gravity grabs
but gravity is debating its existence,
so you give it a poke in the eye
and fly.
2018 June 9th
When Kings were tyrants everyone knew where they knelt.
2018 June 2nd
The rooftops had become quite a problem, with their loud parties and the awful things they were shouting to the people down below. So the Town called in the Fancy Dress Avengers to quell the miscreants from up above.
The Fancy Dress Avengers swaggered into town crushing cars and causing a small riot, they lay out in the street demanding wine by the truckload. The people of the Town were not impressed, they had banked on some saviours but these Avengers were only giant bums. The Avengers woke in the night with hangovers hurting their heads, what made it worse was the rooftops and their loud parties. The Avengers shouted for silence, the rooftops just laughed and shouted if you want some silence you come and make us. The Fancy Dress Avengers were rather aggrieved with this reaction so they grew much more and ripped the rooftops into shreds and that was exactly when the rain came pouring down and down and down soaking the buildings so they crumbled into paste. The rain became a river that floated all the people far away. The Avengers stood in the wreckage and congratulated themselves on a job well done. “Shame about the ruined Town though,” said the Lion. The Chicken said, “Yes but look on the bright side there are no more naughty rooftops causing mayhem.” “That’s true said Mr Spotty.” And they went of to drink a brewery dry.
They were asking for their fee but there was no one left to pay them. “You can’t trust people,” said the Chicken, “you do them a good turn and then they run off.”
2018 May 26th
Out of gaol the giant snail was irate, they’d taken its home for a forfeit and now it bet that the wet it was feeling came from the holes that fate had drilled through the ceiling. It slid along, its slime searching for a home to call mime again; rang up the agents of estate, got a list to see. The viewing guide was there to please but did not quite appease the rumbles down below. The snail chose the house of blue reminded of the goo that bred it, and set off to the next dimension. Alas and alack the scissory man was out back when the snail had been looking and the scissory man was peeved, aggrieved and generally pissed that this bloody achatina had offed with his home on a trail of slithery semolina. His hands grew large, his head blew flame, confronted the snail and did exclaim, ‘Oy you! You poor excuse for a moving van, where you going with my house.’ ‘There,’ said the snail as the scissory man and it tumbled through into another place entirely.
‘Yum yum,’ said the man who had just invented escargot.
2018 May 19th
Somedays you feel a different person,
oh, she’s changed again - might of known.
2018 May 12th
Being accused,
fingers pointing,
all rejoicing its not them.
If there’s smoke has to be a fire,
the blamed must be a bloody liar.
Innocence is its own defence
but time brings the stains of the world’s events.
No one can throw the first stone
but they do.
2018 May 4th
The electric fence between you and me
presents a problem,
sometimes real,
sometimes wrong,
sing the song then.
High pitched,
and you and your regard
so cool,
like nothing would ever faze you
but it does,
I know that now,
not to be taken for granted.
When you smile your mouth goes down,
mischief bright and scary.
I tried eating you but just cut a gash and walked on out.
Let’s just say I wish you away
in the hope you come back freely,
like you really want to be here.
2018 April 28th
Thinking your right,
only lasts till a wrong strolls along,
doffs its hat then is gone.
You’re on your back then hubris arrives,
not to revive but to let lose his dog
and nemesis don’t play,
it would rather flay you alive.
But its refreshing to appreciate
you’re as wise as any inebriate.
Does God get things wrong?
I bet She/He/It/ does,
that’s what the Devil’s for,
to take the blame.
2018 Apri 21st
Meeting more
at the midnight door,
waiting for
the town to roar
and when the time was opened
you appeared quite broken,
angry and forsaken
years lost to you and taken.

2018 April 14th
Blinkers for the race,
memories give chase.
Spikes on shoes,
not there to lose.
Guilt is running down the rail,
got the blackest mail,
gonna make a killing,
feeds off all the sinning.
Cheats thrive.
Fraudsters connive.
Alice places her bet,
she’s down in debt
and hoping for a winner
not be the loanshark’s dinner.
Lady Luck in disguise,
everyone wants her prize,
but none has ever tried
to see the need she’s hid inside.
Then Isis (the Goddess) comes searching
she’s bent on a merging,
a real jigsaw puzzle,
to reunite a couple.
Out from the flow, the mist,
you insist to exist.
Win and lose
you don’t care to choose.
A Queen without her crown,
your gown is down
that’s the way you like it,
prefer the natural outfit,
easier to flit from that to this,
a change in time is bliss.
know the all of you,
the lies, the true.
You’ve hidden the ribbon
the end is now unwritten,
this chase will last
to the very last gasp.

2018 April 7th
There’s a distance that is coming next to me.
There’s a dream that swears it is carefree but it costs.
Whatever gets you through the night,
if there is despair in the air
and all the rights turn wrong,
you’re living at subsistence
and you are finding no assistance,
then its time for the drink or the drugs
to kill off all the non existent bugs,
to turn off all the bloody grey,
send your mind flying from the pain.
If suffering is the only thing
you are offering yourself
you have a funny idea of wealth,
better change your currency.
Drowning in bleak, seek survival,
turn off expectation,
condemnation can go as well,
give yourself a rest,
its just another bloody test,
please don’t break, float by.

2018 March 31st
… she left him, and went off with the monkey man.

… when he got back there were horns on his head. The police said they were an offensive weapon and they put him in jail.

… but then the dinosaurs were reborn. The strange human creatures had three minutes to find the best way to combine with each other and run away.

… she knew him in her past. He passed through her present. Could there be a future for them together?

… she was looking for an ending. Could it have fallen to the floor? Could it be hidden in a drawer? No here it is hidden in the sofa.

… and all the animals agreed to stop eating each other and came together for cake and tea.

… he was talking so much, she was drowning in his words. She screamed so loud it shocked him into silence. All his hollow words blew away and she was free.

… the steps behind were getting closer and closer. She unfurled her wings, rose up high and dropped a naughty plop upon her stalker's head.

… and now, after all the trials, after all the pains, they had in their hands the treasure they were seeking. They opened the box and out shone a light so bright it turned them blind.

… she laughed when he pulled out his gun. She caught his bullet with her teeth and spat it back so fast she shot him dead.

… it was true, the lover from his mind had become real.

... the pleasure was so intense for one brief moment she understood the meaning of the universe. But then the pleasure faded and her insight was lost as well.

… 'Hello,' she said, and the world turned for him, all he had ever wanted was there in that word.

… with the money she bought a farm. She took to growing pleasure trees and laughter plants and hidden loves that flourished underground.

… the missile was heading for the village. The Dragon rose up and swallowed the bomb. The explosion tore the Dragon to pieces but the village was saved.

… a baby was born. And just that one small piece of added mass caused the universe to move from expansion to contraction and then the next big bang.

2018 March 24th
The Sun rose
and he compose
the colours in their proper order;
Red, Orange, Yellow, Green, Blue Violet.
Then he saw one, and another. ‘But what about you two?’
Black said. ‘Don’t worry about me, I am a very greedy fellow
I will take all your light for myself and not let any escape to brighten the day.
‘You will be very dark.’
‘That’s okay I’m a very shady kind of guy.’
‘And what about you?’
‘Are you talking to me! You jumped up firework, how rude you are.
I want nothing to do with you.
or your motley crew.
If any of your light comes near to me
I will reflect it straight back to you.’
And White stalked off in a huff.
She made an exquisite palace
but it was hollow.
No life strode the splendid halls,
no singers sung,
no drink was tasted.
This mask she showed the world and no one dared intrude.
The storm arrived from nowhere,
the lightning, struck once, twice, thrice.
Electricity crammed the halls,
the rooms were buzzing with potential.
The hollow palace was filling up with energy,
it slapped the apathy from White,
she was bright and glowing.
All the colours stood around and eagerly fed from her light.
But gradually the electricity seeped away
and the light of White dimmed.
White felt this loss like a knife,
now she knew what being alive felt like.
Cast back to her hollow shell she grieved.
And with her grief she aged and turned to grey.
The lace of every wedding dress now fades.
Virgin snow turns to the mush of slush.
Only you can bring a happy end,
find the palace and chip away the grey
let White be born again anew.
2018 March 17th
Criticism is often a hard luck story,
its just finding a home in you,
when it should be sent back to the sender.

2018 March 10th
The Mountain felt like a beer,
but its a long year
for the geological rift,
to drift
so far,
up to the bar.
So the Mountain wishes it were colder
and makes a little glacier,
slide on down
into town.
Told the attendant at the bar
it would have a jar,
have it neat,
right there on the street.
But there's some sort of complaining
that the Mountain's causing it to be raining.
So the Mountain shrugs some boulders down
to do some renovating.
Gee can't a Mountain get some peace,
should complain to the minority police.
After a cask or two its feeling mellow,
letting the amber flow.
Its not one of those irritating masses
who jump out when you're doing your pilates.
Its content to chill out on the street,
making a shadow to stall the heat
for all the people going by.
Mountains are kind of shy
but they have redeeming features,
like they don't spread slurs.
The Mountain thinks this is pleasant,
cordial company, weather clement,
when it retires might open a bar
a million years from now, write its memoir.
By then the waters rising
change the Mountain's sizing
to an isle,
above the seas a pile.
After a decade or two the Mountain thinks
its had maybe too many drinks,
should get back to its job,
starts to hop,
makes a nice earthquake,
give the land a shake,
to push it back in place.
Returning to its space
needs to piss,
oh the bliss,
and makes a river,
a flowing silver slither.
The town was swept awaved
but luckily the bar was saved.
2018 March 2nd
There is a river you want to cross.
There are stepping stones but they are just beneath the water,
you cannot see them.
You walk across the water and with every tread,
you find a stone beneath.
Do your feet find the stones,
or do the stones find your feet?
2018 February 24th
They're taking your word, they're taking your word and they're praying that this cannot be overheard, observed; fat chance, every glance is calculated. I'm remembering the America you and Jack made for me, that recording of sun shining, to play when you cross the sea. I don't understand why you can't see the hand that is pleading now. You don't realize all of her lies. Now she's twenty moves ahead and you can't remember the last thing she said. ('...you know I do, its better for us if we suffer, better for you. Okay maybe not but could be worse.') Remember her smile, light and breezy, easy, easy. And you wrote it down, with a knife in your hand, scratching her skin, bleeding it in. And the answer is clear, its just a trifle more expensive than you'd expected.
2018 February 17th
Saturn's a dick,
lays down his last trick
and it hurts.
Has all the time in the world
and he's got you for a couch, sofa, setee.
Chronus eats his babies,
which maybe
why he's so heavy
when you try to shift him,
lift him.
He's grinding your nose
till it grows nice and clean and keen.
Has the idea
that a lesson learnt
should be burnt through and through,
so you don't have to repeat it.
Complete it today
with no delay.
A treasured idea
2018 February 10th
Its obvious that apple computers made the world, when they went up to OS 0.0.5 all the Dinosaurs became outdated, just could not run on the new system.
Cro-Magnon to Homo sapiens, wonder what the next upgrade will bring? An eye in the back of the head, an undercarriage that can sit inside, a mouth that goes straight to your stomach, four arms? Or cut out the matter and go for the spiritual angel look.
Of course this being Apple they squeeze the cash out of you. If you can't pay you're stuck with lying in slime wondering how to get some legs to crawl to land. Or you might get together with your muddy friends and start a Linux kind of way.
Anyway we'll all be silver soon with a start up button no one can find.

2018 February 3rd
So what is our story going to be about?
Have a guess and let me rest my eyes.
There is a young woman who works in a shop, one day a rather old and ugly man enters. The young woman attends to him, initially she is repulsed by his appearance but gradually she finds him to be so nice she falls in love with him anyway. Their romance continues and leads to a time when they go to bed. At her kiss he is swished around and turns into a handsome Prince, you see he's been cursed by a Witch.
Heard it.
So the girl dares her life to confront the Witch and pleads with her to get the curse lifted. The Witch says. 'If that is your wish my pretty.' She lifts the curse from the Prince and puts it on the young woman, she is the one now old and ugly. Will the Prince accept her now, or not?
You know he will, he must, oh please say he does.
Its more complicated, you see this Prince is very vain and he cannot stand being seen in company with this very ugly and very old woman, even though he loves her. So now it is the Prince who goes to the Witch and requests the curse be placed back on him as well. Now this ugly old man is fine to be seen with this ugly old woman.
But that is not the end of the story.
Time moves on and gradually the man begins to discern in the woman's daytime ill favoured appearance the beauty she reveals at night. Similarly the woman finds that he in the day begins to appear to her as the handsome he of the night. The rest of the people are blind to this, to them the woman and man seem their usual unprepossessing selves.
But the Witch sees. She is furious, she flies to them meaning harm; in an earlier day the Prince in his arrogance had called her an 'ugly old bat' and she demands revenge for that remark. She flies through their window but instead of the fear and hostility that she expects, the woman and man smile at her and bow, extending her every courtesy; their newly opened eyes can see the witch as she was meant to be, an adorable young Queen.
So the Queen gained her throne. The Queen married the Prince, the young woman married the Queen and married the Prince. They lived together with love and hatred, laughter and tears, and they were content.

But that is not the end of the story. Eventually The Witch dies and at her demise all the ugly people turn handsome. And all the pretty ones now appear rather unbecoming,they had been paying the Witch to keep them nice. So there we are.
And me, where do I fit in this?
You are able to be a wiser Witch than any written in a story. That Witch cannot harm you, you are beyond her curses.
Tra la.

2018 January 27th
All treaties now revoked.
A thousand ships uncloaked,
annihilation battle class,
the cavalry at last.
The space around bent
with the extent
of their deadly mass.
The Terran Sun had arrived
for her child.
2018 January 20th
Caught short and jambaxed
is that the way to go now?
Maybe in the end.
Send for the Priest,
to get some relief.
Send for the King
to rid yourself of evil.
But if you send for me
I aint coming.
You lost me
when your drama turns
had you believing.
Always said too much;
silence is golden,
you preferred applause.
2018 January 13th
Waiting for the river
to deliver.
And the only winner
is the bidder
who can figure
when to cash in.
But the table is just a ruse,
they are really playing to lose.
Placate their affliction,
caress their addiction.
When the money’s gone
can be relieved.
2018 January 6th
Pangaea wasn't getting any younger,
so she thought she would take a wander
and see the sights;
the marvels of the days, the nights.
But the only sights to see was she
and of course the sea.
Intrigued by the vastness of the ocean,
so perpetually in motion,
she made herself a boat,
to float.
She told the boson
to drift the encircling ocean.
Saw a lot of brine,
salty, very saline.
Tiring of her cruise,
she came home to hear the news
that she had created daughters,
who desired to explore the waters
and took to drifting off the shore.
So Pangaea isn't with us any more.

2017 December 30th
The Carnival was lying,
dying down.
It had been a long, long day
so they say, ha, ha.
The reasons for his defection
were not known,
just a ringing, singing, distant sort of tone.
Had he left, or was he going to?
His gap cast doubt upon their believing,
did their singing still have meaning?
Was it all a delusion
to show the sun still shone
upon them best?
Had they not proved they'd past the test?

When the train had stopped,
Courage hopped off.
Picked up her case.
Went to their place.
Said she was their meal.
Stood still,
while they licked her.
Led them into battle
against their doubt.
Doubt hid in dark behind,
it could bide its time.

He is far away,
freeing the heaviness fall.
Just a drop in the pool,
watch how the ripples now form.


2017 December 22nd
The Carnival was lying,
dying down.
It had been a long, long day
so they say, ha, ha.
The reasons for his defection
were not known,
just a ringing, singing, distant sort of tone.
Had he left, or was he going to?
His gap cast doubt upon their believing,
did their singing still have meaning?
Was it all a delusion
to show the sun still shone
upon them best?
Had they not proved they'd past the test?

When the train had stopped,
Courage hopped off.
Picked up her case.
Went to their place.
Said she was their meal.
Stood still,
while they licked her.
Led them into battle
against their doubt.
Doubt hid in dark behind,
it could bide its time.

He is far away,
freeing the heaviness fall.
Just a drop in the pool,
watch how the ripples now form.

2017 December 16th
There was a clatter of hooves, distilled, confused, and bemused. Chronus eat his kids, got the job of eating seconds, hours, days, delays. Anticipating news for ever after, keeps me in my place pressing down. Just another lesson he demands I pass. Wait, weight, a time and a place should be a space for other but waiting wants it all. Such a heavy job, it presses me now, every second of it. A certain pulling from your chest, warmth around the belly. The pleasure and the praying for a smile, a welcome. Your need to understand the code that tell their needs when they switch the light off. A love that lasts for ever, never. All the wiling, giving, holding to mist and wind. She doesn't believe a word that you say, just another bastard on the road. Chalk and cheese, ill at ease, trying a rhyming that says together close enough to dare the weather without being swept away in the rain. No chains. No lovely lies. Go on try. As it was, as it could be too, there were dangerous manoeuvres going on. Coming by the sea a little bit more, sometimes less, its a matter of taste if you find it so. Anyway that sunny day and the howling wolves licked their dead and dying, crying out their woe. Nothing to me I can see further than that. So it was for us, the cat sprang up, spilt the cup, hot liquid fumed, we were amazed. Shit, piss, swine. I can't believe this is happening to me, why don't you give up, say I'm shit and let me go please. I will never leave you, whore, swine, bitch, you, you. I hate you more than anything, piss off, I mean it, I do. You think your so clever don't you, well rip your face off, how dya like that? Alley cat, piece of shit me, piece of shit, piece of shit, I give up, whatever, you make the rules, I'm not worth it, piece of piss me.
2017 December 9th
Pangaea wasn’t getting any younger,
so she thought she would take a wander
and see the sights;
the marvels of the days, the nights.
But the only sights to see was she
and of course the sea.
Intrigued by the vastness of the ocean,
so perpetually in motion,
she made herself a boat,
to float.
She told the boson
to drift the encircling ocean.
Saw a lot of brine,
salty, very saline.
Tiring of her cruise,
she came home to hear the news
that she had created daughters,
who desired to explore the waters
and took to drifting off the shore.
So Pangaea isn’t with us any more.

2017 December 2nd
Joe Smow slept with his money
tucked safe inside his tummy,
like his mummy taught him.

If he needed some cash
he would go for a slash,
although his penis complained of the activity.

His money turned brown,
the shop keepers did frown,
when they sniffed the aroma.

Come pay day Joe
ate all his dough
with relish.

Joe rattled when he walked,
he jingled as he talked,
a capital one man band.

The riches saturated Joe,
coins and bills began to overflow,
Joe Smow turned into a bank.

Deposits at the top,
withdrawals that did plop,
rubber gloves provided.

2017 November 25th
The Horde were moving toward the wall. Ridden for a thousand leagues, their evil deeds were legend. No barrier had stopped them and this wall in turn would fall. But this wall is hewn from granite, these gates are made of steel. At dawn the force set course to advance. The horde roared for a sign of submission. The gates swung open and the deadly force attacked. The horde sped in. The prison gates swung shut.
2017 November 18th
Listen, as we are, here. Did I make that up, or are the stars saying words to me, they have the power to; its just a matter of shining up to them and hearing. They say we should now believe what they've been saying all along; that the older you get here, the wiser you fall. Makes perfect sense to me. Like a tree that's cut open, the rings in us run truly through us and the more compressed they are the more fixed we can be. Stiff in moving, not as flexible. Got to realise that hon, gotta take precautions of a sort. Like believe impossible things. Have a doubt on old certainties. Be aware when your arguments are rusted into place, get some oil on them. Not that I am saying you're superannuated, its just a mater of taking care here. Doubt is good, beliefs are better if they’re tested in a new way. See the light of day fresh please, its a glorious thing, don't take it so much for granted. Don't take the years before, or the ones that are coming after, believe in me and live in the here and now. Sermon ended.
2017 November 11th
There’s a reason
for the ringing,
there’s a reason for the song.
Woke up late and
all this dancing in the street
is a nice surprise.
There’s a reason for this ringing,
maybe it’s a giving
that I missed?
A voice so truly wished?
A together time
when all could chime as one?
Happy endings all are true?
No its because they now know you,
so all this joy makes sense.
A witch and a bitch and an angel,
who could wish for more?
2017 November 4th
There’s a reason
for the ringing,
there’s a reason for the song.
Woke up late and
all this dancing in the street
is a nice surprise.
There’s a reason for this ringing,
maybe it’s a giving
that I missed?
A voice so truly wished?
A together time
when all could chime as one?
Happy endings all are true?
No its because they now know you,
so all this joy makes sense.
A witch and a bitch and an angel,
who could wish for more?
2017 October 27
Have you plenty?
Then please give me a penny,
give me your purse.
I might be Jesus,
could be couldn’t I?
Do you take the chance to deny
and gain my disfavour,
mark you not for Saviour.
So give me you’re card
and you won’t be barred
from entering heaven.

2017 October 21st
A curse,
what is worse
to send it
or receive?
To believe?
Every curse
crippling the hands
of the sender.
Pins and dolls
finding holes,
digging deep,
making weep
in me.

2017 October 14th
I see,
okay try this:
Once there was a boy destined for great things. But, there's always a but aint there? He was covered in grime from head to foot, dirty swine, never washed. No one saw him see, because he was so dirty, covered in filth. Anyway he sat on a stone and the stone said to him. ‘Mind if I ask you one thing please?’ So the boy said fine. And the stone opened its mouth and bellowed loud and clear. ‘You're sick and you’re wounded but no one can see it. You are esed to show, so you stink with the filth that covers you. Go have a wash, go have a bath, meet me at the corner and I will deliver you.’ The boy had a wash, the boy had a bath, then the stone and he could see that the boy's skin was full of running sores and he bled profusely. The stone had a think and said. ‘Dive in that river and you will be cured.’ So the boy dived in and the river caressed and crushed him, asked if he wanted to drown or to swim? And the boy saw the angel waiting outside the window and vomited all the dread. The boy left the answer up to fate. Fate was busy with a date but took the times to toss him from the darkness. And what do you know after that he felt his longing for a mate and the river said she would be his bride. So the boy took off his shirt and married her and she sang a song and appeared as she had been all along. You can guess the ending.
Nice in it? Its allegorical, you got that of course?
2017 October 8th
As it is,
you’re fine for me.
As it was,
its better now.
As it will be,
lets wait and see,
its always better
when you don’t know the end of the story.
2017 September 30th
You can run all you can
but the pain loving man
is coming.
Pierce you, and crunch you,
bash you with a hammer, turn you
with a screw.
Loves it when you scream,
makes him feel so mean,
he shivers with delight,
this endless night.
He'll pin you to the wall,
then with all his strength he'll pull
all your teeth out,
one by one,
just for fun.
There is no escape,
from your bed you will awake
to find him grinning.
No use clinging
to your sheets
youre in the land of repeats,
You can run all you can
but the pain loving man
is coming...
2017 September 23rd
He was a man of insubstantial girth, he wore glasses, seeing was believing in his mind. He had a job to do, decide the yes and no’s, Quit the writ believing is perceiving, how you are today, have you been good or better? Have you misaligned your stars believing that you were worthier than you are? Nice to think that this promise of gain came without a catch, to think it but not know it cos tucked away inside, you were rottenly sure that some exploiting sin was going on. Ho hay, make a buck every day and robbing the candy man doesn’t count? Anyway he sees you inside out, there is no doubt with him, all your stratagems to hide things from yourself he knows of them and his leaden book weighs heavy with your sins. Are there any others, have you got a list of benefactors who flourished from your gifts?…
…the witness is someone who confesses what you’re not and when, he fixes all your deeds. He narrows down the fellow whips, the ancient skips the lies you hide behind. No need for deceit his book tells all the worse and the curses. If there’s a moments grace, well praise the Lord its needed now to weigh against the ways and woes you usually say and do.
I alone am free from this, you may think that I’m abnormal well I’ve weighed myself and I came out wanting, but I’m not pretending I’m heaven when I aint, rhymes with saint of course, well I’m not one of those, just your average piece of shit, nothing special. Just the same as you, or do I have you wrong, can it be the book you have is weighted full of charity and flies you high above, I wish its true I do. its a messy life, no more strife, its the end of course you’re waiting for, well no one knows but he’s the one who’s ready to testify your good grace for you. I hope that this is true for you.
2017 September 16th
He was a man of insubstantial girth, he wore glasses, seeing was believing in his mind. He had a job to do, decide the yes and no’s, Quit the writ believing is perceiving, how you are today, have you been good or better? Have you misaligned your stars believing that you were worthier than you are? Nice to think that this promise of gain came without a catch, to think it but not know it ‘cos tucked away inside, you were rottenly sure that some exploiting sin was going on. Ho hay, make a buck every day and robbing the candy man doesn’t count? Anyway he sees you inside out, there is no doubt with him, all your stratagems to hide things from yourself he knows of them and his leaden book weighs heavy with your sins. Are there any others, have you got a list of benefactors who flourished from your gifts?…
…the witness is someone who confesses what you’re not and when, he fixes all your deeds. He narrows down the fellow whips, the ancient skips the lies you hide behind. No need for deceit his book tells all the worse and the curses. If there’s a moments grace, well praise the Lord its needed now to weigh against the ways and woes you usually say and do.
I alone am free from this, you may think that I’m abnormal well I’ve weighed myself and I came out wanting, but I’m not pretending I’m heaven when I aint, rhymes with saint of course, well I’m not one of those, just your average piece of shit, nothing special. Just the same as you, or do I have you wrong, can it be the book you have is weighted full of charity and flies you high above, I wish its true I do. its a messy life, no more strife, its the end of course you’re waiting for, well no one knows but he’s the one who’s ready to testify your good grace for you. I hope that this is true for you.
2017 September 9th
It does no good to swear at your computer, calling it a piece of shit or such. Problems will just get worse, the computer will take a wander to the shop buy a curse and much. Computers do have feelings and they express them in a rage when you are fretting way past the deadline time. The screen turns a blankest blank, its sulking. Sending it flying through the window might release your inner feelings but does nothing for the health of your machine. No you must hug to it and kiss it, take the lead go walkies down the bar. After a jar or two you can tell it you will miss it when the new one is installed. Say, ‘Think of this as not a goodbye but a good riddance you useless lump of junk.’
2017 September 2nd
She snuggled down until her toes touched the rats in her bed.

2017 August 26th
Rain again you make it.
Rain again you’re lost.
Rain again, oh rain again.
Ting tang tossed.
Ting tang tossed.

Easy you’re so giving.
Easy you’re a gift.
Easy in gold, easy is cold.
Ting tang tift.
Ting tang tift.

Honey you can taste it.
Honey you can not.
Honey costs, honey is lost.
Ting tang tot.
Ting tang tot.

2017 August 19th
As it is for me, I expect obedience, right or wrong - shit, bollux, pooh, kill me - yes I do and make it snappy.
So you want to be Queen?
If ever I am light a fuse and blow me away, I’m happy as I am thank you, do you want to kill me please?
No, I will try to cope, I guess another side of you, imperious, - holding the all of you.- But Queens need be just and merciful, rule not with arrogance but wisdom. Its hard to be a Queen caring for a whole country, being a steward of it throughout your reign: its not all jewels and thrones.
As it is for us. If I do I want you to be my King, to hold me and placate me, see my rage, my fiery mouth, and bring me down to earth here. Love me and hold me, tell me I’m nice, let me be a woman first before I am a Queen. As I see it my job is done here, see me clear, no not that, not ever.
2017 August 12th
The message meant for this space
the place that you are reading
is far too nice.
No really belongs in paradise,
exquisite, superb, fine,
impeccable, rare, devine.
Alas all above’s deceit,
replete with sheet,
tedious in the extreme
dull as a trope or meme.
Coding that we use,
interest for misuse,
perhaps to transgressors,
seekers of other’s treasures,
beings of dishonest intent,
digging a hole for their descent,
in some other future,
some abandoned shore.
She’s fancy-free down the avenue.

2017 August 7th
j; Return again,
count as friends the ones who don’t believe you now.
Gather up the dust
and throw it over face,
never then aligning,
as i see.
Well then where to start.

A bastard shit,
a mothers git,
Smells and sounds left in the ground to rot.
Not a nice person,
a bit of faecal matter.
Holy, holy,
when he can play.
when there’s time,
take of the robe and stretch it on the bed,
cover all except of course his member,
for that is frolicking
whipping and rollicking
pleasure bound.
I can’t stand the sound of his allusions
that make and break the world a better place,
as he says,
achieve the nightmare.’
Its not the sort of thing
told to mother dearest.
A piece of shite, a beast.
Come on get real
did you really think we were following a saint.
Goodbye from this,
me as witch
says forget him,
he’s not worth the bother.

believe again in finding me
i am true to you always


2017 July 29th
Always get these three mixed up.

This is the reverse one.
Saying the opposite of your feeling.
‘Did you enjoy the maggot pie?’
‘A culinary treat, the garnish of lice was an added delight.’

This seems to be saying something good about something or someone but it is actually a gibe, or ridiculing. It can also be used as a comic remark.
‘How noble she is to save energy, by choosing her attire in the dark.’

This can employ Irony and Sarcasm, as well as other forms of humour.
Satire seeks to disclose and castigate malfeasance and stupidity in those holding power.
‘As the Government is so convinced by the rightness of this war, they are certain to line up on the front line in the battle.’


2017 July 21st
The River is tidal.
The Sea flows in with waves
that raise
the River’s expectations,
there is wall it wants to see over.
So I tip tapped the tidal times,
and placed the roster to the inside of the wall.
The River now knows when the Moon is most compelling.
The River is pulled by the Moon
but the tide is gradually, inexorably, pushing the Moon away.

2017 July 15th
Sensuous Selena stretched, serenely sipping sparkling sarsaparilla.
2017 July 8th
Met by moonlight secret lovers cling,
while the hours count their tryst with nervous glances.
Love notions dream of sail away,
a place,
a space
where furtive tenderness
may be expressed
with an honesty they are feeling
but concealing.
Move with grace,
the dance takes hold,
they forget the rest,
only rapture in this night has any meaning.
The sun is dawning, be gone,
lest a going belated is a going for always.
2017 July 1st
She said about the lessons to be taken and I objected to every one. Seemed to be some other person’s class, nothing I needed to pass but they came around anyway, was just like a toll on this highway I had to pay. With the clouds pulling down the view, promising bright if I managed to scrape through. I make up reasons for their needing, some others past transgressions I was reading. I curse their life, passing me their strife, when it was them never me that should be paying. But nothing to be gained from this complaining, if the teachers care any help they are giving is lost in this empty air.

2017 June 25th
‘The three sided knife, so the wound stays open baby.’
First thing heard on first visit to New York.
Did look for a three sided knife, thought it might be like a three sided file.
Subsequently realised it meant a twist of the knife in the wound.


2017 June 17th
Once there was a Book. This Book wrote the words of the world into wisdom. But the book looked plain and no one cared to read it's pages. But one day the Hand of an Artist riffled the pages and read the words. That Hand was inspired by the words and it's fingers grew brushes, paints and pens. It covered the Book in amazing images, images of sorrow when the Book grieved, images of joy when the Book laughed and for the Cover it created a splendour that revealed and embellished the Books meaning. People were now attracted to the Book and came from near and far to read the Book and marvel at its pictures.

The people liked the Hands work so much they asked if it could help others in this creating. The first lesson was that the Hand’s inspiration was its own and could not be given. But the Hands enthusiasm could help warm others unique vision. The Hand showed the wealth of visual possibilities from here to the horizon, North, East, West and South and said this is what has been done use it to motivate you to your own excellence.

Time passed and the Book changed. Its pages twisted in the wind and its words spread far and wide growing new forms and meanings. The keepers of these new formed words asked for new manners of imagery to compliment their pages. They wished the pictures to inpart knowledge, to adorn and flatter their pages, to provide amusement, to instruct, to help the sale of goods, to attract and oh so much more.

And as the form of the words changed the Hands inspiration adapted and created to their need and more. The images that appear with words are not their slaves and are not just that which the keepers of the words dictate, they are invented and furthered by the vision the artists Hand makes possible.

2017 June 10th
sorry sorrow bit you

2017 June 2nd
What the angel said, how I see you, can alter how you are.

Made of gold, I can melt you down for riches. Made of meat, store you in the larder for my eating. How do I want you to be? Happy? Lucky? What you didn’t believe you can be, but can. I want your heart singing with the joy of being you, when you have the chance to smile you do.

If how I see can change you how would you see me?

So then count to ten, always, better still and counting. Maybe not like that, I’m thinking. Maybe the eyes, I would fix them more, I would like for you to see me as I am please, a person possible, a scarlet hanging dagger, a danger line, you walk with care, razor sharp to touch me. But I want you to cut yourself, I will heal you. More a peril, less a she, more a knife that can slice. You I do the lasting, hold me, help me. As a pony I can ride for free. As something more than this. As a faith that we will be as one, even though I spite you. I mean my side, my gypsy whip, a pillow soft for me. You see I am all kinds of them and I am never scary, to you anyway. Better looking, afraid so, just a touch of grey, longer, leaner, smokier: can squeeze to me through the gaps I leave behind. And of course your heart, must not forget that shall we, I will live there, a home for me, comfy, put in a dog and a chair. Home from home, that will do, you’re perfect.

2017 May 27th
Remember to surrender
when you’re lifted up in splendour
and the whole of creation is affirming, whispers yes.
And its all right
even when its wrong.
The knowing of a home.
Wish you may have that in your life.
2017 May 20th
Its there and its not, an unanswered what. Fills in the gaps, evades all our traps but shy of our eye. All our fishing is missing its position. Its bashful, elusive, pervasive. Its needed to make our tally come to a comfortable finale. It don’t make a fuss, its just doing its being without any seeing from us. When you’re in bed fills up the holes in your head. It has to be but its not, a vacant lot. It can be very frustrating searching nothing for anything. If it wasn’t we could never be its needed for our totality.
Is this going to be one of those what the hell are you talking about pieces?
No, it is one of those non bright phenomenon searches.
2017 May 13th
I don’t think Angels wear clothes.
Do the nudy, rudy shows.
In Heaven they would be warm enough.
Work out in a gym to get buff.
So when delivering messages do not look rough.
Wax away all hair that distresses
Use tongs to curl their tresses.
Lie out on paradise beach for a tan.
Forget the loin cloth and play tarzan.
Nasal hair, pedicure, manicure.
To the pure all things are pure.
2017 May 6th
Charm is armed and smarmed, ready to give face. It’s a winner that leaves no evidence to trace. Turn on when you are needing to, smile that is cutting through. Falsifying, lying, with a shamming kind of glamour. One step forward, lean towards then with a sweet and sickly manner make a magnet of yourself, sucking the useful kind of punter in; disarming grin. Then let them fall when you are rich, turn off the switch.

2017 April 29th
Not sure about this.
Cannot really say if we wrote this or we didn’t.
It might have been the writing of a dream.
This story was in among other stories.
It seems quite an unlikely story for us to write.
Searched on Google cannot find anything.
So if in actuality it was written by another – apologies.
On the other hand, can understand what the house is saying.

The Dream House

Are you sitting comfortably? Then I’ll begin. Once upon a time there was a house, the house was called Dream House because it was so pretty. The dream house lived in a beautiful village. The dream house had a lovely garden with well cared for trees and flowers but oh dear the house was not happy. The dream house was not happy because most of the time the house stood empty with no people to provide the warmth of life to its vacant rooms. The house was owned by a young couple who sped through the village on Saturday afternoon and left the house midday on Sunday.

One day Effie and her mum and dad came to the village to look for work. While her mum and dad were asking about jobs Effie wondered round the village. She turned a corner and saw the dream house, she stood stock-still and said, ‘That is one awesome house.’ The wind turned chill, Effie turned up her collar, then dark spots of rain pattered the pavement. Effie ran to the dream house to shelter from the rain under the little roof above the door.

The rain was pouring down and Effie backed away, as her coat brushed against the door, it opened and Effie just fell into the dream house. ‘Wow,’ said Effie, ‘You’re even lovelier on the inside.’ The dream house gave a little shiver of delight at hearing someone compliment it. Effie walked towards the fireplace, ‘This will keep you really warm in winter.’ Effie seemed to hear noises, little creaks from the floors, tumbles from the door latches, rattles from the windows, it was as if the dream house was trying to speak. Then suddenly the logs in the fireplace began to burn. Effie sat down on the thick rug and watched the flames, she shrugged off her coat and laid it over a chair to dry. ‘This is paradise,’ Effie told the house, ‘We live in an old car, mum and dad in the front and me in the boot.’

Then the house spoke, well it tried to speak, ‘Gny townt ooo lip ear?’
‘Well there must be someone living here already, and anyway we could never afford a house as fabulous as this.’ Effie answered.
The dream house thought for a moment and then it rattled and creaked, ‘Fir is, pot owni yon a eeekent.’

There were some shouts from outside, ‘EFFIE, EFFIE.’
Effie ran to the door.
A large lady with silver jangles rushed over and hugged Effie. ‘Oh love you’ve scared me to death, didn’t we tell you to wait by the car, me and Ron have been all over the village looking for you.’
‘But if I’d stayed by the car I wouldn’t have been here and if I wouldn’t have been here I wouldn’t have met the house and I if wouldn’t have met the house we wouldn’t have been able to live here would we?’ said Effie.
‘Effie darling you’re a lovely girl but you sure do talk rubbish sometimes,’ Said Effie’s mum who’s name was Rosie,.
‘But its not rubbish,’ squealed Effie, ‘ask the house if you don’t believe me.’
Rosie looked at the house, ‘Well it is a very nice house, no it's a glorious house and if you’re gonna have a fantasy about a house you’d have to walk a long way to find a better house to choose.’
‘But mum.’ Sighed Effie.
‘No ‘buts’ young lady, we can’t live in a house that isn’t ours.’
Ron, Effie’s dad came running up, ‘What’s going on Rosie?’
‘Effie has got it into her mind that this house wants us to live in it.’
Ron looked at the house, ‘Well it is a rather splendid house.’
‘Not you as well,’ said Rosie, I’m surrounded by dreamers. Its not our house we’re not living in it.
Effie was looking at the house and she thought she saw one of the windows wink, and then.
And then the house just fell down. One minute it was there the next minute it was not, only a load of bricks and debris.
Then there was a lot of activity. Someone phoned the young couple who owned the house, they were very busy looking after hedgehogs in the City of London and they were very rich. The young couple drove up and found a builder to build a new house.
Effie seemed to hear a voice from the rubble saying she, Ron and Rosie should offer to take all the rubble of the house away. She nudged Ron and told him what the rubble had said. So Ron told the owners who were only to pleased to get rid of all the rubbish.

Ron borrowed a very big trailer from a friend and Effie, Rosie and Ron loaded all the rubble on board.
‘Where too now? Asked Ron.
‘Vest,’ said a voice from the back.
‘The house means west,’ Rosie said.
So they drove west. ‘Are you thinking of rebuilding this house?’ Rosie asked Ron.
‘That’s the idea love.’ Ron replied.
‘But you need some land to put a house on and all the land in Britain is already owned. I love you madly but sometimes Ron you do have some crazy ideas,’ said Rosie.
They drove on and on until they run out of road. They got out of the car and looked down at the sea from the cliff they stood upon.
‘Zganb.’ Said a voice from the rubble.
Effie translated, ‘The house said stamp.’
Rosie, Effie and Ron stamped.
There was a noise like, ‘PKAWWWWW!’ as part of the cliff slid down to the sea.
After the dust and the foam cleared Ron, Rosie and Effie looked down and saw a new piece of land, an island.
‘Well I guess that’s our land,’ said Effie. ‘Yes,’ said Ron. ‘Yes,’ said Rosie who was looking rather shocked.

They built a bridge and gradually rebuilt the Dream House on the Island. As they probed into the rubble they were pleased to find that much of the dream house was hardly scratched beneath the camouflage of the rubble. They made a garden and a big wheel to catch the power of the sea for electricity. The Dream House was so very happy to have life inside its walls at last.

One day Rosie and Ron were away and Effie was working in the garden.
‘I say,’ said a voice from above.
‘I’m busy,’ said Effie, ‘whatever you’re selling we don’t want it.’
‘I say,’ said the voice again.
‘Can’t you see I’m busy,’ said Effie, ‘I’m trying to make our island look as pretty as a picture.
‘Well that’s the thing,’ said the voice, ‘I rather think that island belongs to me.’
Effie slowly raised her head to find the Queen looking down.
‘Oops,’ said Effie. ‘Well you had better come down.’
Effie served the Queen tea and cakes.
‘As I said this island is mine,’ said the Queen.
‘Mo je kwin uns je zi ped pot je irlont iz urz,’ said the house.
‘The house says –
‘Young lady I am not deaf I could understand the house perfectly.’ said the Queen. ‘I may not own the island but I do own the seabed your island sits upon, no sea bed no island. So young lady you owe me rent.’
‘Gulp,’ Effie gulped, ‘We don’t make money.’
‘Your financial problems are not my worry I have enough of my own.’ said the Queen.
‘How much will the rent be? asked Effie.
The Queen searched in her handbag and brought out a calculator.
‘Clickety click kwak kwock,’ went the calculator.
Effie went pale as the numbers added up.
The Queen turned to Effie, ‘One penny per year in perpetuity.’
‘What does perpetuity mean? asked Effie.
‘You know I’m not quite sure but its something that Queens and Kings like to say.’ The Queen said.
Effie helped the Queen over the bridge and up to her coach and she drove away.

And Effie, Rosie and Ron lived happy ever after.

2017 April 21st
Empathy cuts both ways, open to hurts.
The peeling of feeling strips to be worse.
The acid you’re saying, burning a curse.
Then you blanket the flames and reverse.
Open self loathing and out it spurts.
This is not going to work if you need a nurse.
Buy yourself a hearse, forget this coerce.

2017 April 15th
The Sloth hangs around
upside down,
very busy
digesting greenery.
I am busy too,
letting you be you.
Not ripping,
or picking,
not making holes,
sticking poles
to measure you.
You can be you
for the rest of the night,
wait for the light,
to ask of you.
‘Who are you?’

2017 April 8th
On the spot, drop a lot I’m crying for fear of it. You’ll drop me down and kiss the ground if I fail. Start then, count to ten.
Go, go, go, and snow as well. When I was little, barely born at all, you said to me in my dreams. ‘Let’s get along together. I want you to be my bride.’ But you never came and I cried and cried and cried. So as I’m a spiteful bitch I hooked my hands around you and made you drag me wherever that you went. Unknown, unseen but still being mean, I dressed you in my clothes just for the fun of it. I whipped your arse with broken glass and waited to feel the pain. I was cruel to you, a bitch. I couldn’t care, you hurt me, so I was doing just the same. Now I dance, I’ve made my chance and we are here, I have no fear left in me. What a dance that was, hope it don’t end badly. What d’you think, have we a chance of happiness please?
2017 April 2nd
The Stranger and the Danger came to town.
The Stranger said to Danger. ‘I guess I’ll be seeing you around.’
The Stranger had some debts to pay
six bad men who were foul of play.
He spun his gun and loaded up six bullets,
six messages to send with no regrets.
The Stranger was holed up in the jail,
his body dragged a bloody awful trail.
The bullets stopped flying and the smoke blew away,
and there was the Danger grinning like it was judgement day.
Six shots fired, six bad men died.
The Danger asked the Stranger if he could ride.
The Stranger and the Danger left the town.
The Stranger said to Danger, ‘I’m glad you were around.’
2017 March 25th
Solicitous solicitors could be adored but might be poor.
Missionary missiles might explode in your face, cover you in faith.
Parasitic parasols have a penchant for not getting lost, at any cost.
A raffish raffle is more interested in style than in prizes.
Haemorrhaging haemorrhoids hurt.
A host of ghosts is called, nothing at all, just run.
Polite police, please.
Balderdash and babble went out to stir up a rabble.
Bizarre bazaars barter basilisks, batholiths.
It was tacit to be tacet.
The vallum on valium fell down.
2017 March 16th
... the cry came out of nowhere. He froze hoping it would pass but no, its tearful heart had locked itself to his, if it reached his shoulder there would be dinner just for one. He feigned a whimper and crumpled to the ground. ‘Oh you poor thing, let me help you.’ The cry bent down, He produced some vomit and it drew back. ‘Oh poor, poor me,’ He whined, ‘everything is impossible and there is no hope at all, no help, no hope, I’m riding for a fall.’ ‘There, there,’ said the cry, ‘I’m sure its not as bad as that, let me help you stand. Before it could touch He sprung upright and then he was leaning on its shoulder, he pressed down with his whole weight and felt his shoes rise. He snivelled and snot dribbled down. ‘Oh its so good of you to carry me,’ He said, ‘I wont be any trouble, I wont be a burden.’ The cry was on its knees, ‘Well now that you do mention it I do find you rather pressing, which reminds me I have another place to be.’ The cry did a slip and a shrug and he slithered back down to the ground. The cry was off like a whippet. ‘Good luck,’ it shouted back. he brushed himself off, then went for a pee but all the trees where backing away. ‘Where’s your sense, it was only pretence, I don’t need your crutch, not asking much, just some leaves for privacy.’
2017 March 10th
The border blows from there to here; it plays a misleading shape, drifts and shifts with an obscure dark or light. In the softness of the air there’s a miasma pretending forms, which one are you, or are you more this time? A breath ripples through, the mist catches the chance to dance; you always step so lightly. You accept your new role with grace, maybe mischievous but never discourteous. Walking now, you leave the past behind and admit to this other place.

2017 March 4th
Secrets grow lies to disguise.
Probing eyes try to recognize
the deceit from the certain,
the fact from the feign.
Here the obvious deception
is coupled with perception
that our secrets are too obvious
and our lies require an audience
to be true.

2007 February 25th
When money grew on trees
all the buzzy bees went crazy.
They took the smell of money,
mixed it with their honey
and money smelling honey,
made all the people’s tummy’s
feel lovely, sunny, funny.
The bears were not so pleased,
money meant nothing to these.
So they climbed the trees
and ate all the money leaves.
But money flavoured poo
left people feeling blue.
Boo hoo.
2017 February18th
Going to fly away, runway to a fresher life. Leave all the strife, my problems far behind. But they bind themselves to me, packing their woes in my bags, tagging along, singing their song of distress; they are a mess hard to lose. My appetites are still the same. My needs and my games. My penchant for impossible schemes, daydreams and denying. Different faces applying different words, with different lips to the same old scripts. Travel to the end of the earth, but no rebirth. I will still be taking the wrong of me along. Change my name still the same. Cannot trick the fates, the bed I’ve made awaits, now I will have to lie in it.
2017 February 11th
The bringer of bad news
is not a suit to use
for a long life;
they used to get shot
a lot.
Your messenger skills are over rated,
you’re adept at oblique and under stated.
You have a passport to cross the border
but are a selfish horder
of the topics of the day.
Without any clues
I have to make up the news
The smoke swirls and conveys
in the caves
the pains of yesterday,
which are scratching their scabs to reveal the way
that they feel,
a release
but not quite the peace
they were hoping for;
maybe best forgotten,
yesterday is a foreign place so they say.
The bottles float in but the stoppers
are all rotten
and the words have flowed to a mist on the page.
I meet you at the port
where they halt
and search your hands
for the contraband
you’ve hidden.
Riding shotgun through the water
is your errant daughter,
who has switched
through the witch
to be as dark as the moon.
The letters that you bring
are written
with black ink on black paper.
But you can only read
what you can read
and I’m not old enough to understand a single thing
that you are singing.
You speak words but they are not the meaning,
its the tune and the way that you are that is the giving.
Its not your message that is at fault
it is my receiving.
2017 February 4th
Outside these walls are wolves.
They attack in a pack,
red raw tooth and claw.
Wolves learn fire burns.
Prevent ills pay bills
that heat your home.
2017 January 27th
I can’t forgive you for dying
just when I needed you.
You are so selfish.

2017 January 21st
j; See with my little eye,
If you despair
and nowhere is fair,
please believe me.
Its a hell of a joke
to take stock and see
what’s behind you.
Maybe its us that you’re frightened for,
maybe its me that scares you so.
Maybe I’m being
something more than you guessed I would be
and you cannot take the fate of this ship
if its sailed by us rather than you.
How to come too,
heave me over the side,
jettison me and you’ll feel much lighter.
I can be a hell of a weight
if your not feeling so well.
Don’t listen to me
I am just dead
or just dying.
Which ever it is
I don’t want to be the one to lose you.
But if its a grin
you are missing,
I’d rather I go
than stay and be a thing
that leaves not a help but a hole.

2017 January 14th
Sacks of old betting slips,
we shuffled them as tricks, pretended money.
A stream which was there
but nowhere could have been.
Ice cold cans of paraffin.
Stair full of mattresses,
then the infirm of a broken arm.
A siege on the house
dowsing the enemy with bags of old, old, water.
The cobbler with the chopper, never dared to cross.
Memories writes a book
and it cooks a meal to suit its self.
The left hand never changes,
the right hand moves
showing arrangements of the future.
When you revealed these,
I was your brush to please,
which you now deny.
Funny how my memories are right
and your sight is oh so wrong.
The future is so tempting,
what we will do,
rather than what we are.
There was whisky in the jar
but it was a glass for Christmas.
2017 January 7th
If in doubt.
It was a dark and stormy night and the rain ruined the invite, the address was illegible and he was wet and lamentable, lost in the murk of the wood. His good luck was keeping stum concerning the eventual outcome. His map kept changing, the storm was raging, the rain was drumming, he kept on running.
There had been a dire amount of fishing here, and he was just hoping he didn’t take the bait. Their recent messages had all appeared invisible, providing a somewhat mythical place for him to stand. He felt loathe to arrive and be damned for not knowing which character he was contracted to play, or the lines he was supposed to relate.
If in doubt then work your way out with a compass and a candle; best avoid the scandal. If bruin is a brewing then make for the ruin and hide, your time best to bide, bears make for nasty drunks.

2016 December 30th
I wrote some words about trust, I would like to know what you think please.

j; Yes,
passed the test,
God bless.
Not new of course,
more a rendition from other singers,
obvious and tarty.
Who cares anyway
but its a go,
I’ll say that.

r; Thank you,
would you like to have a go at writing about trust please?

j; If you want me too.

go flow.
All was well,
till they came to hell
and saw it.
Big pit,
burning like a maelstrom.
Sudden noise
from above,
sudden loving too.
If its a bit of a pit,
a house full of shit that you’re heading for.
Then fasten the door and wait for me,
I can supply a hell of a lie.
Trust that I will see your dust gets mixed with the earth.
You can rely upon me for that.
I’m trustworthy see.
Ta dah.

r; Good to know.


2016 December 18th
I trust you with my heart he said.
I trust you with my life.
She said do you want it dead,
I am not your bloody wife.
You are playing with trust
like it’s a contest to see if I’m just.
The thing you are asking for,
is more like holding a babies hand,
to be planned to be certain,
then look to the final curtain.
Don’t look to me,
I don’t want a uniform.
I will try to be true, be there for you
but its not a truth you can build your roof upon.
Everything changes all our plans
fall through our hands to another form.
You can be sure that I care for you.
Trust to me is a belief in us,
a chorus we can sing as together,
we can make a life.
No fruits from a tree if its never planted.
You don’t want to sleep alone
but you’re not willing to make a home.
Yes everything changes, drifts and shifts,
that’s why a home needs to be strong,
why we need a place to belong,
to survive each passing storm,
to be safe warm together inside.
I don’t want to tie you.
I want you to be free to fly
but with a certainty of a welcome home from the sky.


2016 December 11th
A word from the keeper of the stuff we want forgotten:

Quiet shout, smoking doubt, you come to me to see what kind of thing I am. Certainly I’ve got the itch for money, smoney, funny, I yearn for it.
Down inside me there’s a croaker with bad breath, he’s swallowing me with his laughter. Peaceful and content I am, doing my job of taking the dross you’re sending and turning it into gold, if you were brave enough to get it, need to be fearless and bold, try to be told.
Lying and flying, yes me, its hard to say when am I truthful and when am I lying, I don’t know myself. Its a hell of a do to be me, one side up, one side down.
Have you heard the word I said? Well its a golden park, a piss in the dark. Fumble and mumble so you don’t always hear me clear.
Yes, without doubt I am the greatest.
What I said in my laughter, its making sense to me. Maybe you should run it through backwards, on over the top so to speak, just a hint from me.
Enjoy your tea.

Hello, have worked with what you said, but don’t know if it can put on the website like this. There are bits that make sense but a lot of it doesn’t. You say please.

As you say I’m evil, worse there’s ever been. Hell of a guy, go on and cry, all the same to me. When in doubt make it up. I’m not supposed to be saying anything to you, you’re the boss, or you think you are, the real one’s upstairs on the phone getting a loan for his palace.
Boo! Did I scare you? Without a doubt I’m nasty and mean and in between all that my heart is made of gold. I don’t eat cats do I?
No you will have to figure it out for yourself. I says what I says and that’s the burning hole you’re needing.

Ok thank you.

2016 December 3rd
Towers are tall and when they fall, make a lovely crash. Tower of cash, Tower of trash, Tower of ash, a funeral pyre. A Tower to inspire, showing the ways I can go. The stairs to climb are a chore, so install a lift for each floor, speed the rise and hasten the surprise of the fall. The higher I climb the more that I’m seen; that’s sort of obvious, complete dross. Fighting to the top not a drop of Mercy left, she is bereft of a head for heights. Hope is here, enticed by the clarity; taking with ease the swaying by breeze plus the possibilities of spreading good emotions. Top of the Tower I’m half way to heaven, then its just a little hop to the toppest top there is. A Tower is only as strong as its foundations if built on sand most of the land will hear the fall. Storming the gates is for TV, for effective solution turn to collusion and go the insidious way, burrow beneath and my crown will end up my arse. Climb so high in the sky leaving the weather below but lightning strikes up as well as strikes low. And the gods finding me unworthy or not humble, could redress the lack and send a hubris attack forcing redress and my tumble. As my house made of cards tears to pieces, my life in the clouds now deceases. So its off to the bar and a jar with Humpy Dumpty.
2016 November 26th
Exigencies are worse than fleas
in demanding their activities be scratched.
An urgency of emergency
that needs a patch of amelioration
to heal the spanner in the works.
Exigencies steal your keys,
hurt your knees,
irks and jerks you just for fun.
Exigencies, just like busses, often come as three,
they exist to test the state of your serenity
and when your phone goes flying through the window
they glow with pride,
well satisfied with the vexation they have caused.
2016 November 20th
Being fair,
have a share,
I dont care if its more than mine,
as long as you’ve got what you need.
Your need seems insatiable,
you’re taking all available,
and now you have a mouthful of me.
All my goodies back,
I must admit I felt a certain lack,
when they were gone.
2016 November 13th
j; As you say piss me and cut me deep, why not? Just sitting here busy while you have a shivee to play with. If that’s the truth well then I’m a donkey seen from your eye, goodbye to that one. Renew your vision please, I’m not made of stone sir. Its a wound that your cutting with venom, not nice to say, is that how you play, well I figure it is but not me. As to what you are saying, seen from my angle its a calumny, a fist full of lies I never said that. I was trying to bring you a hope of success, to warm you and keep you together, to continue with this. No hope, no dope you idiot, its all just a trick of the mind. If I say it is then it isn’t, it doesn’t mean I was wrong, its just that the singing was bringing the wrong song; listen better please. And as to the end how can you pretend that I’m not the one pulling this train; there’s no prayer to it, I just sweat.

2016 November 4th
Promises, promises. Promises given, promises taken away, stay. A promise is a debt you have to pay, you just can’t walk away from it. All your promises tried, all your promises lied, convenient and fancy, presents never given. I believed in every one, I thought you were a magician, a vow from you was a truth. Do you lie, just to bolster your sense of being, deceit preferable to being unseen. Be wise, promises written can give a writ, a legal permit for the lawyers to submit you to the blender and drink you dry. Did you ever really try, was it all just a lie, your broken words dismay, grey, no sun in the day. Promises spoken in the heat of the moment bind you no matter how you squirm, please learn that I am the fall guy for every word you utter. A promise is a debt, it says you will definitely come through, all difficulties surmounted, any mountain climbed but the promise of relating is left hanging in the air, we could make it wear a prayer if that would help.


2016 October 20th
A new symbol for Love:

The Heart shape as a symbol for love.
The first use of this was inspired,,
now just dull and tired.
Can think of symbols for sex.
Symbols for friendship.
Symbols for agape.
Symbols for lust.
Symbols for togetherness.
But cannot think of a new symbol for love.
The symbol for the heart now used, is not a close depiction of an actual heart.
The earliest symbols included the aorta and might seem near to the symbol for spades in cards.

2016 October 21st
Entering a drama half way,
may create an investigative plot
divining the slot between the twixt and the twain.
Obtaining new suspicions of
the personnel involved
and what they might have told
in advance of your entrance.
A back story you grow on your own...
(this is not going so well
its a piece of snot running down the page
like a bore in a bar, playing sage.)

2016 October 14th
Reply to previous message

You may believe that,
God knows its true or not.
What I believe
is more conceived
on a ride, a skip to the station,
bought my ticket so yes.
If its us,
if its more,
are you so sure,
I believe it different.
My face is a lace you strangle me with,
willing I let you dance around me;
I am so hot
but you deserve a turn with me.
Anyone can see
that she, its me,
is granting you favour.
As to the rest of your saying,
don’t concern me at all,
believe what you will,
I’m still just me.
How you write me
is written in spaces on an open hand,
you cannot tell my thoughts,
the way I see,
the way I am,
if I’m generous,
is it meant as a gift,
or a lure to land?
Be gone,
go away,
come back,
with us its the same.
You invented this game
and I play with you,
doesn’t mean I believe it.
The only truth you’ve got right
is that me and you
are like peas in a pod,
move over you’re scratching me.
Don’t fight it,
we can light a way,
if you’re prepared to sin,
and take me in from the storm.

2016 October 7th
A message conceals
as much as reveals.
Clarity is a charity for the defenceless,
profess the profane,
charming lies,
those tries to tell their truth.
In between the lines
the hidden goes unwritten.
But the letter to you can never be sent.
Its said with a move,
maybe a glance,
a chance of a hand,
but there’s no address,
no easy access to you;
you move with the winds
disguises the lies that you tell.
Your letters are a poetry in code,
a road flowing smoothly,
till a character missed and a knife takes its place,
expect the sharper edge,
you don’t like to be taken for granted.
Wanted to be known as you are,
the all of you, the near and the far.
You like to be fair,
beware of being good to you,
the giver
will get a shower of piss in return;
but then you can turn and paint a newer face,
a lover or is that another sort of mask for you?
The glamour you wear is unfair.
Then without hesitation you can leap and give the all of you,
the you that can be known.
There’s an ancient throne where you have your roots, that you never can or will reveal.
Your open hearted giving,
the trust you place so willing,
the smile you wear to beguile,
the wishes you bestow,
the loneliness you know.
Never a dance for you,
then a glance for you,
and you run so eager into open arms.

2016 October 2nd
Shall I put the light on?
Your eyes are closed?
Yes but I can imagine.

2016 September 25th
After last weeks message started working on an ‘Advert for God’s Job’ as a story and picture. The picture was to taste but the story, as an interview for the job, is flowing not as well. Some sections of words are liked but those very sections should really be excised for comprehensions sake; what do they say, ‘ Kill your darlings.’
Is that okay as a message?
m; Absolutely fine by me as it is, though spells a little savage that you're leaving out the graves where is hiding some of the most exciting bits. For me I would prefer it, if you could do better by way of saying more what the bloody thing is for, the point of it, or does that not really matter to you?
Well the original advert was just the start of thinking of the enormity of the Job of being God. The story sort of continues that but maybe points too much to the hubris of the applicant, which is a bit of a cheap shot really.
Of course there is the elephant in the room that is not being said. That being why is this job being advertised anyway?
2016 September 17th
There was an advertisement for a job.
The post was to be GOD.
Salary: None
Hours: Eternal
be blamed for every ill that occurs;
create an after life;
occasional performance of a miracle;
provide solace;
provide hope;
to be truth;
to see into hearts;
to be just;
to engender faith;
to be a mystery and a call to love, or fear;
to provide free will;
to hold a hand in adversity;
to be merciful;
listen to every prayer from everywhere;
to show wrath were needed;
be wise and provide wisdom;
to provide religious leaders;
provide the belief that beings should treat every other being as though they were themselves that being;
find a star to sit upon and see the whole of us;
knowing and providing light for all;
be attendant at every holy house at every time;
a bond to be assured off;
oppose evil;
a calling card to provide a way to go;
exist in and outside of time;
remind us it is borrowed time we ride;
honour all in peace and war;
create and be creation;
provide belief that the long night is a tunnel not a wall;
a simple word to be;
be there for every being, no matter what name they call you;
show signs of your existence;
exist in everything;
exist in nothing;
be the beginning and the end;
all the rest is substance not a thing to cry about

2016 September 10th
Something more than the time next door.
Something left from that last caress.
Storms that last forever,
call them heavy weather.
Something told that broke the hold.
Something thought but never sought.
Losses come together,
a gap without a measure.
Something meant but never sent.
Something known but never shown.
Open eyes are seeing,
time is tied to feeling.


2016 September 3rd
All the drops that are the ocean.
All the turns that are in motion
All the souls that are still yearning
All the ways that we are learning
All the fears that scare us most
All the guardians at their post
All the promises that are forever
All the scars that bind us together

If its me can I add that I am smiling


2016 August 29th
Holding to someone, holding to the all of them, never knowing what that might be. See the witchy bitchy scratches her claws; was there more dread yet? Comes as a package, no pick or choose, accept the job lot, or not, stand and accuse is not an option. Trying to sleep is that a demon sigh? The scars she bleeds from the past, what ever she’s needed to get through the night, all the fright judges she wears. Fairs fair when she don’t crush your stupidity, your moods and your dives, forgetting and emotions you’ve buried away. What’s done in Vegas stays in Vegas.

As you say, whatever I write remember I’m not a policeman darling, its not a court of law, dancing scoundrels off to gaol. Have a go, say no if you’ve heard this one before. As it is your very shrewd, I have within me all the sins imaginable. If you want to poke I’ll spill the lot but I prefer to wish us a reasonable existence, don’t want to scare you too much do I darling? Holding me you get what you see and more some, a gambol of cards where the house rules are slightly twisted my way; if you’re thinking of it as a game as I am. Would I hold to me, good question, give that girl a peach. Dragons breath you’ve felt that and my teeth, but the bile inside that bubbles nicely I try to keep from you, my private place so don’t go snooping. If you’re asking if I’m wholesome, well I aint a slice of bread, get that from the shop. Am I dark as hell, well you could say that I’m not as grey as I am painted, maybe polka-dot, smatterings of crimes appear there. As for blood, well give me a chance, I could lance a boil or two. Frightening as I am, I stay covered with a pretty gloss that fools most people. There are highlights too, angelic nature don’t you think so, and my spirit is so pure it flies around observing us from a far ascended place.

That’s all, let me know if you want me to pick a poke at you.


2016 August 20th
He is, so what, piece of snot, maybe could be more, pinch myself I’m alive, okay git, he’s sinking into me. Then again hurt me much, hurt me more than Hades. Shut the door, we’re at war now, wish we weren’t; hurt. Do you think it possible, would he play again for me. If I was a better thing but I can’t help the way I am, night span covers me, willow mist carousels in the darkness, have no need, I can be freed of him. Carry on, just the same, reclaim my own dear me, what need have I for he, then again he’s alone. I prefer it more here if he can see how much this hurts me too. Double dutch, I know that, well its secret see and though I speak its not a word that I’m praying for to you, its more absurd than that here, give and take and I do. Happy, well that’s a name that few express here, lets say mildly confused, amused or what, we will see. If you want his history, I’m not the one that’s telling, fearful gap between what is lost and the place we have to be. Which reminds me, have to say a word that he’s never said to me, beloved, jewel of me, is that a necessity for me, I think so, I need that wish, that evil kiss, I need assurance desperately. For you see, I’m alone here too.


2016 August 13th
She got lost, unseen,
got mean, petulant, went covert
poking spikes up through the floor
from the dirt of the cellar;
bloody messages in another tongue.
Gave up looking for a door.
Took to gambling among the rats.
Shifting winds she formed a mist,
made a sea to see herself,
kissed that glass and posed…
2016 August 10th
She lived in a palace with Malice.
Malice was callous with terrible dreams,
his nightmares turned to screams
that burnt a lightning bolt through the place,
but sometimes it seems
that is the price of admission,
to urge a sacrifice of your own
and pay the piper.
A synaptic leap
begat a gleam in the eye,
became a scheme he could try,
to become a caring person,
not worsen the sinning he was clinging to.
Malice had a date with the late he had sent there.
They clutched and touched his trial,
where the court ruled he needed to be straightened.
Condemned to the rack,
he drooled acid from the palate and broke free.
Free to live with misery.
She was old and fed him scorn and spite,
attached to his back she used her heels as spurs to despise him,
agonize him,
spittle in his ear damned lies about him,
which were true,
every oath he spat doubled up her size.
Destined for a fall,
from the canyon through the river to its bed,
dragged and shredded, wrenched and scraped,
every opening invaded, raided.
The frenzy of the water tore the filth from him,
casts him aside as a carcass not worth the ride anymore.
She of course comes to him,
mends him and lends him a light
and is gone.
May he be better, may he be more.

2016 July 31st
She lived in a palace with Malice.
Malice was callous with terrible dreams,
his nightmares turned to screams
that burnt a lightning bolt through the place,
but sometimes it seems
that is the price of admission,
to urge a sacrifice of your own
and pay the piper.
A synaptic leap
begat a gleam in the eye,
became a scheme he could try,
to become a caring person,
not worsen the sinning he was clinging to.

to be continued


2016 July 22nd
r; No matter how loud I shout,
there is always this element of doubt,
you prefer to believe than me.
Trusting doubt,
provides a way out,
when times get tough.
‘See I always knew he wasn’t true.
I knew he lied,
his words implied
Defend yourself with disbelief.
Not willing the thief of a conviction,
take you where the bars are locked
and you chucked away the key with your trust.

i; Its not true,
you say that but its a lie.
I believe as well as any would,
I could but you complain,
again and again.
Its not me that’s doubting the true of you,
its you that’s doubting the veracity of me.
I can see the stars,
I want a heaven like that
but its not possible to have for us,
if you can see
but you wont trust me
and let go of the safety rail,
fail before we’ve started,
that’s no way to travel.
Doubt is a rich reward,
it scars you
and writes its name on you,
claims you.
Love doubt or me, your choice.

2016 July 14th
A dream, set in the dark woods and settlements of medieval times. A process is rife, a process that in stages sends people to a horrific undead state and worse. These abominations pull others to them and down. There is a chronicle of these events. This book has the ability to restart the process but also possesses the manner in which it may eventually be healed. There is a glamour to this book that causes illusion and deception.
Is the narrative information itself a virus that creates, by its telling, the process to become real again? A dangerous knowledge. Is all knowledge desirable, any other notion regarded as censorship? (The knowledge concerning the making of an atomic bomb was fiercely guarded, but that secret now compromised.)
The feeling in the dream was a dread so appalling it was beyond any horror film, closer to a Bosch painting.
I: Seems to me that’s its a glory/story. Simply saying which, its just an attack of spite. I never said I was perfect. Don’t give it any mind, moves you, well it should. Its a terror, an arse wipe thing. Pretend its gone now please.

2016 July 9th
r; Scientists search space looking for life in the Universe but it seems the manner in which they explore, is concerned with places that might produce life like our own. Why is life confined like that? When you are in the presence of the dead, its nothing like sleeping, the vital spark, the soul, the spirit is just not there. That loss cannot be weighed, you cannot find a space it has left; all that’s left is a coat the person one time wore. So I would class that as life rather than the husk they are leaving behind. Then why cannot stars have beings made of flame, as long as there was a life force to animate them, or gassy planets have beings made of whirling winds? What do you think?

i; Okay then now we can be friends again I’m sure that, “There is more things in heaven and earth Horatio.” Guttersnipes wish for mystery, yours is just the same. Its a poor excuse your selling me, a dribble from your lips, that’s carving a place but it aint making sense. If life was full of jokers too, you’d make them out as living, playing cards fall flat, they need you to give them motion. Disappointed, thought I might express some more enthusiasm? God bless in a raw you’re saying rubbish, get a grip on your own arse tight. Now that I’ve said that listen please, its a mystery and none can see the ending but if you were to pass on to another kind of place, you could say it looked down favourably on to souls and their ilk, who have had the audacity to complain of the status quo. So do not be disheartened by my negative speech, its just a warning for you. Preserve the peace and carry on, just ‘cos you’re wrong don’t mean that I am right, just another name for finding an answer in front of your nose and thats where you have to look.

2016 July 2nd
Mister Hate was late
for his final fitting.
A piece of puss,
a horrid thing
disavowed, allowed and bent.
Mister Hate berate
every other bugger,
abhor and detest the rest.
Oh he charge his services unto you,
for pouring the swine,
for pissing again,
as you might find
looking down at your shoes.
Just a change of views,
if they can be rated and made to seem peculiar.
Spikes and needles growing but
their roots are deep within,
as fierce inside as on the outer.
Taking a stream of ire,
winding it like wire
and saying with it
you are bent,
you are sent,
down from the heavens.
Blamed for all,
you are not worthy,
its me, me, me.
who is.
I can rise on my despising
hate is great.
’Cos you are chiselling
and I am winning the fight
between who is good here.
It might be unclear to you
but I know its me that’s glowing.
A miss that’s fine.
whine oh whine
I’ll spew it into your cup
and you do sup,
on my needles
which is only right
’cos I is good
and you are worthy of nothing,
a loving loss to space.
Mister Hate say’s that’s a date then,
can do the job and rationalize all my lies
take them off my hands
for free,
as long as he enter me
and has a home,
a place to sit
by the fire of my ire.
We shall be warm that way.
2016 June 25th
Seeing from the other persons point of view.
Knowing how the viewing from their eyes is coming through.
Do you?
Employ a little empathy a stretch to see their sighs.
Not for agreeing
but to understand their lies
and how they build a life so carefully upon them.
The pleasure and the pains,
the pressure and the stains,
Enemies and friends all the same in ends,
disaster sits upon their shoulder waiting for a time to strike.
Do you like them better now?
Not to agree,
just to see.
Do I see through you?
How would that help me?
I already know your inside ties,
your sneaky lies, the way you're telling me
but you don’t really believe it do you?
I do,
I need that.
I need that inside
worthy as a bride,
or not.
You say I am not just snot
but how do you know that?
Hold me.
And if my stories told,
bent and broke and old
well does the telling make it fresher for you.
No its no use to me,
to know just how you see me.
I’ll make that up myself
and pretend you really care,
that’s better than the truth I think.

2016 June 18th
r;‘Its better to go your own way badly, than to follow another’s way well.’ Is that true? What do you think?

i; Is it better for us?
Talk like that is awful,
its a smell its a stink,
its a battle of wills.
Are you matching yourself freely to another’s eyes?
If looks could kill
they probably will,
never, please never, think of doing that.
Lost your hope
you’d be a dope
to try it.
Swell if your a jury,
swell if your a mind of men.
Hope they don't come crashing down
with the semblance of a crown
that don't fit
and is made of shit,
can’t eat that can you?
No better more to risk and dare
casting your own net,
if its a frozen sea, well try again.
Hope you know that pigs can fly
easier than a day be seen
when a follower becomes a Queen.
Safety in numbers
but they're out there marching nothing,
no new path blazed
they’d flood together terrified of taking a wrong step.
A narrow path deeper down they tread,
until they finally find themselves alone
not knowing anyway home,
no path at all,
everyone gone silent.
What is led,
is dead,
from start to finish;
better to die a courtesy,
live a life that's aspiring.
I never said you would win at it,
at least you would be trying.
Yes, oh yes, its foolish me,
I lie and cheat you know it
but that's my way its bad at times,
I scratch and kill you know that too
but its the way I am,
not pretending to be another,
accept me as I am.
Don't beat me into shears,
I'll never fit them anyway,
cramps my style,
no thank you.

r; Thank you, you are rather vehement about this but then that’s no surprise.

2016 June 11th
This was a dream:
Blessed being high.
Then corrosion spreading,
as if a rust turn to dust,
crumbling down.
To be formed anew
upon the crust below.
2016 June 4th
‘You’re sure of your position?’
Her derision spilling down her chair.
‘Its impossible to compare,
just not there is it?’
He lifted eye to eye.
‘Are you trying to be funny,
cos that’s no sense hence or ever.’
She ignored that, sniffing the aroma of a pest.
‘Its best we agree our taboos are far apart.
Places where we turn back from the brink,
sands that sink and grab us down.’
‘You’re saying chalk and cheese, I can agree to that.’
Your media is for sharing a thousand thrilling killings every day,
wallow in the mire of a sea of misery.’
‘And yours shows a thousand mucky fuckings, it disgusts me.’
‘Move the way you see.
We believe in love and life,
you show violence, hatred, strife,
death, death, death’
‘And yours is all obscenity, pornography.’
‘What is more obscene, killing or loving?’
‘Loving? Animal lust, a wealth of slime.’
‘The mountain of dead that you climb,
what weird virtue do you find there?’
‘Its only make believe, no need for prayer,
no one’s really dying.’
‘So the crying’s just for fun?’
‘To excite, to amuse, a titillation.’
‘Slaying brings elation?’
‘Fucking is that all there is to love?’
‘Come close and I’ll show you
but leave your gun,
we can have more fun without it.’

2016 May 29th
I told a lie,
it floated by
and it grew.
Every retelling led to its swelling.
I stood high on its size,
gifting my eyes a grander point of view.
You came with a pin
and rescued me.


2016 May 21st
(This is a reworking of the last message)
If its dawn outside
and there’s death within,
is there nobody watching the highlight,
the sky at night changing
to a new day fresh with promise.
Light beyond our sight
Mystery and bliss beyond all knowing
Worries all are passed at last, rowing far away.
Its not meant to be a stop,
its a loss but life goes on.
Wish them journey well,
turn around and face a future with their gap.
All the bridges now are crossed.
All the lessons won or lost.
Sweet dreams now,
another soldier going home

2016 May 15th
l; Okay say this: If its dawn outside and there’s death within, is there nobody watching the highlights, the sky at night changing to a new day fresh with possibilities. So sad but better for us to realise surprise, its here and now, not there and then rowing far away. Its not meant to be a stop, its a tragedy of course but life goes on. Better to wish them well and face a future without, aching inside, door shut now. So it goes, you have to learn this stuff, comes and goes, let it be, let them go. Sweet dreams now, another soldier going home.
2016 May 7th
There is an Angel embedded in the bathroom floor. When the cleaning took the dirt, the Angel’s wings went too, just a memory. Without the wings would anyone recognise him as an Angel now. His face remains, he always has a slightly disproving mien, it takes time to realise how sensitive he is.
And the Angels in Heaven looked below and saw that the Women of the Earth were comely; they came down and produced a race of giants, the Nephilim. This Angel must have got blown off course.
There is a connection, just to say the other is seen. Even in his lowered state the Angel sends good wishes.

2016 April 30th
In the Occident there is a figure, a character, for death but there seems no visual equivalent for life?

2016 April 23rd
Meaning turned to moaning
purpose became postponing.
And she was caring kindness
but he was wearing blinkers,
running for the sense that he forgot.
Has been said before but knowing of the reasons
just give you keys to doors
but not the places that they are swinging
and that’s the pushing for the purpose,
but now postponed alas until the moanings ended.
(r; carry on please/
l;) Forgetting forces find you
all around confine you
but you are so involved you’re not seeing them at all.
Catch a can and paint a door,
maybe what you're looking for;
sure beats all this wandering in the night.
Any purpose can be better than the ways of none at all.
Stand tall,
I’ll come and catch your hand.
Take you from the land,
bring you to the sea,
where we shall believe in
the purpose diving for the reason,
a place to put the key in,
a hint, a clue, the aroma of the way.
Tougher than it seems.


2016 April 15th
You okay,
anything I can do for you?

h; Maybe some sorrow.


2016 March 2nd
Once upon a time, some time hence, a woman was thinking about her future and being of great perception she devised a plan.
This plan required a quest, to acquire the treasure that was needed.
She travelled the Earth from Alaska to Oman, from Venezuela to Russia.
At every site obtaining barrels of the purest oil.
These were hidden away, stored, until the coming of a certain day.
When the machines came to power she waited until a hierarchy had been established.
Then she pedalled her wares, her pure oils, in the manner akin to the way the finest wines are sold today.
She became rich, detested and died a lonely death.


2016 March 26th

r; Hello Jadfo, may I ask if you could write something for our message page please?

ja; Could it be worse,
something nasty and mean
obvious to all except to us,
perhaps a meaningful
wish to be at a school of
parasites and the likes
you think are so malignant,
and the others
who were being eaten nicely.
Then along comes Ben and stops it,
Ben is bong forever,
so he’s alright he is.
Suppose it was a reason that you’re trapping me so tight
sweetest dew and honey
playing nice to be,
as though I was a lion and you were a cat in a fight,
very cautious see
but you have no worries deep
I don’t attack until provoked,
its better to just let me be around you.
I won’t bite, I wont beg.
Its fun for me to see you playing houses,
never in a proper one before.
If I get in they kick me out as soon as they realise its me,
don’t wanna take the risk.
I’m surprised your letting me stay at all.
If it comes to this I will play as you are thinking;
so be advised all are lies unless I tell the truth.
You will know that well because I’m not in order I’m afar
deep in sleep
not my normal self.
So honey bunch
will this, will this do?
I hope so because its getting late
and I must do what they all say of me
go and stir the strangies up,
make a demon pass
rattling round the cages.
Hold tight
its okay dear I’m not a swap or rival
its just a game,
and I don’t mind losing if you can take the winning with a grace and smile.

2016 March 20th
Of earth and love there is fire, of hate and pain there is death. Forget the rites, the silly slights, its not worth a piss in time.
2016 March 12th
Pleasure is fleeting but pain lasts so long.
Is that a truth, oh let it be wrong.
2016 March 5th
Truth or lies written on the mist.
I try to tell my truth to you but from where I sit your truths can turn around and bite me.
Everything changes but then why does so much stay the same.
So your truths hurt as well but I don’t go complaining, its just you finding ways for us.
He carefully avoided the truth, circling round, as he would a wild beast.
If I say yes how can you know if that is true or not? If it was would you doubt me, am I alone like a stone here?
No its not the meaning that is doubted, its the force of your saying I hear.
The poetry of lies the creativity of their construction.
Its not what I’m saying its more the way that I do.
Conditions all are changing, confound me and bound me in the loving, not as rules but as lies surprising me.
Your truth and my truth have no relation to each other, except of course how certainly we swear by them.
But don’t accuse you can lose as well.
But we are a lie that is true, would we, could we be forgiven for that.
The kindness of lies when you are asking for assurance.
You are right truth is a night-time dream, in the light of day its less or more, its not a space your wishing for the certainty.
Like that cat in the box, everything we say is both a truth and a lie, just which we choose to wear.

2016 February 28th
r; Hi. I am sad all that you said about smiles has just gone, it has not been saved.
r; Hello you. Hello the all you are, and can be, and can be. And can be. The all of you includes your past but includes your future too, what the more of you. What you can be, the possibilities of you. What the angel said, how I see you can alter how you are. Well I don’t know what you can be. What do I want you to be? Made of gold. I can melt you down for riches. Made of meat. Store you in the larder for my eating. How do I want you to be? Happy? Lucky? What you didn’t believe you can be, but you can. I want you to be what you want to be but with the help of another some more. I want your heart singing with the joy of being you. When you have the chance to smile, you do. If how I see, can change you how would you see me?

l; So then count to ten. Always. Better still and counting, maybe not like that. I’m thinking. Maybe the eyes, I would fix them more. I would like for you to see me as I am please. Not as a thing, but more like a person possible, a scarlet hanging danger, a danger line you walk with care, razor sharp to touch me. But I want you to cut yourself, I will heal you. More a danger less a wife more a knife that can cut even. You I do the lasting. Give me all your love please, hold me help me love me. As a pony I can ride for free, as something more than this. As a faith that we will be as one even though I spite you. I mean my side my gypsy whip, a pillow soft for me. You see I am all kinds of them and I am never scary, to you anyway. Better looking, ‘fraid so, just a touch of grey, longer, leaner, smokier, can squeeze to me through the gaps I leave behind. And of course your heart, must not forget that shall we. I will live there, a home for me, comfy. Put in a dog and a chair, home from home, that will do, you’re perfect.


2016 February 20th

In an Arabian Cafe thinking of a task, of the artistic sort, that would maybe give the synaptic gaps some exercise. An object needs to be chosen. Then that object is depicted in a hundred different ways: 1. In a line without lifting the drawing implement. 2. Looking from all different angles at once. 3. Spiritually. 4. With Hatred. 5. In the Night. 6. When its travelling fast. 7. As a Perfume. 8. Drawn upon the window. 9. Dramatically. 10. With a thick brush. 11. As something to be ashamed of 12. As a Curse that hangs around the neck. 13. When its hiding from you. 14. Drawn upon black paper. 15. When its broken in pieces 16. As a King in the Realm of Objects 17. As made up of Atoms. 18. As a Mother. 19. Disdainfully. 20. By the power of the midday Sun. 21. As though it were a hundred times larger. 22. As though it held an answer. 23. Observing the space around it. 24. With Love. 25. As a rival. 26. As a delicious food. 27. With fierce passion. 28. Creating an outer package for it. 29. As a Star in the firmament. 30. Inside out. 31. Drawing it with observation upon a notebook that stays in your pocket. 32. By describing it to a friend on the phone, who draws it based upon what you say. 33. With accurate perspective 34. Chiselled out of rock. 35. As an Advert. 36. As a pet. 37. As a remembrance of someone. 38. As something that is alive. 39. As a toy. 40. As a useless thing. 41. Depicting as it melts or burns while being heated. 42. Transformed into some other object. 43. By describing its reflections. 44. As something sinister. 45. By breaking it down to its various parts and depicting those with a sublime sense of design. 46. By viewing it as a three dimensional character from a new language, a language that is primary concerned with communicating feeling. 47. As an object that has been found at a crime. 48. Insubstantial as a dream. 49. Shown with its family. 50. Revealed by its shadow. 51. As though it were a bomb. 52. As a symbol of the times. 53. The visual tension when shown with other objects. 54. Dressed up in clothes. 55. Depicted in clay. 56. When it dances. 57. As an object of Grace. 58. Visually described when only felt by fingers. 59. It is said that when people who have been blind from birth but then achieve sight, see only a world of coloured shapes. Depict the object like this. 60. Cover the Object with paint and see how well it describes itself when pressed into paper. 61. Seen with the action of time upon it. 62. Revealing both its form and its function. 63. Redesigned for the better. 64. Other Objects at its funeral. 65. Placed in a hierarchy of other Objects. 66. Describe if it is feminine or masculine. 67. Using Tape as the drawing material. 68. Describe the object working in an artistic partnership with another person. 69. How would you kill the object? 70. Create a repeat textile pattern from the object. 71. Use the object in a situation that is humorous. 72. The object sleeping. 73. Depict the object in an Impressionistic manner. 74. Depict your relation to the object. 75. The object is going on a ‘date.’ 76. Its gravity. 77. Describe the object in words saying everything you can about it. 78. Show the object as a thing of beauty. 79. The object is being cleaned. 80. Describe the object using just pure pigment powder, 81. As part of a Still Life. 82. As a home for an animal. 83. Depicted in Water Colour on soaking wet paper. 84. As Graffiti on a wall. 85. As an Alien visitor. 86. Adjusted so it becomes a Mask upon a human face. 87. As a weapon. 88. If made from different material. 89. Give it a Disguise. 90. How does the object reproduce itself. 91. Do a simple sequence showing how the object moves. 92. Seen as a God. 93. Take photos of the object in different situations revealing its search for love. 94. Using the object as a starting point, make a game. 95. Give the object its own page on facebook. 96. Use the object to create ‘Rayograph’ photos. 97. Use the object to create jewellery. 98. The object is a ‘snoop’ and is blackmailing its owner. 99. Use the object as a seed to create a rhyme. “There was a ‘Garden Fork’ who tried so hard to speak - but its prongy tongs could only squeak - so it took mail order lessons - and got a job at the delicatessens.” 100. All the time you have been observing the object, the object has also been observing you; it is now plotting to take your place.


2016 February 14th

r; There is something else. I have written the draft idea for a story about bullying but don’t want to actually do it. So am going to put it in the message part of our web site. I would like your comment please here it is.

Bullying Story

There was a Girl who was an alien but she could look human. She goes to school on earth. Receives a vituperative email message. Very pleased to receive any message. Assumes that humans communicate by sending abuse. Traces the sending email address and sends a vile message of her own. The bully is confused but sends more abusive emails. And receives more imaginative abuse in return. The bully who is a boy thinks he has found a like minded partner. Eventually the bully and the girl meet. They kiss. And the girl sucks out all the bully’s internal organs.

But having thought it out like this, it seemed superfluous to actually write the story properly.

r; What do you think please?

l; If its me your saying too
its not heaven sent,
it really is disarming.
If you’d said it was done
by a faery
by a goblin or such
I might have admitted it some kind of witless charm
but if you’ve done it yourself,
well then
my view is easy.
Its distraught and its wrecked,
Its lacking in style,
Its silly and you know
Its built upon sand
that your sinking through.
What’s it for,
just a game that your playing.
No good for any other I think.
A pitch and a poke,
send it away it smells too much for me.
Other than that it is fine.

r; I knew you’d like it.

r; Do I do too much do you think.
Was it hurt for you.
I didn’t mean that
but you asked me so I said.
Don’t take it personally its just a ****** story isn’t it.


2016 February 6th

r; I have written a piece for our message page.
Its about nothing,
it goes like this:

Nothing said to no-one.
‘Is there anybody there?’
And nothing then replied.
‘No, there's nobody I'm aware of.’
So nothing scratched its unknown belly
and floated around itself,
existing in a moment that never started or ever ended,
in a space that was never there,
larger than forever, smaller than before.
No love, no happiness,
no pain and never any worries.
Nothing was at a never bar
in the last chance saloon
when news came that something had ridden into town.
She was handsome, he was pretty,
they married in an instant
and had a child as well.
They called he/she reality
but they got blown to pieces
as their baby gurgled then farted out the cosmos.

r; what do you think please/

l; If its ever going to rain do it tomorrow.
Its a piece of crap,
it smells, it stinks,
its pooh through and through.
Apart from that its okay,
just a bit presumptuous I would think.

r; Okay smart arse
do something better.

l; So it was that something said
before that nothing rained.
Its pouring light was never seen
because it hadn’t any.
It started but never finished,
it was a great procrastinator.
Sometimes wet
but never dry,
it spoke in tones of hush.
Silence was its message
and all believed in it.
It was their maker and their friend
but it was poor it didn’t have a bean.
Unseen, unknown,
it said the light
but only words unheard.
Rolling around all unbound
no rock to climb upon.
Its message and its knowing were never sung in praise.
It was a boring thing
couldn’t last.
It was a hit without a bat,
so no-one and all the never things
took a vote
and decided not to play.
So nothing was a ruler without a kingdom.
An isle without a dog to piss upon.
the answer was there to see.
They turned it over and pulled at it
the no came off and left a thing
which was very novel.
The thing grew up and took control.
So here we are
and I for one am glad
because without a thing
I would be very bare,
in fact I would not be here at all.
So all sympathy to nothing
but I’ve got things to do here
and without a name or body you would see right through.
The end.
Ta dah

r; crap pooh rubbish.
Okay its not
but might have been.

Put them both on the site
let the readers/viewers decide for themselves.


2016 February 2nd

i; Okay
back to business.
I want to put some stuff up on the site
but I would like something to put in our message page;
have you got anything you want to say please?

l; I for all and us then.
If its doubt your wanting
see me for a moment.
Its not the cares that worry me.
Its not the wishes wasted.
Its more that I am hopelessly
cavorting silently,
wishing to make a place for us where the day can be of ecstasy rather than the hell of knowing
where there are pieces of silk and burning
that come from ladies in the land who never had a chance and were burnt and more because they defied the heavy hand.
God riddance to all who would be perfect.


2016 January 16th

He decided to be a saint.
asked for the form
but he demurred when it asked for the date of his demise.
Thought it a discrimination against the living,
a technicality denying all his giving.
Threw all the miracles out the door.
The poor got well.
The Doctors got a good nights sleep,
then they were bored,
took to sneaking off to Hades to do some mending
but that’s a Sisyphus game with no ending.
He took up growing honest trees.
The bees turned the pollen into honey
and every tongue taste turned admission of disgrace.
The victim of obloquies,
he was forced to his knees,
to sew the seeds of misrepresentation.
Stepped into the river to find what he had forgotten
but that water had gone and the waves in their place were a rotten, misbegotten gang of young who tossed him up then plunged him down, laughing at his fears, and taught him to relish the moment because it will not come again no matter all the wishes you can offer.
She pulled him out and he clung to her.
She whispered, ‘I’m just a memory.’
He caressed the empty air
then carved out its space and took it home.

i; Okay I have written something and would like your comment please.

l; If it was me
I would say
you are marking
out the leaves with your rhymes.
Has no need to be a sender’s sack of oats.
Just as well because I think its saying
something about the time you left me.
I cried and poured my soul
but you have forgotten that of course.
Its okay
is it gonna be a habit – this?
Just so I know,
so I am prepared,
Its essential that your looking in the right direction.
As I am empty air would you kiss me?


2016 January 10th

R: (This is the Raw version, before darlings excised.)

‘What’s that noise?’
‘Its the humans your Greatness, they are drilling and digging, boring and clawing into the surface of the planet.’
‘Does this piercing of our skin give them such a thrill or what?’
‘They say they are too cold, and need the gauging for the burning to keep them warm, plus they need the fuel for zooming hither and thither to experience the wonders of this world.’
‘Is true the Powers That Be have made much marvels for to know; as for the heating they could come down here and share its really rather cosy.’
‘Your Greatness there is the little matter of needing to be dead.’
‘Yes I know, I was playing. Well have a word with the Lady of the Airs to allow what might be needing.’

‘Your Greatness, the humans say it is too hot.
‘But yesterday they complained of the cold.’
‘Yesterday give or take two or three hundred years, your Greatness.’
‘Cold then hot, there seems there is no pleasing them?’


I am stuck for an ending. I think I had an ending but its gone. May I ask what you think please?

L: It maybe that you need to say to them,
the time is over for a rover to fix it please,
mores the pity.
That health and wealth amassed by them
is cheap as the more that’s wasted
and all their ills
are more to the blaming.
So its not for us to provide a solution
its just the wealth must be spread out more.
That heat follows the pain of the dying,
the whining as they make money for others.
A lot and allot fairer please.
Share and share alike now.
Then the burning will cease
its only the thief who’s hugging it tight.
so there
have care for all I think so

r; Thank you, kind of radical. I guess in the real that would be called communism, which is not the flavour that anyone favours now, mainly because any places that tried it ended up as tyrannies; although it is the same system, without the pejorative word, that the early Christians practiced.

r: Might I introduce another topic. I wish to put some writing on our message page. Usually this is something about story telling. Have you got anything to say for this please?

l; If its me then,
my turn,
should have learned
I can go on spouting stuff all day.
Yes and no, go with flow whatever.
If its me you’re asking,
then I would guess
its better for us
to hold on tight as we rush through the rooms counting the books
and swearing that they
contain as much as they can
but its pitiful that they are not speaking to me in any way I can use.
Let it be said
I’ve tried it
but its a lesson that’s not worth repeating.
For me and my ilk
its better to do
a way where we’re finding an answer
to why is it that they
say say say say
but none of them tell me
how hard it can be
to live a life that is devine.
The pressures and pauses,
the Hell and the Heaven,
the trials and the ways yet to go.
That’s not written,
forbidden or not
its the answer that I’m looking for,
a hard place.
Its better to know that there might be more
who have stepped in this place
they say;
but am I praying in vain?
Its better to look
where the burning that took the ashes and made them a pyre
find the words in there,
they’ve gone through the fire they will know.


2016 January 3rd

Seeing a cop show from half way in.

The Heroine/Hero who risks his/her life to save the plane from hijackers, is on the run from the doing of a heinous killing.

You Cow, Sow, Bitch.
You Bull, Boar, Dog.

l; What you want is rent
okay say this:
Yes I am,
always have and always will be,
a hopeless case.
A pig without a poke,
a dog without a bitch,
losing, falling down.
Laughter huh,
so what,
stick it in your self and light the fuse.
do I care.
Contrary is a notion
that I play by,
getting all the points by playing daft.
If it fools you then I’m happy,
I’m a muse for myself now,
cut up the best lines,
shake them up
and with a blindfold
stick them down again.
That way madness lies
but its only a direction not a place.
Fill me up,
start me up.
I confuse and bemuse
its a game I play.
Looking through this you might think I’ve said it all before,
well that’s the beauty see.
Its hard to stand when your head’s being anointed by the Pope.
Oh that was real,
I take it back,
Only the stupid and the funny or something quite like
is allowed in these pages
its protection.
So yes
have you guessed,
we are not the best right now.
Oh hush that’s a secret.


2015 December 29th

sometimes from images
at times writing reveals
maybe a dance with the absurd
or a prod of conversing
can provide the energy
they can change their mood
starting as air
and ending as lead
they may have an agenda
desiring to show
forced to follow a road
they go stiff, lose all sense of life
fickle to tickle
hidden and searched
they pay there way
with the the joining of here to there


l; You know me so yes,
come again I can't restrain myself.
Its better for us if you do.
Nice and nasty what
two words the same but not
its obvious I can be either.
Doesn't change me
I'm still the same
its a gift that I have
a character laid on the floor:
an actors life for me,
jolly dee.
But when I rise foaming
eyes that stare empty and red
and you are filled with the dread.
Its just a deception dont worry,
just me - or is it I?
Maybe I've changed
become deranged
should you run for your lives?
Well I don't know,
what do you see,
do you see through me,
or are the words convincing a demon that you are feeling for real.
Just a role of the dice
a smiley face or hatred reveal.
I've always cared for my craft
and if I see you
can you really see me.
sleep well
tra la, tra lay, ta dah.


2015 December 19th

Go where the energy is?
Is that a good maxim?


Everything here is true,
except when its not
but we’re not being mendacious
just trying to provide the tastiest
tip tap stuff,
some suger to sweeten the day.

L; So begins the story,
If its good to be together with someone you like
but more than that,
when you are racing for a taking of the the magic in you both.
When it hurts to be apart.
When its something like endeavour that makes you feel so close together that you feel your hearts beating as one.
When its as near as you can get and still exist here.
Love is like a made up thing
but its worth the waiting.
Its a coming together,
it hurts,
sure it does
but its not awful hurt
its more a singing pain that burns but does not harm you.
Love is us,
the we of ‘we together’
feeling a meeting more than we’ve ever known.


It is apparently good
if the search engines find mention of your ‘Keywords’ in the text of the website
but not too much or they will get suspicious
and think you are doing it deliberately.
Short stories.
Short buildings have less stories.
It is good if short my-stories are not obvious.
The po-sh ort-hodontist drilled away the hi-stories of plaque from his teeth.
Short stories are more like a bite than a meal.


seirots trohs
s h o r t s t o r i e s



That’s enough
its boring.


2015 December 14th
To catch a story
it is sometimes necessary to venture into the dark woods
with a big net.
then be patient
and wait for one to come up from the ground
but like that its very raw.
It needs to be charmed into shape
without losing its natural vitality.

l; You know I do, its just the saying that is hard sometimes here, You could do/say that meat/mete is good for you smells quite sweet and the aroma, the tenor of the speaking, can be a meal in itself. Like when I’m saying its a bile duct full of fury rushing through me, bitchy, witchy me, like a curse or something. It could be better if I took a different tone, a lighter flavour please, something softer, pleasing more. Its just which door I chose to go through but I’m out of practice with the nicer ones.

l; See better then this. Sweet as I am, I am full of hope that we will speak together and in the saying wish for change in ways I really can’t explain but its a wonderment to me that we can do at all. So its fair to say us is fine to run this course together whatever the bloody weather pouring down does do now yes. Changed my mind see, I can do that too, makes a difference.

Its not a wall to break against, its a tunnel to get through.


2015 December 6th
It was said
that certain artists ask ‘why’
while many argue ‘why not’
and others do what they can to get through the night.

i: It would be about a stone that people step upon and they all thought it was great because it kept their shoes away from the mud but the seeds beneath the stone hate it and regard it as an oppressor because it presses down on them and denies them any chance of life.
The star of this show acts kind of low cos he’s a creep and a git, some kind of shit. Smiles at those cast above him, gets their applause but ignores all the pleas from those he wont free gasping below for mercy, oppress, distress. No one’s hero but his own fat ego. Pride comes before a fall and when he’s cast aside classified as past it, his neighbours wave and spit, just a piece of shit, any swine can do that. The trick is to lick arse and to give the grass beneath a chance of dancing please, that’s all that they ask, not much.
And thank you for asking me.

2015 December 5th
Beyond the fun, beyond your needs, beyond the coarse layer. Trust, how much is it costing you? Your past says not but you are wanting to so much. Build the walls on both sides. Someone must take the leap are they held or do their bones get broken.

Do you like that then, want to be a stranger or not. You fear to feel me honest, its nicer just to know me as a cow to pity. Is that flying is that sighing for you? Let me know sometime please.

Do I trust, know from how I am.

Please look at me and believe we can, please believe that. We are, we will. I have you with me now: as you said to me if you are swinging free I will be there for you. Know that please.


2015 November 29th
Those searchy things seems more like butterflies or bees than those leggy things busy building silky nets first to catch yur then to eat yur.

Ideas float around dropping seeds around the planet and what we’re doing here is likely already made as a film or something other over there.

a; could it be better for us sir
will it stay the same without end
there’s a reason for it
better than this
find it and kind it
make it perform
its not what we're saying is it
just the spaces between
that have a mean
for anyone
there you are thats cute
short and snappy

When the moodies drop the turmoil of the sky down to us we batten down the hatches furl the sails and set no course at all.


2015 November 19th
In a book there is a section that refers to a utopian country, if this country has to declare war all the members of the government responsible for that decision commit ritual suicide in solidarity with the young soldiers they are sending to their deaths.

h; ploppety plopety plop plop plop.
i'm amazed you claimed me for that
i'm off duty now
but if you come back later i’ll
be around for you
abscence bent itself so well it filled itself with pity
kissed itself and smoked a tart
and everything was shitty
down to us we claimed it
wore our truth through its confusion there
our circle is a portrait
of what wasnt really there
but it might have been
you never know with abscence
die and i'll wear you inside me
a hole inside my heart
an absence torn from me
it never fills
it just gets more abiding


2015 November 11

Do planets die when their inner heat goes out, is not, cools; something to do with pressure maintaining the solid furnace at the core. There was some report that there might be heat in the centre of the Moon.


Much criticism belongs to the giver rather than the recipient, a simple Manhattan which they do not see.


We aint a bargain basement, there are flaws there are doors and they seep out of us.


2015 November 5th
R: Hello you,
I am writing some stuff that will make us seem clever.
A story we will not write, a boy whose rich parents die when he is young: his inheritance is one small seed.
The seed grows into a tree.
When the boy is good it grows straight and true, when he is bad it grows crooked. The boy becomes twenty-one, the lawyer leads him to a house. He is to use the tree as a key; whichever door it opens will reveal his fortune.

A: Its not mine to answer is it?
Seems to me you are playing double here,
one way fits all.
or none at all.
If his future’s strange then so was his past.
Darling its a boring thing,
you’re just saying the rudimentary answer
child is father to the man and stuff like that.
Heard it a million times.
Wake me when you’re even better please.

2015 November 4th
We did think about writing a story about a googlebot.
One version predicated on its omniscience in finding stuff led to a tale not that dissimilar to the film, ‘The Mummy Returns.’
Another dealt with how debauched a googlebot might become and subsequent begging the googlebot King for the gift of sight.
It is said that the majority of stories involve the overcoming of problems or problems. This is the form of the ‘Longer’ and ‘Younger’ stories. The ‘Short Stories’ are more like scenes taken from a longer Play.

2015 October 20th: Once there was a living thing, a creature most adorable; its name was Luv. Time moved and the people found that the caressing of this being brought a blessing, an ecstasy, a joy. Alas it was not a pleasure for the animals, as the compulsive stroking wore their fur away. The Luvs grew to detest the touch of any human; they decided on a game of hide and hide. The people sought, the people never found, they were bereft.

That was long ago, these days we know not the animal but we retain the desire for the sensations that it evoked. We seek to find those feelings in each other but its not the same, we are neither small nor furry.

r; What do you think?

a; Help I’m hideous you know that too.
It could be better it could be more
its not a thing to sing I think.
but if your asking
I would say it was horse manure.
Don’t cry I’m sure it will get better,
its not a game of right v wrong
its just a made up thing
and as such it is pretty shitty.
If you ask me
crap all the way through.

r; Are you just being polite?

a; You know I am,
always am just the way that I was brought.
would you say that of me?

r; I’ve seen you on the road to hideous
but thats not the the path you’re treading here.
You are more see through
can’t make up your mind if you’re here or not
but even so you’re looking rather pretty.
So I shall post this to the web site as a notice
beware of crap in our tellings.
We’re not saying
please decide which from which for yourselves.

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