“When, pass me a couple of dates would you please”
“OK”
“No that is a fig” said Who
“Aren’t they the same thing?”
“No, a date, especially when dried kinda looks like a large sleeping cockroach…actually, you know what, I will have a fig after all!”
The Date
Late night round at When’s apartment watching Creepshow.
“When, pass me a couple of dates would you please”
“OK”
“No that is a fig” said Who
“Aren’t they the same thing?”
“No, a date, especially when dried kinda looks like a large sleeping cockroach…actually, you know what, I will have a fig after all!”
“When, pass me a couple of dates would you please”
“OK”
“No that is a fig” said Who
“Aren’t they the same thing?”
“No, a date, especially when dried kinda looks like a large sleeping cockroach…actually, you know what, I will have a fig after all!”
Heightened Sense
Brave enough to leap the distance?
Turn on.
Turn on.
Bypass your mind’s resistance
Tune in,
Tune in,
You’re a child in a sweet shop
Like buying candy from a shady man in a Munsters sweat top
Like buying candy from a shady man in a Munsters sweat top
Over indulge,
Switch off your own surveillance
Switch off your own surveillance
It's not all that significant,
Pleasure is a normal heightened sense.
Pleasure is a normal heightened sense.
Writing the Detectives
Sherlock Holmes
Columbo
Miss Marple
Rumpole
Nancy Drew
The Hardy boys
Inspector morse
and Marlowe
Maigret
and Quincy
Lord Peter Wimsey
Poirot
and Magnum PI
Cracker,
Shaft
and Ironside
These fictional detectives
That writers made effective
Columbo
Miss Marple
Rumpole
Nancy Drew
The Hardy boys
Inspector morse
and Marlowe
Maigret
and Quincy
Lord Peter Wimsey
Poirot
and Magnum PI
Cracker,
Shaft
and Ironside
These fictional detectives
That writers made effective
The Refrain
“Don’t play that!” I snapped
“Why?”
“Because it’s his song”
“Oh, sorry I…”
“It’s the refrain, I was listening to that when I found out he’d taken his life…now it’s to painful, it brings back to much, to fast”
“But you do listen?”
“I do, when I want to cut my heart, that’s how fucked up Its left me”
“Why?”
“Because it’s his song”
“Oh, sorry I…”
“It’s the refrain, I was listening to that when I found out he’d taken his life…now it’s to painful, it brings back to much, to fast”
“But you do listen?”
“I do, when I want to cut my heart, that’s how fucked up Its left me”
Carnal Desires
Step in through the door from the cold of outside,
The heat of your breath stirs the coals of my fire.
The tick from a clock that is older than mine,
Firm touch and caress a more experienced life.
Magnetic attraction the pull so intense,
I take a deep breath and I feed on your aura.
Salt sweats from pores of a tropical fire,
The burn all consuming still temperatures rise.
Blood filled infusion more physical than fix,
Exploring taboos each touch brings me closer.
A frequency response from a stimulating pitch,
Senses overload, heart beats pacing as one.
The calm after the storm, when the fight ebbs away,
Aware of each moment those heightened sensations.
Lay back, contemplate, instinctual biological drives,
Must not disappoint they will be needed next time.
The heat of your breath stirs the coals of my fire.
The tick from a clock that is older than mine,
Firm touch and caress a more experienced life.
Magnetic attraction the pull so intense,
I take a deep breath and I feed on your aura.
Salt sweats from pores of a tropical fire,
The burn all consuming still temperatures rise.
Blood filled infusion more physical than fix,
Exploring taboos each touch brings me closer.
A frequency response from a stimulating pitch,
Senses overload, heart beats pacing as one.
The calm after the storm, when the fight ebbs away,
Aware of each moment those heightened sensations.
Lay back, contemplate, instinctual biological drives,
Must not disappoint they will be needed next time.
Go Run!
I found my kit
Its in the drawer,
My running socks
Are in a ball,
My leggings
Pocket in the bum,
My shirt says on the neck,
Go Run!
My running shoes
Are on my feet
My music is in mp3
I am running to the beat.
And though I huff and blow,
and run a bit slow,
at least I go.
Its in the drawer,
My running socks
Are in a ball,
My leggings
Pocket in the bum,
My shirt says on the neck,
Go Run!
My running shoes
Are on my feet
My music is in mp3
I am running to the beat.
And though I huff and blow,
and run a bit slow,
at least I go.
The Dancer
Dance floor, local pub.
“What exactly are you are doing” shouted Who over the music.
“Dancing”
“That’s not dancing”
“It is" What, thrashed his arms and legs wildly around him
“So what dance is it then?”
“Jive”
“Looks more like the funky chicken” laughed Who
“What exactly are you are doing” shouted Who over the music.
“Dancing”
“That’s not dancing”
“It is" What, thrashed his arms and legs wildly around him
“So what dance is it then?”
“Jive”
“Looks more like the funky chicken” laughed Who
Exist in the day
Your face every night in the eye of my mind
A glimpse, sideways glance
Awake, eyes blink, and you've gone away
You don't exist in the day.
A glimpse, sideways glance
Natural beauty, reverence
It held my gaze, It's your power
Mere seconds, were in a dream hours
Turn away, please don't walk
My mouth hangs open, no sound - I can't talk
Mere seconds, were in a dream hours
Turn away, please don't walk
My mouth hangs open, no sound - I can't talk
Awake, eyes blink, and you've gone away
You don't exist in the day.
Eve of the weekend
Am I awake ?
Is this a dream?
Look around the room
For a steampunk machine,
Rub sleep from my eyes
A slow pound in my head,
Feel the cold of the floor
Slide my feet out of bed,
Cold claws at my skin
As I trudge down the hall,
Wave my hands in the black
So I don’t hit the wall,
Grope out for the switch
And I hit the wrong one,
Sudden blinding light...
...
Off
...
On
The right one,
Put my hands on the sink
Lift my head to the sky,
Pry open the slits that are tired weary eyes
See the face in the mirror
Looks worse than I feel,
A silent pep talk
Then it’s time to get real
It’s only a Friday
Another week packed away
It’s the eve of the weekend
Hip hip hip-hooray!
Is this a dream?
Look around the room
For a steampunk machine,
Rub sleep from my eyes
A slow pound in my head,
Feel the cold of the floor
Slide my feet out of bed,
Cold claws at my skin
As I trudge down the hall,
Wave my hands in the black
So I don’t hit the wall,
Grope out for the switch
And I hit the wrong one,
Sudden blinding light...
...
Off
...
On
The right one,
Put my hands on the sink
Lift my head to the sky,
Pry open the slits that are tired weary eyes
See the face in the mirror
Looks worse than I feel,
A silent pep talk
Then it’s time to get real
It’s only a Friday
Another week packed away
It’s the eve of the weekend
Hip hip hip-hooray!
A Far Away Home
Vivid dreams of a far away home
Feeling the sun warm me to my bones
Seeing the moons
1,
2,
No 3
A familiar feel
Luscious and green
Pristine clean skies
Unspoiled seas
World population living in peace
Then I awake to the reality
until we collaborate we can never be free
Feeling the sun warm me to my bones
Seeing the moons
1,
2,
No 3
A familiar feel
Luscious and green
Pristine clean skies
Unspoiled seas
World population living in peace
Then I awake to the reality
until we collaborate we can never be free
The Worst Bank Job
The drill whirred through the safe
“What was that?”
“What”
“That noise”
“What noise”
…
“Nowt, you’re twitchy”
“We’re in”
“What the bleeding heck is this”
“The first Pound ever minted”
“I can see that, what’s it worth”
“At least a Pound.”
“Bleeding eck!”
“What was that?”
“What”
“That noise”
“What noise”
…
“Nowt, you’re twitchy”
“We’re in”
“What the bleeding heck is this”
“The first Pound ever minted”
“I can see that, what’s it worth”
“At least a Pound.”
“Bleeding eck!”
Cheese and Tomato on Brown
The memories came flashing back as bit ground through brick, dust sprayed like blood; cast off as the drill backed the auger out tossing red clay everywhere.
One minute we were laughing, the next Andy was crumpled like a pile of dirty clothes on the floor, the blood soaked hole where his eye once was - perfect, his brains scattered behind him.
The gunman in an unseen position sitting back eating a cheese and tomato on brown, getting on with the rest of his day, orders carried out, let that be a warning, get out of our land!
One minute we were laughing, the next Andy was crumpled like a pile of dirty clothes on the floor, the blood soaked hole where his eye once was - perfect, his brains scattered behind him.
The gunman in an unseen position sitting back eating a cheese and tomato on brown, getting on with the rest of his day, orders carried out, let that be a warning, get out of our land!
Destination space and back
Arrangements made
For the rave
Got the stash
We’re on our way
Furtive looks
Excited glances
Coming up
Butterflies dancing
Music on
Volume high
Excitement levels start to climb
Nerves are gone
Smiles turn to Laughs
Destination space and back
The Comet
A Billion years care free roaming,
Through cosmic dust and ice cold night
I skip across the exosphere,
a flat stone caressing pale moonlight
I leave my tail of trailing rocks,
Presents collected on the way
And speed off towards the stars
As their explosions radiate my way.
Through cosmic dust and ice cold night
I skip across the exosphere,
a flat stone caressing pale moonlight
I leave my tail of trailing rocks,
Presents collected on the way
And speed off towards the stars
As their explosions radiate my way.
Standing on the precipice
Standing on the precipice
Looking down on eerie silence
Wind song whispers
In different voices
Eyes flutter
Like butterflies
Paper wings drum out
Their pulsating rhythmic song
Drawn towards open space
A small step is all I face
Free fall out of realities harm
Into the arms of the afterlife
Hesitation…
Shuffle, step back and crumple
Down to my knees
The moment gone, the sobbing comes
Home I trudge
Rinse away the smears of tears
Salt stings my eyes
Defeated, but still alive
Raw painful emotions
Boiled off with time
I resent my toxic poisonous past
The future now is all mine
Dig through layers of shit
Find the will to survive
Then to build on it
And strive
Inspired by the November 2019 #vsspoem twitter prompts; Silent (9/11) Resent (10/11)
Different (11/11) Rinse (12/11)
Looking down on eerie silence
Wind song whispers
In different voices
Eyes flutter
Like butterflies
Paper wings drum out
Their pulsating rhythmic song
Drawn towards open space
A small step is all I face
Free fall out of realities harm
Into the arms of the afterlife
Hesitation…
Shuffle, step back and crumple
Down to my knees
The moment gone, the sobbing comes
Home I trudge
Rinse away the smears of tears
Salt stings my eyes
Defeated, but still alive
Raw painful emotions
Boiled off with time
I resent my toxic poisonous past
The future now is all mine
Dig through layers of shit
Find the will to survive
Then to build on it
And strive
Inspired by the November 2019 #vsspoem twitter prompts; Silent (9/11) Resent (10/11)
Different (11/11) Rinse (12/11)
The Magical 'T'
Pulling the tarpaulin off the ageing beast, a cloud of semi fine dust sprayed upwards.
Pristine paintwork glistened as dappled sunlight caught falling dust turning the garage into a snow globe.
The crank at the front ready.
Hearing the ‘T’ start for the first time since dad died completed the magical scene.
Pristine paintwork glistened as dappled sunlight caught falling dust turning the garage into a snow globe.
The crank at the front ready.
Hearing the ‘T’ start for the first time since dad died completed the magical scene.
War's reality
Fresh faced, soldiers march, teens in khaki wearing deaths arsenal grin and wave like winners.
On the battle front, we're all wearing 'fears mask' now, and bits of our closest friend.
On the battle front, we're all wearing 'fears mask' now, and bits of our closest friend.
Wars reality, now clear as day, the shredded corpses, beside them.
Polished boots tread carefully and lay the kids to rest.
Polished boots tread carefully and lay the kids to rest.
Stain on my heart
Weathered but not broken,
Eyes fixed on points of pain
Words no longer spoken,
A devils indelible stain
Ethereal existence
Only thy self aware
Fight or flight resistance
Lost in times repair
Fingerprints unique mark,
Part of your identity
Pressed into the stain on my heart,
Bruised, sore and dirty
Eyes fixed on points of pain
Words no longer spoken,
A devils indelible stain
Ethereal existence
Only thy self aware
Fight or flight resistance
Lost in times repair
Fingerprints unique mark,
Part of your identity
Pressed into the stain on my heart,
Bruised, sore and dirty
As time stops
Carried to brain in blood
Emotions overwhelmed, flood
Goosebumps mottle pale skin
Hair erect, needles and pins
Brow breaks perspiration's hold
A feeling that never grows old
Self becomes aware
In a world that isn’t there
Sounds enhanced
Colours pop
As time
Stops
In every language
Letters in the pot
Stir them around,
A few consonants here
Ooo how many vowels,
Speak the syllable out
My lips move around,
Its a hand gesture
For the deaf to sign out,
It’s written in braille,
And semaphore too,
Every language, animals too
Stir them around,
A few consonants here
Ooo how many vowels,
Speak the syllable out
My lips move around,
Its a hand gesture
For the deaf to sign out,
It’s written in braille,
And semaphore too,
Every language, animals too
has a word that is...
Love
Love
Peer Group Popularity
Local cannabis factory.
Spiral eyed souls worked silently, glistening purple haze of their cash crop almost ready.
While eyes on stalks, stood mouths open as brawn trimmed bud into a bag.
Discombobulated they left, peer group popularity clutched tightly in their hand.
Spiral eyed souls worked silently, glistening purple haze of their cash crop almost ready.
While eyes on stalks, stood mouths open as brawn trimmed bud into a bag.
Discombobulated they left, peer group popularity clutched tightly in their hand.
A Cheesy Crime
Cheese factory crime scene
“Constable, to find the body we must search through 2 tons of grated cheese.”
“Or grated body, sir”
“True, you don’t want to find a tooth on your pizza.”
“No sir, that would really grate.”
“Oh constable!”
Very shot story inspired by the #vss365 twitter writing prompt
“Constable, to find the body we must search through 2 tons of grated cheese.”
“Or grated body, sir”
“True, you don’t want to find a tooth on your pizza.”
“No sir, that would really grate.”
“Oh constable!”
Very shot story inspired by the #vss365 twitter writing prompt
A Quick Nap
The welcome mat
That is outside my flat
Is not the place
To take a quick nap
But yesterday there
At a quarter to three
A cat
A dog
A little pink frog
An alien called nog
We’re all fast asleep
Reflection of self
That Face in the mirror
Is changing with age,
Deep in those eyes
The face stays the same.
Is there regret
A choice made in haste,
Do not let
Your life go to waste.
Hold a mirror to the soul
What is it you see?
A deal with the devil
or hard work, honesty?
Inspired by the vsspoem twitter prompt
Is changing with age,
Deep in those eyes
The face stays the same.
Is there regret
A choice made in haste,
Do not let
Your life go to waste.
Hold a mirror to the soul
What is it you see?
A deal with the devil
or hard work, honesty?
Inspired by the vsspoem twitter prompt
Cuffs
Booking office of the local police station
"Where did you find him?"
"Old wreck sir, wandering around in his birthday suit"
"Cuffs?"
"Yes sir, french lace and very dashing."
"No, handcuffs"
"No handcuffs sir, just sleeves."
"no, oh, never mind"
VSS inspired by the #vss365 twitter prompt:
"Where did you find him?"
"Old wreck sir, wandering around in his birthday suit"
"Cuffs?"
"Yes sir, french lace and very dashing."
"No, handcuffs"
"No handcuffs sir, just sleeves."
"no, oh, never mind"
VSS inspired by the #vss365 twitter prompt:
Sugar
In resplendent glory
A drug not respiratory
Stirred into morning coffee
Or a lump or two in tea
Dusted onto strawberries
Before slathering them in cream
In a jug of lemonade
Sold along my street
Candy floss
Toffee
White mouse on a stick
To much sugar
Will surely make you sick
Inspired by the #vsspoem twitter prompt
A drug not respiratory
Stirred into morning coffee
Or a lump or two in tea
Dusted onto strawberries
Before slathering them in cream
In a jug of lemonade
Sold along my street
Candy floss
Toffee
White mouse on a stick
To much sugar
Will surely make you sick
Inspired by the #vsspoem twitter prompt
The Storm
Wind chimes like pan pipes play the song of the storm
A windmill in a sandpit, spinning wild, it’s fans torn
Thunder gallops, Wild horses, Open natures symphony
Lightning claws at darkness, angels are free
Heavens tears find lost souls, so they may rest in peace
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