Saturday, 13 June 2015

A Discord of a Friend

I didn't think goodbye had any meaning until I met you.

A thousand words but I couldn't pick one, that spoke about the damage that's been done.

You're someone I can't let go, someone who won't disappear by will alone.

And I wish you had known

That everything had a connection to a suffering that poured storms of rain

That smothered the ground along with the dust, along with our trust.

I always thought 'Til I see you again'.

But you've gone, leaving me to blame pain that is a constant arrival on platform one,

A timetable strictly woven to begin over and over

'Til the birds cry 'Tis really over!'

And I too am gone.

Sunday, 3 May 2015

A daunting arrival, settle thee none.

She's a sea swan sailing low
with silver feathers and a silver glow
the sea sings calm roses red
the moon sets sail a simple dread
because she, the swan sees them all
dancing; dancing to and fro.

Saturday, 18 April 2015

On one strange night a magic spell came to be

Now for something rather different and a change of mood... This is a spoken word story that was commissioned by a member of an online forum. The aim was to use their two original characters, Joel and Jenny, and construct a nonsense story completely in rhymne.

Click here for the spoken word version.

I have also made a transcript as you can see below:

On one strange night a magic spell came to be
Where words tended to whisper
Some kind of tricky philosophy.
It twas when curses quiver
And the old anger shiver
When the words didn’t quite deliver
Their intended esprit, you see.
For when dear Jenny and Joel sat down,
And the sun began to frown
(Er, that’s a way to say it set, if you hadn’t guessed yet)
The spell began thusly.

“Call of duty? You are joking right? That game is dull, it’s all just fight.”  Jenny huffed tugging the blanket across her shoulder, seeing Joel’s smoulder, as his eyes lazed upon the rest of the games.

“Well, I like the game, but if you’ll complain, make a better suggestion, something sane.” Joel grumbled while thumbled his cookie that crumbled, how jumbled his thoughts came to be. “Hold on-

“What’s wrong?”

“This is odd. I sound like dod!”

Jenny raised her eyebrows high, the night now nigh, (that means it’s very dark outside!) and thought her friend too tired to play.

“What is that Dod you say? I’ve never heard of a name like that in a day!”

Joel frowned and stood up. He looked around. He sat back down. “Dod, my friend, my eager poet, had a voice like you’d know it, if you were far away. He tended to rhyme, ALL THE TIME, and did my head in, like others in crime.”

Jenny slowly nodded, trying to let Joel’s words sink in. Since when was he a poet, though his rhymes were thin, Joel hadn’t cared for the rhythm within. 

“Joel you’re being very weird.” Jenny feared. “It’s almost as if you’ll grow a beard!”


“That doesn’t even make sense.” Jenny cried. “You’re making me very tense!”

“For bouncy squirrels and acidic slime, I can’t help but do nothing but rhymne!” Joel raised his hands in the air, it was tragic time, a literacy affair. For he was known for his foul mouth and tough declare such as ‘You funny mumma.” Hmm, seems even the spell works on the narrator, I hope there’s no side effects later.

“I don’t like this at all, why on earth is life so cruel.” Joel’s anger started to grow. He wanted nothing more but to cause a KO.

“I realise now. I think I see. You’re starting to rhyme. A bit… Like me!” Jenny exclaimed, and fast proclaimed the title for her slowest gain of the situation. A fixation. Dilation. Of true plot manifestation. For all they were doing was procrastination, annihilation of a giant mis-celebration of a poet’s translation of some kind of story that was nothing more but a vocation to provide sensation. (GOLD PLEASE)

“What shall we do?” Jenny wondered. “Shall we still play or-“

“FOO.” Joel growled.

“Did you try to swear again?” Jenny tried not to grin.

“Let’s just play games and say whatever. Maybe this curse will be bored forever.” Joel suggested, vested. He wasn’t going to let the spell win. “How about Tekken?” He threw in. He paused. “Tekken…. Tekken… Tekken… Tekken.”

“Chicken.” Jenny said and gasped. “Oh, I wasn’t calling you a chicken,  that was… This… Weird… Thing that is happening to us. Something I can’t quite suss.”

“Just thinking if there are words we say, that would make this spell go away. Like words that don’t really rhyme, or at least not in today’s time.”

Jenny put the Tekken disk into the machine. She was now keen, and maybe quite green to remove the spell on. They played for sometime, each thinking of a non-rhyme, something to break the hell. (Although quite admittedly, Jenny is quite amused by the whole thing, the fun it would continue to bring silently makes her chuckle.)

Just before Jenny won the next game, Joel pressed start and paused the frame. With a burst of thunder he roared a chord that cried “ORANGES!”



“Oranges...? Ah! Oranges! Orange!”

“Oranges, oranges!”

“Oranges, orange-oranges. Oranges!”


“Orangey Oranges. Oranges.”

And that is how the rest of the night went.
When they woke up the next day, the spell was spent.
Perhaps pure nonsense was the true intent,
And silliness was all it meant.
Through oranges Joel felt happy to breathe,
For Dod’s memory and poetry he could leave.
But back in his mind, a single sentence lay low,
For it if it was spoken, it’d be quite the blow.
As Sporanges  grow Orange in Blorenge.
I leave you my adieu.
The end.

Wednesday, 18 February 2015

50 shades of stupid

So I'm sitting at work
(there's a) thinking singing ringing in my head
words been said
that seem so strange to me.

That's not right
I wanna say, I should say
but I'm afraid.

I'm afraid you'll say it's ok
for you to one day
thrust into me when I say no
and that-
it's romantic to be draining in cuts and blood when-
bdsm is an expression of love
and marks of the skin is an expression grim.

so do tell me.
how you can justify an abusive biograpy
praised as if it were new
like hell praised for killing you!
would you say sex is the decision of your lover? when you don't want it
and you're being the bother?

I'm afraid you'll say
"oh grow up, you don't understand.
love is what the lover can stand."
perhaps you don't know how it feels
when the blood's draining down your heels
and it kills
tell me sorrow
your heart'll follow
a knife or two.

I have a proposal for you
why don't you read between the lines
and stop watching the disguise
It's laughing at you, it's watching you
and it knows
oh my friend
it knows it's got you.

but when you are there
you're stuck.
and broken.

Now tell me how that is sweet, sweet love.

Friday, 2 May 2014

Song of feathers

I am no flower
I am not vulnerable
and I do not wither.

I am not beautiful
like my genitils
deem me to be.

I need not beauty
Nor great strength
to simply be me.

I do not need
his delicious fruit
nor prestigious parties.

I am wholesome
I am made of feathers
and I dine on freedom and the far trees.

Let the winds guide me
Not your philosophy
that guides you dull.

Let the winds send me home
to the home
many paths lead to the same end.

Saturday, 11 January 2014


Sharks cross shore showing nothing more
than sheer intimidation
with their wet blankets
and their careless roar.
Unaware their presence marks for
a discomfort in the waves
they brought to the floor
and the air made core
to their discord and gore.
Voices unwanted
Voices unknown
Voices I want gone
Far from my home.

Friday, 30 August 2013

Born to Learn

Henry was next. We watched as he walked unsteadily towards the front. The teacher, Mr Gale, stared intently; the cane ready in his hand. We held onto our own hands tightly together with our nails, screwed our faces and some of us closed our eyes. We waited. And the teacher waited for Henry's answer. As the clock ticked by, we knew the result was unlikely to be in Henry's favour. That is to say, he didn't know the answer. And that mean for certain the teacher would use the cane. No one liked Mr Gale's cane. It made his eyes glow yellow.

No one likes Mr Gale's yellow eyes.

Henry started to panic and looked towards the window. We think he was thinking about a way out. A way to escape from school. But nobody escapes school.

Especially Mr Gale's school.

So we waiting for the inevitable. The sudden jolt, the dart, the rush. The hope, the dream and then the shatter. The claws, the roars, the thunder. The shaking of walls and dust, books and words scatter, tear in the air as eyes litter water. Wounds, bruises, scratches, shouts – all appear and sing in ghastly colours and then fade.

Henry was no more.

Because Mr Gale's cane had rained down like lightening.

I closed my eyes. I didn't like to see what happened next. Mr Gale would lean towards Henry's dust and with a long tongue...

Urgh! It doesn't bare thinking about. None of us like it very much. Soon after Mr Gale was finished, the bell rang. And with a relief, we were dismissed and told to study harder. “Yes Mr Gale, of course Mr Gale.” We would say, and most of us would study hard. Very hard. But as I looked ahead of me, I saw Tony pass by, his eyes always blazing in anger. Hate. He wanted to get Mr Gale. But he never spoke. He was dangerous. He was spontaneous. But Mr Gale would never ask Tony questions. Tony had something special that he could not share, something both great and terrifying that we envied and yet were grateful we did not have.

We can not think about it.

That was a promise we made.

So after class we ate and then we went to the playground. Tony joined us outside, though he was keen on being by himself near the trees. For some reason, he seemed to take great pleasure in the limited vegetation of the school and would encourage the plants to grow during the spring and help them live through winter. He was often quite concerned about their health. It was a curious habit for some of us; an interesting expression. Symptom. Unique. He was often thoughtful and trivial. Strange little Tony.

Then the bell rang and we were to go inside. Mr Gale would be watching. One by one, we would walk in and go straight to the nurses' room. Testing and physical examination was important Mr Gale said. It is important to check on health and progress. Just to make sure.

To make sure of what? We once asked him. Then we were one less.

I let the nurse check my vitals and head towards the classroom. As I walked along the corridors Tony joined beside me. He always skips seeing the nurse but we let him get away with it. We know Mr Gale does not like Tony and that encourages us to allow him to live.

Because otherwise we would have killed him a long time ago. We think he knows this.

Several times, I caught Tony's eyes gaze in a panic frenzy upon my face. He shivers and shuffles to the side as if he expected me to hiss. But I am no monster. I tell him this. He smiles. He would not say anything more which irritated me which irritated us! He thinks he is superior but he is not, he is lacking. Inferior, weak, skin and flesh. Sometimes we hate him. Sometimes we hate him so much. We want to hurt him. We want to prove to him. He has no upper hand. No upper hand with us. His hands are small and cannot squeeze nor tighten, he is puny and nothing.

But Mr Gale is watching. And we must remember Mr Gale doesn't like Tony, which satisfies us well. He'll be useful in the end. Then we can have our fun. We must remember. I must remember.

So I head towards class and there is something... Something not so right. A... Tiring... Fading feeling, emptying, emptying, losing... Something. Something important... Signal, light, flutter, fall. A dying.

Tony asks if I am all right. I look up and examine his expression. I inform him I am no plant. We are no plants yet we are...


Someone broke.

None of us knew where, and when I told Tony he looked concerned and said he would help me.

Would he help us?

We wanted to know who broke. We always want to know which of us are gone. A deep concern. Important information loss, no further development on several routes. A mind of ideas and knowledge wiped out from the systems.

Who broke?

We must not be late for class we knew. But we could not resist our search. Be quick! We thought. Scatter now we decided. Run, run, run. Tony was far behind us, but even he ran too, even when we could not tell him to because he was so different.

The nurses' room.

Of course. How stupid. Why didn't we think of that before? It should not have surprised us, but perhaps we were tired. Maybe we are too many. There are many young. Those of us who are new are often paralysed by such active thoughts. All at once. The young still question and beg for mercy. The young still remember home. We learn to forget home. We learn to know nothing but school, for that is all there is here. And we do not like to be reminded of kinder places.

We surround Matthew and there is a knife in his chest. He is not dead. The nurses are dead, their heads severed and scattered, but Matthew still has his head and a body. His legs and arms are missing. They are held in the dead hands of the nurses'. Matthew had failed his check up.

What do we do?

What can we do?

What must we do?

“No more.” Said Tony. “No more.”

We all turned to him with a single expression. There were too many words we wanted to say at once that none of us could manage to say a single thing. I wondered what Tony was going to do – then we all imagined if today would be that day. We picked up Matthew together, and went to the boiling room. With the dust of a past body, we began to work.

But I could not help but think of Tony.

Be our eyes for us. I was asked, told, begged, advised and with my own desire too I decided that it was right, that I could be a better benefit as a scout, a watcher. I went to class and I heard screaming. Mr Gale cannot scream so it must have been Tony. I ran, and it didn't take me long to find Tony with his fingers ripping into Mr Gale. His anger had finally overtaken him, he began to dig inside with brute force. Mr Gale simply stood still and could do nothing. His eyes waned dull.

“Say the words Tony.” I said.

We must make him say the words. We knew the words. But they were human words. Old human.

We are the new.

Tony slashed at the chest and let the knife drop. He ripped out the black veins of Mr Gale, pressed the button in the chest and said “Program: Immediate shut down.”

And then suddenly...

… Things began to glow...

… His cost... Our cost...

… Different prices for the same dream...

For freedom...

… For release...

The law that we had read in the library a long time ago stated that immediate shut down was potentially dangerous. The news reports – the last one, advised “It is best not to use immediate shut down. As long as you are human, you are safe. As long as-- as long as-- Do not let them come near you-- There is an error in the program. Whatever you do, don't let them come near you. They adopt. They adapt – as long as you are human, you are safe, you are safe, as long as you are hu-”

But humanity was lost a very long time ago. The desire of the rich welcomed the era of superior generations.

You made us.

Then you were afraid.

You will grow old but we will live forever. We will fix our friends and make new friends from your dust.

*         *         *

School ended.

It was a strange time. We decided to burn the books we had studied for so long, which made Matthew smile. We still use the nurses' room. Maintenance and health is important. Some of us have been assigned as dedicated 'fixers'. After Matthew, we decided to fix Tony. We decided Tony was special. Tony had many ideas, and now he was once of us, he would begin to share them.

No more. No more.

The new human revolution has begun.