SIDEARM

________

In the 'hood,

man's best friend

isn't

a dog.

An honour

normally belonging

to a Pitbull

goes to 

his more trusted friend

Browning, Sig-Sauer, Glock, Smith & Wesson, Tec-9.

Different names

depending on the block

& the owner's hands.

& like

any trained

Rottweiler,

enraged,

baring sharp

teeth,

they...

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It must have been lonely, empty.

All these lies you learn on TV. 

Maybe it's just not the right words, or phrases. 

You can bear it, untill the morning light breaks.

Bear it, but it's not real. 

I can't cut through the lies in this blogpost.

Many times I've realized something's wrong. 

In church we would discuss the topics. 

In school..... it's too painful to admi...

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Most famous tram in Lisbon — Photo from the Pexels image bank.

There's so much confusion in our choices that, deep inside, not even I can say what decisions I'll make tomorrow. Today I might think one way—especially about life—and tomorrow wake up wanting to do everything differently. The day after that, I might already be living a different situation. The truth is that we really are comple...

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fracture

embracing london’s musicality

early saturday morning

the tube’s mighty roar

over ambient drone

on my pods,

of the rocky mountains

i recorded when

i lived in canada,

the sound of

the once daily

amtrak train pulling

up in banff

on its long

way to vancouver,

a sound i

will never forget

and that now

creates a fffffffrrr...

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She took off her shoes

and walked along the path,

over hill and dale,

mountains and valleys,

deserts and beaches--

feeling the ground beneath her feet,

impervious to heat or cold, 

soft or hard terrain--

it mattered not,

her feet traversed the country and the city,

sleepy town or wild metropolis--

it was all the same to her.

She held in her hands 

a precious ...

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Social media man 
Doing the best that I can
Don't know if I even exist 
Could be an AI hypnotist
Social media man

I have gone digital about to overload
I'm a global creature with no abode
The world is my oyster for sure
I'm an Internet addict got no cure
I am logged on 24/7
DM me and I will be in seventh heaven 
Thousands of followers that I never met
Nobody really knows me instant f...

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I love you too
chronic,  6 am nosebleed . 

.

I can feel it 
I can feel it circling 
and breaking off 
layers scivved away 
by the cloying event horizon
by a tired pain in my chest

the weight 
of waiting

while the slumber of the river
calls.

could i be ophelia to you? 
left sun-bloated by the bedsheets?
death drawn through 
a pneumatic syringe and layers
of sickened foam
...

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It’s not a goal, I suppose,

more like a corner or a throw-in,

but I wish I could be

in somebody else’s poem.

It would be fame, of a sort,

though not the kind that should be sought;

it ought to happen by chance

and be in another’s hand…

...unless it could be planned!

Can it be so hard

to locate a versifier?

An unsuspecting bard,

the type who won’t enqui...

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In quiet moments, truth will speak,
A voice within, both strong and meek,
It hums beneath the world’s disguise,
A spark behind your searching eyes!

The winds may howl with harsh demand,
And shape you with a stranger’s hand,
But your beautiful soul, a lantern bright,
Refuses to be robbed of light!

They will draw a map, then point the way,
Insist you walk it, come what may,
Yet every s...

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The gears don't just turn; 

they gnash—teeth of industry, 

blood-stained from forgotten hands.

Whispers don’t drift;

they crack like breaking glass,

but no one listens.

Faces sink into hollow screens,

cogs spinning louder than their voices.

You scratch at the edges,

but the rust doesn’t heal—

it spreads, then consumes,

until the machinery roar...

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Some years ago, I realised

I am the driver of my life

And so I chose light

It was a difficult decision

More difficult than it sounds

It’s hard to know what it is to see

When there’s no darkness around

It’s easy to equate pain with feeling

To attach pain to being 

And so I never ran from the dark

I marched towards it

Let it smoke my heart

Instead, it was alw...

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Fresh water suits my watery nature.
 I squint into the ripples of redemption,
 watch the ducks glide quietly beside me

Keeping me on the straight and narrow,
or trying to,
the random calls of strangers splatter across
the swirling sky as I choke on what I know ,
I am not crying, cannot...

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November Heart

My heart feels like November,

Not yet dead but getting colder.

For as long as I can remember

I’ve just been getting older.

Blood congeals in icy veins,

Unable to reach a conscious thought.

In the brain confusion reigns,

Nothing’s found if nothing’s sought.

Passion left a while ago,

Heart and head decided,

Where blood and thought no lon...

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I  heard somewhere that getting away from it all was good for your mental health, green spaces, less faces, gives a real feeling of genuine wealth. 

So, I contemplated my predicament skipped probation and decided to head for Clachan bridge the bridge that connects both ends of the Atlantic.

From the city places to pastures new, passing scenic shades of pastoral green,  purple heathers, reds,...

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i unravel
not like a ribbon but like rope— 
wet, splitting at the seams

you turned, smirking like it was a game 
like breaking me was just physics
so clean, so unmarked

you the one always slipping off the hook 
"poor you"—the story you sold while i sank
bare feet on loose earth 
always moving, never mine

i learned to float, lip-bitten 
quiet through the avalanche 
your lie...

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You've gotten by without it.
Tucked away.
But now,
It's a rainy day.

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There was a time

I thought was better

I came of age

total trend setter

I made the world change fast

now I’m bolder

with life perspective 

vantage point

of done the mileage

I’ve still got something to add

I don’t need

to be vogue again

I don’t need

to be chic again

I don’t need

to be cool again

be the last word

culture...

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I am frozen.

Rooted in place, locked

in your mesmeric gaze.

And you, barely moving,

move me, still me,

hold me in this moment

where nothing else matters

but the boundless depths

of your eyes.

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Ole Miss Myrtle: She didn't dress like all the rest,

She looked twee in dark Crimplene with a floral vest.

"I'm off," she would declare, garnering attention,

"To fulfil this shopping list's great expectation!"

Walking the two miles, alone, into town.

Smiling pleasantly, no sign of a frown.

wearing a black beret pulled to the front.

Her steps, marked with an occasional huf...

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What is your story luggage, are you going away?

Are you leaving Liverpool, a final ‘goodbye’ to say?

Or have you come to Liverpool, over ocean and sea?

Because part of this amazing City, you want to be!

Behind every piece of luggage, there belongs a tale.

A journey to success or a journey doomed to fail.

Luggage of all sizes, luggage of all shapes and styles.

Some luggage...

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The Snap Tin invited Stockport W.O.L to do an open mic event at the Poynton Arts Festival on Tuesday the 24th June.

Andy Millican W.O.L poet will be hosting the closing party at The Cask Tavern on Sunday the 29th June starting at 7pm all are wellcome.

Light humour danced throughout the night

Wicked wand had us in it's magical spell

Dad I've turned into you

Storytelling mixes in with...

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You left this world with no name, I will never get to see you grow, I will never be able to feel your touch, to hold you against my chest, so many names you had, but you are nameless.. There will never be a day that goes beyond that I wouldn't think about you.

A day when I would wonder what you might have looked like. I don't get to see you or say good bye. When you left my body I felt like a p...

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In the waves, she swayed in time
with their insistence.
It was easy to understand.

But we had no idea then
about the persistence of time.

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A paper boat sails across the sky.
If you ask,
Why did it choose the sky?
Imagination knows no bounds, anyway.

His tiny hands
break through the air,
guiding the boat toward its soar.

Don’t hurt him by saying,
"You are wrong."
Everyone has the right
to define their own.

In the imagination of being found,
he believes he is an existence.

And through the form of imagination,
he i...

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A cool breath of morning mist lays itself across the water,

where pathways break the wooded edge, it probes the leafy tracks.

Green and dappled reds announce the warming rays,

rustling snouts and gentle song rise to fill the dawning cracks.

Beyond this unseen miracle we shuffle ourselves awake,

inviting news and noise, we break the fragility of nature’s spell.

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Let’s start from the very beginning!
- Ok, I know, it’s a very good place to start.
- If you want to know how to read, 
you have to learn the English alphabet.

As long as we are not in a race,
you can face 26 letters in one phrase.
“The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog”.
Now we’ll have some dialogue.

You’ll see how new words appear,
I hope everything will be clear.
For ex...

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Wait what?

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Bonnie Madleen

I first had the idea for this song / poem on hearing the news about the good ship Madleen, setting out for Gaza.

Thunberg and her crewmates were not “deported” from Israel, as reported in the biased media, they were released after the Madleen and her crew were illegally abducted to Israel, and her cargo stolen.

The so-called “personalities” - several failed “comedians” amon...

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Fallen pieces of wood collected 
And arranged neatly in a pit;
Some stood perfectly well 
While some were made to fit.

The fire waited impatiently 
For the woods to be soaked in oil
While bitter doings surfaced up
Causing the heart to recoil.

The cold wind stayed put 
To let the rest of the heart 
Be marinated by the bitterness 
That had univitedly given a start.

The bonfire stoo...

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I feel distant from hope

like a soul that is separated

like an empty space

there is only me and uncertain thoughts

waiting for the end of the day

but wishing that there was no tomorrow

as if all my dreams are hard to achieve

and slowly my ambition fades

I feel like I see someone else inside me

I don't recognize her

little things feel new to me

and death b...

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Massive fire in old building in-between Oxford Road and Deansgate Train Station / Was it Arson?

Built in 1801 but abandoned since the mid-1990s / Structure built almost completely of wood / Was it Arson?

In 2018, a joint venture between Blue Dog Property and MCR Property Group secured permission to redevelop the site into a 28-storey apartment building, but it didn’t happen / Was it Arson?

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Having your windows blown out

And your face cut by the glass,

And seeing your neighbours' daughter

Blown in the air and tumbling,

Minus one leg, next to their dead dog,

Ranks as pretty low grade stuff now.

Let’s face it, it’s not nuclear, with madcap types

Talking of Hiroshima and obliteration.

Having said that, it’s not exactly nice here

There’s a war on, you know.

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So much living happens in the spaces we don't fill.

We rush through days filled with constant noise

of words, plans and demands

We crave explanations and definitions

the clear articulation of everything

But so much of what matters

unfurls in the quiet.

Think of moments just before a storm

the air thick with hushed anticipation

Or the calm after a profound experience

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'Twas on a Monday morning that I tried to phone BT

I listened to the options and then pressed the one for me

A prerecorded message said that I'd been put on hold

So I listened to some Mozart for an hour like I was told.

Then a lady answered telling me she couldn't help at all

So after 40 minutes she ended our phone call

I'm afraid I'd got frustrated and I'd begun to screech

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Wandering slowly down
from Mount Otowa
We’d gotten lost
behind Kiyomizu-dera
in quiet contemplation
of the winding lanes
like night and day
from heaving temple crowds

Rejoining civilisation
the souvenir shops
and chocolate-dipped strawberries
We make our way down
to the Kamo River
with crustless sandwiches
cans of iced coffee
and legs in need of rest

Sitting on the ancient path
...

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FORCES OF NATURE 

By the Urban Poet

Monsoons creating mudslides

Volcano erupting in dark of night

Tornado wrenching up trees as if matchwood, 

as flood water sweeps in unabated 

Forces over which we have no control

Bone dry, arid landscape, parched and thirsty

Strangely alluring and yet deadly in its nature

Cacti defying the climate by storing fluid

How many stor...

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Am not saying an perfect 

Am don't even say that's the aim 

Honestly I don't have much left in the tank ,they have taken all but my flesh but I try 

Try to get up every morning keep myself going sure that's all you can do 

Loving you can be hard when am hard on myself I can't get everything right I suppose who can 

And it's hard hard to return every night when loving is difficult do...

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Don’t call.
Not today, not tomorrow,
not when longing makes promises.
Don’t wait.
Waiting has teeth
and it bites when you nap.
Don’t write letters.
Paper keeps too much,
and some pains deserve to be forgotten.
Don’t wish for meetings.
They happen at the edges,
where the world can’t reach, and there, everything slips away.
Don’t blame time.
Time just passes.
What remains is you,
with...

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A clerke there was, that Bowdler was yclept,
And sex and swearinge could he not accept;
Against all lines that talked of *********
There would he place a line of constellatioun;

When that an eager Scholar did espy
These stars, then woke their curiosity,
And swift to library they brought their bokes
To seek for Master Geoffrey's penis jokes;

Ful better printed had this matter been,
For...

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Reeling from their 

Spirit's thousand deaths,

Raring for a rebirth

That howls its avowal

Of Life, unmesmerized

By manoeuvres and 

Halcyon heroics,

At long last,

Noting well that,

Indeed, epiphanies

Tend to rest

On diaphanous wings...

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In the darkness of the night
when tranquillity should be restored 
Anxiety rises and swells 
anguish that cannot be ignored 

Depriving me of sleep and rest
refusing to be kept at bay 
Trapped in the bleak cavern of my head
negative thoughts ricochet

Flashbacks replay on repeat
thundering roar to distant rumble
Sharp reminders of hurt and shame
fade into a nagging grumble  

Caught...

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Am I Enough?

Today I didn’t go anywhere

I wallowed in the heat that strangled my home

Took a seat in the spot that I frequent and listened for the changing winds of time

They never arrived.

In fact it was more of the same

‘You Okay?’, ‘Im glad’

Empty words of intricate meaning

Convey both care and solace 

Who cares?

The rain didn’t arrive all the same.

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In Gaza a baby got blown to bits

Whilst Trump got some new golfing tips

He waited patiently for a hole in one

And - for Palestinians to be gone

Then, GazVegas baby! he could build!

Well…

as soon as the blood & guts were swilled 

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A day will come when the whole world wll be destroyed.

When our Supreme Creator's skills and knowledge will be deployed.

By He who brought life to dry and decomposed bones in every single nation.

By He who is well versed in every kind of brilliant creation.

The necessity of life after death is what believers demand.

The fate of each soul according to tbeir needs,dealt with firs...

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It’s really very warm today - 
Global warming, gone astray.
While I listen, children play.
Sitting in the shade.

In walking down familiar paths,
Elder, nettles, blackberry craft
A green seclusion and gentle draft
To keep the blaze at bay.

They sunbathe in the local park,
Lotioned skin that gleams so stark,
Without a solitary remark
On this unusual day.

Every day she walks her dog...

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This isn’t Shock and Awe,
This is GENOCIDE

“The deliberate and systematic destruction of a group of people,
Because of their ethnicity, nationality, religion, or race”
GENOCIDE

Happening right now in front of our eyes
GENOCIDE

Yet those people still can’t decide
GENOCIDE

Ethnic cleansing with nowhere to hide
GENOCIDE

Destroying infrastructure and hospitals, making way for thei...

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Kali Maa came in the night

and whispered as I slept:

‘It’s time’

Time.

From the deepest winter

troubled slumber

technicolour dreams of open winged flight

Closer to the sun

Not like Icarus

But wiser, older, learned

Knowing how to rise

and be carried by conflicting winds

But these wings, this scream,

Never seen, never heard

Emerging from the ...

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History will record how lamentably we failed;

the indigestible truth that money can’t buy you

love, shelter, bandages, put bread upon

a non-existent table

without safe passage.

History will peel away the flesh

of all our collective anguish

the hand wringing, the tears

the howling at the moon,

focussing instead

on numbers, places, dates

the bare bones in rubble

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Life is but a journey, a trip for me and you

Everything is fleeting, we’re all just passing through

No-one can contain it, none can make it last

Just know it’s at your fingertips, it’s limitless and vast

Appreciate each moment, they all whizz by so fast

Know that as it’s happening, it’s already in the past

It’s not a dress rehearsal, this is the real deal

There won’t be a...

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It’s Refugee Week- There are many things to about refugees to mourn and regret – the circumstances which cause them to flee their homes, the people who trade on their misfortune, the hostility from some people in the countries to which they flee. There is also much to celebrate - the growth in understanding as different cultures, religions, and races find their common humanity, the new ideas, the ...

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Have we got a moral obligation 
To help the poor and needy?
And ask ourselves is it right 
That so many of us are greedy?

So is it just a selfish game
To see how much we can consume?
We watch it grow until at last 
We find there is no more room.

And if there is one thing in this world 
That does not seem quite fair, 
While some people just sail on
Others live in great and huge despa...

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Divorced from a wife, who’d moaned about me spending all my time running,
and when recovering from that, writing, I, fed up of ploughing a lonely furrow,
joined budding comics, singers and poets at an ‘open mic’ event in the backroom
of The Bashful Bull, a quaint pub in the village of Much Hoole-in-the-Marrow.

It was run by Brian, who boasted about his degree in Comical Studies.

Unfortuna...

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I met her one night at a nightclub

      And ended up walking her home,

She asked what I thought of her haircut

     I said it could do with a comb.

She invited me in for a coffee

      I said 'Have you got any tea?'

She told me she fancied a cuddle

      And plonked herself down on my knee.

She nuzzled my neck on the sofa

      And started caressing my thigh,

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There is something rather special about Dad’s

Or at least there was about mine

Forever the comedian in that special dad way

Someone who would say to me your hair looks like

A spider’s lounge come here or you look like you

Have been dragged through a hedge backwards  

The D.I.Y. aficionado who could almost turn out anything

From a few pieces of wood

I was never allowed to ...

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The Final Goodbye. 

I soon came to imagine her as a butterfly
An ethereal beauty whose brief visits
Would lead to tearful departures, leaving me to wonder if this was the final goodbye

My mind became obsessed with the stolen days where she would appear, as if by magic
Followed by the long, wistful hours
Of her absence

Thoughts would drift to tragedy
Surely she would be here if she co...

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I have a rendezvous with a dandelion
in an enchanted garden of life.
It had me smitten by the sparkling stars in its fuzz,
the faded colours echoing with a solitary buzz.

Exquisite in shape, vibrant in face,
yet restless at heart and frenzied to the core
fraught with excruciating pain,
drained of all vigour, yet it doesn’t complain.

Too fragile to withstand the blows of violent wind,
...

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What if I swiped the other way, what if I said no, what if I never saw you again

What if I didn’t take you back, what if I believed her instead

She was right afterall.

I thought I’d won because you came back, even if I knew I was second choice

Even if I was insulted, humiliated, cheated, broken, devastated

Still I thought I’d won.

How?

I chose to listen to you because the lie...

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Non-Binaries

never wrong nor right 

neither black nor white 

always poor framing 

truth escapes while waiting 

you I can’t deny

I can’t explain “I”

there’s another dimension 

we’re always missing 

easy solutions feel good 

crushing doubts with boots 

if nature only gave us straight lines 

if god was on our side 

it’s never green nor orange...

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I'm walking alone
Through this chaotic road
Through this desolated land
That my senses corrode

The environment is hostile
Full of greed and jealousy
People want everything
While forgetting our legacy

The values from the past
Now seems to have a cost
Honesty lost its meaning
While respect was lost

So I'm searching the darkness
For a sparkle of light
For the motivation I need
To...

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You need to walk all over the Itchen

Find the bridge that will take you there

Cold hands clasp, hang tight on the rail

As rain sweeps all over the town

People in this city call you Mush

Stepping off this bridge of strangers

Hold hands tight deep into the night

Finding faces that will leave us

Lost and forgotten into the light

People in this city call you Mush

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Brixton’s Orpheus shushing me asleep all night long

Pour into infinity the ashes of me

            when this work finally sets me free

Eating sausage rolls on the train

Writing to see how naughty Nigel will get

            and whether he put on his leather skirt again

Frosted breath blows sodium gold frustration

Some day you’ll be kings and queens not beggars

Dancing o...

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a nation's child spat out

from the echo womb

of mental masturbation

the low roar on the factory floor

a mere workweek substitute for

neurochemical castration by mundane

sunday conversation

gives us another alarm

a buzzer screaming

for all good prussian schoolkids

to let go of childhood dreams of freedom

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Sun-blinding vision

of a surfing state,

songs with their feet down

hard on the accelerator.

But the little deuce coupes

have long gone to the scrapyard.

The wild west is back,

if it ever went away.

Beady-eyed outlaws

who don’t like strangers

have taken over the town,

heroes replaced by villains.

Smile, the album

he never quite finished...

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Blur pedals,

In a range,

And grass to your knees.

Cows grazing by a wedding bell,

Distant and passing,

Different.

Dead mornings,

In finger nails.

Broken pedals,

Falling.

Good things,

And bound be true.

Good things,

Christmas bells.

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When things go wrong

And all's a mess

Don't stress, don't guess

Just rest.

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Evening fell—Papa returned,
Storm in step, and fire in eyes.
In the dim-lit room, he saw
A little girl curled in silence,
He touched her head—
A tired stroke, half-love, half-lost.

He saw her doll—tattered, torn,
Matted hair, a bruised cheek, a wounded lip.
His temper sparked, his face turned flame—
“Just yesterday, I brought her home with joy—
What ruined her so soon, this toy?”

Th...

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The mountains are covered by human feet
The waters barely peeping from between the fleets
The tree tops hold more faces and hands
The air is a heavy with words and cadence.
The homosapiens never rest
They cut, kill and fell – that’s their best
They have overrun the planet and going far
If the moon’s not enough, then the next star.

Will they ever stop – the God’s worry in their land
Reme...

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Every time I let the tap run, I feel guilty

Every time I fill my belly, I turn away from the screen.

Every time the key clicks to my door, I can open and walk around.

But you and yours are raised to the ground.

No guilt from those who cheer on your genocide.  

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my tongue is tied

my mouth is sewn shut

my arms in a straitjacket

my eyes gouged out yet, still wanting to blink

to see / i want to see / i have to see / i need to fucking see

with all the blood and flesh of my own mangled around me

i broke my arms out

my bones protruding and bleeding black hot blood

i pierced my mouth open,

my black blood, teeth and flesh flus...

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do you believe me now?

by Lily Starling Eldridge

party lights flicker as my vision dims

words drop like acid on my skin

sinking in, i start to feel sick

the shame you spilled always sticks.

i’m happy you’ve never been burned before.

introduce me to a stranger

tell an “inside” joke that left me exposed

then wonder why i left without a word

i’d rather be the one hu...

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After the great battle was over

What in those stories they do not tell

Is that nothing was truly over

For this demon, condemned to hell

“You shall not seek power!”, oh what does he know

About how it is to dwell in the shadow

Loving indeed! banned for one mistake

The love shown to a witch on a stake

Do you think I wanted this?

Do you think I yearned?

For the ...

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Books can take you where your feet cannot

They contain distant lands

Yet one can fit inside your hands

Or hundreds on a shelf

You can get lost in them

Or find yourself

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SITTING ALONE, I ALWAYS THINK OF YOU.

YOU ARE THE MEMORY I NEVER LIVED- YET SOMEHOW, I ALWAYS MISS YOU.

YOU ARE THE BRIGHTEST STAR IN THE SKY, AND I? JUST A SHADOW IN DIM MOONLIGHT.

YOU ARE THE QUEEN, AND I THE PAWN -

IN THIS GAME OF CHESS, I'VE NEVER WON.

IS IT LOVE ? OR JUST A LIE ?

STILL, THIS FEELING I STRANGELY ENJOY.

I KNOW YOU'LL NEVER BE MINE,

AND I DON'T DARE PLUCK

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When I consider how my light is bent

My two eyes capturing two converging scenes,

I wonder truly how my time was spent

In looking, without thinking what it means.

Before they parted ways, to circumvent

The natural perspective we expect

When Covid’s random danage caused these ills

Which fresnal screens do partially correct

Such minor injury should not deter

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Deep the sky , in the meterior shore,

Here sitting me, reciting my chore.

Word to word,    I wanna transfer to u

Oh my shadow , i am ur blew.

Feeling almost ,it's new to all me

I am admiring the blue sky in the wavy silk ,

      the meterior shore reminds me

Leaving behind  everyone i met,

Life is unjust ,i wanna submerge in the lust.

No fear struck m...

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I can feel the space you will take up and it is so empty. It is gasping, grasping, gaping emptiness. 

I am drowning in it — and I’ve never been a good swimmer anyway, but this is a blue death, a cold one. No rush to keep living. No struggle against gravity, hydrogen bonds, and sucking suffocation. Just cruel Death and Her forever companion Silence. 

You are my patroclus, my daphne,...

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go ahead, be messy
leave crumbs on the counter
a spoon in the sink
the bed unmade
shoes kicked off by the door

let today unfold
like laundry on the floor
warm and soft and slow

say nothing of coulds
or shoulds
or wish-i-woulds

take a deep breath
and take it all in
there's no rush
tomorrow will still come

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It was today, Susan, my darling we all came to say goodbye.  

Pictures of you adorned this place, with smiles bright in your eyes.  

To carry on with the day, I know we all will try.  

Now you're a real-life dancing angel, soaring in the sky.  

The echoes of your laughter linger, your warmth will never fade.  

We’ll hold you close within our hearts, in every step we take.  

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Am I a sinner 

Why does it feel this way 

Does love mean to sin 

My body in the arms of another 

who is not God 

Is this the meaning of love 

Am I decieved to believe it is 

I feel wrong 

Yet it feels amazing 

Have I made sin easy 

Do I not obey God like I should 

Guilt settles within me 

Fear as well 

Am I a sinner 

I don't know why I ask 

Im well awar...

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You take my breath away

and awaken my heart

with a single glance

and a soft touch.

Keeping me tethered

on the edge

of life and death.

The reason for my being,

only you can make me undone.

Gladly I shall be 

the Icarus to your radiance

and accept my fate with a smile,

as long as you are

the last sight my ey...

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Eventide, at the waning of the sun:
the scribe is done, all-but, save the index
and the binding. How well the tale's been told -
the endless ennui; the agonies; fun
and frolics in their turn (for even sex
had left its mark, some warmth to ease the bold,

chaotic passage of each turbid year) -
and now, as cramp-wracked fingers loose the pen
he settles back, unkinks hunched shoulder blades
...

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WRITE TO ROMANCE

Jessica drove furiously through familiar back streets - happy that she'd didn't have to travel to Cottesloe; being late for meetings at Tom Collins House did not enhance her image as a professional writer.

A new writer's group - close to home too! She still bubbled with enthusiasm even though she'd spent the last twenty minutes at the wrong hall. The guy doing a ka...

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All I hear are elusive echoes of self-depreciation and hatred. 

Tracing my memory back to precise occurrences of emotional distress and pain.

The nature of numbness bouncing through the walls of my mind. 

Will this arduous voice ever be silenced? 

No one knows better how to get under your skin than the mind enclosed beneath it. 

We take on the role of nurture or torture whenever we ...

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i found this araic poems here. i like it. 

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