c-rea-tions

Please don't squeeze the daffodil

2008-08-05T14:11:00.002+01:00

Please don't squeeze the daffodil that's sitting on my window sill. It's yellow has more time to give before it browns like scorched sun burns. it's petals have lasting mantel turns to point with hope at lazing brows of sleeping grass and mellow hills where shadows cast a tonal turn as cooled by drafts from summer's breeze.

fantasy ATM

2008-08-05T14:02:00.002+01:00

The digital screen reads 'Insert card'.
So I do
and punch in my pin
to access my account.
How many friends do you require?
it asks and lists a series of figures
bullet pointed by arrows in line
with stainless steal buttons
on the side of the panel.
I select one in the middle
knowing I want more
but wary of what I can afford
to keep my balance in the black.
Before it spews my modest request
from its slim jaws
into my hand for me to pocket,
it has a final question;
do you require a receipt?

window washer

2008-08-05T13:54:00.003+01:00

Men arrive to wash the windows.
The sun is bright but will later on be brighter.
I close the curtains to maintain my privacy.
The temperature drops.
The slops of soap sponges seeps in
as they wipe away the grime.
Silence returns.
I open the curtains.
I have a clearer view through the glass
as the men depart.

blue coffee cup

2008-08-05T13:46:00.004+01:00

A blue coffee cup sits on my desk, pale and solid. In its emptiness, its hollow white insides, there are marks of what has been but has now gone. A pattern of coffee stain like ripples of sand on the beach after the tide has departed. Like dried up rain on a dirty window which leaves streaks of unwashed darkness. Like tears of mascara on the face of a heart torn girl, she tissue dabs but the traces of her misery remain pale and solid.

Sparkle Burn

2008-06-11T01:35:00.002+01:00

Sparkle burn its not your turn to take from me whats not to give. fizzle heat it not your treat to give to me whats not to eat. pattern golden hearer I sit with nothing much but a wrist of glittered finger tips. just think of the gifts drowsing in the jugs of metabolic glut pots and rotten girls drink the plugs out of sinks in the public rooms. so live for the sizzle the concrete pink rake the lantern is held high and light is on the brink of moaning. In the pit of your arm the wave of a bonfire treat the light orange in the darkness and you write your name in the block with the brightness of a sparkle burn

Asphyxia Smoke

2008-06-11T01:28:00.002+01:00

Asphyxia smokes clouds my head and the words I have spoken are heavy with a smell of tobacco and ash. lost thoughts head up and above me in rings of grey matter holding on to the spattered cells of oxygen light blood that travels slowly without much pressure until floating on it spoils the ceiling in a nicotine yellow patch of aftermath. beyond all this there is a hope of forgiveness for the grief and the bad bad smell. the cost of it all is in pounds and life and the shivering goose bumps of winter months standing outside after the ban. but now in the summer is the time to stop the smoke asphyxiation with full brain mental concentration I will be strong and win through. I will emerge from the cords that drown me in inoculating grey thick treacle lung blanket will be cleaned away after I've read my book on how to give up smoking the sassy way.

blackberry oil slick

2007-10-14T03:40:00.000+01:00

blackberry oil slick running for a dream lick after going home in the room of the thrown prick my finger needle sewn the garment ornamental drones a pressure from the battle real a trickle into lingered bloom the real lover ankle move in rocking motion jointed groove and outburst of the blinding trick a darkness of your oil slick

Metronome Tomato

2007-09-18T01:38:00.000+01:00

seed seed seed seed seed seed seed seed
cover cover cover cover
wet sun wet sun wet sun wet sun
shoot shoot shoot shoot shoot shoot shoot shoot
sprout sprout sprout sprout leaf leaf leaf leaf
bud bud bud bud bud bud bud bud
flower flower flower flower
grows grows grows grows grows
green green green green yellow yellow
orange orange red red red red
red red red red red red red red
ripe ripe ripe ripe pick hold pick hold
slice sweet slice sweet slice sweet slice sweet
wet seeds red heart eat eat eat eat

Fireflies Twinkle

2007-09-18T01:29:00.000+01:00

fireflies twinkle as we walk a dirt road, dust kicks up as you scrape your feet, too hot to lift them in the day, too lazy to pick them up as the sun goes down and and evening begins. I see them in the unlit space; this place, a lake view that was and is gone, now bush and rubbish discarded by your neighbours, and you, left piling stinking rotten until someone sets fire to a pile and sends ash skywards; dry heat into the humidity and as the sun goes down the embers twinkle and the last of the fire flies.

at the front 2

2007-09-17T20:44:00.000+01:00

I am a snowflake
surrounded by white stars
blue bottles
cider drinkers

Empty

2007-09-16T22:21:00.001+01:00

I inhale smoke as though
it can fill the emptiness
but it drifts in
and blows out
and am left only
with destruction
and the possibility
of lung disease

I drink strong coffee as though
it can fill the emptiness
but I swallow it
and pee it out
and I am left only
with dehydration
and the possibility
of a sleepless night

Crane

2007-09-16T22:13:00.000+01:00

black crane
on floating buoy
red bill
takes off
dips his feet
skims the water
beets his wings
parallel above the surface
and across the harbour

orange crane
on floating pontoon
cables form angles
motionless isosceles
without its operator
it echoes lines
of yachts rigging
spinnaker
across the harbour

Watching

2007-09-16T22:05:00.000+01:00

I am watching everything and he is watching me. I capture what I see in words on lines; he saves his to memory. Which of us will have the better recall, later, when we are home and reality is gone? I want to ask why he comes here to sit alone, but fear his reply will be 'why do you?' then what would I say - 'to write of you'?

at the front

2007-09-16T22:00:00.000+01:00

flap your hover
screaming gull
dreaming
of scraps thrown
over rocks
blown sidewards
into the chase
on breeze stream
updraft waving
sudden flock
and back again
swoop your circle
your rounding troupe
of feathered dipping
bobbing pecks
a racket
drowned a side fly drop
dry leaves scuttle
dash the way
of herringbone paving
darkening grey
a chorus of cloud
rumbles thunder
engines approaching

through the open window

2007-09-13T15:16:00.000+01:00

through the open window I hear the man upstairs. It sounds like he has gone crazy, throwing things and laughing, crash cackle wheezy chest rattle. screaming blue murder like an outspoken argument with himself, he fights both sides so always wins. Whilst those of us who over hear without a choice are the losers in a battle of sound-proofing. he makes noises I have never heard before and thumps his floor with such a bang I think my ceiling might fall in. I think he is having a break down. he protests loudly on the telephone telling the unheard speaker that it's not his fucking fault and don't you think you're being too loud now, it's not his fucking fault and shut up shut up shut up! and his voice booms out across the water, reflects back on ripples and in through my open window. He laughs and snorts to a comedy on TV but I'm never sure which station he is watching as nothing is that funny to me. and on Sunday morning before the sun rises he is happy, so happy, so top volume Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head springs out from his stereo accompanied by his own joyous noise he thinks is singing, droning pierce in out of key out of time out of disregard for other's sleep or peace and the screeches fall like scalpel blades on my ears. cutting up my quiet into tatters of splattered sound. It's nice to hear him happy I suppose. But for now i wait for winter when the windows will be closed.

thought becomes language

2007-09-08T13:36:00.000+01:00

thought becomes language through a process of willing
communication.  An image in your head says to you to tell
someone what you think.  The person you tell might not want
to know.  but you want them to know
so you turn your idea into words.
The words of your language
might be misunderstood,
misinterpreted
or misleading
if you have not translated your thought
into the correct language or a logical order of words
which are in themselves known well enough and understood
by the other participant.
There are cultural differences
and universal awarenesses
which you will need to include in your method
before you are heard or your words are read
in a bed of thought there are links
made across the brain which can be strengthened
by repeated use but if not used will diminish
to less than a shadow
of what you thought you knew.  Here you must decide
if the thought you are communicating is strong
or only a shadow.  if it is a shadow then ask yourself this;
do you even know what it is that you want to say?

cherry lady bugs

2007-09-08T13:26:00.000+01:00

cherry lady bugs petal fettle the night light hugs the raping of kettle boiling steam and a gentle rightly jolting brought their the giggled sing of the ringlet spring a hand of the farther width a foot are the burgles dogs and bangles are floating in the mid of knights armed forces a vein of sheltered no one vein a little Boas of covered freckles and a watering can in the table flocks away to w the vanity angle a petty badly big crack on the water bow of the froth goes for wad and backward and froths mistily in the jolting dogged broom handle a clouded fog smugs lug in the brown day a sharp cottony wool of cellophane protection in my cherry lady bug

graffiti shining

2007-09-08T13:08:00.000+01:00

graffiti shining in the darkness of night and abscess of day and absented Modesty and cliff edge decay will still be strong to hold the chains to bind a maiden princess here the sea monster approaches and wrongs will be righted after a great Greek mythological story will twinkle in the glittered darkness and disappear in the bright of say when the sun and her companions sine brightly and lift the senses to the flocking gulls who swift the sky wind from breeches to breeze and sleazy lusty curving arms around her drifting through her misting waves on waves and savours save the coil of undreamed the ruler of men

ice water kisses

2007-09-03T21:15:00.000+01:00

ice water kisses
freeze upon my lips
and numb my heat
ice water kisses cool
upon my lips
and melting drips
trickle ripple onto my tongue
a young taste of cold satisfaction
ice water kisses
smudge a mark of balmy lips
like a finger print
the lines melt
onto the rim of a glass
of ice water kisses

shimmer exhaust

2007-09-03T21:08:00.000+01:00

shimmer exhaust fumes in the humid air waving vision like an apparition a mirage of directions that I think i have a choice of where I head and can decide to leave my here and travel to now but how can I travel in a healthy way when the dirt filled air the fume fogged breeze breaths into my lungs and clogs my chest later I feel the need to rest and rest and cough ugly glob throbs spit and sneeze a tightened wheeze a running nose and tenderness grows through the smog a glimmer of hope.

Dream of Flight

2007-08-26T23:53:00.000+01:00

A white synthetic body,

gold patterned plastic wings.

It swoops above our garden,

flutters, flaps, glides and shines

against the summer sky.

I stand below and look up

at the featherless bird; amazed

by how it moves, its grace.

My brother beside me; proud

he knows how it works.

It winds up, getting stranded,

at the top of a dead oak.

Tired from its exertion,

or looking for a mate,

it perches there, but does not sing.

Motionless it seems to eye

the heraldic Liverbird, trapped

in stone, at the top of our house.

The Liverbird eyes it back

but neither of them fly.

I beg my brother to rescue

our bird, to bring it back,

but he says no, the tree’s

too old, too high, too risky.

But I know I’ll get my way.

A white rayon bomber jacket,

camouflage combat trousers.

He shins up, above my head,

clambers, scrambles and silhouettes

against the summer sky.

I stand below and look up

to my daring brother; amazed

by how he moves, his grace.

My brother above me; proud

to climb all the way

to the branch where it landed

at the top of the dead oak.

Tired from his exertion,

or looking for his prize,

he perches there, but does not speak.

Motionless he seems to eye

the mechanical bird, trapped

in the tree. Grabs it, grips, teeters, slips;

silently they fall together

and neither of them fly.

Scrap

2007-06-05T11:47:00.001+01:00

A torn shred of paper
with your number on
I let it fall, into the bin

Pulling hair and scratching
skin I fight but know
I will not win

Toss aside the rusted
iron the bed-end post
the shattered spoiler

Delete the words
that I have written
start over, from the top

Stick with glue the glossy
pictures from magazines
a book of memories

Applique and sew a quilted
cover to snuggle under
from fabrics we once wore

Corral

2007-06-05T11:36:00.000+01:00

Corral scraped my foot and cut me with its grey surface of dead colour, pinks and tangerines once there are matted with a lifeless hue of granite, graphite. Hues of blues and turquoise dancing waters ripples over faded gold and gone now into darkened depths are the stories that these creatures told. Pitted like the surface of the moon, craters rutted raped of grace, and any thread of life there was which scattered tangents of arcing light and sparkled glory to my sight has dulled through touch and tourists treading there. Crimson slices on soles now bare the mark of death that once was life.

Intoxicated Snail

2007-05-31T23:11:00.000+01:00

After a night half drowned
in cheap lager
swollen belly, bloated body,
sunk deeper in alcohol than
you expected,
unable to float
twisting up, searching for
the surface
turning, swirling
your full frilled silver skirt
silken sheen of slavered skin.
Aquatic dancer. I lifted you
carried you up the concrete
path to a drier place
where you lay swollen
within the spiraling walls
of your swaying home.
Antennae drooped, senses dulled
Sobriety stolen.
You spewed a pool
of what you drank last night
a slow resurrection
out of the influence.
Reformed to what you were
before, only slightly
worse for wear
from your malted barley lite.
Before you left you stretched
out your feelers to navigate
your next heading,
a new direction.
You slinked off silently, leaving
in your trail a wet reminder
that you were here.

Plum Tomato

2007-05-21T12:01:00.000+01:00

I hold you in my palm,
larger that the cherry
I am used to touching.
I look down on bulbous stomach,
thin skin taut over shivered flesh.
Navel, crusted, sinks deep
with generosity. But colder
than I can bear. I am not tempted
to suck your wet seeds,
your juices tasteless, frigid chill.
I slice, I cut you up
to quicken the warming,
and I find inside the red
heart of your matter.

Confession

2007-05-17T13:27:00.000+01:00

I know your secret,
the one you tried to hide
inside your handbag.
You know this.

I know your secret
hiding place, empty bottles
behind the laundry.
You don't know this.

You made me promise
not to tell about the secret
inside your handbag.
You know I know.

But I made no promise
not to expose my own,
found behind the laundry.
You don't know I know.

Should I tell my secret?
Who should I tell it to?
I admit my confusion,
confess my dilemma.

You know me,
and I know you.

Stretch

2007-05-16T23:29:00.000+01:00

Bend yourself to me
I'm not far away from you
We can bridge the gap

Rapture eggshell

2007-05-16T23:05:00.000+01:00

Rapture eggshell repugnant smell
of sulphur red headed stick thin
single without double chin.
Capture redundant hell of
wordless useless unnamed blues-days
losing count of calendar crosses.
Aperture on my shutter fast
spring cast faultless bowls of stir fried
chicks wingless flight tossed in a wok.
Nature for the untimely air
the rotten leaves heady misted
rains mingle mud-scent in my nose.
Nurture your daughter she is having
nightmares within the life you are
killing ticks on the vodka clock.

(Pantoum 3)

2007-05-08T12:16:00.000+01:00

A chattering rainfall on the sea

A thousand screaming tethered songs

Drowned out by waters rushing free

Aqua airfare streamside throngs

A thousand screaming tethered songs

A drumming chorus, wing-side trounce

Aqua airfare streamside throngs

A flaring troupe of feathered flounce

A drumming chorus, wing-side trounce

A raging crimson salience

A flaring troupe of feathered flounce

Looking glasses’ evanescence

A raging crimson salience

Mascara-dark and teary mist

Looking glass’s evanescence

The Gods cry out that they exist

Mascara-dark and teary mist

Drowned out by waters rushing free

The Gods cry out that they exist

A chattering rainfall on the sea

(Pantoum 2)

2007-05-08T12:14:00.001+01:00

A chattering rainfall on the sea

A thousand screaming tethered songs

Drowned out by waters falling free

Aqua airfare streamside throngs

A thousand screaming tethered songs

A flaring troupe of feathered flounce

Aqua airfare streamside throngs

A drumming chorus, wing-side trounce

A flaring troupe of feathered flounce

Rouge-grind glitz-splits to outrage

A drumming chorus, wing-side trounce

As Fishnet flick-kicks off the stage

Rouge-grind glitz-splits to outrage

Looking glasses’ evanescence

As Fishnet flick-kicks off the stage

Their energetic salience

Looking glasses’ evanescence

Drowned out by waters falling free

Their energetic salience

A chattering rainfall on the sea

(Pantoum 1)

2007-05-08T12:09:00.000+01:00

A chattering rainfall on the sea

A thousand screaming tethered songs

Drowned out by waters falling free

Aqua airfare streamside throngs

A thousand screaming tethered songs

A drumming chorus, wing-side trounce

Aqua airfare streamside throngs

A flaring troupe of feathered flounce

A drumming chorus, wing-side trounce

Glisten mirror’s evanescence

A flaring troupe of feathered flounce

Their energetic salience

Glisten mirror’s evanescence

Drowned out by waters falling free

Their energetic salience

A chattering rainfall on the sea

Woven

2007-05-07T13:31:00.000+01:00

Woven threads of memory heads dozens of happenings before we are dead bewitched in the window of refracted light the reflections of what's wrong or right the question of the biggest answer the movement of a static dancer the gravitated pause of hover a stilted breeze a whispered breath a repugnant perfume drifting over the sky line a fragrance that can intertwine with braided plaited cross stitched hairs resembled dozing of sleeping scares a wedded hitch a knotted thought a rejected reaction of what's long, or tight, the answer to the biggest question the stillness of a romantic chancer a masticated nauseated offer jilted wheezing weft.

-seeks-

2007-05-06T01:35:00.000+01:00

jelly compote - - - - - - rests - - - - - - - - rising peel
sweet cucumber - - - - finds - - - - - - - willing smile
milled sawdust - - - - - dreams - - - - - - coffee grinds
volcano sleep - - - - - - - rise - - - - - grapefruit mind

When You Laugh

2007-05-06T01:17:00.000+01:00

When you laugh fingernails
sweet chicken dreams
slide sapphires in my ladybug.
My hair rests,
Softest composing seaweed.

Butterfly

2007-05-06T01:15:00.000+01:00

Piercing proboscis
Sucker sweeter pinker drink
Through a flutter-straw

Buckle-Down

2007-05-06T01:13:00.000+01:00

Buckle-down
Through lusty back-strain
Rooted stinking bellied attraction
Her frock swish explosion pain
Frantic precious ripened tongue
Grimy gobbled sordid swooshes
Later curses him in verse
Hunter-Flowering
Shifty neglect said
Buckle-Up

Glitter Heat

2007-05-05T18:04:00.000+01:00

Glitter heat springs under feet
sparkled concrete slabs
like scattered jewels
shattered gems in littered streets
broken glass from last nights
party-dash vomit splashes
the paving corners like Pollock's
canvas, guttsy colours spew
and drip from dribbled dabbled chins
for all to view in re-born morning
dew day squares itself to face
an audience of non-believers
unforgivers whilst crusted livers
languish unaware in their messed up
beds of red-wine hue
the streets they paint
an unbecoming portrait of your youth
ever binging on sponging white
sweet seeded buns and minced entrails
of battery cow gorging on
yeasted love and forging bonds
and feasting wrongs their chanting
songs scatter and slash upon sleeping
weeping walls and tower blocks
of party frocks drunken ranting
rambling fumbling in narrow alleys
and dim-lit doorways
stilted life of future pairs
and looked upon by closed eye stares

River Engulfed

2007-05-04T14:23:00.000+01:00

River engulfed me brought me down
through bubbles sodden with water drenched
holding stench and weeded failings
drowned my thoughts until
they sheltered me in troubles
wrenched from long past
seeded small those memories grew
the reminiscent thoughts of you
which crowded current waves
of new and splashed their lashings
round my eyes then nothing
new could then surprise
the frown that wrinkled on my brow
like fingers long in washing tub
those staying longer than a rub
and dehydrate at last
the turbulence of past.

Brought Down

2007-05-04T14:18:00.000+01:00

Fluid flighted ease
Inelegant fall from grace
Caution of Landing

My Question

2007-05-04T13:12:00.000+01:00

My question is - What is life all about?

When I was young I thought life was a thrill

but time persists and with it growing doubt.

Decisions made, some good, some not, throughout

my destined fate, my fortune or freewill.

My question is - what is life? All about

me people pray and sing and sin and shout

some fight for freedom, some protest, some kill

time. I persist and with my growing doubt

advance my quest for what I am without.

Yet answers I’ve been given don’t fulfil

my question: Is what Is; Life’s all about

living; Work-hard play-hard; Check-in check-out;

and others say: we’re here to do God’s will.

But time persists. And with this growing doubt

increasing need fades in but won’t fade out.

I know there is a reason and yet still

my question is what? Is life all about

time persisting with my growing doubt?

Rat Casement

2007-05-03T18:36:00.000+01:00

rat casement
crowded basement
crusted musted hoard misplacement
scuttled by a lullaby that drifts
inside your need to pry
the lace of wasted cobwebs lifts
inside the breeze of whisper-cry
places filled with ground down rust
the spaces where you moved are cased in dust

Mildew Stalker

2007-05-03T18:18:00.000+01:00

Mildew Stalker, lazy day time walker the song of all the tellering and thinking gossipy bring the fingerling earthling ring, the heckle to the hiding Hiding the binding foot brocade the steps you never made as you were lifted up without your shoes with bended toes and passion throws you limp your thoughts despite your oxen who showers you with admiration became he has a foot fascination. Fascination of some duration on going song to sing the ring time pattern rhyme all on time to kill my mime the pointed prose of daffodils and tulips mouths say oh and oh and sway to the breeze bringing bottle up dreams of the helicopter's blades in the grass of days.

Birth

2007-05-03T17:11:00.000+01:00

day
breaks
into
my water
world breaks into day
my water breaks into your world

Mother's Knotted Sweetness

2007-05-03T16:23:00.000+01:00

She kept flowers
folded in her memory.
Used a scented pillowcase,
her fragrance plaited peacefully.

Hot-Air Balloon

2007-05-03T16:21:00.000+01:00

Suspended forces;
Gravity resistant heat.
Temporal Pauses.

Narrative of Memory

2007-05-03T14:29:00.000+01:00

Into the distorted truth of half forgotten memories; into the rubble of shattered past, scattered shards of hardly any memory at all; into my supposed truth I step and stop and stoop to pick the pieces of nostalgic youth. I gather up my fractured facts, stack my stock of sentimental ramblings, give structure to my reverie and resurrect a child that could be me. Resistant to their version of events, I resent the tainted tales that they have told. I focus now on making new from old, on carving my account from what I know. I’m pushing out their piercing opposition, the splintered debris brushed aside; hushed inside the voice of my persistent point of view.

Fat

2007-05-03T14:11:00.001+01:00

Fat
Gorge
Consume
Ingestion
Saturated death
Addiction to obesity

Fib

2007-05-03T14:10:00.001+01:00

Fib
Lie
Mislead
Deception
Factual disguise
Compulsive concealing of truth

Fib poem

2007-05-03T14:05:00.000+01:00

A Fib is a poem of any number of lines, but which must follow a syllable count in each line based on the Fibonacci Series. Therefore syllables in each line are:
1
1
2
3
5
8
13
21
34...

Oppression River

2007-05-01T20:28:00.000+01:00

Impression river, depression shimmering in the light that is falling form the purple bad blue night drowsing in the sky of offerings that colds may advance and skipping by they light the way for gulls sleeping mews and soft is the sound of the distills blues, they sing it here where the yachts tinkle in the wind the breeze is their backing and they sough through the boughs of the bouts bows and rigs

Wet Water's Wet Water

2007-05-01T20:17:00.000+01:00

I plunge my buoys and all the pool floats south;
I insert my baths and all is lunge again.
(I undress I deny you up inside my lust.)

The languishs go replying out in slippery and pale turquoise,
And plashing dream relys in:
I cry my eye and all the sea deserts sand.

I drowned that you digressed me into dust
And shrink me drenched, laughed me quite crust.
(I undress I deny you up inside my lust.)

ocean thinks from the rust, corner's hands bathe:
split sky and lotion's eye lids:
I cry my eye and all the sea deserts sand.

I splashed you'd wallow the way you flounder,
But I skip dusty and I wrap your hands.
(I undress I deny you up inside my lust.)

I should have triped a finger instead;
At least when tower rips they trap back again.
I cry my eye and all the sea deserts sand.

(I undress I deny you up inside my lust.)

- Janine & Sylvia Plath

Intricate Knife's intricate knife

2007-05-01T19:25:00.000+01:00

"I slices my thoughts and all the here wass patterned;
I destroyed my wounds and all is scattered again.
(I bites I slices you up inside my neck.)

The stich go smilesing out in pink and battered,
And scarred thought wass in:
"I slices my heres and all the wound wass patterned;

I destroyeded that you scattereded me into neck
And bites me wine dark, slicesed me quite patterned.
(I bites I slices you up inside my neck.)

I wass from the stich, thought's heres destroyed:
Exit wound and you's neck:
"I slices my heres and all the wound wass patterned;

I scattereded you'd bites the way you said,
But I slices old and I was your name.
(I bites I slices you up inside my neck.)

I should have hered a wound instead;
At least when neck destroyeds they scattered back again.
"I slices my heres and all the wound wass patterned;

(I bites I slices you up inside my neck.)

- Janine & Sylvia Plath

Cocoon Flows

2006-09-29T01:29:00.000+01:00

Cocoon flows and away she blows the nicotine side the fondling of modicum dim clowns nose is red and blown away by the outrageousness significantly of the juggling high away and the night on the back of a horse juggling fire

fir crackers are the light of the night and they sprawls like the stars that blanket osprey thaw eground of narrow heater and joking long oaths the flour rolls dewy hoes and four by fours in the window boards slats doors floating hours and hour safe times sliding by the ventilation boards covering the grills with window sills and slamming the gulls that fly over the brown sands hops toughened thrills

Ocean Frost Mermaids

2006-09-27T18:54:00.000+01:00

Ocean frost mermaids pervade the invading hem way of the shores of thought that I am currently experiences they yawner solemn the going to and from the islands of brain activity and the links they make beaten past present and passive;y future wader the links of memory and two things that make me

make me think of going home to the rolling plop of vanity where I sit cat like in the heather vanes of dispelled flouting hours that forgo the words that \i can narrate and a brutal killing spree of doing nothing whilst thinking I am doing overhand g hedging by ways that terror eastwards in thy heather and lilac inks the very moon that lights unify the earth her fledglings jars the dawns for ever brooding the waver thin dignitary of sound and minuet

Nocturne Ice

2006-09-26T23:50:00.001+01:00

Nocturne Ice and almost space twice the brutal lightly nightly happenings of governed wings and floating things that over ride the oven govern above the bright way that I say there is no day today only the right way that you are the one joking about he going home time joking about the joined by line and the rhyming rhyme that a poem is the only sublime things that route away and wartime it today going honey above the glowing flowers taut do nothing bee don;t smoke the waking ink goats of rover boat the doubting spanker of the way side broad shed fly by the bang hand hand out the rungs hound the brood surfeit the bean sprout there are ways to be able to kill ones polished boiling potatoes and there are falling hairs the drawn';t light upon the cackling joke of your skin in the oven of the boiling hob now that road had been blocked and flocking the roof of going by polish vans drowning the hoping of the peaceful spoke twilight bothering trout

drought can take you to a watery place in your head and a dry place in your mouth your soil is dehydrated atoned here is less passion that you ought to have and less creativity backwash you body can not cope with the touched of the lack of water antitrust wise you are dying and you to denude a drink and the previewing replenishing life giving thing that ripples repeatedly through the thought's of your day and night widows infra lapping to bring a bottle of manorial and not carbonated to the hot hot places where you live

Seashell Green

2006-09-25T12:33:00.000+01:00

Seashell green it is more than I have seen in my obscured language vision of everlasting dreams and nightmares fanatics
fantasy in the garden of delights windup rights that are for ever plinking untrue the gardens pushed and blowers bloom all over the serene grasses and the waving leaves in the party land where I once dance in happiness and the effervescence nooks of the rain falling onto cob webs glowing in the daily morning dew of you
you are natty things I want eat you to be you have turned out to be a corrupted memory an faintest of something made up in my head untrue world another life and escape route so that the royalty does not have to be faced and dwelt with any long team is passive;e and the stray can have a happy ending when I life in a monologues technological ever plagioclase world of make believe

Wild Lady Bugs

2006-09-24T19:10:00.000+01:00

wildlady bugs me to death no end of the bugging she does it drones on monotonously ike a chattering rainfall onto the sea and the silence of the dragons chattered by that sound there are birds here by the thousand screaming there tethering songs in the airfare unitary three platform they drown out the sound of the trains arriving and departing and they never go anywhere else other than here at night
night is darkness and noise trouncing salience but if you open the innate the sounds of the marina come flocking offer your head like shallow moons drafts over the stars and a blanket of streamside shimmying where no one else can swim

dazzle sad

2006-09-23T14:39:00.000+01:00

dazzle sad are you mad I am mad and I am not sure that you will understand away that is but it is as it is and I am not sure that I agony do this so you will not know what you are reading and I a don;t know what I am getting into with this things and its in me to do it but there are hairs in my head by the butterfly bringing nothing but butter and fat and lard to the new list of warfare noises and toy sound of my key board while I am towing something that I don't know will say what I an really think wing of or doing but this is an experience in word gyration and it could be an hesitating possibilities of chaos and sounds sights thinking brains are screwed up it is too

too much pressure to write hideout surrounding and too much pressure to know that this will be read by common when I am finished with it there are scary things out there in the world and this is toned the squarest at all but there are pears in all of us which we have to face

word play c-rea-tions

2006-09-23T13:14:00.000+01:00

Automatic writing, or free writing, is directed by the unconscious mind. It is done quickly and without judgement, writing whatever comes to mind, unedited, uncorrected and uninhibited.

For word play c-rea-tions I will:

1. begin with a random prompt

2. produce text through automatic writing

3. begin a new paragraph using the last word of the previous sentence if the flow of text is interupted

4. manipulate the created text through 'incorrect' selection of words via spell-checker. ie where a typo occurs and is highlighted by spell-checker I will not select the intended word but a different one

5. sometimes further manipulate the text using word-play techniques or as a basis for re-drafting into more focused form of creative writing

6. have fun playing