18 Apr 2020 Category: zines
Malaka Gharib shared how to create a little 8-page zine about the whole COVID 19 situation, so I joined in last week. It came out surprisingly sincere. It really helped clarify my reaction to the whole situation.
18 Apr 2020 Category: poetry
When I landed I felt the weight
of myself rush back into my body
like water through an open dam.
I was thankful for no longer
being a raindrop. I saw the sky
as an ocean we swim through daily.
When I landed I felt the spinning
of the planet under my shaking feet,
a constant treadmill, a dizziness.
I understood it was always this way.
When I landed I felt the breeze
stroke my skin and breathed in
all the blooms of the world.
For a second I...
17 Apr 2020 Category: poetry
My former body is discarded over
a plastic chair, abandoned to
numbness. Now I am these walls,
the vending machine in the corner
humming its constant mantra,
the flicker of that strip light
spelling out a morse code psalm,
the runes of mould creeping over
each ceiling tile. Aeons vanish.
I try to affect some small change.
Three thousand years or thereabouts
pushing at the door, another hundred
attempting to disturb the leaflets
which remain stubbornly motionless.
So this is eternity, the room thinks,
16 Apr 2020 Category: poetry
Between worlds the shine of the sea,
the light that marks the dividing line
between our world and our neighbours.
We see reflections of what we could be-
our limbs rippling, our throats opening
our eyes wide and dark, our skin slick
like oil. The salt crusting over our lips,
covering bare shoulder blades which almost
poke through the skin, sodium crystals
becoming scales. Our laughter now visible,
rebounding off submerged landmasses.
How we, stranded above, long to let
the glimmer into our lungs, breathe in
the perfection of...
15 Apr 2020 Category: poetry
Your library is now scattered.
Yellowing paperbacks you found
by chance in second-hand markets,
hardbacks with messages inscribed
on the first page, the much read,
the dogeared, the pristine copies,
the underlined, all now are removed
from your shelves and returned back
to the world. Those words were always
loaned. Given the absence of you,
the catalogue that arranged the spines,
we dispersed piles to charity shops,
disintegrated each memory and each
sentimental gift. Your neurons too,
were always borrowed, now separated
14 Apr 2020 Category: poetry
Purple clouds transform and jitter
over the emerald sky. My limbs
are sprawled over silicone grass
as I observe butterflies flit in
and out of existence. Everything
is as it should be. Idly, I conduct
the morning, my arm leaving blurs
behind like a paintbrush. Memories
of another world, similar to this
one but seen through a petrol spill,
congeal at the edges of my vision.
I shake my head free. Leave me here, in this field suffused with scents of burnt cinnamon, with the...
13 Apr 2020 Category: poetry
After Sei Shonagon
Sunflowers in November.
A hospital before the backup
generator kicks in after
the breakdown of negotiations
between selfish men, far away.
Nebulae the size of our
solar system in colours
unimaginable and invisible.
at low tide. Those discarded
phones that lie in a drawer,
former luxuries, former heights
of technology that collect dust
and wait to be useful again.
The wind after a storm.
A warlord sat by themselves
on a plastic chair, in a
featurless room, waiting.
Those three am thoughts.
12 Apr 2020 Category: poetry
You will need a clear night, far
from the city’s illuminated fears,
when the dust from the milky way
almost floats down around you.
You will need patience. The lucky
ones wait their whole lives just
to hear a single deep syllable,
one that echoes through their body,
into the dark caverns of the self,
shaking the silver wings of secrets.
Understand the hills are fickle,
there is never any guarantee.
Take your thickest coat. The nights
are unforgiving. Take a thermos,
for a link to your waking life.
11 Apr 2020 Category: poetry
the message of every saturated
Saturday morning American import,
a call to action to try and fix
a world held together by outlines
and acetate cells, giving children
the promise of powers, illusions
of movement, simplified solutions.
Not every problem can be solved
with laser beams or mind control.
Villains are not obvious, no dark
suits, no laughter or eyes glowing
red like dead stars. They live
among us, changing each second, by
each action, no masks but sometimes
transforming into heroes then back.
10 Apr 2020 Category: erasure poetry
Quick one done the other evening, made from the review pages of Crack magazine, March 2020
10 Apr 2020 Category: poetry
Pious parsons pass pyres,
proclaim pretty prayers,
preach possessed portents.
Paratroopers portion parcels,
permit parsimony, paucity,
Police poach previous privacy,
pass physical perturbation-
Priveledges perish. Pinch
People possess perseverance.
postpone panic. Patience.
Prompt was ‘P’ from Poetry at the time of being alone group.
09 Apr 2020 Category: poetry
The destination displays are corrupted
again. Carriages and corridors converge
on the horizon, a lifetime’s walk away.
If you look to your left, you will
see the same wheat field repeated
endlessly, the blur devoid of detail.
Our mobile phones died decades ago. Good
books were bartered for the smallest
pleasures, perhaps a window seat, maybe
an air vent that isn’t clogged with dust.
We have a selection of sandwiches
available in the buffet car; egg,
ploughman’s or gravel (no mayo).
Those who wander too far...
08 Apr 2020 Category: poetry
What is going on? I ask the
walls every sixteen minutes.
The plasterboard doesn’t reply
but without checking headlines
I know clouds are being pulled
across the sky on invisible
ropes. Right on cue, rain is
directed through pipes to fall.
Powered by vast hidden engines,
the waves are continuing their
metronome beat upon the sand.
Blooms are raised from trapdoors
and some complex set of gears,
ball bearings and levers is causing
our planet to spin forward and new
universes to be created every second.
07 Apr 2020 Category: poetry
As one, blades of grass sharpen,
becoming fields of swaying razors.
Dock leaves turn away in shame,
permitting nettle gangs to rule.
Branches weave themselves together,
contorting the pathway into knots.
Even the stream, usually so gentle,
screams vile curses as it cascades.
What are you doing here, the forest
asks, after everything you’ve done?
Prompt was “Blades of grass” From Lemondaisypoetry on Instagram and I immediately went for a bad pun, then built the rest from there
06 Apr 2020 Category: poetry
Marigolds bloom geometrically,
thriving under this square sun.
Dodecagon pupils dilate.
Today’s prompt from Amy Kay poetry was to write a Collum Lune, a form I was unfamiliar with before. It’s fun! Like a less rigid haiku.
advice 1 art 2 book review 12 books 1 creativity 13 erasure poetry 32 films 5 link round up 9 music 5 photos 25 plague notes 4 podcasts 1 poetry 121 politics 16 publications 16 stories 15 television 3 theatre 1 this was meant to be the future 10 update 1 writing 10 year in review 8 zines 2