Archive for March, 2012

The thin veil

Saturday, March 31st, 2012

Petrol runs dry,
Country grinds quickly to a desperate halt,
Troops out.

The thin veil of civilisation,
Grab, rip, tear, anarchy exposed.

The toothache

Saturday, March 31st, 2012

Dull, jaw ache distracts
Tongue probes,a finger picks
Trapped morsels imagined

Petrol panic

Saturday, March 31st, 2012

Petrol panic, gullible queue thirty minutes for a thimbleful

Suburban skyline

Friday, March 23rd, 2012

Backlit grey clouds silhouetted on a charcoal suburban  landscape


Sunday, March 18th, 2012

Golden nature, lasting beauty,

forget at the peril of your soul.

The flower

Sunday, March 18th, 2012

Hues of pink on pale green stem,

fleeting beauty, unnatural purpose.


Saturday, March 10th, 2012

X21 years ago it was all you could do to keep me alive. I devoured your time, precious little bar a gurgle and brief smile in return; a flashing glimpse of the dynamic force I would become.

You fed me code, patched my wounds and watched me crawl, and boy did I crawl.

No faster than a slug in glue but still you persevered, knowing one day I would be up on my feet causing headaches for oldies as they sat sipping tea, reading newspapers and hardback books.

As a child I was everyone’s darling.

I was the future, the bright kid who would change the world. Everyone wanted to be part of it; the world invested in me.

But a darkness developed deep in my soul. Powerful unnatural urges bubbled under the surface, popping up briefly to be walloped, thankfully, down into the fires of hell.

Cleansed of the worst yet my rebelliousness persisted, dismissing each and every rule and social norm as a product of bygone era.

I could say what I liked.

I would take what I wanted, giving nothing in return.

I cowered behind my friends, hiding my face with a scarf and hood.

I shied away from social intercourse, preferring instead the solitude and comfort of my room, writing poisoned letters spitting bile at anyone I suspected of standing in my way.

I cared little for those I upset, for I was the young noble warrior riding a righteous path to battle; to correct injustice and slay the dragons of oppressive tyranny.

Yet I never signed by name, for deep down I knew. I knew I had to live to fight for a lifetime and beyond.

Though these years just behind me I cringe at my naivety, my teenage ideals. A decade shredding the rule book I now find myself piecing it together, re-establishing many of the principles taught by my parents.

Not that I can bring myself to admit this to them: Mum, Dad, you were right. Well mostly, for the newly reconstructed order isn’t quite a facsimile of the old institutions.

I’ve been a catalyst for obsolescence and a facilitator of innovation; a massive disruptive force connecting billions to each other and to a universe of knowledge; challenging, and, for the most part, improving global society.

And I’m only 21, or thereabouts.


We are moving him into retirement flats at the weekend

Monday, March 5th, 2012

We are moving him into retirement flats at the weekend. It’s a one way ticket. They never make it out again you know. Kiss goodbye to life pop. Sure we will turn up on a Sunday and take him for the occasional spin and he can walk to the post office to buy his paper. When you’re in that place you watch the other occupants die around you. One day you’re talking to them about heating bills and the next they’re gone. Bang! Dead! And then their family, if they have one, moves their stuff out and it all starts again. A new name to learn, and forget.

He isn’t that mobile these days. Sits at the window a lot looking at life passing by outside, thinking. He has a TV. It’s a new one. He had to get rid of the old museum piece because of the digital switchover. Likes a bit of a tipple too and used to get down the pub a bit though that’s mostly a thing of the past. Used to go for early doors with his mate but his pal’s not around anymore. I take him back there once in a while. It isn’t the same really. The staff have changed. Anyway he has a problem with booze now. Prostate.

We are moving him into retirement flats at the weekend. It’s for the best.


Saturday, March 3rd, 2012

Remove my specs and rub my eyes – a moment of relief
Run a hand through my hair – not too long but this morning feels as if it needs a cut
Coffee cup lies empty – froth clings to the sides
Cobwebs cling inside my head – specs need a clean

Around me people talk of escalators and computers and trousers at £9 from ASDA and interesting things from Skellingthorpe and a grandad looks after his boy and a phone rings in the distance