Puppets

A Ya Du poem

December moon
shines so soon on
quiet poon where life
ends by knife slice
for a passing sacrifice.

Soon wails will rise
as Levis once
a prize are found
as rags bound to
limbs dancing for bunraku.

Police will come
but play dumb as
they numb justice
with bribe’s kiss so
next moon you dance death’s tango.

Cold hope

 The children looked forlornly looked out of the window on test day. Fake sick notes hadn’t got past parents so that was the twins plan bombed. William just prayed for the chance of snow. Mary was hoping that the little accident with the engine would mean a stay home-it wouldn’t.

Play hard, win hard

'When he gets to the South American sales figures throw in the question about the Sans Marie metals deal, it will stop him dead.’
           Anne’s business dealings matched what she was in bed - dirty, slow and then a hot finish.
           Today was going to her finest hour and her last.

Two poems on stuff

A Etheree

Growing up too soon

Stuff

at home;

memories

of times gone by.

Beaches, stately homes,

wet museum days out.

Lay-by pop and cake picnics

when bees chased jam. Was mum ill then?

Did her dancing mask the rotting decay?

My childhood packed away before it’s time.

A Lanturne

My

childhood

thankfully

car-boot sales stuff

now.

The night begins

The blood was wiped from the knife as from a new born babe with great delicacy and loving care. Its handle was brought up to the lips kissed and wrapped in a new white cloth. Placed in the cradle of a bag, he was ready for another night of purifying.

Three poems on friendship

A Clarity Pyramid

FRIENDS

muckers

companions

strangers met by chance,

the ones who stopped, stood by

became fellow travellers

“a medicine for what life throws”

A Diamante

Friend

warm-hearted, hospitable

obligating, praising, warming

steadfast, open, false, fair-weather

judging, betraying, warring

bitter, vicious

Enemy

A Haiku

companions sit

all day shadows dance around

words rest on tongues

The last Goodbye

The warmth of the body leaves slowly.

He had spent 50 years next to her. They had laughed in that bed, heard the first and last cries of children, forgiven and let lie.

In the morning, the questions, the cries but tonight was their last embrace. His tears could wait.

We all have to start at the beginning

‘Get you own dinner then’ The door slammed and footsteps stumped away.

‘I will then and don’t think I can’t,’ muttered Sam.

Finding the chops he followed his vague memory of how mum grilled them..

As he explained later on the phone, ‘the firemen were really cool with the fire.’

A different beat

The Pine stood majestic in the forest with its garland of human heads as below the tribe danced praying to the god of the forest. One day he would be shiny silver shadow in a corner, a passing joy. But today he drank the blood of his enemies and rejoiced.

What you sow shall you reap

The teenagers stood in the cave of the ancestors. This day they become men.

The tribal elders came in quietly and stood in a row and then started the ancient chant, ‘when this bunker opens between sunrise and sunset to which the teenagers responded, ‘the war on terror is won.’

The wages of sin

The man at the bar looked up and sipped his drink before asking ‘

are the flowers for the old lady.’

I nodded nursing my scotch.

‘Don’t make the mistake I did,’ he said getting up to go.

‘They know what you were up to if they see a price tag.’

The man who talked

They were shocked. He had talked to them using words, like they were primitives who couldn’t telepath. Telling them to talk among themselves: it was dirty, crude and so physical. But as original as you would expect from an artist who wrote books with words.

They voted him the winner.

Let the train take the strain

Floods stopped the train.George heard the announcer explain that buses would now complete the journey. At the station he was one of three-hundred people in monsoon like rain. When buses did arrive George became part of the mob leaving the weak and loaded to struggle.

His descent shocked him.

Slimmers Woes

What they say: How lovely, crisp bread with salmon. I am feeling so much healthier now.

What they think: Sod this for a lark, who wants a miserable thin old age. Die young with a smile on your face, I say. Bring on the Turkey roast dinner with cranberry relish.

The easy path ain’t always the shortest

‘Man why are you always putting me up against these empty cans.’

'You know the score; the quickest way to get to the slam final is to have zero losses,’ said Pete. The sap, we are building the odds to make millions when he gets ass kicked in the final.

A moral tale

A boy got stung by nettles and ran crying to his mum. She was one of these hippy types bleating whatever you do, do with all your might.

‘Hold them tight.’ she advised ‘and you won’t be hurt.’
He did and died of Anaphylactic shock.

Sometimes if you can’t, don’t.

Who dreams for you?

Dad worked hard, His family came first. If he had to work two jobs to pay bills he did. No matter how tired he was he would always help me when I struggled with school work. Stroking my frowns away he would whisper ‘always follow the sun.’ I miss him.

Love lingers

On moonlit nights when the forest shimmers with winter frost, she comes. The bells of her dress jingle and peal to the tempo of her dance; on some days slow, on others like a country jig. A Queen dancing until a love returns although she be dead these many years.

Living Corpse

Land, for you and I, is the backcloth to our pleasure, a living picture for us to take stock in and weigh up the measure of our life. For the Brines, it was a living flesh ripe for tearing and slicing; fit only for consumption and the power it gave.

Ban the Fat

‘I tell you I heard it on Oprah.’

‘Get out of here that is so no.’

‘It’s true, she was talking to some Washington big shot who said things were so crazy that making it illegal was tomorrow’s way.’

‘Well, no pork barrel big-shot is zapping me with Dietary Laws.‘

Be the first step

I hate my neighbour

Be the change

I drive rather then walk

Be the change

I work rather then live

Be the change

I eat what comes

Be the change

I talk rather then listen

Be the change

I let the poor walk by

Be the change

Do it now

In this moment

The soft tick-tock of the wall clock counters the intermittent click of the typewriter as outside ambulances wail and fade. As I pause for a bite of shortcrust mince-pie, its spices kiss my nose; the rough texture contrasting with the keyboard smooth. And the white paper fills with black words.

Cold memories

It was always the grey November sky with their dank mists, rotting leaves and the caws of birds unseen that makes the memories scratch and scrabble back. I am running and falling; they are screaming, yelling and getting nearer. My heart shakes. A hand looms and my childhood is over.

The Reader

‘Be warned this book has a long sinister history.’ said Warren. ‘Born of clay when Ur still nestled in Euphrates mouth; it lived on papyrus under Anenemhet I watchful eye. In late Rome, renegade Monks scratched it on parchment, ready for the day when Caxton could print it in secret.’

Love’s weathervane

I dread his sandpaper touch
I love her princesses’ skin
I dread his sea stench
I love her freshness
I dread his oak taste
I love her summer flavour
I dread his monotones
I love her footsteps
I dread his shadow
I love her spaces
‘Hello love, a good day?’

A Dreamer

When I slumber life’s good
Men tremble at my waking
Debrecen burns in the night
Hymen rip at my taking

Tacitus fooled into battle
Covetous of thrones lost
Fortuitous fate smiles
Coitus interruptus riposte

Wakeful to life greys
Doleful bedclothes cast off
Slothful discards raked
Vengeful hopes do a Romanov

Fresh Produce

‘I have come for the position,’ said Tom fresh from the Poorhouse.

‘Let me look at you,’ grunted the cook wiping her stained apron, ‘the last lad could only last a week. Hmm you’ll do, with a bit of fattening-up.’
.
That week’s supply of meat bleeds in the larder

A Fool’s Errand

With half an ear on the breathless lecturer- ‘for enchantment protection… the lark uses grass… but the crow… uses withy’- Gawain rushed out to the Eagles.

Glancing down on the moving dots, he held on tight as clouds enveloped him.

Looking up Hedith, whispered, ‘the fool.’ Her plan was working.

A memory lingers

The door slammed and footsteps faded. On the radio the world without us was playing, our song; the song I died to.

‘I don’t like this room, it’s too faded. Rip it out but keep the period radio,’ Mary says ticking her list.

I remain for footsteps and our song.

The secret to being a writer is that you have to write

Interesting New Scientist article(Article Preview How to be a genius 15 September 2006) that reveals what a genius is. Get down to around 10 years of hard work, and have a mentor to inspire you and you will get the intuitive insights that others call genius

The good/bad news for all us budding writers is write, write and write! See Nanowrimo to get started. In short write a book in 30 days and enter the annual competition of the National Novel Writing Month. This is a fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to novel writing. Participants begin writing November 1. The goal is to write a 175-page (50,000-word) novel by midnight, November 30.

Because of the limited writing window, the ONLY thing that matters in NaNoWriMo is output. It's all about quantity, not quality. The kamikaze approach forces you to lower your expectations, take risks, and write on the fly.

Make no mistake: You will be writing a lot of crap. And that's a good thing. By forcing yourself to write so intensely, you are giving yourself permission to make mistakes. To forgo the endless tweaking and editing and just create. To build without tearing down.

Only nine more years and you are made.

---

Hired Help

Tom was hired to cut the grass. A big man like a skittle, he did the penguin walk when his trousers crutch drooped to his knees. People laughed until they saw his look.

As Harry the grass was cut, he wished it was death he could see in Tom’s eyes.

The Prisoner

When the cell doors close, the hard man act falls away, first in the face that weeps tiredness and then in the body as it sags: the hard stomach bulges, the shoulders bend inwards and finally the fingers creak from a sleeping fist to a hand hungry for loving touches.

Check with the owner first

What made me spew my coffee wasn’t so much Mavis sitting down and whispering into my ear that she saw Angels. That I could live with. It was what a sixty year old woman way past her sell-by-date was doing with her right hand to my meat and two veg.

The first or last step in the novel

The boy stood at the Dancehall. It was in darkness, a sort of blessing as he was listening, not distracted by people.

In the dark the coyote howls. Yet with the wind it's like the dead wailing for a ghost highway.

He waits, the woman not he begins the adventure.

Hear the wind and taste the sky

I heard the lemon sunburst of Blackbirds singing.

I tasted the cream of winter sun so different from the coffee of summer.

I touched the coarse cotton of lamb cooking on a slow roast.

I smelt the butterscotch of her loving touch.

I saw thunder like a pebble in water.

The ruinous Railway

The speaker droned …‘the line will run through Box Hill by constructing the longest tunnel hitherto built in…’ but was interrupted when a tall bearded man stood up to shout, ‘poppycock sir, no man will endure the noise in the tunnel twice.’

Lord Young smiled, the canal claque was begun.

First love of 1970

Learning to lose at sweet sixteen
with “needs manual” on the money.
Oxford bags kill for disco queen:
green eyes and a laugh like honey.

Votes for teenagers lost in fog
of feelings grated as gunny.
Yes! She is my Love Story snog:
green eyes and a laugh like honey.

Naked flesh beyond book risqué
Which bit where? Why? Beyond funny.
Lost to rougher hands my chambray
green eyes and a laugh like honey.

Learning to lose at sweet sixteen
green eyes and a laugh like honey

Whose trick, whose treat?

 

Opening the door my hello is still born. Stunned my eyes follow the trail of shoes, bra’s, shirt, knickers through the hall to the living room where my son stands in that dress we got for his girlfriend.

Seeing my face, he laughs saying ‘chill out mum it’s for Halloween.‘

Senyru on meat and meet themes

Oh how the mighty have fallen

supermarket meat
once angus beef for bankers
now scrag-end and tripe

Making friends

on meeting strangers
americans yearly earnings
english the weather

Marsha goes to town

Legs like planed tree trunks, hugged by a dress wannabe belt and a low cut top grasping in pillow breasts. Marsha was a girl with confidence higher then a skunk on heat. Shaking things tight she took a walk into the room sending her hello in like a supersonic boom.

Castles in the Sand

The Aspen grove sheltered a pool. The red and gold autumn leaves reflected where the pool was open to the sky. No birds sang in that grove or air moved. Time slept. Only a hero could bring life and break the curse. Nerus, struggling in the pig-pen wasn’t that hero…yet.

All women are good

Being late saved her. Coming up the street, she saw the house explode into a rising scream of fire. Stopping would mean a bullet in her head or worse so she drove on only seeing video game scenery.

I was to be her way out only we didn’t know that.

Love me, Love me not

So you know about young people. They go to gigs, get drunk, and brag about dates Think again, I covered for a drunk mother from 11, lied for her, hid her bottles, cried myself asleep afraid if “they” found out. Forget about young love, meeting Joy only made it worse.

The saving of Vera Jones

On the gramophone Wildwood flower fades into crackle and hiss as the needle arm moves to the side, drops and repeats. By the window, near the sofa, Vera lies slumped face down as she has for several hours. She will die soon but not before her wish is finely granted.

The Devil’s Tune

Face to face with the boyfriend who fucked my head up, called me scatterbrain, clown face, lard arse and worse... much worse. I was screaming and he laughs from his balcony belly so I used the gun and fired.

Guess what, he was right. I miss…from a foot I miss.

Dream Daddy

As I fall asleep I wonder about my daddy’s eyes.

Downstairs the TV thuds and dinner plates clatter. Poohy cabbage smells again. My teddy hot-water bottle keeps me warm and safe from the Lion who eats cold feet.

Would they be like mine? Would he know me if we met?

Perchance to paint

To Do

To do walls red or blue which warms the sun,
and gives the room a glow on grey days.
Buy the tin, change the tin or what?
Back to the charts and new tin
so lid off, dip brush in
Oh no the phone.
Oh I know...
Hmm, not
sure

Only the Rich are Poor

Once upon a time the Banks needed billions to keep alive because of the wicked poor.

The bad men who ran banks were sent home with only millions for comfort while companies died of money starvation.

Too poor to be wicked, too good to be rich, who bails me out?

Pays to take put insurance

rethink.

The tyrant with the blood of cities on his hands was dying. His monks told him Bliss awaited. Content he closed his eyes only to hear chants of rethink.

All those he had betrayed surrounded him in a great circle.


Bliss would come when he found someone who loved him.

The world renewed

return to normal


Survivors of the nuclear war woke up from aeons of stasis.

Seeing the renewed world some thought of what they could own or eat. Eyeing naked bodies others thought yummy or gosh. Anger remained strong but some grew indifferent. One knew best.

The Devil smiled at the return to normal

Love in the air

parent’s breathing love
sky full of whispers dancing
for children to pop

whose balloons

children smile easy
balloons wriggle and jiggle
parents secret joy

He has been

The Visitor

Whenever they detected the ability of atom weapons a visitor was sent in genetic disguise to live as a local. The task was to assess if this world protected or damaged the environment. Protected, the visitor revealed the truth of the Pax, if not they were left alone to wither.

winter balloon

strawberry and cream
balloons dance over snow fields giggles chase after

party day

L



freckles on a child
balloons jostle and break free
as eyes look skyward

Be careful what you wish for

I wish

“I always wish upon a star”, hissed sissy snake to anyone that would listen.

Sadly, if you did listen then you were her dinner-never breakfast as she disliked mornings.

One day a star fall out of the sky and killed her.

Toad croaked, “I too always wish upon a star.”