Poem: Sixty A Day
Sixty A Day Already so used to the smell of tobacco at six I barely notice it permeate every surface of her house every hair on her head, that always reminded me of Tina Turner. Tap, tap, tap, another butt...
Category: Writing
Poem and OctPoWriMo Update
First the poem; Symbiosis I’m pressing forward with questions and hours minutes and answer whatever you have I need and I will push for more. In this I am honest if nothing else. Existence is purposeless if I am to...
Poetry: I Say
I say crying is good for you a release of endorphins your mind and body sorely needs. It’s a lie. Crying hurts, his now more than mine, every tiny tear stings, and my head hurts and hear aches as if...
Fiction: Ack-Ack Girls
A peice of fiction about the women who manned the Anti-Aircraft weapons during WW2. It was late into the night but Gwen was still awake, listening to the thuds of the rain on the tin roof of the dormitory. Staring...
Poem: Discoveries
Discoveries I discover pieces over myself all over the place and time is taken to find all the words to explain it all. Those words are mine however for my understanding. I would be something non-existent if I must. Words...
Flash Fiction: Beach Pitstop
It’s been a little while since I wrote some fiction and any Kara and Etta stuff. So here is a little bit to get me going. “Do all beaches look like this?” They’d been travelling for a while now, through...
Poet Vs Writer
I’ve been watching an argument (debate does not cover it) in a writing facebook group I’m a member of about why poets call themselves writers. At first, I found this really insulting. While I don’t think the original poster meant...
Poem: Summer Soundtrack
I remember a good summer bright with promise, crushes and sex, my memory nebulous a floating soundtrack to the sun. If only I could remember more. Not every winter was barren, not every summer bright, it’s on the edge of...
