30th May, 2017

It rained today, and oh boy! How it rained today! There is always something pretty immersive about torrential rain as it comes down in sheets. The word immersive may be tossed about both ways. Apart from literally doing what it implies, it severs all visual connection one has with the surroundings. With sheets of water shimmering which ever way one looks, the sense of isolation f...

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This melancholy fug
burrows into my bones
After delving back again
into those memories recounted
with such forensic clarity
Comes a cold blue atmosphere
a fragrant longing
and precision-tooled regret

Those searingly stark lines
old faces, wild flames
lost friendships resurrected 
I’m dropped back into the thick of things
Drifting through teenage streets
old freedoms, vintage fantasi...

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ive been invited to a party this saturday. 

i think i will go, 

i think i will get as drunk as i can. 

to feel the painful crushing weight of the sunday hangover. 

im going to act as if i am in a french film. 

i will tell each person a different lie, 

tell them something i've made up about myself. 

these people dont know me. 

dont know me at all. 

but whats more lik...

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I died yesterday

With a pen in one hand and a diary in the other. 

The latter's pages were inlaid 

With prints of my curry stained fingers, 

And splotches of tea, 

And smudges of ink, 

And spools of memories,

And streams of ridiculous cravings. 

I fashioned the contents with the loose threads 

I'd been stockpiling since forever. 

Vibrant, prismatic, but half-completed...

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10th October 2018

The radio speaks, it's daylight, I'm wakened

A momentary pause: consciousness beckoned

Sunlight on the trees says late Autumn Summer

More news on Brexit and the policy's dumber

The bins must be put out for the lorry

I had better get up, it's late and I'm sorry

There's news of a flood and a broke coffee chain

I'll email a poem to friends up the lane

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There is no good way to really start a poem
and by far
This is the third time I've tried to find a line to begin this
Which will never be the line that could best cooperate with myself
to get what I want. 

So I could start my push
into talking about several things
Like how literary poetry is so different in nature to slam poetry, and why I think
both are good
But one is fine art,...

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This Book Is Bound In Leather And Writ In Blood

this book

leather bound

once soft skin cover

now weathered and beaten

into cracked and ancient hide

that smells of cedar wood

once tightly bound

now coming apart

at the seams

its pages yellowing with age

some dog-eared

well worn

with a tracing finger

on the memories

others

stuck together

wi...

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