Category: writer

lockdown diary 555

I see it

all the boys with their isolation haircuts

some look like they’ve been scalped by a trapper looking for fur in the Appalachians

the 30,000 deaths I can’t count on a 100 hands

but at least love island has been cancelled

Swings and roundabout


go outside

swim in a pond

go and buy a hydrangea

keep the Aspidistra flying

Callum can’t wait for a cheeky Nando’s with the boys when this all blows over

I miss the sight of grown men shopping for tracksuits as fashion items

your mild alcoholism

a bloated liver

channel hopping between disasters overseen by fucking clowns

call the helpline if you’re effected by any of this

the numbers Klondike 555

milky ovaries

after two days in the trench I put my head over the parapet and they clean shot the cigarette straight from my lips

mud and grime

drying to cement

in my head

I returned home at night my wife said I’d changed

I was beginning to fade

to a grey facsimile of the person she fell in love with

— drained and washed of colour

a slow death in verdant Albion

full of lottery winners and knife victims

I still hadn’t written that novel

or made it to the edge of the continent

and in this new landscape

it was so easy to get lost like the blind tourist who feels his way around the world

finds his way back home by following the smell of cinnamon

the roar of traffic won’t put him off

the Doppler wail of the red fire engine moves around him


like flowing water

milky ovaries and we smoked autumn leaves in those days that failed to appear on a calendar

and the lunch time barber found a secret door in the back of my head

unlocked and looking in

he advised me of what he saw

500 families, forgotten memories and posters of David Bowie



Smoky MTN. 15.16.17. Ravine. 

Olympus 18.65N 226.2


bugs  in amber 

some form of cosmic grief

unleashed like Transylvanian bats 

download the app all calls have been re-routed

in his painting the water looked so cold

and so wet 

 the graffiti is illegible and it makes no sense         

 everything points to Orion       there are pyramids under the sea         

there are dead submarines

metal  bellies on the sea bed

I always carry a book

a pen

a bottle opener

a lighter, keys and

a knife 

be prepared 

just in case of emergency 

break glass                           escape 

but all your Boy Scout badges will not  help you now

fight or flight

the reptilian response to human actions 

pink chewing gum stuck on the seats      

do remember your first kiss

where your teeth clashed?

star crossed lovers

a couple

man and woman

could be brother and sister

or star struck lovers

on a train platform of moving feet & pidgeons

announcements announcing delays

through the crowd

I swear I saw

the ghost of a dead friend

eating bread &

sucking on a straw

feet and eyes

to the floor and a quick cough confirmed the plague had arrived

blood snot

on white

blood phlegm

rattles in throats

rich people are hoarding the antidote

the poor will eat tuna from cans

out of tune radios will cackle

disembodied voices

a body without a head

somewhere in the hinterland where the pipes creak and drip with

polluted water

people eat rats and pick their teeth with bones

but before all this

we were happy

pictures made up of words x 3

  1. Slit dress

The slit in her dress went up to her thigh. She wore scuffed black boots and a backpack that was covered in band patches. She had a tattoo on her ankle that said ACID RAP. She walked past a red phone box. The last one in town.

1989: 10p phone calls to girlfriends

Fingers tasted metallic.

2. 200 year feast

After they landed they butchered the first animal they saw and feasted on it’s meat. 200 years later that day is celebrated by eating a armadillo.

Have you ever seen a blonde haired nun? A bald Rastafarian?

A documentary about a man with three knees.

3. Iron Maiden to the knees

The found photo was of a boy with missing teeth and bleeding gums. In his right hand he held a bunch of keys. He was wearing an Iron Maiden shirt that came down to his knees. In the background a car was on fire.

His mother, long gone, mane him after her favourite singer.


Russian meteorites blamed for equine flu – spreads like a virus

and all the computers shut down at 11:32 as detectors pick up signs of tsunamis in international waters

plans for the retreat


have more people touched the surface of the Moon than the bottom of the ocean?


eating food from a tin you cut your lip bloody mixes with tuna

tastes metallic

the sharks are circling

And I know I’m rambling and I know this isn’t going anywhere and the song playing now keeps asking me WHAT DOES REKINDLE MEAN?