Latest Submissions

The passage of time changes everything, and in the maturity of older age are we not allowed to mourn what was? ...
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An alternative take on The Raven ...
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At this juncture of unprecedented uncertainties we need bold positive mindset, spend quantifiable time for self. Self-care & satisfaction at every nook our 'new normal' life, which is nowhere selfish act. Muse on.. Complacence I'm in competition with myself, and have no Desire To be greater than anyone anymore. I'm simply trying to be easier and better What I was days before. With love and anonymity nurture A skirmish battling with own fervor. A stick ...
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come visit soon we will drink green tea from translucent china no need to talk much we’ll show photos of our children’s children you’ll take mine across to your wedding day demob suit husband for his approval I’ll smile at yours ‘two cubes or one?’ ‘one, I’m sweet enough’ ‘yes, you are’ ‘let’s sit in the garden get the last of the sun’ ‘why weren’t we lovers?’ ‘we set that aside for days like this’ ...
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torch song when winter comes and living stutters light a guiding lamp and I will find my way age or the grave cannot prevent us – together we shall rise maybe we will sing of willow riverbanks beside fields of meadow flowers rejoicing at the refreshingment of gentle rain wave-soaked barnacle rocks and gulls sea shores, sea shells, maybe we will love like youthful yesterdays welcome each bright dawning with barefoot dance and drumming wearing ...
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the corduroy grey resting in a chair beside the pond sighed   pointing to a clump wilting in baked earth   ‘those are crying out for water the tap’s by the door... the watering can... would you mind?’   ‘will I top up the bird feed?’   ‘you’re very kind’   he waved toward the overgrowth,   ‘I thought I could tame nature now I sit watching it thriving’   the vieux found his feet ...
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we’ll go to Whitby, rent a sea-view fisherman’s cottage stay for the weekend, take a taxi up to the Abbey (slow and easy down those steps) plat du jour, in Church Street, say? and after? browse jewellers buy a necklace of Whitby jet   ...
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Taking coffee on my terrace ...
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Prejudice vs Prevention - Justice begins... Intro: An episodic novel on Ethnopsychological Transformation which needs to bring in especially Indian society & cult to bring about changes inward & outward. Let's start for betterment in any sense ...
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Warehouse gallery, evening. Strange girl heaps two slug-plump lines. The eternal waltzer swirls. Faces stretch. Time cracks and shines. I writhe and swim on the floor among spray-painted designs. Cameras click, flash. I return. “That’s cool!” a critic opines. https://alfieshoyger.blogspot.com ...
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Such hair, such springy marmalade hair, such arctic skin, such North Sea eyes, breasts to slaughter Vikings for, such breasts, such fertile vulpine thighs I’ve craved for months, all now crouch down by frying pan and library card. Two snowy trails. A Guernsey banknote. Zonk! The material world is barred. Zonk! We’re skating, disembodied, along the pipes of the akashic field, universe-hopping, astrally-jumping, where only consciousness is real. No more do men with ties and ...
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  Even if I write smallest of poems I have to copyright them. Wonder who brought those Stones on the steepest of mountains, Who made those monuments? ...
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surprise guest at the Alto café Amsterdam 88 early May a halo of blue gingham tables loaded with Amstel and Grolsch pincers the stage glasses chink, there's chattering, ashtrays overflow with roaches dissolving smoke rings melt into fug my shirt is peppered with pin-prick scorches  a latecomer asks, ‘is this seat taken?’   I shrug, she sits she’s okay to look at we don’t talk   a pianist plays Art Tatum standards on nicotine ivories he ...
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Name ‘No! Please don’t put my name on the list… What? Okay, if you insist’. Smiles the humble face, ‘you know this, I guess if it’s for everyone’s benefit, so be it, but I never ever want the credit’. ‘No! I never suggested this I want to be out of this mess so many layoffs? It’s your baby, I don’t want them to trace my name, it’ll lead me in jeopardy so count me out, ...
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  Brauer and Spitzer was the shop above which our hours were filled and our patience was drained by a shower that trickled like a chinchilla’s penis, towers of china chores, a backfiring toilet and cowering mice behind the toaster. Outside lay a hive whose bees all wore black. With fuzzy boxes on their heads they buzzed between baker and butcher and synagogue, fixed-eyed, long-jacketed, beards of every hue, but the door to that shop ...
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