Latest Submissions

A false conquest (or was it)! Flash fiction From reality, a real actress, enough to supply the story, but not enough to justify 'factual'! A blast of snow threw me half-way in as I straight-lined on to the bar Reaching past to pay I sensed the stillness of your inattentive interest, black hair face, half hidden in a mess of curls you quickly tossed back straightening up, to reveal what was on offer – Sitting unattached ...

Its only life. We walked from a black freighter with a crossbones at its mast und fűnzig canonen. We flowed down the broken street, feet dropping into holes in the battered, un repaired, ignored road. Bars and more bars surround us, flaking paint and warped wood stared back daring us to find better. There was non of course. This wasn’t the boulevard of broken dreams, it was shanty town, barrio, a place to be lost ...

One learning-curve; of anything else, I know nothing! What have I learnt after living a long and happy bachelor life? I've learnt, a dog, setting off on the poop trail loop from home, pulls like a drag-hound on a scent, until exactly halfway, where, between five- yard meat-bit bribes, it suddenly becomes a bag of coal, refusing to budge a homeward inch! I've learnt, a horse on its rural ride is the opposite, stubbornly slow, like Don Quixote's pony, until exactly halfway, from where it races stablewards, like it's being straddled and spurred on, by ...

How do two peole find each other lost in billows of eternity identifying and remembering each other from an unknown ancient history of nothing left except vibrations of immortal souls for recognition? It's a miracle and the more undeniable as such, as experts even know with certainty the art of recognizing spirits, elves and angels of no palpability at all. Denying miracles is to deny the facts of history and to deny the miracle of ...

When I returned one time from war I brought a "trophy"home, going from that to "ordinary" life is almost impossible for many, it's why i've always argued with young people signing up seeking the excitement I had sought. No one ever returns from war. Cold Steel I don’t know I cant stand What is in my head Or what is in my hand. Should I care ShouldI dare? I have And it was exhilarating. I ...

You have caught my soul, my love, by simple charm and honesty and won my heart for you to handle but with care; but there was never anything amiss between us, melting instantaneously together as two old souls always do, and even sharing the same sorrows, the outrageous tragedies of two beloved sisters representing beauty, talent and intelligence, one mother of three children and one sparkling blooming youth. There is nothing so far that we ...

Nursery children here paint images on stones and leave them in local woods to show defiance of scary things. Within children's earliest years, demons haunting their evolving minds need linking to external things. Things they can place in woods, in decayed leaves, in rotting stubs of trees, in the cracks and crevises of rocks. For then, they can control them, avoid them, run away or hide from them, at night, sleep untroubled in bed. Creatures of the night know this, ...

Today the 29th, 1979. It turned me and educated me about the insane "National Rifle Association" I(the NRA), in America. Today marks the anniversary of the Cleveland Elementary School shooting in San Diego. A 16-year-old girl, Brenda Anne Spencer, She was the first school shooting in America where she gunned down classmates, Police and teachers with .22 rifle. It started it all... the first! An inspiration! What's bizarre and I have never understood was her ...

When I was alone Seated on the throne From the mountain cliff A yearning so deep to Respond to 'appel du vide'! Driving on a highway Urge to swerve the car Desperate attempt to Getaway Brake the blue from the Moving star, ambition was Ever so high, with the corpse To reach the sky. The bird, bruised in the Monotonous tie, wings Heavy for heaven to fly It longed to fall off life That lied ...

not for divulging. But, we all know of the transformation; what happens to the closely known when they're no longer with us, especially during the night in old age? Pen and wash limited print: Det Andra Landet by Eija Korhonen, my own All the personal qualities of the lost, both good and bad, exist within us as intrinsic distillates, silently revising elements of thought as we struggle to live our lives without them. For, unlike ...

As a child my parents took me to Butlins holiday camp, maybe a few will see this, will have seen this. But this is over forty years ago. The shed smells of shit Its not a shed its a chalet Its boxed happiness Its freedom From desolation Its a summery Destination With a swimming pool Full of polio Cold shivering skinny kid Its the place We leap Like national sheep Laughing in unison Drunken fornication ...

I had a lifelong friend called Nicky. He drank hard from an early age, his parents letting him drink at fourteen, he had no chance. As a young man he ws quite brilliant, I worked with him much of my life and to my shame I covered for him when he was too drunk or hungover to work. I'd put him to bed on a night, take his cigaerettes and lighter so he wouldn't burn ...

Sometimes having just enough is plenty Especially when your pockets have been empty. In fact thats pretty much how you’ll learn By walking the streets a lonely turn. Banks full of money are not the position To learn about the social condition That erudite refer to as adversity But sufferers call their reality. Rolling around in piles of dosh Just widens the gap and gets you called posh. No it Isn’t quite the preparation for ...

getting away from the madding crowd, only way today; a rap rant! Many today, avoid Nature's tightening noose by leaving truth, to live in a false world, mixing wish, fact, and fantasy, creating their own redacted, virtual-reality, or some other form of applied irrationality, asking, for god's sake, in the name of plain common-sense, when did the sanity end, the madness commence? And digitalisation too, with its online trenders, truth-benders, opinion-builders, its educators, logos-pogos debaters, pathos-awakers, its quasi- ...

The British are a stupid race of people still sticking like slime to feudalist barons boots. We are a race of people who are constantly conditioned by the aristocratic invented phrase “the stiff upper lip”. And when the rest of Europe are steadily decreasing the cost to their Citizens of ridiculous price increases for energy and transport and everything else that followed Covid and the rip off that was Brexit we go “oh well must ...