We kill the cure Condemn the curse We shout and spit As though it fashion Is it! The words we use No smiles, all eyes And fingers pointing ‘That’s what they’re for’ Are they! A reckless adventure Inferno in waiting Made for decay Meant to delay Does it! Prefabricated values Shoved down throats Gagging, we […]
Surreal, suggests the fish-headed man Battling against societal currents, swimming against the tide He’s getting nowhere fast just as he likes to Bobbing up on occasion so plastic ears might listen to A piano with bones instead of keys sounding a glockenspiel salute That migrating sparrows, pink and proud, nod agreeably to Whilst carnivorous sunflowers […]
The Muddleman made a mess of everything. He seemed to stumble through life smashing into this, clattering into the that, and never ever apologising. Parents warned their children about the Muddleman, so notorious did he become. People avoided him like the plague. But it was hard to avoid the one that ruled them forever. Soon, […]
Author’s Note: This is my third post on Medium and can also be read here. Sometimes, I bound through this thing called life, my knees high, head higher. The sky seems bluer on such days, the clouds puffed to cotton wool perfection, the birds swooping for the sheer hell of it, and me smiling beneath. […]
His words stung and tore, struck deep and true. Some believed him in his unbelievable way, some prepared to wait, others not. He reserved the most barbed for the latter, slashing and slaying with puritanical disdain. He judged them. Would be judged. Will… be… judged. Barbed words always stick. Always.
In Disbelief Acerbic tongues sting this flesh like a million tiny bee stings; the barbs embedded in my skin. I shake and quake with hidden fury, so very English, so polite, and rankle, and rile, and bite at the unforgiving pain of it all. Disbelief, I tell myself. It’s utter disbelief. But the cold hard […]
Does a Cane toad walk with a stick? Does a Firefly get hot when he’s sick? Does a Hyena laugh when he’s sad? Does a Penguin not fly to be bad? So much to ponder, my friends, That at night it drives round the bend. These funny, old questions of life, Like how Turtles decide on a wife? But the question I ponder […]