The Wordkillers

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 choke
For the wordkilkers
It hurts!
And I sit, write
Hide and worry
Wondering, just wondering
Have they won?
Lord no!
Please no
Cant have
I’m begging

50 Word Stories: Shame

There was a moment when I looked in her eyes that I doubted; I’d never doubted before. They were wet those eyes of melted chocolate. In swirls of cocoa dreams, she sought to stall, and almost did. I left with my hat drawn down. It hid my shame, not hers.

50 Word Story: What Is Life?

She went through the motions, the pendulum of time. She lived without recognition, moulded herself as others. But, there was no escaping the inevitable truth, she’d never be the same again. He’d seen to that.
What’s life but a precursor to a death some already live. What…is…life?

Reasonless Worry

To stand amongst such opulence,

As a stain before the rain,

A humble man, humbled.

There is a sense of false spotlight upon me

Within the fractured colours 

Of Stained glass memories,

Beacons seeking sin.

Am I to be judged not decadent enough

Before the gold and ruby splendour;

Cowed beneath domes and filagree? 

I cannot answer for I am speechless,

But relieved to have removed my shoes.


 Violent words push through the walls;
 The young couple next door are at war again.
 I listen to their incoherent ravings,
 As the news shows pictures of children in tears,
 Dust and grime applied as make-up.
 I have only one direction left to turn,
 And it is in the elderly couple,
 Neighbours from a time when it meant something,
 Who sit quietly in their living room listening to music
 That I seek to find some semblance of solace.
 They are listening to Nat King Cole, their favourite.
 And he sings:
 ‘Smile though your heart is aching’
 ‘Smile even though it’s breaking’
 And I wonder if theirs are?


No name, or voice, he rests in a doorway.

Bereft of backstory, deprived of simply being, he sleeps, or tries.
He did not choose a life of vagrancy; vagrancy was thrust upon him.

 How those who pass despise his squalor, when with just a smile they could help alleviate it.

 Yes, he’s untiled, but only because somewhere he lost his name.
Won’t someone help him find it?


My breath: caught.
 My heart: paused.
 My world: suspended.
 Time loses all meaning, my blood all momentum, as you look to me and wave.
 Your smile lights the distance between us with a radiance I have never felt. But it is your eyes, blue as the ocean, sparkling with an unblemished summer that capture me. The time between being seen and being detected is the hardest of my life. When you realise your mistake and that I am not who you thought, I feel the dagger turn. When your eyes, those sapphire jewels look away in shame it is I that feel the pain. It is an agony I shall forever feel.

Almost Forgotten

 Rustling leaves
 Kiss the mistral wind,
 I hear it,
 The ghost of the sycamore
 That stood sentry
 Outside my apartment.
 Now, there is only concrete,
 And cars,
 And people,
 And the sounds
 Of angry voices
 To fill the void
 It has left.
 I have almost forgotten it,
 I am ashamed to say.

 (Image courtesy Michelle Marie)


 Not meant for the city;
 Not meant for the night,
 A chrysalis opened
 Beneath soft red light.
 Eyes that hoped for sunlight
 Briefly touched my own,
 But all that you could say
 Was the alley or your home.
 I said you deserved better;
 I said I’d see you right,
 But lonely little butterfly
 Was more moth in the night.
 I think of you in evenings
 0f if you’ve spread your wings,
 And if you’ll migrate someday
 And find much better things.

 (Image courtesy of poniepon on