An inflexible foe,

You natter at my sensibilities,

A permanent companion 

Whether wanted or not.

I despise you

Though I do not say it.

I revile you

Though my secret’s safe.

For to voice such concerns

Are to air them

And aired thoughts

Can be shattered.

I have no wish for such a splintering,

Such a fragmentation of me,

For time is precious.

Without it,


We circle creation

In endless loops.

Without it

We, me, you and I are nothing,

Which worries me most

When I fear it soon shall



Ferocity Lost

Their ferocity mirrored our own. Man for man, pound for pound, we tore into each other with a reckless abandon balanced only by the immovability of both. Stalemate.

Like deadlocked chess pieces all we had fought for had achieved nothing. Nothing! 

Was this war at its worse were armies died without purpose? Or was that the purpose of war itself, to serve no purpose other than death? And for what? A field of lost flowers. 

I walked away. 

Sometimes their shouts of coward haunted me. Mostly not. It takes a braver man to see sense in the senseless than a fool to expound it. 

From Atoms Assembled

From atoms, we sprung,
Carelessly drifting through space and time,
Observing creation,
Light in the night,
This darkness ascending.
Shared, that’s what we are,
Shared pieces of a greater whole:
A little of you, a sprinkle of me,
A dash of remembrance
Without ever remembering
The one thing we should.
Assembled, I think, or hope, or pray,
Like toys on a production line
Just waiting for a child to choose us,
The atoms we spawned from
Seeking someone to steer them,
Point them in the right direction;
The direction we had,
From atoms assembled,
We make purpose
Where none is required.
From atoms assembled,
Slowly disseminating.

50 Word Stories: Last Thoughts

50 Word Stories: Last Thoughts

The cliffs, sheer to the point of vertiginous madness, met the waves in a crescendo of nature at its most powerful. Like a boxer on the ropes, the granite took a pummelling. How many years the liquid versus solid war had waged, who knew? She wondered how bones would fair?

50 Word Stories: This Hammock Life

The world rocks, I rock with it. A disproportionate wind shivers these bones and rattles these teeth, though the world beyond my seclusion appears calm. Life in a hammock I call it, suspended between birth and death, a precarious situation. Yet despite my reservations, I’ve no desire to climb off.

50 Word Stories: With Regret

And though we welcomed them with arms open, a smile creasing our desperate faces, they shunned us. 

And though we offered food, lodgings, the comforts of home, they spurned our genuine invitations.

And we regretted our recklessness, our hopes and shared loves.

Were they our children? What had we made?

50 Word Stories – Broken

Is it not in the nature of things to be broken. After all, in some unknown future, we are all broken down into the atoms we sprang from. Breaking and reforming is a part of existence we must come to terms with. Yet my heart will never repair from you.