Arrival. A poem.
I waited and waited and hoped and you arrived. Without acclaim, without excess, but not without baggage of your own. Seared with silent wounds in mirrored grace and Savoir-Faire. And all the waiting and the hope, all the self-hate and … Continue reading Arrival. A poem.
Anvil. Part 15.
The distant sound of automatic gunfire and plasma rounds echo from within the skeletal remains of the Chao Triad building. In the interceptor, Olsin’s finger pauses over the tether recall button. She notes two murky shapes in the dirty haze … Continue reading Anvil. Part 15.
Laze. A poem.
Blessed indolence, you play me for the fool like a round of hold-em, until the time arises when work calls sanctimoniously and I rise to the occasion. The All or the Nothing is my first e-book of poetry, available at … Continue reading Laze. A poem.
Haiku Friday. Catharsis – a lone haiku.
Catharsis Walk these fields of grace. Let bitterness be released. Your catharsis, now. Haiku is a Japanese poetic form with a strict 5/7/5 syllable structure. Doh! I just mansplained it. Cheers Steve 🙂 Continue reading Haiku Friday. Catharsis – a lone haiku.
My Self-hate. A poem.
My self-hate: just enough to immolate my lowly self. My self-hate: the razor that can’t wait to open me. My self-hate: the only thing that takes me breaks me sends me hurtling headlong to my grave. The All or the … Continue reading My Self-hate. A poem.
Sand Head. A poem.
I wanted to put my head deep down in the dust, but it was too hard to breathe amongst my crowded thoughts. I guess the best laid head was like the worst laid plan: too many consequences, like infinite grains … Continue reading Sand Head. A poem.
Deadpool 2. A movie review.
No spoilers here! No doubt you’ve read a thousand times that Ryan Reynolds was born to play fourth wall-breaking, motormouthed mercenary superhero Deadpool, so I won’t repeat it. Oh, I just did. Sorry. Deadpool 2 is a fun and incredibly … Continue reading Deadpool 2. A movie review.
Meteor. A poem.
You are the meteor slicing my heavens to the quick, scorching my atmosphere without regret. And when you hit my ground cleaving my earthy heart and spreading its detritus far and wide, I’ll willingly accept your carnage with arms as … Continue reading Meteor. A poem.
Anew. A poem.
All my dreams returned to dust whence they sprang, embittered and tweeted into the ionosphere. I am guilty of a life lived lost, of times counted down but launched anew, in an empyrean embrace. The All or the Nothing is … Continue reading Anew. A poem.
The Narrative Poem.
Here’s another response I did for uni. You might want to try it out. Cheers Steve 🙂 Write a narrative poem of no longer than 15 lines about your childhood. Remember the narrative poem is a journey. Take the reader … Continue reading The Narrative Poem.
Haiku Friday. A lone haiku.
Embalmed. A Haiku. I’m embalmed by life. I will lie in state for you to consume your fill. Haiku is a Japanese poetic form with a strict 5/7/5 syllable structure. Okay, okay, I know you know that already! Cheers Steve … Continue reading Haiku Friday. A lone haiku.
Sad Life. A poem.
Is this nothing more than a sad life? Materialistic imposition and perspicacious exposition all meaning nothing more than a sad life? Take this sad life, open the cage perennially and set it forever and eternally free. The All or the … Continue reading Sad Life. A poem.
New Face. A poem.
I am the ripple that turns the tide, the plaintive cry that shakes the world, the angry soul that brings the pain, the lonely man, slowly gone insane. Every time I turn around I see my new face and it … Continue reading New Face. A poem.
Every Blue Thought. A poem.
I prefer black but I wear a lot of blues and this ever-lasting weariness goes from my head down to my shoes. EVERY aching, grinding, groaning, spattering, spluttering, shadowing, beseeching, bemoaning, bewildering, disturbing, destabilising, escalating, ego-destroying, undermining, undulating, failing, falling … Continue reading Every Blue Thought. A poem.
Signal Fire. A poem.
This indolence tosses me like autumn leaves, mere whispers in the breeze. Corkscrewing ever round, intoxicated by thoughts that reminisce amongst far flung ports-of-call. These empty seas would remit me unto an isle, stark, sun-bleached and worn, smoothed by time … Continue reading Signal Fire. A poem.
