Investment

    To rise again is to stand up again, after the beast has shoved you over. And yet, you know – he’ll strike again; a shovel, greedy for more coal, for more fuel to keep him ticking. You rise up again, after the second shove, and the third, and the fourth and the fifth….

Coastal Drift

    Sucked out of my cave, I am forced to drift on a coastal tour of changing appearances seagulls that metamorphose into layers of rock that fracture; flints that live on through bleeding hearts that drip and dry, becoming one with the sand that drifts into a child’s bucket and turns all palatial. I…

Manipulable

A thickness about my waist reminds me now, of the enormous girth of an ancient oak tree, almost dead. My arms feel leaden, and I think of that same old oak tree – branches propped up by rods, as my arms descend into playdough rolls that – twist and thin to a p o i…

The Burnout

‘Plasticine’ image courtesy of Pixabay.com I pull plasticine out of my ears. On and on and on it comes, seeming to have no end to it. It’s coming out so fast, I don’t know what to do with it, how to manage it, so I wrap it around myself – until my body, like my…

Therapist

I take her on a journey through the mess in my house: the sweet wrappers, looking pretty, with a shiny red glow; and the cereal boxes, turned in on themselves, and painted white; and the half-full bottles of spinach juice; the glitter sparkling; and the beige foundation – crumbling and sinking into salmon pink. She…

To You For Whom They Are Made

‘Globe Trotter’ image courtesy of Pixabay.com Songs, unfinished. Novels, half-written. Journeys, unblogged. Poems, unrhymed. Words, mish-mashed. Randomness, untamed. Workocks, nirked. Copyright owned by Jay Cool, February 2019 Inspired by ‘Fishmonger’, by Marsden Hartley.

Macrophage

When my sanity shattered, and my soul gave up, I stood there and stared at the stars. A faraway fragment, a shard of my mind, did sparkle and shine, quite dazzling and fine. I watched it take form, as its eyeballs danced; saw it open its mouth and take up its stance. It captured and…

Alternative Living

I live far, far away in a cold, cold cave. Curled up, warmed by a horse’s breath. Knowing that, in the morning, I will ride out on my mount and look down at passers by, feeling smug. Pitying them for their dull routines and their motorised lives, as women and men – both – drone…

House on the Hill

House on the hill stands three storeys proud, aloof and haughty, ignoring its lowly neighbours of two storeys, and pretending that its three storey copies are just shadows of itself, lurking, awaiting an invitation into existence – an invitation that is no more than mere fantasy. House on the hill is aware that it, too,…

Taking the Plunge

‘Channel’ image courtesy of Pixabay.com Everyday I plunge my hands in deeper; deeper into souped-up aluminium bubbles, and my fingers swim into exhaustion, sinking onto a bed of potato peel, carrot ends, soggy-sticky labels, spongy chunks, and skin cells. Peels, ends, labels, chunks and cells twirl and skip into plughole descent. But, only the cells…