Ibuprofen. Take it. That’ll do it. But … Take it. I take it. Needles. Curved and hooked, curl themselves around my gums and up. Up, up, up and into my cheekbones, pricking the rings of my eyes. It doesn’t do it. Fill it. Take out the old. And fill it with new. Fill it. That’llContinue reading “Decapitated”
Category Archives: writing
What do I buy so many books?
‘Narrative’, courtesy of Pixabay.com Why do I buy so many books; far more than I can read? The answer’s simple, you will see; a look is all I need! I spy The Catch (1) upon the shelf; of Smith’s in Colchester. I did not come for this to buy, so why not let it rest?Continue reading “What do I buy so many books?”
Falling Through
‘Teddy’ image courtesy of Pixabay.com Was anyone looking when I fell through my brain, fell out of the bottom and down my throat into my stomach? Did anyone help when I tried to climb back up and away from the swirling quagmire but fell back down? Will anyone know that I am still here standing,Continue reading “Falling Through”
Lilies of the Valley
I’ll find you both in the valley of lilies, wafting away the smell of mothballs from your clothes. My country grandmother, sunning yourself on the rim of your best Sunday hat, taking a well-earned rest from your garden of vegetables and honey. My city grandmother, swinging yourself from the handle of your trolley-bag, so illContinue reading “Lilies of the Valley”
Down The Lane
As luscious-lime hedgerows turn jaunty ginger and smooth-slick skin turns furrowed and fusty, you remain true. Still there. My trusty friend; the comforting memory of a waft-warm drink. Still there. Trusty. A trusty friend very thoughtfully placed. Knowing that that my friend knows me, I smirk; a joke shared. Throat parched, I wait for jauntyContinue reading “Down The Lane”
Not Enough
‘Morning Walk’ photograph by Jay Cool Not enough dreams or sunsets, not enough full moons or early morning walks, not enough laughter to pave the journey, not enough poetry or stories, or enough time to write one’s own, not enough blankets to keep in the thoughts, or enough of anything that is enough. But, nevertheless,Continue reading “Not Enough”
Wild Thing
Do I have to be a something to be a something to be remembered? Will the world carry on ahead, with all the somebodies who have been something? Is that something? Am I something? Is it something just to be me? Wild. Wild in a wilderness of somebodies. Copyright owned by Jay Cool, January 2019Continue reading “Wild Thing”
A Second Referendum
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com ‘twould open up a deep rift, deep, deep as the deepest sea, and great swathes of sentient beings, ‘twould be swept up into a humungous tidal wave, ripped apart from Corbyn, for ever more, more, more … until …. a great sandstorm would blow in from Europe, falling, deep, deep, intoContinue reading “A Second Referendum”
The Geography of Myself
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com Myself has migrated, leaving hints of itself, in old towns and locations, where it used to be. In the dirt floor of a sandstone cave, in the soil of a grandfather’s vegetable garden, in the cracks of a concrete driveway, in the drains of a tarmacked road, and in the cornersContinue reading “The Geography of Myself”
Pointlessness
Image courtesy of Pixabay.com Days escalate towards my end. At the end, will I remember me? Is there a point? Am I less or more than my end? When did I start? Will my end be like my start? Forgotten? Will I be less than the point of me? Is less more? A start? CanContinue reading “Pointlessness”
The Silly-Savvy Salopian in Suffolk: read, believe and write ... 