Thursday, July 16, 2009

Under a Microscope


“Ah yes, truth. Funny how everyone is always asking for it but when they get it they don’t believe it because it’s not the truth they want to hear.” ~Helena Cassadine

Bake a Cake


cake tins clatter and bangwooden spoons tap, tap, tapbeat butter and sugar together cream, creamy, creamiersoftly sift self-raising flourcrack an egg, empty contents, splatgurgle milk into the mixhand-held egg-beater whirringbake the cake for an hourlick the bowl, rinse and washslosh, splash water on the floortip hot cake onto rack to coolpipe icing and whipped creamplonk strawberries round edgeyummy, kids say to their mummy

Thursday, July 2, 2009

Stream On

Only dead fish swim with the stream. –Malcolm Muggeridge

Tuesday, June 23, 2009

Fable of the Mermaid and the Drunks




All those men were there inside,
when she came in totally naked.
They had been drinking: they began to spit.
Newly come from the river, she knew nothing.
She was a mermaid who had lost her way.
The insults flowed down her gleaming flesh.
Obscenities drowned her golden breasts.
Not knowing tears, she did not weep tears.
Not knowing clothes, she did not have clothes.
They blackened her with burnt corks and cigarette stubs,
and rolled around laughing on the tavern floor.
She did not speak because she had no speech.
Her eyes were the colour of distant love,
her twin arms were made of white topaz.
Her lips moved, silent, in a coral light,
and suddenly she went out by that door.
Entering the river she was cleaned,
shining like a white stone in the rain,
and without looking back she swam again
swam towards emptiness, swam towards death.

Pablo Neruda