Arthur

 It started with a throb, deep in the joints of the big toe. Pulsing fury condensed under skin pushing bones apart. Ice, ibuprofen put the foot up. Bringing it down again sends rifles up to the knee. Left side, left behind with each labouring step. Stop, it shouts, stop moving so I can devour. Motion stops, complying with grating levers. More ibuprofen, strained smiles as child runs between legs. I'm sorry I say to sweet pained face, I cant. Can't stand up again. Play with mummy instead.

glimmer

                                                                         Isn’t it strange

This eternal war we confide in

Subtle shades of indignant glory

Persist

Our hearts discontent

Left in the dark

Without a prison to hold it

Just a bottle

A smoke

And the dying fire light

Teacher

SIT DOWN! 

booms like a cannon in these four walls

led ricocheting off the desks 

and through the chests

of students sat startled

Of those left standing

lead blasts through their knees 

and backsides catch them as they fall

And finally the room becomes 

Silent 

still

control regained again

in these four walls.

For now....

New

 Scarred hands cradle life 

Dopamine

 Why try when distractions allow a slow release. Minute fluctuations that define what time should be spent on. Why bother engaging the brain when a reel of gags, fails or strange crafts captivates the attention so well. why bother to push yourself. 

Addiction rears its ugly head in many ways, each have the same end. Death. It is not always the body that dies, but always a part of self. 

Put down the phone, erase the videos that allow 'freedom' for five seconds. Engage. Use your brain. Create new links in neurons. 

Maybe, this is the issue with current consensus in this world. To be conscious is deemed enough. No real need to actively produce, stuff. 

Just pick up phone, swipe left, right, press play. 

Tap 20 words, post. selfie, glam up. React, thumbs up. tik tok tick tock tick tock. 

days drain away without having to so much as strain to be creative. 

Engage. Use your brain.

Put down the device, open eyes.

Play.

.....

 Pint.

.....

The flies

 The flies started coming after a few days. 2, milling around scratching their legs, placid, hanging around on the kitchen cupboard. No-one took any notice, after all it was summer and likely the drone of a busy insect following them around the house felt almost nostalgic. Plus it seemed such small inconveniences were trivial in the midst of what they called a 'hit'. 

It was day four where the flies presence really became apparent. 5 more of them, much like the first 2, docile, a scuttle here and there but no flight, instead just stagnant, watching. Always watching. 

Day ten they took over the cupboards, 31 of them, all heads pointing down. Black pecan bodies immobile, save for a few kicks, each maneuvering, positioning themselves to get the best view of the floor. Leftover Food lay un-spoilt on the sides, dirty dishes overflowing the sink, but not one fly descended on them. Such measly scraps did not command their attention. In greasy food, larvae would not attach themselves, would be dissolved slowly by spices not made for flies. Flesh was best. Slowly decomposing flesh.

 No-one had come in the kitchen for a while, the door remaining firmly shut. Despite my cries before the flies, none of the inhabitants visited. Barely even a scream as it was opened halfway, then swiftly locked on day twelve, just a muttering amid rolling half open eyes.  

"All good dogs go to heaven........probably".

Slam.

. 

The show

 Lights down, set the kit. 

Hihat pedal gently close, open, close

Grip the sticks, tightly

loosen Fingertips

palm wood, turn wrists 

Bass drum pedal, test the spring

Beater kisses skin, retract again

Remember

4/4 cymbals first, roll, crescendo slight fill

Then drop into rhythm 

Breathe 

Close eyes roll head

This it

Fire builds

small hairs tingle

All the way down the spine

Get ready

Murmured excitement 

shadowed faces

Ripples through the darkness

Lights

Screams

Energy

Let's ave it

35mm

 Here's to all of youse from Cineworld 20something. We made a movie. Smiles and ideas, stoppin to argue, books and bare cleaning. Standees. Fuckem. Shift starts, do this do that. Halfway laughs.  Screen golf, popcorn throne, tannoy fuckin stoned, caz and her cats, freezer prank. locked. Jokes, bare fuckin jokes. Tell me a story about the job you wish you'd had. An I'll tell u about the 35mm.

Newton

 The first pint sinks down

Gliding past tastes and memories 

The ship, first port of call for every holiday

Smells of  sailors battered catch 

Waft between clunks of pumps 

from own brewed ale

Salty sea air whispers possibilities 

as bums hit bench and we gaze out to serenity

Kick off flip flops and curl toes around Sand mounds

The Castle in the distance calls to us

fern topped dunes and hiding shacks

Golf and Grey's inn over the horizon

warmth growing within 

knowing home again

Relax

Close eyes

Breathe

It

In

Unicorns

 Bustle hustle

Screams

 upstairs hiding 

Bundles 

bum jokes

Drawing dreams 

Burnt toast

Kippers fresh caught

Smoking on the Barbie

Long walks down white sands

drawbridges giant castles

Back home 

Flying dinner

Bathtime books and bubbles

Night night 

Little one

Sleep well

Tomorrow 

we ride unicorns