How well d'you know your limits?
'Writing might prove itself an enemy You house, nurse and nurture this pal Ignorant of its true nature You know little of what it is capable of' She said, and he nodded. They had their eyes fixated on me while mine were on the telly, playing before me a sermon on the evils of a… Continue reading Sins of the Pen
If this were a world of light with beings made entirely of it I'd be shimmering through, reflecting the quiver in my walk or speech. I sound fantastic to the outsider, the aliens of sand or mountains who, in their world, look at the sea and smile as light from the sun, my over-achieving cousin,… Continue reading An Intergalactic Journey
Stirring the spoon in the tea with the monotony of having attended one too many of these inane gatherings. Since my first, eager participation at the front table I've found my seat move closer and closer to the exit doors. That is not to say that I'm not attentive, how is such a state achieved… Continue reading Alice’s Tea Party
I am a child. My beady eyes inspect the outside world wondering quietly. I analyze the noises and try to make sense of them. In my effort to rationalize I find my emotions involve itself into a situation not requiring its expertise. An astral, emotional figure leaps from my body and stands defiant between two… Continue reading Hush Little Baby
There were many days spent with her. She had newly come into this world with eyes like black holes, dark and magnetic. A pull so great that you'd have to pry my gaze away from hers. I remember the first day I saw her and held her in my arms, serenity washed over us as… Continue reading Beginnings of a Relationship
"Does reality exist objectively or is it a subjective projection of our thoughts?" - Thomas De Quincy to Inspector Ryan talking about Immanuel Kant in Murder as a Fine Art by David Morrell To answer that question I relate back to the last stanza of my poem 'What we Have, Had, and Never Will Again'… Continue reading Illusionist