Category: fiction
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I often put old writings in here.
i started doing this blog spontaneously … that was what was so nice about it … l sat in a Hema cafe by the sea and just wrote. Then people responded and I got a bit self-conscious and started pasting in old writings I could check over. Also l so rarely have the time these…
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The cord that releases…
Who am I?: just off centre, always – never quite where I should be: Rhapsopy in Green, Santa Claus ìn the Summer, Monday morning hooker, happy blues singer – I obliterate the sun with my shadow – to make it bigtime?: use opposites – thats the secrety
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poetry is an end in itself
Thankyou Lorca. In the midst of my money bills invoices reciepts appointments I sit in a cafe and for a moment read the “Gacela of the Dark Death” and I’m in a sane soul-sustaining world – for 2 minutes I am saved Thankyou Lorca. I need poetry EXACTLY like water It is my hope my…
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call me this evening I can’t get away from this idea it haunts me like a ghost train its rivets rattling like so many lose teeth!
call me – l can’t escape this – no matter how far I plummet or how high l rise above the Blue Mountains, both abstract and severe whilst maintaining a pragmatic dignity. Call me: anything.
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The Corpuscles are coming
the corpuscles are coming, hand in hand, down memory lane, they stretch and flirt, no longer diadems but crawling out of solitary confinement. bent hats cocked crookedly on their prismatic heads
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The Corpuscles are coming
the corpuscles are coming, hand in hand, down memory lane, they stretch andbflirt, no longer diadems but crawling out of solitary confinement. bent hats cocked crookedly on their prismatic heads
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The Corpuscles are coming
the corpuscles are coming, hand in hand, down memory lane, they stretch andbflirt, no longer diadems but crawling out of solitary confinement. bent hats cocked crookedly on their prismatic heads
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Gold is colour of spliced rope.
You can leave me here by this rusted chiming bell but I will not stay … I’m right behind you, all the way. You can leave me here, by this thick green canal but i will not stay I’m right behind you all the way. You can leave me here by this empty fire engine…
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Two.
Two is a number for animals in the ark For opposites man and wife, red and green How many more pairs locked in dynamic, political, opposing, polarity, unable to break free, Are going to whirl through the universe until they are split, must there be?
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Garbage exposed at 3.00am in the morning: a rattling, tri-barrelled, rolling, obscure, happy-go-lucky, pernickity, puzzled, ,switch-blade-wielding garbage, with a knowing smile on its face.
Tony Chapman-Art Music Writing 