Poetry | Stories | Photography
Bored to frowning at the desk,
another client on call and grumbling.
Driving to work with music,
a different side to this morose frump.
The office Teams message bell,
directing all staff to go and eat cake.
The Associate walks in,
we all know that you will become like us.
The neon lights of the city,
1 am feels like 8 pm.
Moving and flashing adverts,
constant stimulation.
Another coffee in the city,
time is meaningless.
Sleeping when possible,
working long hours.
Dancing to sound bites,
constantly wired.
the mountain in parts
elastic nature dreaming
the ocean fragments
forming, disintegrating
mountain and ocean are whole
Born of wood, I became paper
steel keys imprinting ink upon my skin
signed with ink, and read for a while
folded over once, enveloped, posted
I come with no expectations
The reader was wise and opened my folds
Briefly, my words capture his gaze
Binned with used paper, I am no more: PULP
Killing the Roses
Cutting them from their life force
Beautiful petals
Roses guided by design
Stems do stab the oasis
blur of the morning
too much sun in my old eyes
the crisp spring winds move
A picture of the Faroe Islands on the screen.
Work calls you back, yet the picture leaves you with a monetary conundrum: to walk away or stay.
Wind chiselled landscapes of rugged rock, green and the ever-present sea moving in and around.
You stay for your cat, yet long for the sea.
imperfect roses
scrutiny and muffled sighs
Refund our money
He speaks to the crowd.
The voice, a sonorous velvet music
lifting the heathens.
Several tongues trace longing lips,
hanging on every word.
He passes judgement.
The crowd become a frenzied mob.
Possessed by his rapture,
they inflict such malicious violence.
exposed in the snow
an unguarded fantasy
Snow falling on skin
whimsical pagan caprice
unbelieving, unknowing
C & K 