‘Waking’: Inspirations

——————————————- Abridged excerpt from ‘Waking’ – ‘Do I know you?’ ‘I saw you outside the pub the other day.’ ‘I know. I meant from before then.’ ‘I moved here recently. Maybe you’ve just seen me around.’ ‘Before that.’ He smiled. ‘Before here.’ He swung his hand around through the air, his fingers making circles in…

Letting Go of Perfection

This post Letting Go of Perfection was written for Linda Green’s fantastic book blog, Books of All Kinds, which you can visit (and I recommend you do!) here: http://booksofallkinds.weebly.com/ “My book, it’s perfect. It’s all there; it’s unsullied. But as soon as I start to write it, it just gets less and less perfect, and in the end I’ll have…

Immortal

We are obsessed with endings. Borders. Edges.   The climax The conclusion Last words Break ups   “How does it end?” “I just needed some closure.” “The ending was a real let down.” “All’s well that ends well.”   We pick apart final scenes finish lines grand finales destinations deaths.   But we do not…

Air

I was empty. A hole the same shape as I am cut into the room behind me like paper. It was filled with blue sky. Air. Wide open space. Nothing. Wind whistled through me. I had run dry. I closed my eyes. I inhaled. I exhaled. I coloured myself back in.

Wait, where’s my filter?

In the wake of the EU Referendum devastation, I have a sinking suspicion that our perception of the world we live in is horribly distorted, fed entirely through our own filters. Social media may be dividing us further, not bringing us together.  For me, and all of my friends and colleagues, the last few days have…

Still.

At the still point, there the dance is. T.S.Eliot “Have you joined some kind of cult?” This is a question I get asked a lot at home right now, as I yawn my way out of bed at dawn, shuffle into the spare room, and clamber sleepily onto my yoga mat. Over the past three…

Alec Wheeler

  Christmas at Sopers was Christmas. Your beautiful house, cold kitchen tiles and creaking doors.     I held canapés at your parties. I was the proudest Grandchild, standing in my best dress, falling in love with all your friends.     I learnt how to make vol au vents, the word ‘vermillion’, how to…

About Women, by Men.

Unfashionably late to the feminist debate. For some reason, I grew up believing feminist activism to be a dated irrelevance, an attention-seeking anachronism in our balanced and equal UK society. Many of the most prominent feminists I remember reading or listening to when I was younger, all came across as bitter and aggressive, petty separatists…

The Articulate Clamour

  Are we all still living in Babel? About four years ago, I had a conversation with my Mum that sparked an internal discussion I have been ruminating on ever since. I wanted to write about it immediately, but somehow got lost in the puzzle, mistakenly believing that I should find a neat solution, a…

Happiness

Happiness is that fading mortal light, Before the closing eyelid edge of earth Wipes sunset’s liquid fire-glow blank with night; A golden hour of hazy, rose-pink blurs. It rises through the tangled ivy sounds of cloudy, crowded conversation’s maze, as shifting, shapeless half-words, sense unfound; Emerging marbled meanings slyly sway. It drifts on fleeting, lucid-dreaming…

Reward Pathway

The shiver line stutters along a lunacy smile, Euphoria metabolised, climbs dizzy altitudes, with the soma summertime survivors of my kind, chemical thought eugenics. A hovering hummingbird ostanato beats ecstatic waveforms; disenchanted with organics. I am swinging pendulum. I am pushing lever.   My oscilloscope pulse rides the reward pathway trace, Chasing amplified, cessation transmission….

Pulse

Bright, primary life-giver, vivid and violent. Metabolic diastole, transporting liquid instants. Lifeline of a Leviticus creature, scarlet serpentine silence Threads my magnetic field lines, concentric, constant. Circular regulator, energetic captivator. Medicinal metal of the new-world vampire. Distilled deliverer, oxygenated educator, Speeds through transparency with the gritted teeth of empire. Colourful, calendar exodus, shed as lunar…