The droplets hang heavy

Sweat from the pipes

and run down the walls

The morning epileptic

The flashes dance

upon shallow asphalt pools

Trigger warnings echo

The car park trembles

Gives momentary consideration

of a pancake collapse

While commuters flee

mindless of their peril

Deaf, dumb and blind faces blur

devoid of emotion

Indifference their shelter

Like umbrellas in a maelstrom



Images of your impish face

Portraits move in black and white

Sleeves in 23

As you fade to Colour

we find your freckles

Splashes of crimson

though your world remains grey

Will it still end in tears?

When duochrome mirrors

gaze at us in horror

Black, empty sockets

Mural of pain

beckoning need

Like Guernica now


The Wappinschaw Reminiscence

We stared west across the plain

Watched the earth drop away

White line

Vanishing point

Our ears to the rail

for surely our train was coming

The earth will tremble beneath us

long before that black blot appears

Growing from purple horizon beyond

Phantom hands seek

Reaching for us

Drowning floods

Consuming fires


We become fossils in the concrete

Of some future race





Retread heroes

Nothing is epic

when everything rises

to a low bar

No surprises

Where is the ethic?

You’re not a movement

You’re a genre

The latest installment

in a flavorless buffet

Get your fill

Sit down, stay

Await further instruction

This is your induction

to the Hall of No One Cares



The world is a large place

Grows smaller by the hour

The core condensed

As our orbit expands

Rhetorical flourishes speak of nothing

And land ends at the crease of the map

Frogs on a hotplate

To kittens in a blender

Misinformation expands

While memory contracts

Contrary speech hate

Return to sender

Easy substitution

For inconvenient fact

The gnostics cry from the grave

Leaving no question unposed

While still short on answers

Your prescription

Like conscription

Laxatives for stifled minds

Prophylactics for unclean thought

Cause for a day

Until new victims cultivate

Burn all the Savior myths

Your Messiah is the state

The reward is nothing

Inheritance spent




She must have carried a heavy weight

Something peculiar about her gait

Sophistry as legal tender

The march that reeks of sour agenda

We are woke

We have open eyes

We can see you’re the tyrants

You claim to despise

Your every defense and objection

shows your mastery of projection

You could hold your own parade

but your shit doesn’t sell

You’re the flavor of popsicles

served in Hell

And the anger etched upon your face

is what’s made this country an ugly place

So just go home to your precious safe space