wytchcroft: nick drake (amp)
strains my eyes
hurts my ears
- stop that!
name calling
drunken fool
dreaming some vast besotted sodden ego
cryptic kicks tapping their rhythm
a French tango
only the French don't tango
yodelling hoarse voiced
horse shit
full of wine
feels fine
soaked in brine
in photo-chemical
black & white
like City Lights

Read more... )
wytchcroft: heavent sent (infinite)
this was my first response to the prompt quoted below;
a much more, uh, elaborate (?) reaction is currently gestating.
this is a place holder, in effect.

a scanner partly:

To be or not to be
Some freak anomaly
A ghost rattling chains of electricity
Behind a cloud of plasma energy
The hole in the heart, the absence of a centre
The hollow core hiding
In a magnetic field.


prompt )
wytchcroft: nick drake (amp)

here at the wheezepoint
everything gasps
freezing the ghosts
as they hurry past
trapping them like butterflies
under the glass

and time hangs

by its own broken chords

at the wheezepoint
making breath out of steam
filling up lungs
with ice cream.


came out of nowhere and sounds more like lisa germano to me -
so it's probably stolen and possibly temporary!
wytchcroft: heavent sent (Default)

i thought i saw - i must have dreamed
the king of the island
lagoon reflected
etched into the coral
the old king's face
long green beard of seaweed
and a smile as rusty as old doubloons
no, i don't think he looked like you
i don't think he looked like anything much
but what he was
the king of the island.
wytchcroft: heavent sent (Default)

split in two
doing cartwheels

sundial legs
long shadows
sharp edges

i am a compass
bisecting islands
white sands and atolls.
wytchcroft: heavent sent (aleen)

today i was decorating you with leaves
and you pulled monkey faces
grinning as i forced fruit skins and useless maps
between the gap of your laughing jaw bone

today i broke a heel
slavering butter on the sun

today i strolled long legged and shoeless
into history.


Nov. 25th, 2012 03:47 am
wytchcroft: heavent sent (infinite)
what is this place, this place so
sketchy, so uneasily defined
could be a cellar or a kitchen maybe
or at least a home
to hang the hearts in
a workshop
for strange inspections
investigating our every gesture and expression
the body with its donkey skin
has alien engines
and tiny motors
what is the purpose of this?
to make us

Read more... )
wytchcroft: heavent sent (Default)
and in the darkest hours
the rural quiet
smothers with volume

with weight

into loudness

don't reach for that plate
don't turn that tap
don't open the packet
of biscuits

and all the people living here
that moved in
from the city
it's astonishing

throw wide their windows washing up at 2 AM

i am not one of them
i am not one of them
i am

Read more... )
wytchcroft: heavent sent (eye has)
(this was an ad-libbed associative mash up nonsense thing and strictly for fun
following the same sci-fi disco formula as the previous entry)

realtime dreaming
leave it 
leave it be 
time dreaming
how very kind
an invitation
tea for two
Read more... )
wytchcroft: heavent sent (infinite)
the notion being - the next gen; one card does all.

(in a Roisin Murphy style? um...)

card it:

dainty aint she
style marketing
help you create
go create
help to create
go create
aint she
Read more... )


Dec. 14th, 2011 12:19 am
wytchcroft: heavent sent (hand)
when my dam broke
and my sisters reached down
and hauled you from the grimy waters
they held you up so that i might see you
sticky as soil and soft as skin
ready to burst yourself, almost;
a puffball.

outside the circle we placed you deep into the earth, deep in the dark dirt
i offered saliva to the forest, i offered my flesh and blood
and my sisters' songs
we placed you there between the trees
a good place for seeds

and impatiently now we will wait 
for you to grow. 

inspired by this
wytchcroft: heavent sent (Default)
written to a 5 word prompt: chill suitcase tire boarding heel


It was playing static out over the debris of the room, buzzing cathode
white-noise as if a sea of sound was seeking to bury the wreckage.

maybe something here would in the years to come surface anew, lathed
and polished and transformed to be found by a child or an old man some
interested beach comber of the violent new age, maybe it would be art,
the enigma of unknown objects, new meanings sought for and revealed in
the cryptic pieces of a life held in suspension now, re-framed,
revisited and once more in dialogue; a suitcase with its corners
rounded and the lock long rusted, a shoe heel like the fossil tooth of
a mammoth, a station ticket welded to the bed-frame and a boarding
pass frosted by the white-noise and its winter chill.

sometimes the tide can lie as much as any story teller - we are so
easily beguiled.

sometimes the white-noise of a tv and the cold pixelated light, covers
the sound of quick fleet footsteps and a quiet true self in a hammock
somewhere, or swinging in an old tire in the afternoon sun spinning st
christopher with her fingers and privately laughing.

Read more... )

boat load

Oct. 20th, 2011 05:04 am
wytchcroft: heavent sent (morse)
it was the boat rower's ecstasy
that turned us upside down
convinced us we were dreaming
we could so easily have drowned

but it's harder now to slip away
cold water at the prow
the rudder must be useless
we could drift like this for hours

memories flash like meteorites
they hit the water and they hiss
we should be looking for a harbor
instead of scaring all these fish

but the boat just keeps on going
as the midnight stars grow dim
we could spend eternity
learning how to swim.

I came down in a meteoric shower
The speed of sound turns decades into hours...
peter perrett

wytchcroft: dot dash (vail)

we found the lighthouse on the point
thirty years now out of service
and i wondered at the ghost of light
in each once polished surface

the sand itself they say is glass
and all that stands one day must pass
so many questions
that the wind may ask
and only birds sing out an answer
Read more... )
wytchcroft: heavent sent (Default)
she sleeps
her self is in abeyance
put the case down on the bed
and don't be scared
of all the cards undealt as yet
of all the secrets better kept

if i were you were could be
smeared by make-up
so bright the
vicious colour

wall to wall
this hotel's small
glimpsed only in extremity
a peripheral vision
could turn you to stone

in the gorgon hour
wearing seaweed for snakes
she would send you a postcard but
her bones they ache

wide awake and staring
in the gorgon hour
turning to stone
put your case down on the bed
and leave her alone.

paint me

May. 5th, 2010 05:01 am
wytchcroft: heavent sent (muse)

Drip fingers deep your brush in oil
Wide eyed and petrified pouring colour where the soil erodes

Paint me

Oh honey how the heart is opened
And all the textures of a love exposed

Can you catch that with a thousand touches
And seal my lips with a single stroke?
Read more... )

thanks to julie 0 for inspiration.

wytchcroft: heavent sent (muse)
so comes the clock so comes our time
could be a dream at the crossroads
that familiar sign
for this is the place
where the days meet the radio waves
Read more... )

Let it Rip

Jan. 5th, 2010 04:44 am
wytchcroft: heavent sent (wintry)

Let it Rip

here come the associations
here come the union and welcome back
she was a beautiful model
she was so mathematical
she was the disease that we contracted
bit down to ask that friend
what were you helping to defend?

scratchy little needle
stabbed with a pencil
a scattered note
clutching at a bloody coat
and that's all she wrote
Read more... )


Nov. 5th, 2009 03:53 am
wytchcroft: heavent sent (arrows)
and scarlet ribboned
woven round
these autumn trails
Read more... )


wytchcroft: heavent sent (Default)

September 2017



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