wytchcroft

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 )

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.

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
irritated 
into history.

and in the darkest hours
the rural quiet
smothers with volume

with weight
everything
swells

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... )

the notion being - the next gen; one card does all.

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

card it:

dainty aint she
sweet
card
carrying
slim
magazine
style marketing
margarine
help you create
go create
help to create
envy
envy
go create
envy
aint she
sweet?
( Read more... )

written to a 5 word prompt: chill suitcase tire boarding heel

one:

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... )

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... )

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... )