Claudia Schiffer
looked gaunt, unwell. I hope her
healthy glow returns.
Before being killed at seventeen, I was G C Kite-Powell. Now zombiefied, I have breathed ghostly, fragmented life into this blog. Within, you will find a series of snapshots in the form of corrupted, subjective haiku, intended to enliven.
Breathe deep
The gathering gloom
Watch lights fade
From every room
Bedsitter people
Look back and lament
Another day's useless
Energy spent
from Nights In White Satin (Full Version)
- Moody Blues
Saturday, 30 July 2011
Friday, 29 July 2011
252 Neutral-ish: Power
Powermongers grab,
cling at all costs. Ambition's
greased object slips, wounds.
251 Dark-ish: Debt-Slaver (Pre-adult)
"Do you kids know how
much you cost me? The least you
can do is provide..."
Thursday, 28 July 2011
247 Dark-ish: Childhood Breakdown (Pre-Adult)
Self-confidence is
fragile good stuff. Mine should not
have been destroyed, Dad.
Wednesday, 27 July 2011
246 Neutral-ish: Subjugation
Higher costs, more work,
less practical rights and pay.
Democratic threat?
245 Light-ish: Visitor
No cats prowl. Birds tweet.
The curled fox half-sleeps. Wakes, slinks off, perhaps to eat.
Tuesday, 26 July 2011
242 Light-ish: Altruism
Visiting hours. I'll
go, stroke Sam's brow, say "Poor you!",
gobble bedside grapes.
241 Dark-ish: Dragon Dad (Pre-teen)
His blaming f-ire roared
across the yellow table.
She's burnt, smoked again.
Monday, 25 July 2011
240 Light-ish: Flog
Stick-ball whack's (w)hole pain:
Trees, grass, and sand plot; and wind,
water, sun, and rain.
water, sun, and rain.
Sunday, 24 July 2011
237 Neutral-ish: Interviews
Another year... New
prostrate graduates enthuse.
Slavish souls for hire.
prostrate graduates enthuse.
Slavish souls for hire.