At the Athletics
World Championships, a male
athlete broke his pole.
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, 3 September 2011
353 Neutral-ish: Halving Life
From on high, the dust
drops, decaying. A loathing
genebreaker that burns.
Friday, 2 September 2011
Thursday, 1 September 2011
348 Light-ish: Blinded Eye
For splashing cash, she
loved him. Meanwhile, his robbed prey
lay hospitalised.
346 Dark-ish: Throwing Stones
Dad died as he'd lived:
At war with the world and his
imperfect children.
Wednesday, 31 August 2011
345 Light-ish: Separation
Mum's lost to us, passed
while running. We'll miss her, til
she feeds us at home.
344 Neutral-ish: The Forever War
Psycho's and devils...
They gather, long for mayhem
and the spoils of war.
343 Dark-ish: Child Intolerance
Angry parent shouts
brain-mind shocks, hurt. Confidence
crushing traumas, angst!
crushing traumas, angst!
Tuesday, 30 August 2011
342 Light-ish: Assault
She was rushed. So, he
said "Come in for secs". It was
then she slapped him, m'lord.
340 Dark-ish: Final Swipe!
Dad's Will... Mike Watson
did very nicely thank you.
Better than the kids!