Author's note - this poem contains material of a sensitive nature. It does in no way reflect the view of The Hysteria Collective, nor seek to cause upset. It is merely a reflection on my past. Thank you, South "The Body of Christ" Held up on high I dare not look too long But I… Continue reading The Body of Christ
Your tiny fingers grasp the top of my thumb, scarcely able to keep your eyes open, and already you trust me. You trust me to protect you as you sleep, to feed and clothe you, to give you warmth and shelter. Nestled in the crook of my arm, in this scratchy hospital bed it's just… Continue reading The Girl I Hope You’ll Be
And then, the after glow of ambient archangelsbellow below the brickwork borderline,causing cars to creep carefully.Days draw dark,even the ever-green entitiesfading faces fall fast,and Gaia grows gooseflesh and gazeshappily at the houses she holds.Icicles infiltrate indefinite islands,jigging around on jagged jawsor knobbly knees,like they're listening to learn ofmen and more.Now night nestlesover open oceansand plunges… Continue reading A Winter Alphabet
It's Sunday afternoon. The Grand Prix is on the TV, Dad is rooting for Lewis Hamilton (even though he moved teams and is one of the biggest bigots I can think of). I'm not really paying attention; I lost interest when my favourite racer Kimi Räikkönen dropped out of the top 10 due to a… Continue reading Through my Father’s Eyes
when i’m sitting alone : in the park, and the ducks : swim around in circles : in the poor excuse for a lake : my fingers absent-mindedly toy : with the frays of my sleeve : the soft cotton wall around my arm begins to thin : threads twisting loose : exposing bare skin… Continue reading fray
