Home 2018-08-06T17:56:02+00:00


Making salsa

August 14th, 2018|0 Comments

Today I’m making sauce again.
The flavour left from yesterday is so bitter
I can still taste it,
Although, I’ve brushed my teeth three times.
What was I thinking?
When I added too much vitriole,
And not enough laughter.
The bus driver in his white shirt
With children looked after by the neighbour
Because their mother had died
Deserved at least a smile.
How was I to know?
How was I not?
He ate my sauce
As I shrugged off his furrowed brow.
It was a family recipe:-
Betrayal and anger with a hint of sarcasm.
Today’s sauce, will have more compassion,
More fun,
More me.



August 13th, 2018|0 Comments

Last night when you were drunk,
You wanted my friendship again.
So I listened while your heart bled
Stories of love disdained.
I listened while you told me
That being lonely was the cost,
That I was the only friend you had.
And when you’d finished off,
I put down the phone and let you sleep.

Now, today you are sober
You ignored my ring,
To make sure you were OK.
That’s how it is being
Friends who want nothing
From each other.


Yes you can

August 13th, 2018|0 Comments

I can see
I can walk
I can stay warm at night
I can eat when I need
I can read with a light
I can wash
I can shave
I can keep myself clean
I can make myself breakfast
I can follow my dreams
I can think
I can bend
I can manage my time
I am the one who can choose
What to put in my mind
For all this I give thanks
But the most important of all
Is that
I can be happy.

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Short Fiction


August 6th, 2018|0 Comments

“You’re a racist,” he said. “And racists don’t get jobs here.” Tom swallowed. Nobody fucking calls me a racist, he thought. The interviewer started to put Tom's papers back into the brown manila folder. “And I’m gonna report you for discrimination,” Tom said. The interviewer laughed as he closed the folder. “You hate faggots,” Tom continued trying to force the point home. The interviewer smirked, “You haven’t got a leg to stand on.” “I’ll have these,” Tom said, and quickly took the papers and ran from the building. It had been two weeks since the interview with the faggot [...]

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