Bag For Life

Check you out with your bag for life oh!
What you got inside?
A summer fruit trifle.
Oh my word that sounds delightful, I must get me one of those bags for life oh.
Check you out with your brand new Kindle!
What you got inside?
A bit of Ruth Rendell.
Oh my word that sounds stupendful, I must get me one of those poxy plastic Kindles.
Check you out with your speedy boarding pass!
We’re getting on the same plane mate, we’ll get there just as fast.
You’ve gone from sitting down, to sitting on your arse!
Oh, how I wish I had a speedy boarding pass.

Oh Standfast

New York

I sat in the pub drinking my beer
and looking at the TV screens
as New York got a hammering from the superstorm.

For all I knew New York could sink
but I would still be here
just me and my beer.

Marc Carver

6 Nov 2012

in a basement gig
on election night
trying to forget about
time. strobe lights
split images, benign
exit signs illuminated.
all i can think about
is you.

Integers at bus stops,
slipping past the crowds,
now down in this cavernous
void you wouldn’t think
was central london. sheltered
from the news, i lock
eyes and some kate bush
comes on. i forget

my heart is a swing state,
i’ve never known what i
wanted. the security of
a home, the passionate
dirty smog of change,
readymade. have another
warm san miguel with me
it can’t matter all the time.

looking back, it does seem
i’ve had a history of
severe anxiety, sitting
by the island in the inlet
at the park, and how
everybody fit together,
and then she said, “all
i’ve read makes me blue”

Django Wylie

Serotonin & Dopamine

Belief in something, some sort of faith, an idea of where you are going, trusting where you want to be.
Knowing it’s going to be alright even though life is tough and people are unkind.
Not caring.
Not sharing the same life as someone else.
We are people who can stand on two feet, we are vertical. We are erect.
Don’t follow, pave your own path. A new route.
Enjoy the unkind, see the humour.
Wallowing in the mud will get you stuck.
Take risks.
Move in uncouth ways.
Make people feel uncomfortable.
Fall over on purpose so others laugh at you.
Find what you are good at then get great, find what you are shit at then get good. Progress.
Seem happier than you are.
If you have something to say, write it on a wall.
Don’t regret but do apologize.
Find new words, places and people.
Feed your mind, starve those who eat all your ideas, they will only regurgitate them.
Don’t harm anyone’s feeling or bodies.
Be busy.
Fall in love, have your heart broken and learn to move on.
Remember the good forget the bad.
Mistakes are genius.

Charles Keen


she said
after you

she said
pearls before swine
shit before shovel
tears before bedtime

she said
don’t look at me like that
you started it

she said
when you’re alone
doing yourself
you’ll be doing me

Mr Black

Root Ball Terror

Puddles of earth? More curious than an empty packet of crinkle cut or stray Tesco carrier bloated on sea breeze.

A trail of ericaceous led me to a boisterous four by four. Our infant tree tossed like a badger in accidental murder.

Displaced below street level, his outlook is uncertain.

Angry person, avert your gaze. You are not a postman so don’t open gates, grab plants like turkey necks and hurl them at private number plates.

I Find You Curious

Five Seven Five

(Leon to his mom)

Inspiration is feeling

I’m feelin you dawg

Dilesh Patel


ou say either and I say either,
You say neither and I say neither,
Either, either, neither, neither,
You like potato and I like potato,
You like tomato and I like tomato,
Potato, potato, tomato, tomato!

Because our relationship only exists online.

Callum Copley


Henry Billington

Sixth Toe

Sixth Toe
Sanyu Kiyingi

The Reader

signs flicker
metallic, neon
as concrete and wireframe
make love to a half hung
two strangers sit
watching the night fade
the man speaks to her
reads her
every crack and break
she chews slowly
over his words
all the while
her heart
to the beat
of some whimpered
that is gobbling at her

Sarah Hardin

Haiku For

the man in the seat in front of me, BA flight 1463, Edinburgh to Heathrow, 31 August 2012

you put your seat back
as soon as we’ve taken off
I learn about you

Andrew James Brown

Too Late

he sits
on the toilet
i’m taking
a bath
she asks me
is there a future for us
i don’t piss
in the water
as she’d like
to get in

i tell her
it’s too late

Mr Black

Writier Than The Sword

Let your pen write,
“The sword is sordid.”

The sword (contrite)
will duly find a forge
and beat itself
into the cutting
(or leading edge)
of a mouldboard
(or turner of topsoil)
and follow the coulter
(or ground-breaking spike)
to the end of the earth

which is just as well
for in war
no-one hears a bloody word
you write.

Philip Burton

Der Kerzenhalter

“I like this” she says, lifting the black candlestick from the mantelpiece.

“Thanks. I bought it in a little fleamarket in Berlin. It’s nicely turned and it’s beautiful wood, Ebony I believe”.

“It’s cute, but looks so lonely standing there on its own. It’s a shame it isn’t part of a pair”.

“Oh he is”. I tell her. “His brother sits in the room of a girl in Prenzlauer Berg. They don’t talk anymore, but I hope that one day they’ll be together again”.

Matt Evans

Night Soundings

Rain is sometimes morse,
repeating its message of the sea,

of secrets or recipes thought lost,
each drop preserving a story.

Cars scud – ore and oil wrought
by digits that grub in dirt.

Trains slide a line – bridge-high
metal worm muscling a bend.

Rain writes in long-hand –
letters that never arrive.

Elaine Booth

A Ring Of Black Feathers

A ring

That once
a life

in the night

like a fox

Winston Plowes

The Book Review

Some books are so dark and miserable

Like harbingers of doom,

They tempt me to make paper planes

To fly around the room,

Psycho babble couch confusion

That shouldn’t be let out

Depressing stuff that beats you up

And fills you full of doubts,

The sad thing is the covers ace,

It’s a shame the book couldn’t keep up the pace,

Signed Mr. Sensitive.

Paul Maxey

The Unbearable

What’s so wonderful about Pandas, why do people stand and stare
At what after all is only, a black and white veggie bear

A mysterious thing is a Panda
of which knowledge is vague and grey
but we do know because of its diet,
It shits, forty times, “every day”

Curious crowds are wide-eyed, at their cuddlyness, “all agog”
not deliberately shy and elusive, spend most of their time on the bog

If the Worlds population were Pandas living on bamboo grass
and man the endangered specie would it ever come to pass

I imagine myself loaned to China, on the first of many trips
would Pandas turn up in their thousands to watch ME,
eat egg and chips.

A cry on behalf of all animals, highlighting the disrespect
toward elephants spiders and warthogs
from whales to the smallest insect
this bias in favour of Pandas
is politically incorrect

Agreeing with the protest
will be creatures of the night
screeching, the public only love it
because its got bits of white

Ken Eaton-Dykes

Limerick For Sidney James

The greatest actor of any age,
was a gent called Sidney James.
He was somehow famous
and a hit with the ladies,
though his clothes and his teeth were

Andrew James Brown

A Seasonal Story


Up sprang a gust of playful wind

scattering cherry blossom

in this May time spring,

swirling round legs

old and rickety

leaving a scene,

of enchanting serendipity.

Twas a canines random scattered stools

transformed into petal encrusted jewels

euphemised on this fine day

when nature, wind,

and circumstance favour,

courtesy, a stray mutts

naughty behaviour.

An accidental work of art,

forged by the elements taking part,

this vision of wonder

the soul to delight, blossom covered

lumps of shite.

Ken Eaton-Dykes

Cassette Culture

I want to make a tape for you
The way I did when we were teens
Ignoring those pre-CD warnings
Of us killing music with C90’s

I’ll spend hours deciding the correct
Selection, labouring late into the night
Sorting through piles of eighties vinyl
Singles, twelve inches and 45’s

Until I’ve created the perfect playlist
And then fast forward, pause, rewind!
So I hope that my gift is well received
And my peace offering isn’t fated to be

Smashed in the street, or hurled into a Tree

Unfurled, streaming like a pennant in The breeze

Matt Evans

Natures Extremes

The butterfly dances a ballet
From bloom to floret
A painted lady
Decorated from natures abundant chest
Urgent in a nectar quest
Flower and insect combined
Does a most beautiful image make
And yet,
Shorn of her wings
She’s an ugly little get.

Ken Eaton-Dykes


When she cries
It makes me laugh.
She cries
because she cannot get her way.
If she was crying for someone else
It would be different
And I may even, cry along with her,
The way I do, when I feel sorry for someone else.
The way i do when someone has been hurt or through injustice.
But she will never do this
So when she cries
I laugh.

Marc Carver


This is my only voice
My voice is this only

This only is my voice
Only my voice is this

Only this is my voice
My only voice is this

Only, is this my voice?
Is this my only voice?

Is this only my voice?
Is this my voice only?

Jonny Rodgers

Young Dude’s Swagger

Young dude’s swagger
Shirts off in the sun
Comparing tattoos
With everyone,

Like battle scars
And walking galleries,
They surely are a force
Of life to see,

Testosterone fuelled
And chewing gum,
Singing along
To the iPod hum,

But in every city centre
Of this twitter Face book land
There’s a middle age parent
Looking on,
Trying to understand,

But alas for me,
Those days have gone,

But the sun hasn’t set
On the old skin yet.

Paul Maxey

Cycle Haiku

The seed awakens
Watery light springboards life
Dormancy declines

Recognition grows
Pollination of ideas
yields a bumper crop

Recognition slows
Fields of creativity
decay, fall fallow

Dormancy begins
Hibernate ideas so they
survive to revive

Cycle round again
Chain of life is circular
Season is complete?

Laura Taylor

Saturday Triolets

My love plays the PlayStation
my love kisses my breast.
In Saturday elation
my love plays the PlayStation
then views the cricket test.
As sun spills from the West
my love plays the PlayStation
my love kisses my breast.

Then I play PJ Harvey
and grin for the weekend
for we are simple, aren’t we?
Then I play PJ Harvey
sing it until the end
and kiss my love, my friend.
Then I play PJ Harvey
and grin for the weekend.

Jen Robottom