I once knew a person who had two black and white pet cats named after composers. They loved the cats but didn’t really care for them. One day, the prettier of the pair was run over in the lane behind their house. The result was final and irreversible- the cat was dead.
One might expect that my friend would have buried the poor cat on the same day. Illogical assumption, friends. Dearest decided to freeze the poor thing in the family fridge/freezer unit, along side the peas and corn. For six months, the cat remained in the freezer until darling dearest, decided that the time had come to bury the cat in grandmother’s cat-cemetery-garden.

it is such a grey day today…


mary ~ a quick, improvised piece before being productive

once upon a time, a virgin loved me

once upon a time, i loved a virgin too

but dearest mary, she was only fifteen

and her pussy smelt like joe’s guitar strings


they lazed around in paradise

smoking spliff in the stark

the way he moved was swift but distant

tore joe up when he stole her heart


mary told her lover she felt empty

when he was too high one friday night

so mary sought fulfillment in poor joseph

who had learned the art of making love alone


the stoner was buried behind his truest vice

nailed hard by mary the virgin

and hidden behind the holiest stone

to fight the fear of his plight


between a rock and a hard on

mary’s shoulder was bruised beside

a river which wet her hair and underwear –

the torture for a harlot who would never decide


have a good saturday

i certainly will.


one of the significant psychological influences on food selection is experience. everyone has one food that is forever tainted by a single incident of excessive consumption.

my food is walnuts. i am rather annoyed that it couldn’t have been something else, as walnuts offer  “a number of neuroprotective compounds, including vitamin E, folate, melatonin, omega-3 fats, and antioxidants.” these benefits are all particularly important for vegans.

i was twelve and had gone out for lunch with my aunt. i felt ill so decided on a light fruit salad with yogurt, walnuts and honey (pre-vegan obviously). as i consumed those chalky, proteinaceous, butterfly-lungs, i felt the flaky powder stick to my insides, making it more difficult for me to finish my salad.

back home in my bed, i vomited up those bitter butterflies. the thought of them induced further vomiting. more recently, i have reintroduced walnuts into my diet in a calculated and cautious manner.

i wrote this because i had walnuts on my pancakes this morning.

melting moments

i used to wish for time to pass, without ever noticing that it was. i never thought things would come, and i never things would end.

then, everything i had been waiting for, happened. it scared me that years weren’t as long as they had seemed when i was a child.

suddenly, the weeks were passing unnoticed, and months flicked over and over, taking and giving people, places, experiences and parts of me.

now, i can’t help but consider transience – despite the waiting and the time i spend preparing and anticipating, the day will pass. i will be with different people, in different, far-away places, but at the end of the night, i will end up in my bed. what a comforting constant and a wonderful way to appreciate every experience for what it is and think nothing more. nothing is boring and everything is beautiful.

sleep then wake, and the next morning, the anticipation has faded into the panorama of the past and i am left with sweet melting moments.

this is monday (posted a little late)

this is monday.

thin melodies flow through open back doors, harmonising with the whir of the vacuum cleaners. bins wait – alternating black and yellow, while piles of trash and insulation, coat hangers and old television sets, still line the lane-way. this is monday.

the roads are made narrower by the weeds reaching across the tar. bricks have fallen, concrete has divided and old places feel like nothing now that nobody is home. this is monday on the sweet street.

a woman stands in her pyjamas, barefooted by her washing line. her baby is sitting in the grass beside her as she hangs washing from her wicker basket. this is not just monday – this is life.

these things are not exciting or important but they are the wholesome and undeniable basics for us here – even on the sweet side.