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‘into… – Tales from the Hip pg/pt 5’ ‘cf’ … ordinarily yes for sure, a sequence of events could unwrap a good ol’ fashion intro by setting scenes and giving a wistful character the nod, but hey, cold beans aint hot. Jax, in the meantime, grrr, from Durban’s Bread, alive alive oh, crying cockles and […]
‘into… – Tales from the Hip pg/pt 4’ ‘cf’ … Wake, walk, work, walk doth thread the mid-week cycle of a bloke and his dog. And as the wood’s last clumps of snow huddle together in the shade like year-round patches on the dark side of a mountain, so does he while awaiting the spice […]
‘into…the Hills – Tales from the Hip pg/pt 3’ ‘cf’ … In real time on a cold -3° Monday morning the crisp blue sky fired up by an explosive orange zest shone so fresh you could taste its zeal. It held a Mediterranean heat too, if you stood directly in line and imagined. The next […]
‘the great escape’ ‘cf’ … feet softly prowl, hard to decipher how many, could be two or four, they’re faint lending a camel’s gait only shorter in step and missing the density. Why a camel would be walking the back alleys of Brinny he couldn’t think, but it was that time of year. The smell […]
‘waiting for Godot and 3 come at once’ ‘cf’ … waiting, for what. he growled to himself. Waiting for Godot, Armageddon, the No.39 bus. Waiting for something drastic to happen, bombastic to happen, anything to happen. Waiting does no good. There’s a bull out there with your hands on it. Oh, pulling out all the […]
‘Friday’ ‘cf’ … He knew what it was, just never cared for it. Least, he thought he knew. Now driving through the endless, and on the most, pointless pages of digital tat, he searched those bargains. Everyone will disagree on music, taste and fashion’s qualms he mused dispassionately, wondering how Nigerian outfit Grotto and the […]
‘all aboard the night train’ ‘James Brown’ … we are programmed to receive, Pink Floyd said that on welcoming us to machines, no hang on, hold up and harness the horses, it was the night man from Hotel California, wasn’t it? And so, cries the meddlesome entanglement of age trenched in all it has perceived. […]
‘On the scale of 1-8 eat’ ‘cf’ … Alakazam, size of an octopus. Oh, fellow compatriots of London bus-waiters, that well known verb to wait for a bus, when Oliver Sudden, oh hang on and aye up, wouldn’t that be rad, a bus, a waiter; ‘tickets please’, ‘half a mild and a Babycham to Aldgate […]
‘sun eating dragons’ ‘cf’ … What in the wide, wide world of, what happened there, happened there? The clocks went back in the northern hemisphere, specifically Blighty, as if they go bonkers anywhere else, and without so much as a by your leave, all went very dark, cold and wintry. Such is the case, but […]
‘Busy doing Nothing’ ‘Being Crossby’ …Sat there in the cold bare house, he contemplated the essence of nothing. It felt good. His hands clasped loosely together resting on his belly. Dirt-dried mitts, caked in decades old wallpaper paste, horse glue he thought. Brr. He noticed how every line was accentuated, lending age beyond reality. He […]
