Markov Chain is a work in search of a publisher. Interested parties (or indeed, any comments), may be directed to Piscesblog@hotmail.com Click the cover to read: ENJOY! Read Full Story

Zdzislaw Beksinski (1972) Open wide great jaws of time where laughter swallows gods divine Blow your tune through trumpet stems and daffodil delirium Drink the day in draughts that say the green has come to stay Never hear the magpies squall behind the walls of hay In penumbra veiled the colony failed to roll their Sisyphean rock Past the meat-locker feast, that bipedal beast that slanders the afternoon clock And crystal consonants don’t translate to capture the afternoon’s magnetic haze... Read Full Story

The rain came early; unpredicted by the weather underground The pundits pondered, gave their words a laundry run-around Proclaimed the world at fault, their wages stashed in mattress hair And duly washed their hands upon this troublesome affair The dam once broken floods the lawn with past rainfall Wets my broken feet and causes cars to stall Out in the street washing yellow lines from the curb Footprints pad past wilted roses lest their thorns disturb The sleeping queues of clotted... Read Full Story

Black ink squids across the page to margins neat Lines blue-veined carry words like transient sleet Gather in corners letters and colons semi alert Crash through page-edge where thoughts desert Headlines scuttle like sidewalk crustaceans Yesterday’s sleaze in this morning’s breeze Literary arrangements in mediocre variations Litter windblown now just wasted trees Here is the news your ears to corn Here is the line hand written with scorn There goes your freedom to pick and to choose There... Read Full Story

Brain Wash We bring you paper and paste and indelible waste, contracts to sign before we run out of time – the ink from our pens runs dry at the bends where the u-tube obscures our view of what’s pure and the kiss implanted with collagen by con men won’t belay the morning or the moorings un-cast in the glass of tomorrow where nothing will last and the threads of grey time in the nest of my goatee writhe in delight at the passing of prime. The better we get the more we regret the way of... Read Full Story

In My Mind's Eye ~ Don Childers She is the lightning rod and he is the storm Across slate roof sleet to gutter groan Down drainpipe wall-attached To where the grass meets the street Your lawn lakes green the fence defers To the baited breath of silent neighbours She breathes a sigh as raindrop falls To stain the wash on white night walls You are not drawn from stencil brush nor led by nose to greed And words won’t waive the sentence yet handed down by need You are the wave upon my shore... Read Full Story

More News From Nowhere Hey hey here we go Rambo’s saving Burma Blood red carpet welcomes America’s first black president – prepare for more of the same. Sub-prime credit crunch fuck you pedestrians, Wall Street brokers are laughing their dicks off. Israel continues dispersing the bullets paid for in dollars by the American Dream, paid for in blood by Palestinian civilians, cranking the pressure on Concentration Camp Gaza while wailing in protest on the monopoly board. Cheney’s in the... Read Full Story

Easter brought snow to East Anglia To gardens preparing themselves for summer To the swans that haunt the river bank To graffiti ghosts that prowl the underpass To sunken chests that ripple silent And protests shouted at the sky. Read Full Story

I saw I was a young man clean shaven and serene Walking on the parapet frozen in a dream To the left the yawning chasm that beckoned pointless proud To the right you kissed my neck and uttered words aloud You need not be who you think you are nor ride the edge so hard You needn’t tread the path so deep and drag that blackened cloud And so the mirror smiling does reflect my younger self returning Turning slow in haze and snow and heart no longer yearning For that which cannot be contained or... Read Full Story

Your eyes too fierce my shame to meet my feet walking aimless down the street With no one to meet but red mist persist and all that I own to be me Shatters and falls a suit of glass shards autumn leaves from an earthquake tree This bitter pill bitten pit-bull self-inflicted Ignorance and pain dutifully misdirected Inward holds the mirror frost obscured And left with nothing my fingertips to grasp Only then to see the lives of my children and the love that has endured The years of formation... Read Full Story