Friday, 5 September 2008

Poetry Prompt 7: The Hurricane

This is most definitely one of the most appropriate Poetry Prompts I've ever done (check out the website Pen Me A Poem). It's not just about the hurricanes that are occuring on the news, but down here in Brighton as I write this poem, the rain and winds are horrible! So with all that is happening here, here's my submission for this week:

The Storm:

Someone has made the Gods angry;
Lives will be changed in just minutes.
One simple action is all it takes
To destroy in order to create new.
The wind howls and roars
Knocking everything over in its path,
The strongest trees fight with valiance,
But even they can't stay standing for long.

The branches do a different dance
To a different rhythm and tune;
Bending and swaying with no control
As if they are just about to break.
Leaves and plants fly away
Never to be seen again;
Settling in a different place,
Hoping this is where hell ends.

But the hell is just beginning...

The rain becomes heavier and heavier
As if the Gods are crying tears of anger.
Water rises above its normal level,
Even Neptune cannot control this sea!
Houses flooded, possessions destroyed,
Cries of 'What have we done to deserve this?'
Fill the air, only to be drowned out
By the crash of thunder and lightning flash!

Lightning doesn't strike twice here,
But it frightens and even kills.
No one knowing how long this torment
Will last - people become more scared,
Not even the bravest souls know
How to handle this. They forget
The most simple things...
Especially the preciousness of life.

In the aftermath the next morning,
Life attempts to be normal again.
But, will anyone ever be the same
As they once were? Maybe...
Have they learned from this?
We all do things differently.
Hell may have closed over,
But we all know it will come again.

Thursday, 28 August 2008

Living Hell

This is a short story that is being published this year in an anthology dedicated to vampires which is the same one 'Spider' is being published in. This is the most recent work I've done. 2 days ago in fact! Enjoy!

Living Hell

My first taste of passion was an unusual one. Never in my life had I wanted anyone so badly, wanting to taste him, feel him, devour every inch of him until I had my fill and not want to stop craving him! The feeling of being so high on the best form of drug and not wanting to come down was taking over my life – so much so I was obsessed. I didn’t want anything else. I even gave up my job for him it got that bad! But this was something I was not going to regret.

I first met ‘Mr O’ (I never knew his real name) at a friend’s house-warming party. He was so different from any of the others in the room. Tall, smartly dressed, long blonde hair tied back in a pony-tail with shiny black shoes. He made the other idiots in the room look dull – but then that wouldn’t be at all suprising, every time I go to one of these parties I always get landed with the same people. Boring, idiotic, think that they are the best thing since sliced bread! But this time I knew it would be different, and I was proved right when I laid eyes on ‘Mr O’. He was standing by the fireplace talking to one of my friends Cassie. At first I thought he was a ladies’ man the way he was chatting her up and then moving on to another, so I suppressed my initial urge at first and continued trying to focus on Colin who was talking about Zen and how it influenced his life (or was it Metaphysics versus Christianity?!? Was only half listening!). At the precise moment when I was beginning to think about leaving, a rather deep and sexy voice interrupted my thoughts.

‘I hope I’m not interrupting?’ Said ‘Mr O’ to Colin, ‘But I couldn’t help noticing that this charming young lady is rather bored! Kindly take your metaphysics elsewhere.’ Mmmm…I thought, direct and abrupt…nice touch! Colin tried to come back with one of his half-hearted ‘witty’ retorts, but found himself frozen to the spot, unable to speak. ‘Didn’t you hear me? I said go!’ Said ‘Mr O’ calmly. Colin finally took the hint and left us.

It seemed ages before ‘Mr O’ and I spoke. We exchanged the normal niceties of greetings and names before he took me completely by surprise.

‘This is not your normal scene is it?’ ‘Mr O’ asked. ‘I get the feeling that a lot of the time you’d rather be elsewhere which is why I ask.’

‘How perceptive of you’ I said, ‘But how did you know that?’

‘I recognise the signs – the fact that I am exactly the same helps. But then, these sorts of gatherings intrigue me. So many lost souls trying to fit in, but they never do.’

Naturally I was intrigued by this, so I pressed him for further explanations. All I could get out of him was ‘I am an observer of people, nothing more.’ Even when I asked him why ‘Mr O’, he said ‘That’s for me to know and you to find out.’ I should have read the warning signs then, but I just felt so at ease with this man and was having a good time that I didn’t care at that point who he was and why he protected his real name. All throughout the night we talked about the vibrancy of life and why people acted the way they did. Did they bring about their own fate or were the circumstances they were in depicting what sort of life they were going to have?

‘Take Colin for instance.’ He said. ‘He in many ways is trapped by his circumstances – so wrapped up in things that obviously do not exist or cannot be proved at least that he is fated to have no proper friends or a long lasting relationship. You on the other hand…’ he lowered his voice as he turned his intense gaze to me. ‘You are able to free yourself from your life trappings. I know we’ve only known each other for a short period of time, but I know you well enough to know that you are adventurous, daring, passionate…’ He kissed me with an intensity that blew my mind away. ‘I can give you that freedom that others cannot understand. Your needs are different from all these…empty shells that we see here. You need to be taken to a completely different level to really appreciate what you have. I can do that for you – no one else can.’ With that he took my hand and leading me out the door said ‘Let me show you something.’ Now at this point I could have said no, but for once in my life I felt so special. Somehow this beautiful creature had tapped into a part of my soul that had been locked away for so many years and I was awakening into someone, if not, something new. Here was someone who promised me a different stage that only he could give me – there was no way I was going to miss this chance.

He led me to his car and we drove in silence to his place on the other side of town. What happened next is a little sketchy though. All I can recall of that night is being in his living room by the fire, him kissing me with an intense, fiery and obsessive passion, which I revelled in. I had never been shown this much affection before and loved all the attention bestowed upon me! He then moved down my neck driving me insane, nibbling me as well as kissing, taking me to the peak of intense happiness. The next thing I knew, I felt something sharp plunging into the most sensitive part of my neck. I thought I was just dreaming, but the pain felt real – especially when the blood started to trickle down my skin onto my clothes. I kept trying to pull him off, but the more I struggled, the more he kept biting and sucking as if he had a massive hunger he had to quench! I do remember pulling him off though and running out of the flat.

The next morning I woke up in my bed not knowing how I got there. I didn’t want to move though – was it the shame of last night getting to me? I didn’t know or care, but all I wanted to do was stay in bed and hide under the covers. There was a huge thumping in my head too which I couldn’t shake. Not even pills helped.

For most of that day I stayed under the covers and eventually stirred later on that afternoon at 5pm. Couldn’t eat anything, but felt extremely thirsty – must have been the alcohol last night I thought. Even so, my normal cup of tea didn’t taste right despite me making it the way I normally would do, so tried in desperation a glass of wine. That felt ok. Didn’t drown out what happened though as the broken images of that fateful night kept coming back – especially the biting into my flesh. Just to make sure I wasn’t going insane, I looked in the mirror and to my horror, the teeth marks were still there along with the stained blood on my neck. Was my worst nightmare coming true? I thought these ‘things’ didn’t exist! With trepidation I went to the phone and called Cassie – she was the only one who properly spoke to him. She didn’t remember him. There was no such person as ‘Mr O’ it seemed.

I felt sick. I knew I wasn’t insane – last night did happen! But why did I feel like I was stuck between sleep and alertness? Did the fact that I stopped him doing what he was going to do prevent me from becoming a creature of the night like in stories my dad used to read to me in my childhood? This was when my obsession with the mysterious ‘Mr O’ really started. I knew I had to find him to put right what had been started, but didn’t know where to look. But work would be getting in the way for me to do this, so the next day, I quit my job to fully concentrate on my search – no loss really, being in a call centre was no fun anyway.

My dad always used to say that there is no heaven and hell, that we create our own hell. He’s right. ‘Mr O’ did do one thing, make me into something new, but I still search for him to this very day to seek the answers to my living hell. I don’t know who I am any more – human or vampire. One thing I now remember of that night was after I pulled him off me and ran, he called after me ‘Come back here! I haven’t finished with you yet!’ Every day I feel like I’m stuck in two different bodies; never sure which one I belong in. One moment I can be perfectly normal, but the next, I start becoming this blood-craving madwoman wanting new victims to feed on. This stops after about an hour or two; then all I feel is drained. Wherever ‘Mr O’ is, I will find him so that things will be put right. One way or another.

Soul Searching

This was written on 5th July this year when I was down on the beach for a festival and felt a little down in general, but really felt inspired for the first time in ages to write something.

Soul Searching:

Blue is the ocean of my heart,
Big, vast and open.
Waves crash on the sands
My mind has created,
And wash away the debris.

Pebbles create shapes that bemuse
And confuse - patterns not complete.
Fluid and cold is the water
That pounds and crashes here:
Changing things constantly.

Cruel is the moon that turns
The tide of a thousand souls.
Make way for the mother
That nurtures and creates,
Yet spurns all who disobey her.

Let me lie in your gentle arms
And release the inner pain.
Soothe the wound with rays
Of life, fire and passion.
But don't let me burn.

A Blank Canvas

This was written on 2nd August this year in response to Poetry Prompt on - the theme was 'My Writing Desk' and here is the result:

A Blank Canvas:

Inspiration comes from all seeing eyes.
Let the imaginiation run wild
With all colours that light up at night.

Outside the window looms a palace
With domes that stretch up to the sky.
Stuck in time, yet current;

Transporting me back to a time of
Princes, kings and queens.
Arabian nights coax and tempt me.

Back in the land of reality,
The box is blaring, mum is cooking
And my best friend is next to me.

The computer is on a small table
That was a shelf - makeshift, but handy.
Drink and numerous papers at my side.

White walls, sleek lines;
Carpet that's light and not right,
Sliding doors of black and silver.

All this in a box of glass
Ready to be personalised.
A blank canvas.

Wednesday, 27 August 2008

Ambitions and Regrets

This was written towards the end of 2002 when I was taking stock of things.

Ambitions and regrets:

Do we know what we really want?
Is it just the weather that makes us do this?
Or is it plain silliness and stupidity?
Ambitions that sometimes aren’t achieved
Are always around the corner.
A hot air balloon ride with champagne,
Wanting to take you around your favourite spot.
A mountain hike over the Philippines,
The magic of Spain’s culture and passion
And even wanting to become a star for a day.
All these call and beckon you
Saying ‘come to me, I will change your life!’
However, something deep inside tells you
To stay put, stick with what you know –
It’s safe, never go into the unknown.
Most of the time we regret not doing it
And we ruin our lives by letting it rot,
Eating away at our souls until there’s nothing left.
So, what do we really want?
Ambitions? Or regrets?

Paradise By The Wild Oak Tree

This was an experimental poem influenced by the poem 'Lady of Shallott' as well as the fact that every one has fantasies and this is one form it can take. Looking back on it now, it's almost Pagan in terms of imagery.

Paradise by the wild oak tree:

I saw you in a dream once
In a glossy green meadow.
The sun was at its warmest,
Birds were calling to each other –
All this by a clear lake
With an oak tree nearby.
Then I saw you in all your
Manly glory – brown eyes with
Hair as dark as the night.
Your smile was like pearls,
Making me feel like a queen.
It was here you kissed me
And something inside made
The feeling stronger – wanting…
And wanting more more more!
The delectable sensation took over
And I purred with sheer ecstasy!
This was the perfect moment
That I’d been waiting for –
I didn’t want it to stop –
Take me to my highest peak,
But don’t ever let me fall!
It was then I woke up.
But then one thing’s for sure,
That dream was like the oak –
Wild, protective and will last forever.

Make Me Real

My frustrations of actor training and just in general being different to top it all off!

Make Me Real:

Help me to get out –
I don’t want to be this way!
I’m fed up with being me –
I know I’m different, but
I want to be on another level.
No longer wooden – just
Grant me this one wish –
Even if it’s just for one night,
Make me the one thing I desire –
Make me real – make me live!

Witches and Wizzards

This was again written as an early poem back in early 2000. Can also be done as a very different monologue.

Witches and Wizards

Have you ever wondered what’s
Behind your house or in the garden?
Don’t tell anyone, but I’ve seen
Something – it’s fantastic!
It’s a strange world full of
Weird and wonderful things –
Magic, spells, witches and wizards.
I’m serious! This is real!
They have everything that we desire –
Chocolates, candy, toys, anything!
It’s all controlled by this one witch –
A pretty little thing – no warts at all!
Long black hair and a dress of gold.
You could tell she was all right!
Gave you a flash of her smile
If you were good – if not, then it
Was the naughty corner for you!
The naughty corner is full of nasty things
That you see in nightmares – spiders, ants,
Torture instruments tormented you for days,
That way you would never forget what you did.
It got across that what you did was bad!
Once your lesson was learned,
You were taken to the grand high wizard,
Who set you a task to compensate
The bad thing you did – it works!
He gets you to clean out his dragon’s lair –
Don’t even go there! His breath stinks!
It’s like he hasn’t brushed his teeth for centuries!
And the droppings he leaves – disgusting!
They’re big as a monster!
He’s magic though! His fire breathes
Out prophesies of your life.
Don’t see me becoming a lawyer though!
Once you’ve done that, you play with fairies
Until the fairy ring breaks,
Then you go into this cave
With jewels and books galore.
I spent a lot of happy times in there –
You can even try out the spells –
It’s perfectly safe – unless you accidentally
Turn yourself into a centipede!
Then you go through this hole in the cave,
Bringing you back home!
I tell you it’s true – ask anybody!
Go down to your garden and look hard –You never know what you may find…


This was written in 2001 and will be published this year in a Collection of Vampire stories and poetry. This is a different look at the black widow spider who can be seen as a vampiress in her own right!


A creepy eight-legged creature
Lies in wait for her prey to arrive.
She organised the nights work herself –
From the interior decorating
To the absolute perfection of her looks.
The man in question thinks himself the
Mel Gibson of the insect world.
A ladies man of the highest degree –
In his little bow tie and big flash smile!

The date is arranged – dark room,
Romantic music – you get the picture?
Anyway, sweet nothings are whispered,
A traditional dance of love,
A tender kiss leading on to much more…
Suddenly, as soon as he thinks he’s won,
Immediately it’s ‘Off with his Head!’
And a satisfied smile dripping with blood.
All that’s left is an eight-legged carcass
Which is cast aside and eaten later…
Heh heh heh!

Sparkhouse Part II

This was influenced by a modern version of 'Wuthering Heights' on ITV back in 2005-6.

Sparkhouse Part II:

Why do you do this to me?
My insides are churned!
I’m going to explode –
You are with me all the time,
Your soul pumps through my blood
Making me feel things I shouldn’t
I need you with me all the time –

I crave you!
I desire you!

I want to swallow you whole
And devour every inch.
You are part of me
And I am part of you.
I know you feel the same –
Give into your desires
And express your fantasies!

Now, I have you…

New beginnings

This was written as an anniversary present to my parents last year not long after we moved to Brighton! Enjoy!

New Beginnings

Brighton certainly has been a change for us,
Particularly when it comes to our new place.
The ceiling has had bumps and cracks
That to the normal eye is normal,
But for us it’s an eyesore!

The site manager didn’t take to us at first,
The main assumption was weird.
We were making the snag list up he said,
These buildings are perfect.
He soon changed his tune when he saw the inside…

‘You’re right!’ said he
‘This ceiling’s about to come down,
I’ll get onto it right away!’
Several weeks later something happened,
He actually emerged with someone called Keith.

Now Keith’s a jolly chap with a broad smile
Who took to us right away and saw our predicament.
‘If my wife were here’ he said,
‘Then she’d be rallying this battle along.
Being in the design business helps!’

The only trouble was he took a slight detour…
He spotted the family’s only daughter
Emerging from her boudoir at 1pm
With unmade bed hair and glazed eyes.
‘Oh my God! Sascha’s awake! Where’s the fanfare?’

Laughter seems to be a running joke
Where this snagging list is concerned.
It never ends!
It’s insane that when people finish one job,
Another one starts practically straight after.

Soon after the ceiling had been sorted,
The rain started coming in –
Turns out that the sliding door has a gap
About two inches wide.
Someone slipped up somehow!

Then the bathroom tap wouldn’t work,
The shower leaked and water turned cold,
The kitchen looks like it’s in a timewarp
And the carpet in its beige attire
Has a stain mark from the rain the size of a puddle.
It’s now my parent’s wedding anniversary,
And whilst the ceiling is better than it was,
It’s still not and never will be right.
And whilst the snagging list is shrinking,
Still more things are coming out of the woodwork!

Such as the possibility of having a different ceiling,
A gothic bedroom with a modern twist
And a dream kitchen to die for.
But the snagging list is still there,
Preventing progression happening.

But at least one thing has come
Out of this experience…
You haven’t torn each other to pieces,
Killed each other
Or had a divorce…yet!

Ps, if the above does happen,
Just make sure that you try
To remain on friendly terms.
If it doesn’t happen,
Mother make sure you get a hefty settlement!!!


This is influenced by my favourite novel 'Wuthering Heights' - I took it from Cathy's perspective even in death. This could even be done as a monologue.


Where am I?
I don't like this!
Where am I going?
Is this what death's like?
One long, empty void?
Where's Heathcliff?
All I said was that I loved him.
That I am Heathcliff!
Why did I get married to that silly Linton?
He never was my soulmate -
Not like Heathcliff.
All I wanted was airs and graces
And all the attention in the world.
I was seduced by this lifestyle,
Now look what's come of it!
I wanted Heathcliff more than anything.
It nearly happened before I died ironically!
I was ill then - brought on by myself
According to the love of my life.
All I want is to go home,
Be where I belong for a change!
I don't want to be lost anymore.

What's that? A light?
The outline's becoming clearer!
Is it The Grange?
No! It is the Heights! My home!
Is it my salvation?
Or is it Heathcliff?
I remember every little detail -
The fire, the window...
The window! Is it my love?
I'll take a closer peep.
It is!!!
Heathcliff! Heathcliff!
Let me in! Please! Let me in!
Don't you recognise me?
Cathy Linton! Your Cathy!
Careful of my hand!

The blood...strangely cleansing.
Wash away my sin
In your scarlet river.
I'll try again soon!
A voice? Heathcliff! I hear you!
But you don't hear me.
I'll come back to you -
If this force that's pulling me stops!
Heathcliff! Heathcliff!
I love you my darling!
Always have, always willlll.....

Kitty's Walk

Yet again a 2001 poem - I love cats, so this I thought would be the purrr-fect poem for a cat's voice! Is also a great performance piece!

Kitty's Walk:

It's time to sneak out again
And walk down those alleys I know so well.
I don't always know what will happen,
But I feel I will enjoy it again and again.
I wander in and out of the dustbins,
Listening out for scandal to get my claws into.
Maybe take in a little sightseeing...
Of the new sleek tabby on the block that is!
A little hot milk on the doorstep -
Even a mouse or two - black ones are the nicest!
The cats chorus is always a highlight,
That is until shoes are thrown at us -
I'm still recovering from a six-inch stiletto!
Sitting under the full moon is beautiful.
It releases my purrr-fect feline instincts
And makes me feel proud to be a cat.
Maybe as soon as my nine lives are through,
I'll come back as the next Naomi Campbell -
Watch out Hollywood! Pussy is on her way!
But my fun has to end sometime -
Back to my cosy warm house in front of the fire
Waiting for tomorrow night...Miaow!

First Day Blues

Written in 2001 when I started my 2nd term at university.

First Day Blues:

Help! I can't sleep a wink!
I can't even stop to think
What tomorrow will bring.
Sometimes though we break the mold
Of life, going along at our own pace -
Suddenly we're joining the human race.

Rush rush rush - we never stop,
I only wish I could flop
Like an old rag doll with a smile,
Oh it would seem so worthwhile!
I can't wait till the end of the day -
But I'll face tomorrow come what may.

I can't wait to get into my bed
And pull the covers over my head.
Pretty soon I'll be in a deep sleep,
If anyone dares wake me I'll weep!
Ah well, maybe I'll stay in -
No, I'll go out with a grin!

Freedom in Love

Again 2003 - a more happier poem, but with some great gothic influences! Thank you Morticia Addams for your inspiration!

Freedom in Love:

Red roses are in bloom this time,
No longer is doom and gloom here.
They say that food is the way to the heart,
But I find poetry, gothic influences and black
Express one's true intentions!
Black roses are more dramatic,
Medieval dresses with flowing sleeves
Dominate the whole atmosphere.
Fallic towers on a castle
Say a lot more than words can!
Morticia Addams in her lair
With Wednesday following in her footsteps.
She has the right idea -
'Carra Mia!' 'Mon Chere!' 'Mon Amore!'
Spiders weave their web of passion
With dew that shines like diamonds.
Slithering snakes entwine themselves
Around any object they focus on,
While Poison Ivy weaves her magic spell
On those unfortunate, unwilling victims.
Foaming everywhere, passions bubbling
To the surface - no more inhibitions!
Love is many a splendoured thing,
But true freedom in love
Explores the dark side of life
And lets it experiment with new things.
Most importantly, we are true to ourselves.


Also the same period of time, but going through a rough patch. Almost an offshoot from 'Cultural Differences'


Trapped, isolated, lonely,
Wanting to reach out -
Never get there though.
My chains always hold me back -
They only go so far in certain places.
No one listens to my cries for help.
All there is left is barren and empty,
Where silence becomes your only friend.
Show me a glimmer of light -
Show me a glimmer of hope!

Cultural Differences

This was 2002-3 era in which I was beginning to feel very good in different sorts of clothes - gothic influenced mainly when I lived in Plymouth. I was also beginning to see some of the prejudices that people could have against you just because you dressed differently. Also because of my love of the performing arts and Shakespeare etc.

Cultural Differences:

You look at me in a strange way
Like I'm some sort of weirdo!
Why? What is so different about me
Compared to people like you?
Is it my hair? My style? My complexion?
Have I an annoying spot I don't know anything about?

Your smile is very confusing.
I cannot tell if it is genuine.
Do you regard me as an outsider?
I don't understand where you're coming from.
Put me in the picture please!
Or am I even in the picture you paint?

Ghost Riders

Influenced by the song 'Ghost Riders' featured in 'Blues Brothers 2000'. The poem was written 7th January 2002.

Ghost Riders:

They ride through the air
Lurking in the dark shadows.
Every time they pass by,
They're on a mission -
To find a key to their destiny,
The valley of souls,
Where wandering spirits lie
Trying to find a way out.
The riders' mission -
To release these lost souls
And help them find their ground.

The riders always dress in black,
Their hoods partially hide
Their faces with Death's Mask.
Behind them rides a lady.
No one knows who she is
Or where she comes from.
One thing's for sure -
Her face is a radient as the sun,
With streams of curly long hair
As blonde as a lion's mane.
Is she a prisoner?
Or a personal helper?

The way she acts is strange.
It seems like she has been there before.
She smiles knowingly at you
As if to say 'Don't worry, you're safe.'
Tempting men everywhere,
The riders somehow know her plan -
Whatever it may be.
Do we know where they're going?
All we know is that the journey
Seems eternal. The key must be found.

One Special Moment

The title is pretty self explanatory - again, beginning of 2002. One of my favourite pieces of work.

One Special Moment:

Night black as smooth chocolate,
Stars twinkling like millions of diamonds,
Lighting up the sky with joy
And fulfilling dreams that lovers have.
Look! A shooting star! Exquisite!
It leaves a trail of bubbles behind
Like a bottle of champagne being opened,
Bursting out over the rim of the glass.
One minute it's there, the next, gone.
A wish - one that might never come true.
A kiss - light as a feather, but yet
Weighted with meaning, never forgotten.
Make a wish! second seems like a lifetime.
'What did you wish for my love?'
'I'm keeping that close to my heart.
And you?'
'I've already got mine...'
One final kiss before our lovers part -
Both in different parts of the world,
But there's one thing that keeps them together.
Night, stars, and the surrender of their souls.


This was late 2002 when I had just started my final year of university and was looking at the road ahead.


The middle of the road is here,
A crossroad where numerous decisions
Come and go - right and wrong debated.
A journey has begun within life -
From day one it seems blurry,
As it progresses, the path seems clear,
But a cloud is always blocking the sun.
The heavens part in rejoice
When a new opening is around the corner,
However it is the journey that will
Clarify eventually all fogginess.
Experiences enlighten our world -
New and old - they shape and mould us,
But it is what we do within this mould
And outside it that makes us who we are.
Sticks and stones may break our bones,
But we always somehow survive.
Progression has its pains and sorrows,
Joy however always evolves somehow.
Survivors are born - natural instincts
Take over and add impact to our decisions
So we no longer remain at the crossroads.
Where am I in all this?
My journey has begun a new phase -
Been born again in love and fulfilment of
My one ambition - one more year left.
One more year, and I'm there!
Hollywood (and Antonio Banderas!)
Here I come!

Tuesday, 26 August 2008

Colours of The Mind

Can't remember precisely when this was written, but I was beginning to think about colours and their significance. Have a feeling this was between 2001-3 I wrote it.

Colours of the Mind:

Every mood, sense and sight
One experiences every day
Has a special colour attached.
Red may symbolise danger,
But it also embodies a passion
That takes over your entire body.
This passion enables one to enjoy
What we all really want in life -
A touch, a kiss, a whisper of love,
Anger, rage, fiery tempers
And anything hot, steamy and lustful!
All this with shivers down the spine
And vibrating all senses.

Blue seems cold, but what about
Happiness, contentment and satisfaction?
Feeling calm and chilled out man
Is a major factor which balances one out.
Compared to red, blue keeps you level-headed
In times when challenges arise.
Body temperature remains the same,
Life goes on as normal - or does it?
If probed, life becomes unstable -
It can be cold when necessary.

Pink takes you back to day one -
The days of innocence, laughter and fun.
Pink blossom falling in a field
From the tallest tree is spiritual harmony
Maintaining karma and wellbeing.
Youth springs into action leaving a legacy
Of freedom for one and all.
Smiles everywhere, not a care left.

Black however is dangerous,
But also sultry, mysterious, sexy.
Revenge, oh sweet revenge
Dominates this colour - subtle or obvious!
Hate is part of it, but is usually
Suppressed until further notice.
Black stands out, but blends into
The background when not needed.
Cunning, wrily and seductive -
This is a colour not to be tampered with!

There are numerous colours I could mention,
But not all have inspiring depths -
Like green and its mellow feel,
But to others it can be physically sickening!
Or grey and its dull aspect.
It may be neutral, but there's no sparkle!
They and many more are colours of the mind,
But what you see in those colours
Is your soul - not anyone else's - yours.

Truth Hurts

Yet another poem in the Moulin Rouge aftermath, only this time, I decided to write it from the point of view of one of the more unlucky women who might have been working at the moulin rouge at that time rather than the Nicole Kidman character. Great as a performance piece again!

Truth Hurts:

Deep in the shadows is
Someone who has been to hell.
I constantly live in mine -
There's no way out of here.

You think I enjoy my life?
Do you really think that
Wearing a sparkling costume
Is the bee's knees?

No one knows about my addiction -
It's the only thing that keeps me going.
Cannabis, weed, coke -
I hate it, but nothing else helps.

Drink doesn't help either -
I always mix. It's my other
Release - a constant blur,
But do I care? No.

I know what you're thinking!
A poor girl who needs to escape -
Just leave me alone!
I don't need you! I don't need anyone!

I'm a right mess aren't I?
The truth hurts sometimes.
But then it comes with the job -
A courtesan in the Moulin Rouge!


This was written at the beginning of 2001 in my first year of university when I started studying a module which included gothic literature. My eyes had been opened at that point to even more characters apart from vampires which I had some experience of via literature prior to the course.


We seek him here and there -
In fact, almost everywhere!
The person who suffers the torturous
Metamorphosis from man to beast.
It all takes place under the full moon,
But they never know exactly when
The painful experience will begin.
When it starts, their eyes are drawn upwards
To that fateful moon with her powerful silver rays
Which pour into the victim's eyes like water.
Muscles contract faster than normal
With pain. Eyes dilate, pointed teeth grow
And fur covers all the body.
He's on the prowl now!
Striking everything in it's path.
Unbeknown to mere mortals, more victims
Are taken every month when the moon is full.
With one single bite, the victim
Is cursed with this eternal metamorphosis!
No one is safe! There's nowhere to run!
No Michael Jackson video! Just real life!

Time to say goodbye

Another poem which was written in the Moulin Rouge aftermath. Can also be done as a short performance piece looking at it again.

Time to say goodbye:

I'm sorry my love,
It's time to say goodbye.
Don't ask any questions -
Just accept it as it is.
What we had was good,
But all good must end
Sometime - staying with you
Is dangerous - for both of us!
Don't ask any questions,
Please accept it as it is.
There's a lot you don't understand
And there's too much to take in.
I can't tell you why,
Just go, please!
It's time to say goodbye,
I love you, but...
No, don't look at me like that!
You know what it does to me!
If I stay with you, it's instant death.
Don't ask any questions,
Just accept it as it is.
We'll be together soon,
But it's time to say goodbye my love -
However, come what may
It will all be over.
Don't ask any questions!
Just accept what must be.

Come and get me

Written a year after Moulin Rouge had been released at the cinema and had just come onto DVD!

Come and Get Me:

Hello boys!
A kiss on the hand may be continental,
But I prefer the more direct approach!
I love to be wooed the old fashioned way,
But what's wrong with being honest?
No more pretence now -
Just come and get me!
I'm yours for the taking,
Ready to be plucked off your tree!
Time to overcome all inhibitions -
Don't hold back - I know you want
What you think you can't have.
I've been there - I know what it's like
To hide all feelings away,
Bottling them up until they pop out
Like a cork - it's so messy afterwards -
Mopping up the filthy mess.
It's like champagne, but without the excitement.
So don't hold on to those well known fears -
I'm yours for all eternity.
Come and get me now -
I know you want to!


This was written at about 20 years old again celebrating the fact that I love champagne! It's one of my favourite drinks.


If there's one thing in life
Which I'm crazy about,
Then the answer is simple.
It's that familiar substance
That tickles my fancy -
Or rather 'bubbles' inside me.
This is - champagne!

Why? You may ask.
The truth is - I don't know!
It just enlightens my spirit
When I'm feeling down.
Also it sets my mind flowing
With ideas, dreams and goals
That I might want to fulfil.

Warmth grows inside -
All coldness thaws away.
Confidence brims over that glass,
Sending shyness into oblivion.
Whether it's pink, white or not,
I'll drink only the very best!
So if you're in the mood,
Crack open a Piper Hiedsick -

Let your juices flow!

The Worm

This was definitely a 1999 poem. I was beginning to experiment with repeating verses to create impact and it tied in with the fact I hate worms!!!

The Worm:

Here lies an unusual creature -
Obviously not of this world.
It crawls its way in and out
Of the earth, trying to find some
Short cut rather than the solution.

This creature is slimey, dirty and
Underhand - slithering into people's
Minds, not caring about anything
In its way. It seems to be mindless -
All pink body and no face.

Whatever one does to stop it,
It always fails - even when halved
It still keeps multiplying - continuing
With its needless job. Will it never learn
That it is not well liked here?

But the worst thing about this creature
Is not so much its nature, or
Its dirty, slimey appearance.
No, the fact is - it's the constant attempt
To be young, when its skin is old!

Here lies an unusual creature -
Obviously not of this world.
It crawls its way in and out
Of the earth, trying to find some
Short cut rather than the solution.

Turning Back The Clock

This was written in 2003 - think this one was definitely a reflective phase of my life!

Turning Back The Clock:

My journey has begun.
A journey into the dark, damp
Cave of memories of my life
So far.

There have been several obstacles
To overcome - challenges round each
Corner, never knowing what's there.
Each turn has something special.

For example, my first schoolday,
The fear of suffering unnecessary pain.
New friends from a change of scenery,
My first love and kiss.

My first taste of hurt and spitefulness,
Not knowing how to overcome it.
More men in my life -
Friends and lovers (not many lovers).

I could be too choosy,
But can anyone help being a perfectionist?
Many good times have happened,
Some have been for the best, some also bad.

There have been times of confusion,
Sadness, heartbreak, sorrow
All of which could be overcome
By turning back the clock.

If only we could turn back time
And find our way in this world,
Maybe one would be satisfied,
But where would the challenges be?

Without obstacles, how can one
Find out what that person is
And to eventually discover
That you are strong and able to

Do what you feel is right.
There may be tears, laughs and fights,
But if one can be strong,
Then we can become im-mortal.

Where will I find?

This was a piece that I wrote again in my early 20s at the beginning of the 00's. It was a case of trying to take stock of my life at that moment in time. I was obsessed with finding love to add to what I had - when I look back on this poem I wonder what on earth I was thinking writing this! However, I realise that this is something that everyone goes through at several stages in one's life and because of this, it's rather appropriate!

Where will I find?

The years pass by -
Several moments are shared
By people closest to you.
Some good, some bad,
But all are part of
This thing called experience.
Maybe I don't know everything -
It's probably a phase;
But where will I find
What I want in life?
Where will I find
My one true love?
I've found everything else -
My family, friends, advisors,
But where will I find
The one thing I long for most -
That special person that I feel connected
With? I know he's out there somewhere,
But where do I start looking?

Promises! Promises!

This was written in 2002-3 time when I felt people let you down left right and centre all the time. Here's the result:

Promises! Promises!

Why is it? Why is it the case
That people let everyone down?
Aren't we worth something?
Don't we deserve that one chance
To prove ourselves?
To have other people make the dream,
The dream of achieving all ambitions
In life - working as a team.
But promises will be made -
Some kept, but others ignored.
One minute you're on top of the world;
The next, a black mass of despair -
Feeling empty without understanding
Why you feel like you do.
Promises will be made - through trust,
Abusing that trust is different.
Promises! Promises!

Monday, 25 August 2008


Written in 2003 when I was in my final year at univeristy:


Remember that familiar song
'I want to break free'?
Queen had the right idea;
As freedom is what we all have.
God knows what will happen -
You know that's true,
But we don't know unless we
Free our minds, bodies and souls.
This journey we're all embarking on
Is searching for our purpose here.
Freedom gives us experiments;
So many chances, tears and fears.
It's time to live the way we choose,
Get a career, family, marriage -
Anything to help us enjoy ourselves!
Let's travel to a far-away place
Where no one knows anything about us!
Let's shake our wobbly bits
And live life in the fast lane!
Let's drink and drink till dawn,
Party all night till we drop -
And maybe, just maybe,
Our new found freedom will make us
Grow old disgracefully!
Let's enjoy what's left.
Let's enjoy life!

Reflections in the glass

This was one of my first attempts back in 1999 in response to an exercise we were set - we had to write a piece based on the title 'Reflections in the glass'. Here is the result of that:

Reflections in the glass:

Look at you, A dishevelled looking creature
Who doesn't know anything
About life, health, love...
No, I tell a lie; I do know about love.

The love I had for my family -
That is nothing which can be replaced.
I see them smiling back at me
Trying to give me encouragement.
But in my heart, I know this -
I've let them down in many ways.

Or have I?

The love that was shared by many
Men who gave me false promises.
I see them looking back at me,
Trying to distract me from
The life I now lead.

Or are they?

The new found love in my life now -
My husband who treats me well.
I see his reflection as well as
Those previously mentioned -
Always distracting me.

Or am I distracting him?
Is it me?
Or is these reflections in the glass?

Canvas Trouble

Can't remember when I wrote this, but I know it was one of my earlier ones. When you can't think of anything to write...

Canvas Trouble:

My canvas is empty -
I need to create art.
Whether it's modern or abstract,
Inspiration must hit me
No matter what happens.

I have to fill my page
With nonsense, comedy and boldness;
I want action,happiness and romance.
If not, I'll have to face the music
And dance my blues away.

Fill me with a burning fire;
The fire of creativity and passion.
My canvas must be ablaze
With all my pent up emotion -
Then maybe I'll finally be satisfied!

Little Drummer Boy

This was written about 2000 dedicated to a really good friend of mine in Plymouth Nik Brooks who was a regular on the performing arts scene in the South West - drumming was part of what he did:

Little Drummer Boy:

Wild hair, wild clothes -
You always stand out from the crowd.
Your cheeky grin and daring eyes
Fit in with your drumbeat style.

Slow and tentative at first -
Building up tension and anticipation.
Setting a mellow tone -
Best not rush these things eh?

Mid-speed now - easy to dance to.
The tempo's changing,
Go with the flow,
You'll get your chance, you'll see.

Now the climax, crowds go wild,
The drumming speeds up
Faster, faster, faster still
Until - 'Clash!'
The madness lingers...

Chocolate Silk

This is the third poem that was published in 'Laughter Lines'. I also performed this last year just before Haloween in a caberet show that Boutique Theatre put on.

Chocolate Silk:

How gloriously delicious!
The temptingly, delectable sensation,
To describe it would be too precious -
It'll make you shiver with anticipation.

The smooth tantalising taste
Awakens your senses with lust,
I'll have it now without haste
Feeling heavy on thighs, hips and bust!

But I don't care!
It's creamy, sensational, sexy -
I'll devour it with a certain flare -
Don't mind whether my body goes flexi!

That familiar feeling
Entering my curves - dark milk
Covering all parts which reeling
From the glamourous chocolate silk!

Drinks On Me

This is my second poem that was published in 'Laughter Lines' - all about typical students!

Drinks On Me:

Drinks on me guys!
There's a celebration tonight -
Let's let our hair down
And get totally pissed!

Let's start with the wine,
Always be safe at first!
Now open the bubbly old chap,
Let's get silly in style!

Oh dear, it's our old friend beer -
Cor it's got a good head on that!
Now the spritzers are out,
It'll put a spring in our step.

Now the grand finale - a cocktail or two -
My head's spinning, but I love it!
Then last, but not least -
One tequilla, two tequilla, three tequilla...

An Actor's Life For Me

This was my first published poem which I wrote in 2001 for 'Laughter Lines' - the Waterfront Writers' second anthology of poetry.

An Actor's Life For Me:

Lights, Camera, Action!
Darlings, Darlings, not like that,
Make it big, bold, colourful -
Not weak and drab.
I want action, romance and deciet -
Not your normal everyday crap!
I don't want dull - I want bright -
Preferably some excitement and tears,
Maybe some words of wisdom:
Some 'To be or not to be' -
The question is - can you do it?
Do it for me - just this once.
Great! Now we're getting somewhere -
Work it baby - show me a performance.
Perfect! Push it further -
Make me feel your pain -
No, too much pain - more love.
OK, that's a wrap!
That's my life - and I love it!

Sunday, 24 August 2008

Giving and Wanting

This was one of my poems I wrote when I 20 - I was thinking a lot about Christmas and what happens at that time of the year. What does it really entail/mean? Enjoy:

Giving and Wanting:

Christmas is the time
For laughter and frolics.
Family, tears and joy.
All these are no crime,
Unless you really don't care
And are a modern day Scrooge!

Parties galore - Fancy dress -
Kinky Santas and weird trees.
All serve a good cause
And never make a mess.
Giving to all - nothing in return,
Wanting to help prevent suffering.

What do you want this year?
Something different to fill the stocking,
Hang it up and expect a suprise -
A good one that is! Have no fear.
Give to all - spread good love,
You'll feel better that's for sure.

Wanting - all treasures on earth.
Not giving a damn about anything.
What you need is a hard kick
Up the backside - straight into the hearth!
Give generously this Christmas -
There are people who aren't like us.
They desire everything - love, warmth and comfort.
Don't be a Scrooge - please give, don't take.


This is an extremely special poem for me. I wrote this on 7th January 2002 in memory of an absolutely inspirational lady called Myra who was in The Waterfront Writers in Plymouth (my first ever writers group) - this was the day after she sadly passed away. I'll never forget her, so Myra, if you're around, here it is for you in print:


Her spirit's around us -
This Wil O' The Wisp called Myra.
Now in a better place than before -
Somewhere where she is happy and at peace.
Her brilliant mind lives on -
Once full with vivid imagination,
Like a child she'd play with words.
Her humour varied from dry
To sarcastic and pure raunch!
Memories from the war fill the page
Along with stories of far away lands.
Full of magic, her pen created
A land of her own to escape to.
Tales of Aladdin's Magician
And floppy disks with dirty limericks
Would fill us with excitement -
Taking us back to our childhood
And at the same time
Teaching us new things in life.

Do you know she was a theatre addict?
Every week a theatre trip was
Always on the cards.
Ranging from Shakespeare to modern,
She was always in the front row.
Her recognisable laughter rang out
In the aisles and gallery.
Always making me feel safe
Whenever I wanted help.
Through her beautiful charm,
She became my second grandmother.
We chatted about everything
From the moon to the universe -
And all the time she had
A naughty twinkle in her eye.
Her soul is among the stars now -
She's safe where she is - never lonely.
Wherever you may be Myra,
You're a star in your own right.
Rest in peace and God Bless.

Full Moon

This was a short story I wrote back in November 2006 in response to a writing excercise the writing group I was a member of at the time was set. The theme was sex and we could write it in any form we wanted. I chose the short story as this is something that I don't normally do and I wanted to challenge myself. Here's the result:

Full Moon:

Celia smiled at herself as she added the final touches to her make up. Tonight was the big night; this was when she would finally give herself to the man she loved. As she brushed away the final wisp of her long brown hair, she thought about what it would be like - would he be gentle and caring? Would he sweep her off her feet and carry her away into the night, never to be seen again? Would he tell her he loved her? Tingling with excitement, she squirted herself with her favourite perfume - just a hint mind - don't want to overdo it! She then started to make her way to the beach. Marcus had asked her to meet him there...

She took her time as she walked down the steep cliff path, taking absolutely everything around her. The moon was full, but it seemed larger, a deeper reddish glow than normal. It was obvious that something was in the air. The sea swirled as if it was possessed; crashing on to the shore like a hawk claiming its prey. All around her, Celia saw fireflies and heard the crickets singing a love song just for her. She had never felt so happy as she did now. Nothing could break her - no one.

In the moonlight she saw a beautiful yet familiar sight...It was Marcus! Her one true love. Tall, dark and handsome with long dark hair tied back in a ponytail. He reminded her of Zorro in certain films. Ok, he wasn't the type she'd normally go for, but there was something different about him she thought. After exchanging the usual hellos, Celia found herself being presented with a red rose and then led to the other side of the beach hidden away from prying eyes behind some rocks. There a blanket was laid out for them to sit on.

Celia couldn't help wondering at this point what Marcus had planned - why this part of the beach? Were they going to have a picnic? Little did she know, she was going to be dessert...
Nervously she started making small talk.

'Lovely spot Marcus. Really nice...The moon's great don't you think?'

'Yes.' Awkward silence.

'So, what's the plan?'

Marcus looked at her with his dark mysterious eyes you could see right into and smiled in a way that made her melt. Without saying a word, he stroked her face tilting her chin slowly up towards his face. The kiss he planted on her parting lips was firm but gentle.

'You are beautiful.' He said. 'Let me show you what I have in mind...' He then moved in again for the kill, wrapping his strong arms around her.

In between kisses, Celia, stimulated beyond her wildest imagination, breathlessly pointed out that it was her first time and to be gentle with her. Ok, she thought, wrong thing to say! Idiot!!! You've blown it!

Marcus stopped in his tracks. 'Why didn't you tell me?' He asked.

'I didn't want to let you down. You told me before you've had many women before me - I just wanted to show...'

He raised a finger to her lips silencing her. 'Hey, it doesn't bother me in the slightest. But if I'd known I'd have planned something else. Made you feel more comfortable. Made it more...special.'

Celia smiled. 'But I don't care. As long as I'm with you, anywhere is just as special.'

'As long as you are fine with the beach - I don't want to put you off.' He said gently.

He felt a long passionate kiss which said a lot more than words. 'Just take me Marcus!' Celia moved her hands up his broad chest and slowly undid the buttons on his shirt as she kissed him. he responded rather eagerly teasing her tongue and making her mid explode, peeling away her layers of clothing as well as her sanity. He guided her hands over his body including forbidden lands she had never explored; whilst at the same time she felt his touch in her special place where no one had ever gone. The hunter had found his prey and was not going to give it up. He was hungry, but considerate. She loved the way her breasts were kissed, sucked and handled with such dexterity. In return, Marcus was amazed at how quick a learner Celia was. Whatever he did to her, she reacted well and improvised with a vengeance under his touch. He could love this girl - innocent, yet an unreleased vixen was beginning to emerge.

When the time was right, he entered her slowly. She winced, but only a little. he made sure she was okay before continuing. With each thrust, she found herself becoming more and more open to new possibilites she wanted to try, but for the time being she let him take control. Harder came each connection and no matter how much she tried to hang on, Celia couldn't contain herself - she met his rhythm as he met hers and both rocked against each other until the tide came in and covered them both as they climaxed together.

As they lay there in each others arms soaking wet, the looks, breaths and laughter that emerged from the pair of them told Celia that there were more exciting adventures to come - even if Zorro somehow made a guest appearance!

Tuesday, 12 August 2008


Written again in my early 20s based on someone I used to know who was obsessed with his hair! I turned the tables...


God I hate it!
It sticks out on all sides
And flops when you least need it!
No volume, no style,
Lifeless, dull, no spark at all.
Thank goodness for hairspray!
Bend it, shape it, any way you want -
Here's some variety at last!
Think Dusty, Elvis and Grease,
They had style and grace,
But too rigid sometimes,
Not good to put your fingers through!
Use it sparingly -
You'll soon get the look.
Maybe you'll be a dead ringer for love.
Or even a fashion guru.
Hairspray - useful for evening wear.
You glamour puss!
Men fall for you left, right and centre,
But you keep your aloof -
You know what you are.
No one can change it but you.

Monday, 11 August 2008

The Balcony Scene

Written in my 2nd year at uni when I was studying a Shakespeare module in English Literature - he's always been my favourite playwrite and I tried to capture the mood of one of my favourite scenes in poetry form. Enjoy!

The Balcony Scene:

The scene is set -
A beautiful starlit evening,
With the moon shining down
On a medieval garden.
Shadows are thrown on to
The most intimate objects.
Her beams of light
Make the bushes seems unreal,
Shadows forming weird shapes
That appear menacing to the eye.
The path leading to the mansion
Is like crystals, twinkling in anticipation
Of an awaiting danger - all is not
Well here in this garden of Eden.
Ivy devours the mansion -
Is it a fairy-tale setting?
Partly so my friends,
For underneath this idyllic setting
Is a menace that has corrupted lives
For years - one that has been
Forgotten, but not forgiven.
A ray of light seems to break through
The many sorrows caused by corruption.
Move your wandering eye up the ivy
And observe the balcony that overlooks
This garden of Eden.
Here sits a young girl - barely fourteen
With hair as long as Rapunzel's
Any eyes as deep as a whirlpool,
Sending one and all into torment
The stars sparkle in her eyes like diamonds
Making her shine brightly as the sun.
A figure emerges out of the shadows -
The young girl's lover
She met at a masquerade ball.
He leapt over the dangerous wall
In order to get a glympse of her.
He moves closer so he can see her -
They both see one another,
Suddenly realising they are part of
The corruption that lies beneath.
Putting all differences aside,
The star-crossed lovers make their
Promise to love each other
Until death us do part.
Little do they realise that
What lies ahead is about to
Destroy their lives, but begin
New ones - therefore laying
This corruption to rest.
The garden of Eden with its balcony
Sparked passion and young love,
But when the moon shines,
From now on the shadows will
Show a story of woe
Lingering on for eternity -
With this, the fatal figures of
Juliet and her Romeo.

American Terror

Based on 9/11 - written a few months afterwards.

American Terror:

Was it only yesterday
That America was fine
Until this unforseeable tragedy?
Two planes crashing,
People frightened to go outdoors!
Why should it be like this?
Innocent people dying -
Their friends and family back home,
Wandering whether they're all right.
Flowers and dedications everywhere
Paying their last respects
And their good wishes
To all those in America.
I wish there was more to do -
But instead they're with us in prayers.
Let us pray for them -
Please let it not come to war.
If you ever need someone to turn to,
We are all here for you.
You are not alone -
We are all together - remember that.
Our thoughts are with you
And hope that your freedom
Is found once more.
You need all the luck in the world.
Let us hope it's all over soon.

It's Only A Dance

This is a monologue I wrote in 2005 especially for my showcase at drama school based on my early experiences as a professional bellydancer, which I still happily do to this day.

It's only a dance:

I’ve just done my first professional bellydance! Absolutely incredible! The atmosphere was right, the CDs played the right tracks and I didn’t lose any of my costume! And to think I was worried over absolutely nothing! My god I was nervous though – you know me, I don’t normally get like that, but I’ve never performed solo before – only ever in a group! It’s a totally different experience. I was given a very small dressing room to change in – it was like being in a tiny broom cupboard! Anyway, I got ready and made sure everything was in place before going out front to perform. For a minute I froze! All eyes were on me – even through my veil I could see them all - the men leering at me lecherously, the women – hostile, critical. I just thought ‘What are you looking at me like that for? I’m not out to entice and lure your husband away from you! It’s just a costume! I wear a long skirt and nice top, but just because my mid-drift is exposed...a bikini is more revealing! I’m not a sexual object! I’m not a pole dancer! I am just a performer doing a dance as old as time – Biblical even!’ I also kept thinking ‘Does my stomach look big in this?!?’ Then the music started and after a slightly shaky start, I started to really get into it and enjoy myself. I did everything – starting off really mysteriously slowly raising my veil, moving into figures of eights and gradually worked myself up into a frenzy with some shoulder shimmies, hip shimmies, hip drops with a few slinky head and arm movements thrown in! At the end I was a bit daring – I enticed the audience to join me on the dance floor. ‘Please join me’ I said... ‘Come...Come...’ Phew! I was relieved when they did – didn’t think they would! They were fantastic! A perfect end to what was a beautiful evening. And to think it was originally designed for women in childbirth! Look at it now! (pause) What? It’s only a dance!

Thursday, 7 August 2008

Having Fun

Bit of silliness for 2006!

Having Fun:

Suave, sophisticated and sleek.
With a gleam in his eye
He takes in everyone as he crosses the room.
Passing his opinion inwardly,
Taking in the way women dress,
Their shapely figures with accents
In all the right places...
Lusting after them no matter the size.
Big, tall, small, thin - options open.
Out for anything he can get,
But he has to be careful -
Two of the girlfriends are in tonight...
One is blonde and possessive,
The other dark and free spirited.
Both want him to themselves,
But they know the score -
Flirt, have fun, don't get attached.
To him that is!
He wants his freedom and sex,
The blonde wants love and marriage.
He's not sure of the dark haired beauty -
Keeps herself to herself mostly.
Curious he thinks, but cool!

The music starts and hips start to sway,
Testosterone is riding high,
A sweat is being worked up
From all and sundry.
Everyone has an agenda -
Getting laid, drunk, high.
Whatever their pleasure, no one cares.
As long as they get what they want.
He the man in question starts to dance...
Well, what he calls dancing
We'd call an idiotic wanker of a show off!
But hey! He doesn't care!
He wants his wicked way
With a new ginger punk
Who's walked in with her mates.
Loud and bolshy is her nature
With flowing locks, green eyes
And wearing skin tight leathers.
Ok, not normally his type,
But he'll give anything a try once!

Little does he know something's afoot...
Sauntering up to the girl
He tries his moves that work every time!
Touchy feely, he moves in for the kill.
She's responding well he thinks,
So he reaches for the bra...
Why don't we go somewhere else...
A little more...private...perhaps...'
He follows her lead outside
Into a waiting taxi nearby.
She takes him back to her place
And leads him upstairs to the boudoir.
They peel each others clothes off
Slowly - she leads, he follows.
She is a dominant woman
Who knows what to do he thinks.
She gets him down to his undies
And plays with him like a toy.
Straddling him, she teases him with ease,
Working up a sweat so hot
You could poach an egg off it!
He stops her in mid flow -
There's something spoiling their fun
And it's between her legs!
'Never judge a book by it's cover love!'
The ginger man said.
'Shame really...I was just getting started...'

The Turn of The Screw

I read the book as part of my university degree and this was inspired by it - mixed by an exploration of paranoia which was very prominent in the story.

The Turn of the Screw:

May you all be blessed in youth,
Everything will be good experiences
For you all - fulfil your ambitions,
Trust your instincts, and let no one
Lead you on. With faith, go in peace. Amen.

That was an emotional moment
I shall never forget - everything will be fine.
We've left the nest, flown the coop,
Facing new challenges of life -
Overcoming new difficulties in the world outside.

But what if I don't like it?
Where do I turn to after that?
Will I be able to cope with life?
How can I be sure if I'm doing
The right thing? Help!

Maybe it's not so bad, maybe
I'm paranoid. Yes, that's it!
I've just got to take each day slowly,
Not rush into anything.
Yes, I'll be fine.

The screw tightens...I feel weird.
Tighter...What am I doing?
Tighter still...I can't do this!
Tightest turn...I can't breathe!
I'm sick and scared - one more try...

The screw loosens...

Vampire Kisses

This was a poem I was inspired to write in 2005 when I began to explore the more darker side of life on the goth scene and I had watched 'Interview With The Vampire' on DVD for the first time. I shared it with my new friends and it got published in 'Dark Nights' magazine a short while later. Enjoy!

Vampire Kisses:

In a tavern where walls have ears
And lost souls drown their sorrows,
Where individuals lose control,
When men and women become equal.
One man lurks in the shadows alone.

Nobody knows his name or why he’s there,
But dressed in black and white lace
He’s very distinguished and distinctive.
He drinks alone, but is absorbed
In the antics of us mere mortals.

Just watching intensely, smiling inwardly,
His dark eyes pierce the chaos
And causes interest like there’s nothing
Worth thinking about anymore.
Who is he? Why is he there alone?

Those are the questions on Suzie’s mind.
The feisty barmaid has a challenge...
She serves his regular tipple with a smile,
He just nods and turns away
Like he always does, she begins to leave.

Only this time, Suzie goes back...
Asks him why he’s always alone.
Silence falls. He looks at her with eyes
That would turn anyone to stone.
“Because I choose to, my dear.”

Naturally she’s curious, so she questions him again,
Only to be faced with stony silence.
She turns away, only to be stopped...
Now he’s making the move, she’s entranced,
He’s no longer the isolated one, just beautiful.

For reasons unexplained, she falls
Deeper than any chasm under his spell.
Telling him all her deepest and darkest secrets
She would never tell anyone.
It’s like she knows him from long ago.

Work is no longer important to her.
She sits and listens to his stories on travel,
Love, eternity, how he came to be here.
Says he knows the secret to eternal life.
He’s no saint, but all her prayers will be answered.

“Meet me at midnight at the cemetery.”
The deal is done, her fate is sealed,
Without a care in the world she keeps her promise.
Fear takes hold of her, but being a daring lass,
She becomes excited and carries on.

The moon is full and there’s magic in the air.
Cherubs and angels look different somehow,
The grass around the graves more green.
The dead seem more alive tonight,
But Suzie in a trance goes to her father’s grave.

The stranger is waiting, pleased she’s there.
Moving towards her, he seems to be after something.
Taking her hourglass figure in his hands,
He kisses her slowly, intensely,
Leaving her wanting more.

Slowly he moves down her body,
Her neck, breast and most importantly, her wrist.
A little nibble is all it takes –
Arousal? Pain? Or pure pleasure?
She doesn’t mind, she’s his.

After exploring her wrist, he moves back to her breast.
Once more the pleasure takes over.
Another nip drawing blood, his skin
Has started to colour, no longer pale.
She has no idea what’s happening.

His eyes have changed, now bloodshot and hungry,
He moves in for the kill – her neck.
The mouth that opens looks like the jaws of hell!
Teeth as white as snow, sharp as knives,
Filled with a venom that will change her life.

The neck is exposed, the vein throbbing,
The teeth sink in – the reality now hits her!
Her screams will not be heard –
He’s made sure of that...
Near death, she struggles to no avail.

He sucks the blood as if his life depended on it.
Life throbbing away giving him strength.
Now he has a choice – leave her to die?
Or join him as his eternal bride?
Pretty girl he thinks, could be useful to me.

After supper, he drops her to the floor
And gives her blood from his own wrist.
Five drops – no more, no less.
When she wakes, she will be queen of the night,
Forever to rule the underworld.

Waking is beautiful – no longer the feisty barmaid,
But long flowing dark hair and clear skin,
Cat-like eyes and ruby red lips.
Craving him as well as blood.
No longer restricted, but free at last!


This was inspired by a documentary I was asked to participate in on how smell influences what we feel, think and generally how we live our lives about 2-3 years ago:



Various forms of senses emerge
When life takes its toll.
What do we really cover up?
Do we rely too much on sight?
Why do we take things for granted?

What is the real us?
We don't really know -
There is no longer an element of truth,
We just take all at face value
And expect too much of something
That's not really there.

Get closer - closer still...
Can you smell it? Taste it?
Is the reality show real?
Come closer and you will see
That a suprise is waiting for you.


We let on more than we hide...
Whatever we say to people,
Our body says something different.
Like animals, we smell fear -
The smell becomes intense as
The bog of eternal stench -
Pungent, off putting, repulsive.
When we lie, it becomes worse.
Like a farm full of animals it
Becomes as bearable as if you
Have never washed in your lifetime.

Happiness - now here it becomes easier.
Not so easy to hide.
Easy going man!
Or is it?
Can we smell happiness?
Yes - the scent is like a cat
After it's had its bath - animalistic, yet subtle.
The basis for au natrel
Before cosmetics spoil and create illusion.
Fakeness can be happy making,
But it's bad for our empty pockets.

From one extreme to another - nothing.
No indication of something deeper.
Even if you scratch and look underneath
You can't tell. You take a guess.
Is there an effort made for this one?
Boldness? No.
Pure, unadulterated and cleansing.
Like a powerful waterfall
The tears flow.
Natural as nature intended.
Getting in touch with the reality inside.


Open and close like a book;
As each page is turned, we know more.
We gain knowledge and become stronger.
Using everything we possess
We become a more rounded human being.
And like Zeus, we create our own world.
We create what we desire to have.
But we always miss one vital ingredient,
The one emotion that's used, abused,
Cast to one side like it no longer exists.
But when ignited, it ticks, tocks
And eventually explodes like a bomb.
Chemistry is the gunpowder of the mind.
When combined with fear, happiness and sadness
It becomes one on its own.
Fragrance becomes strong, dominant, sexy...
Like a matador it challenges the bull
And moves in for the kill.
When the fireworks have stopped,
All that's peace...

Wednesday, 6 August 2008

The Vampire's ideal Wardrobe

This is an old poem I wrote when I was in my early 20s and discovering the joys of Gothic Literature at university! Enjoy!

The Vampire's Ideal Wardrobe:

Have they arrived?
Excellent! Send them in!
Thank you Egore...

Welcome gentlemen!
Enter into my world -
You'll be amazed
At all you will find.
Watch the floorboards,
The creak is not quite right
And one part is not loose!
Don't worry, I'll look after you...

The staircase may be long and winding,
But it gives me power - follow me.
It is said that Dracula once lived here,
His portrait above the old gargoyle
Shows him at his best - just above you look.
Those eyes of red eye burn
Into my soul still. What's left of it...
And his teeth just give me the 'creeps' -
I go all goosepimply when I look at him.
Enough time wasted!
Move on into my lair! This way!
The archway is my own creation
Made of wire, steel and chain -
Dracula would be so proud!

Gentlemen, my abode.
My final resting place.
Like what I've done to it?
I thought I'd take the subtle approach.
Nothing much done to it,
Just red and black drapes with
The delux gargoyle curtain rail.
A bit dull I know, but I like it!
The coffin? Well, it's comfortable -
I keep trying to make it torture,
But it never works!
This coffin was my great grandfather's,
But my wardrobe is the piece de resistance!
Look out! Duck!
Sorry gentlemen, Barry is always doing that.
He's my bat!
This is my favourite outfit -
Morticia Addams would DIE for this!
Long black velvet with spider webs
All over it - the smell of mildew
Drives me insane...
Of course there's my devil's outfit -
Hotpants, tank top, long cape with
Real wolf fur - black as night.
Knee hight stilletto boots -
All this in pvc - makes me feel 'hungry'.

My mother's wedding dress?
I haven't seen this in centuries!
She was so good to me -
Until she was severely massacred
By Jack the Ripper!
Since then I've had visitations from her
To avenge her death,
But as I said to her,
You are so lucky, you could have been
To dinner with Doctor Lecter!
There's a character and a half -
So masterful!

Going somewhere gentlemen?
It's raining - don't want you getting wet!
It's so refreshing rain don't you think?
So cleansing!
You can't get out - everywhere is locked!
You're all mine now my precious ones!
Relax. Yess, that's right!
Let me feast....