Wednesday, 26 October 2011


CocoRosie sing of stories,
of summer dreaming and lemonade,
of gallows screaming and werewolf moons,
and from their music dreams are made.

Sunday, 23 October 2011


*strikes SuperWoman pose and disappears in a puff of smoke*

And counting.

Twelve miles away
(that's forty-eight less than before)
and now it's over and I know.
A day too late.
You stood so tall, and walked so proud;
a black and white photograph
amongst graffiti bright currancy.
So admired. So beautiful.
And I didn't see
how much easier you found it til now.
A day too late.
The nightingale, still singing,
(for hope is the thing with feathers)
is replaced with a thing of gold and gems
and forgotten even to be forgotten.
Your life so busy, so bright,
it blinded.
You step on my collected;
beautiful, cracked and fading stills.
Walked right past my door.
Twelve tries away
(that's fourty-eight less than before)
and now it's over, and you know.
A day too late.

Sunday, 16 October 2011

An average in-kitchen Saturday afternoon.

"It's not a question, it's a life!"
"And that is 45thousand. And _that_ is 45thousand. And THAT is please. If I throw myself off the chair, you know why.!
"It's shocking, I might cry. I'M NOT CRYING."
"I keep spilling my teeea!"
"Mum, it's going to be reeeally weird without chocolate bits in. I'm confused."
"Well that's because your stairs are slanted. How many years have I been telling you to unslant those stairs?! And NOTHING HAPPENS."
"Well, you need to keep trying."
"YOU'RE very trying. Heh heh."
"I just got chocolate in my tea!"
"We need like the Dyson hand dryers that go *kkkkrrrrcccchhhhh*"
"Try not to use the different, um, the thing... You have to leave it otherwise it goes, um nono, you have to go..."
"What do you mean you're not hot enough yet?"
"Well I'm only a centigrade not hot enough, but you know, the thought's there."