Tiny rip in the structure
A little light blinking out
In otherwise absolute darkness
They are here somewhere
Stirred to move
By this unexpected change
Pleased to announce that Echo Rescue have a new release out. ‘The Waiting Room’ EP is out now and can be found on Bandcamp.
Fans of synth music, experimental pop, ambient, 80’s sounds, and spoken word poetry might wanna check it out!
A new EP from Points of Convergence has just been released.
Featuring my vocals and words alongside the music of the synth production of Metascrawl, the 5 track EP ‘The Present Climate’ is a dreamy lo-fi synth/spoken-word look at the internal and external world we’re living in today.
Have a listen and download for whatever you feel here https://pointsofconvergence.bandcamp.com/album/the-present-climate
My submission to the call for final poems by Enclave at Entropy Mag is up at the following link:
‘Blinded’ is a response to: “If the world were to end next week, what is the final poem you write, the final poem you give away generously, treacherously, genuinely, fearfully, necessarily, beautifully?”
A fresh Spring-clean and a major Fall-out
These seasons turn to mush and are one and the same
Doppler effect caught on camera
Stuck in a loop from one to the next
A smile in the mirror says it’s time to think different
To turn off the ongoing repeats
To mute the direst of diatribes
And bring a new mic to the listening booth
Amp one and amp two broadcast the news
The state of this union; ugly and bruised
Loaded with trauma from point A to Z
Directive: remember, learn, don’t forget
Shut out and shut in
Generate a new password
And let the wonder begin
This morning starts off with the rain
Blistering sun-light will arrive on the train
Gazing at the darkened arch
Murmuring with cogent intent
But thoughts remain clouded
Until eyes lock
Door opens an inch
Sunshine creeps in
Testing the ground
Hot squash always helps
Or perhaps cordial would be ideal
For a day looking out the window
Why are there no painkillers in the rainforest?
Because the Parrots Eat ’em All
No they don’t
They just fly away and chatter in colour
Why has the common cold not been cured yet?
Blame the wrestling master called Big Pharma
I remember Tunes and Lockets and that nice tasting
Cough mixture that made you feel slightly sozzled
Ruminate, meditate or detoxicate
Ambient chill music and tea
The future looks a little clearer
I can see it in the mirror
More hot squash needed, it says.