Brighton, UK

(By Moonshine)


(By Moonshine)

Still Standing

(By Moonshine)

Sussex Trailed

(By Dante)


(By Moonshine)

Black Dog

(By Dante)




(By Moonshine)

With My Buddy

By Moonshine


Cemetery 690785 960 720


In the rattle, crack, buzz and zip,

You lost count of the times you slipped

In that blood and mud sea.

Your ears burned,

Having heard

That you wouldn’t hear

The one meant for you.

So, you reasoned,


If you could hear every pop-

Every snapping bee flight-

You’d be alright.

Be your belief.

Don’t think

Or your legs will realise

The folly of this headlong dash

And stop.

Then, an unseen

And, momentarily, stronger will

Will crop you from this story.

You are too vital.

Too ‘here’ and real;

Too important

To end.

Did all those brothers

Who lie still –

Or writhe, still –

Behind you

Fall with the same conviction?



Not a pin on a board;

Not a pawn among hordes

Of more pawns

Scornfully cast at each other

To turn waves of blood

Into lakes of black

To take back

To turn into rivers of gold

For those who would scold and stir you,

(But not themselves), towards the goal?

Those who pontificate

Who dictate the hated.

Who are experts in stocks

But never tucked one to shoulder

Drive you to be bolder

In the face of hot and cold death.


And you, now…

Not hot nor cold, yourself.

Not able to feel shame

For the splayed limbs

Of your slain frame.

Your dress dishevelled

(Your mother would tut).

A shelf bought puppet

Strings cut

Cupped in earth

Just one of the uncountable –

Just more collateral

Of the unaccountable.

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