The Taste Of Memory
That sharp tang of lye in their mouth, A thread back to a different place where These bread rolls were a part of everyday Life, and no matter how many… Continue Reading
Richard Pierce – author, poet, painter
That sharp tang of lye in their mouth, A thread back to a different place where These bread rolls were a part of everyday Life, and no matter how many… Continue Reading
Even before twenty sixteen, we were warning Of the coming storm, how the wall wouldn’t Hold if no-one said anything against the Fascists already in power in certain places, England… Continue Reading
This weather induces headaches, the Dim light too bright for the horizonless Day that limps along with its own Suicidal ideations, wanting to end Before night comes. A tired living,… Continue Reading
To backward men, any sign of strength From a woman is a threat, harking back To those pathetic fears and tortures of Witches, the suppression and ownership Of any independent… Continue Reading
These are the dead everyone talks about, The disappeared, gone from one second to the Next, when they were expected at school, or At the coffee place, at work, on… Continue Reading
Right now, we’re in the borders of The unreasonable, where recent Modernity hasn’t prepared us for The realities of the extremes we’ve Only witnessed as historic artefacts, Things we don’t… Continue Reading
With her bladed whip in Hand, the muscles in her Arm tense for the next blow, It amused her that Onomatopoeia Was a distraction from The pain she was inflicting… Continue Reading
This is what disturbs us, The poets, painters, writers, Over-thinkers, Low self-esteemers, Day dreamers, Night screamers, The restless, Hungry for morers, The lost, the lonely, The found; contentedness, Which seems… Continue Reading
At the bus stop, the day unexpectedly Grey and cold, a flash of colour in Motion; highlight, inspiration, gem. Light plays on red hair, from inside, A smile, quick legs,… Continue Reading
Outside this space is a succession of More empty spaces, all in neat deserted Rows of loneliness invisible behind the Voids without markers. The whimpers Of aloneness have no signs… Continue Reading