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Sven's random park bench guest
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backburner results
I lift my gaze beyond the channel,
where Kessingland lingers in memory,
while Holland’s fog curls around Zandvoort—
windswept dunes, lager tins, crisps,
the salt and bite of air carving my cheeks raw.
The flat sits empty, waiting for laughter to spill in,
for voices to rise, thick with stories.
But the nightshift is stirring—
from the reeds, a figure waddles into view.
We bow in greeting.
A moment’s pause—then the inevitable.
Why is it always this way?
The same dull dance,
the casual gaslighting into trysts
by uninvited hands, by half-lit strangers.
Do I wear some neon sign?
Some flickering plea, selling me
as an object of desire?
I seek a time, a place, and send them off,
knowing I will not follow.
They must know, must suspect—
this is not who I am, not what I do.
I wish I was home.
Past the Strait of Dover, but where is home?
This will happen again, all too soon,
wherever I go—wherever I pretend to belong.
where Kessingland lingers in memory,
while Holland’s fog curls around Zandvoort—
windswept dunes, lager tins, crisps,
the salt and bite of air carving my cheeks raw.
The flat sits empty, waiting for laughter to spill in,
for voices to rise, thick with stories.
But the nightshift is stirring—
from the reeds, a figure waddles into view.
We bow in greeting.
A moment’s pause—then the inevitable.
Why is it always this way?
The same dull dance,
the casual gaslighting into trysts
by uninvited hands, by half-lit strangers.
Do I wear some neon sign?
Some flickering plea, selling me
as an object of desire?
I seek a time, a place, and send them off,
knowing I will not follow.
They must know, must suspect—
this is not who I am, not what I do.
I wish I was home.
Past the Strait of Dover, but where is home?
This will happen again, all too soon,
wherever I go—wherever I pretend to belong.
THE Quintessential Mermaid
THE Quintessential Mermaid Materny of Pure & Plain Mermaid Grief!!!
peace, pot, tequila shot
Jesus loves us, stoned or not
The Quintessential Mermaid’s
The Quintessential Mermaid’s Emergence
Spat from the womb—salt-laden,
swelling, slick with the memory of before.
The ocean convulses, king tide ascending,
moon swollen with the gravitational ache of arrival.
Foam-limbs thrash, unclaimed by land,
skin webbed in the viscera of birthwater,
gills gasping against air’s unholy insistence,
lungs unwilling, unready, unsure.
Fingertips trace the rim of existence,
a baptism of kelp and brine,
the belly of the deep churning, a guttural hymn unsung.
The quintessential mermaid, neither here nor gone,
between the tugging hands of earth and abyss,
caught in the lunar pull of something larger,
something unfathomable—something not yet named.
She drags herself from the belly of tide,
still slick, still swelling,
the ocean never releases its own.
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver
Beautiful Name for Nautical Novel
Re-fed through the tubes, to quoth Lem, as a crooning surrogate of desire...
peace, pot, tequila shot
Jesus loves us, stoned or not
Oh I would love to see you
Oh I would love to see you write a novel a la Stanislaw Lem! Take a pick: The Astronauts (1951) – not strictly nautical, but follows an expedition to Venus, mirroring the structure of sea voyages into the unknown. The Magellanic Cloud (1955) – A story about humanity’s first interstellar journey that parallels historical maritime exploration. Solaris (1961) – set in space, the novel’s themes of isolation, living in ocean-like entity on Solaris evoking strong nautical imagery. The Invincible (1964) – a spaceship encountering an enigmatic force on a distant planet, reminiscent of naval expeditions encountering mysterious phenomena. Tales of Pirx the Pilot (1961) – A collection of stories about a space pilot, which could be seen as a futuristic take on seafaring adventures. mmm...
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver