Melt – Nonsense by Robert Honour

I make buildings full of cheese
Dreaded Dairy Infirmaries
Full-fat yogurts, sent to die
Tears of milk leak from their eyes

Cattle cheer and goats they bleat
Sheepies stamp their woolly feet
Ice creams scream at what’s inside
Great big buttery genocide


Wonder – A Poem by Paul Cooper

Possibility after possibility
A vivid myriad of colours
not subdued by compartmentalised constructs
Endless explosions of ideas
Each spark a catalyst for the next explosion
On and on, no walls or barriers
No limits, no exclusions, no prejudice
Unlimited perceptions and theory’s imagined
Free from the shackles of conformity
And exclusive of the prison walls of society’s subconsciously imposed ideals
Relentless options, endless ideas, boundless thoughts
The very essence of human mind
Unchained, unbridled infinite imagination
Pure of thought, a true free spirit
An awe inspiring freedom of primal lucidity
A soundness of untainted intuition and instinct
One creation spawns another, a mental chain reaction
You teach me to rethink, strip back and think again
Barriers broken down, a new uncontaminated angle appears
You free my mind
And yet you are just a child


Life on Hold – A Poem by Sue Skinner

I’m stuck in a black and white freeze frame
Frozen in the deathly grip of ice and virus
Heartbeat, breath and body comatose slow
Caught in split second lasting minutes, hours, days, months.

But when the ice begins to drip under a lukewarm sun
When the virus is hobbled or tamed or shamed
When light and life come back to kick start the machine
I’ll rev the engine and be off at twice the speed of light.


Despair – A Poem by Paul Cooper

Is it here?
Is this how low I can go?
What is the limit, the measure?
The depths of depravity,
The essence of despair,
How much more?
Is enough enough?
Will it ever be?
How soon will I snap?
Can the torture endure?
Mind numbing resilience
The surprise is both inward and outward
A broken soul, lifeblood evaporates
No end to the chasm of destruction
What has it done?
What have I become?
Am I a man?
An exoskeleton, no heart, no brain
An unending feeling of relentless pain
Joy is a memory
No hope or remorse
The feeling of emptiness
Lies real in the shadows
No comfort here
No possessions of note
The filth on the mattress
And stench of my coat
It’s my blood on the floor


Memory – A Poem by Sue Skinner

I wish I could remember the old songs; 
Words learned long ago as a child effortlessly
Now fade into the fragile corners of my mind
Like old washed out photographs 
Dimmed by age.
I try to grasp them, as if waking from a dream,
But they disappear in a puff of smoke 
Or break off and float into deep space
Never to be seen again.

Sometimes the edges of my mind seem to 
Heal themselves, edge pressed to edge,
Stuck with superglue or magic tape.
Then I remember some things I thought lost:
The sound of a milk float humming up the lane,
Children’s skipping games:
“The big ship sails through the Alley alley-oo”’
My granny’s knitting needles 
Clickety clack, clickety clack
As she knitted socks for sailors.

And the more I let my mind drift back in time
The more relaxed I feel,
Letting go and drifting as in a warm scented bath.
I close my eyes and hear with all my senses
Something precious, once thought lost
My baby’s butterfly heart beats 
Singing to me through time.


Positive/Negative – Poems by Paul Cooper


You came to visit today, hello
No invitation
No warm welcome
You were somehow expected
And yet unexpected
But now you’re here
Not wanted anything to do with you
You’ve annoyed me for years
Lurking, festering in the shadows
Striking without warning
Taking some, leaving others
No knowing how you will manifest
Severe or mild
Unseen or fatal
Mr Pot Luck, Mrs Chance
The quintessential fricking lottery
Well come in
I’m glad you came
Your tiresome enigma is waning
and it’s about bloody time


You took your toll
Your infectious quest
Those 2 red lines
You did your best

No rhyme or reason
No similar symptoms
So many folk
Confined to bedrooms

Your reach extends
In every town
The population
Broken down

You’re weaker now
But still there’s fear
The vulnerable
Don’t need you here

A return to life
The one before
The one we left
Our open doors

For we are much more
Than isolation
Our very souls
Crave inspiration

It’s time to go
Our human spirt
Can grow again
No need to fear it


Life Within the Fist – A Poem

Living blissfully unaware
Year upon carefree year
Somewhere between the
Distal and proximal palmar
Rumours of the thumb’s contraction
Are dismissed as nothing more than
Just the usual ravings of a
Bored and deluded public
Driven to hysteria by the
Ramblings of the Daily Wrist

The kids chase one another
As they always have done
Hiding within the proximal creases
Rolling and skidding down the
Fleshy hills with laughter
Under the watchful gaze
Of their parents who prepare
Their evening supper and discuss
Whether the rumours carry
A grain of truth with hidden unease

As the call for food is made
Children come tumbling down
The rising thenar with haste
Its increasing swell is unnatural
And the looming digit in the distance
Fills the citizens with dread
That not a single soul has felt
Since the Scratchings of ‘67
Or the deadly Friction debacle
That they still mourn annually

They gather behind closed doors
Though the force of the meat
Crumbles all that dwell beneath
With ease and the remaining few
Cower as they see the fated
Distal phalanx make its
Inevitable journey to the lifeline
Ending existence as they know it
And proving that they should
Have never questioned the truth


Fuel Crisis 2021 – A Poem by Tom Fisk

It’s funny how no fuel for us
Constitutes a crisis
As if the machines that carry us
Are more valuable than life is

In our world of natural
Disaster and disasters that we make
We do not panic, we pass it by
No second thoughts we take

You see our cars and vans and trucks
Important though they are
Taking us places we need to go
To work, and play afar

Are just cars and vans and trucks
They feel no pain or hurt
Frustrating? Sure. We want to go
But we’ll survive and that’s a cert!

We don’t panic when we see the news
Of people fleeing fear
We focus on ideology instead
We don’t want them over here

We don’t panic when we see the news
Of a famine in a poor country
‘Charity begins at home,
We can’t give to all and sundry’

We don’t panic when we see the news
Of natural disasters caused by weather
‘It’s just Greta and her Project Fear
Its been this way forever’

We don’t panic when we see the news
Of poverty growing over here
‘they’ve probably spent it all on drugs and booze
I’m not paying for their beers.’

We only panic when we see the news
And our comfy lives are affected
When we can’t get to our next town over
Is that our true colours reflected?

You see the world’s a broken mess of a place
We see that on the news every day
Our hearts should break, panic set in
Changes made to stop it being that way

Refugee boats, natural disasters, the homeless
The sick, those countries with not enough food to go round
Why don’t we respond to them in this way
Why don’t our mercies to them now abound?

No fuel at the pumps is a bit inconvenient
I hope it is sorted, sooner the better
But let’s refocus our minds, and maybe our hearts
To care for the poor and to listen to Greta

The news is an important part of our lives
And to listen and judge and to respond would be great
If we did it not to be selfish, to get what we ‘need’
And instead responded in kindness to those who get hate

So what will panic you into action next
An energy crisis, a stock market crash?
I hope not, I hope we reflect on this time
And panic for our world, and maybe do something rash…

Like fill it with kindness, and prayer and with grace
After all here we are as one human race,
And our actions have consequences just ask Esso, BP
And positive actions will help human history..

So that is my prayer, for this broken world
Let’s change how we are, how its unfurled
With kindness and love and positive change
Panic no more, but goodness arrange!


Misinformation Generation – A Poem by Paul Cooper

Paul Cooper

The virtual conquer and divide
Sense and rationality denied
One and zero became the hero
Minds dumbed down, the data cloud
Weak minds infected, then dragged down
A false new age breeds bitter rage
Each splintered faction hellbent on action
The lies, the falsehoods, a fatal attraction
A skill forgotten, yes – interaction.
Sprawling instant information
Infinite flows of communication
Sad destination of a generation
Cerebral stagnation from misinformation
Became the architect of devastation
Endless, infinite, a veiled surprise
Consciously frequent pedalled lies
Deceived becomes unrecognised
The brainwash concealed, not realised
A seed of doubt, once sown will sprout.
Deception born, job done, they’re out.


Awakening – A Poem

An eye blinks at a speed it shouldn’t
The lids falter and creek as they reunite
Gathered dust returns back into the atmosphere
And moisture slowly gathers in the darkness.
Against better judgement, the lashes part once more
Then the pupils begin to function
Trembling slowly scanning left to right
Eventually, settling on the oblique rays
That battle through misted windows
And onto the anonymous cement floor
Very little else is illuminated
And no other presence is sensed in the room.

His mouth quivers, playing catch-up
Twitching in anticipation, neck veins strain
Though, limbs show no sign of life
Broken teeth are gradually revealed
As bit by bit, cracked segments of lips
Are torn apart from one another
As if clinging onto a loved one
Before they leave, never to return.
The faintest of breaths escapes
A cloud or steam serves as a signal
A palpable, but unseen, change occurs
Something within the room is awakened.

His skull remains too weighty to turn
Vision is limited and blurred at best
The faintest of sounds crawls from his throat
An unknown is now fully alerted
The air drops markedly in temperature
And a foul odour invades his nostrils
Causing his temples to throb and burn
Saliva trickles and forms a growing pool
Groans increase in volume and desperation
Another something is felt but not seen
The room fuzzes and crackles before his eyes
Much like an old television losing its frequency.

A sound. Rather, a series of sounds follow
Metal on metal. Harsh and unwavering
His ears twitch as its proximity reduces
A blowing of something that sounds like wind
But much denser, more tangible and with more substance
And finally, he hears a whisper in a language unknown
Impossible to decipher, but intuitively he knows
It must be informing him of what’s approaching.
A promise, filled with certainty, rather than a threat
The voice flows from his ears, through every facet of his being
Vibrating and pulsating into each and every organ
Warning and preparing them for the inevitable event.

A silhouette., unmistakeably human, has appeared
Stationary and watchful, pondering its next move
An attempt at a scream emerges from the man
This time it is from fear rather than hope
The shadow interprets this as its cue
It glitches and falters as its journey begins
As if the connection between this world and its own
Is suffering from an unwanted interference.
The man’s breathing has become shallow
Quickening as his heart beats at a pace
That his lungs are unable to keep up with
His eyes are wide and his mouth cavernous.

The unknown takes this as an invitation
What must be its head lowers itself towards his own
A piercing, animalistic screech precedes its entry
There is a taste of ash as it worms his way
Past teeth and tongue and into the core
His groans continue, choked and muffled
Convulsions bring his dormant body to life
Though it is just a temporary seizure
Something within him is being extracted
Meticulously, but violently, piece by piece
He sees the shadow escape from whence it entered
His eyes blink once more. This time it is final.