Philosophy, poetry

the old man and the boy

an old man walks
along the rocky
road of an orchid

he carries a silent staff
amber eyes drink the
severed psyche of the boy
he sits down to watch

– come and listen
he beckons the boy
naive feet beat
against the ground

– it’s the sound of a frog
wizard like wind whistles
through hair and bones

the boy fidgets
baby rabbit brain
inside young man muscle

– it’s the sound
of your warrior
a damp dialect dribbles
from his throat

– huh?
childhood chaos unfolds
vacant voices shift
in virgin ears

an old hand
ploughs through
knots in his beard

– cry like a man
burn with regret
listen to angst unwind
in your bones

he says



Philosophy, Prose

into the jungle

It was the first night. I was in a car with three three other men. We were greeted by a dark skinned, 6 foot tall behemoth. His beard hung from his face like a heavy scroll. He bent down. He peered into the car with abyss-black eyes. The first thing I noticed were the tight leather gloves cloaking his hands, ripe for a killing. Continue reading


Eating Dirt – Charlotte Gill (book review)

Eating DirtEating Dirt by Charlotte Gill
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

It’s rare that I finish a book of non-fiction. This is a gritty and visceral read. The prose is sharp, vivid and riddled with shards of experiences.

At times I could feel myself crammed in rusty pick up, hurtling along the dirty road with other soil-plastered planters. Reading this can be frightening, and sometimes funny as hell. It’s written from the heart of someone who isn’t afraid to take you to being in the middle of nowhere.

I learned a great deal about planters, forests, creatures, foibles, and speckles of ecology that intersperse Gill’s memories.

View all my reviews



Inspiration, Thoughts

brown beans

Brown beans crackle and whirr beneath the plastic head of the coffee grinder.
It’s as if they’re lost in the waves of a dance, or the stinging staccato of an argument.

There’s something so seductive about that, y’know.




Philosophy, poetry

there is a god in my head

there is a god in my head
cold notions scrape against
the cement of the mind

he sways from slumber
with a dark fist

there is a god in my head
voices crawl through cables
neurons heavy with history
writhe in molten thought

i am the god in my head
emotions scatter in anger
i frighten the fragments
the chaos i sculpt with blind intent
the picture of a weak man
[i refuse to watch]

i brighten timid corners of
my narrow house with the
scalp of a light bulb burning
and the vacant murmur
of callous cutlery

dividing my guilt






spices scatter
hand twitches
mushrooms jostle like
coins in a purse

he skips around the stove
– every minute is theatre
he wields a wooden spoon
with wand-like intensity

aroma oozes into the room
heart thunders in ribcage
eyes flicker and fold between
ingredients & mayhem

– a fine meal is like drinking
mead with the gods
he told a friend

now rice pours on to the plate
like course notes from an hourglass
he hums a song
it flashes through the steam
the somber notes fall down
arranged in empathy




Art, Inspiration

Dare to dream…

In the last few weeks I’ve decided to give my blog more visual content such as videos and art. I love writing, although, it’s always handy to get a different source of inspiration for writers and artists alike. 😉

This morning after my morning thrust of coffee ignited my synapses, I flipped open my laptop and flicked through a swarm of tweets. An image caught my attention. Not just caught it, but engrossed me. My artistic brain started tripping…and time slowed down. I admit I’m a natural romantic and have a weakness for the fantasy world. A severe one. Mould those two together and…the inner artist starts to swoon.

We should all learn to dream a little. Put down the cellphone and let your creative mind slowly seduce you. Go have a look at these images below. If you want to learn more about this artist, go check out her Deviant Art account here: 😀