I often think.

The Time Was Right It felt right as I sat naked and cross legged on the bed.  I smoothed down the sheet I was sat on and systematically broke each Lofepramine anti-depressant tablet in half and laid it on the smooth sheet. I had enough water to swallow the amount I needed to go from this life.  I felt no anger or hatred for the people that had blighted my young and now old life. My mind was blank from all that life had dealt me.  It had been a good day: counselling with Ian, a superb meal by myself in Nonnas, a few glasses of wine in Brown’s and a black taxi ride home. I never planned to do anything. We were all there sat on the bed looking at the halved tablets, occasionally taking a halved tablet and swallowing it with a sip of water. I had to make the half litre of water last through the event.  Young David with the kite said nothing. The unsmiling Sir Thomas Abney David said nothing. He was glad of the release. The gloomy David sat on the rockery at Sach Road staring bla

I am that pattern she so loved in her life Now I am tucked in around the sides As she always liked me to be She quickly named me her Cadbury dark chocolate blanket When things got painfully Arthritis annoyingly bad Her aches and pains I dulled I was her safety net cover giving her a happy hug of heat I happily, willingly, lovingly helped her love her life again She looked to me many times for warmth, solace and comfort When others had without thought her carelessly abandoned I was forever there for her I thought I always would be She soothingly snuggled beneath my deep dark brown folds Now she lies still and cold beneath my tenebrous brown soft rose scattered spread My raspberry pink roses once matched her rosy cheeks But now they look out of place against her cold drawn, pallid pale expressionless face. She often times Said hello to me and then called me her beautiful blanket of red raspberry stars Before this those very raspberry stars matched her

The Great ‘Mrs Baker’ Biscuit Scandal The teachers at my north London junior school, Sir Thomas Abney, used to sell McVities biscuits to the children for their break time. An early example, perhaps, of product placement.  I used to buy a biscuit when I could afford it; w hen I had saved enough from my bus fares to buy them. We, I had older brothers at the school,  often used to walk home from school to save the bus fares and with that money we used to buy sweets and biscuits. Biscuits and sweets were something that wasn't a priority at home. Sweets had to be earned at home. Really earned, they were kept on the top shelf of the cupboard. Every morning before mid morning break, Mrs Baker our class teacher went to the store cupboard at the back of the class and got out the biscuit box. She returned to her desk and put them down and told the class to queue up if they wanted to buy biscuits that day. It was only then she opened the box of biscuits and we duly stood up

The terror started when I heard him half whisper “Oi, Jew boy, get over here.” my heart stopped momentarily and then rapidly thumped in my chest, I crawled along my bed towards his bed; I had to avoid the floor as he had opened the sash window at the bottom and he told me a Fox could easily climb into the bedroom and hide under any of the beds in the room. They did that so they could pounce on their prey. I looked up at the Bat clinging to the window waiting to come in and bite me. I hopped and jumped across to his bed just in case the Fox could get me by the leg or foot and bite me and climbed into his bed. I lay with my back towards his chest curled into a foetal ball. He tugged my legs downwards so I had to lay flat on my side and pulled me closer into his chest. He put his fingers up his anus so that they smelt of faeces. Then he put his faeces smelling fingers up my nose and rubbed them around my nose and face. He put his arm tightly around my neck and locked me into a headlock.

Oft My Words Oft my words come halting forth And in my mind they play Oft my words come halting forth And in my heart they stay Oft my words come halting forth And in my pen they stay Oft my words come halting forth And on my tongue they play Oft my words come halting forth And in a moment of hesitation they decay Oft my words come halting forth In need of better invention to display Oft my words come halting forth And then are sometimes written to die and decay.