Category Archives: Writing

Random Writing

Ok, so it’s been forever since I was last on here, but things have been… busy to say the least.  Anyways, I was just reading about this thing called ‘London Writer’s Rooms’ (see bottom of post for link) and realised it has been far too long since I wrote anything other than academic essays, etc.  So I opened up Word and wrote the following in about 2 minutes.  I reckon it’s got some potential here, and since it seems to be going on a ‘homeless expedition’, it may give me the chance to do some actual research into the ‘problem’ of homelessness, particularly in London.

More to come if I write anything else 😛

Deep under the duvet that she currently called home, Hope breathed in the foul smell of urine and alcohol.  The dog had pissed on her again.  It was either him, or that dirty bastard Fox.  Fox seemed to have a habit for emptying his bodily content in the most inconvenient of places, most recently in the nearby Costa – much to the delight of the early-morning suits.  She would have laughed if she could, but at that moment in time had been most profoundly stoned, and it was stoned only.  The hard stuff was far too much for her to handle.  Even alcohol was off-limits to her, for she knew the damage that it could cause: case in point being Fox.!/londonwritersrooms?fref=ts


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Job Interview

The knot in my stomach

Clenches like a pig’s intestine:

“Digest that!”

Such nerves are to be expected,

Surely, at times like this?

Please, help me, help to ease

The pain.


Too late.

My time has come.

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Burning Love

‘Hunger!’ he shouts,

Screams about it.

That burning love,

What could he mean?

An infection, perhaps,

Of the severely uncool

Rock and roll kind?

Or drugs?


Of course, it must be metaphorical,

I say,

Love is not a literal being.

It embodies itself, through symbolism

Like in ‘Free’.



Where’s your passion?


People want to believe in it,

So they invent it.



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She shouts from downstairs

But not to me.


It’s a delivery for a Mr. I’m Married To You.

He sends a reply back;

First class, of course.


She opens it,

Reads it,


Pours out her soul to the air around her

Until it turns blue.




He laughs at her desperation,

Her misery.

Oh, how he loves the speedy service of words.

Vicious words.


She’s at his feet again

Like he is the Almighty

Come down to Earth

To wreak havoc and pain.


Old Testament.


The Red mail box outside

The house is full again.


Time for Mr. Postman to deliver more abuse.

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Stuck in traffic

traffic of the mind

thoughts can’t move


stuck in time


a dull ache hinders progress


now it’s sharp

painfully there

i’m aware


of its presence


again it’s gone

like it was never there


a pretender


now i look outside the window

and breath in

stale yet fresh air

like life










now i can think


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The Vampire

Unintentionally, my wild eyes rove

Over your deliberate form.

The brass forest of blue yonder

Sinks into smoke shadows

As you utter

My name.


You insist now that the orb of moonlight

Cast upon that pure savage shore

On that wondrous and fateful night

Is lamentably there

To protect me

From you.


I cannot accept: what ruinous thoughts

Pass athwart the air between us.

How could you remarkable beaut

Possess such qualities

And claim to be



Though the echo of the pain as your lips break

My humanity still lingers on,

I stalk your magnificence through

The forest at dawn to

The wasteland we

Call home.

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