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cat

About Me

On a bench in the high street a man sings his song: he’s been in Santiago de Compostela, he’s been in LA, forgotten what his name is, thinks he may be insane, he was Jesus in Jerusalem when the new millennium dawned, he was Dylan at the gig last night but now he’s got the blues, his feet are blistered, his roaming days are done and with all he’s said, with all he’s seen, he remains just some mother’s son. I drop money on his blanket, move on...

My Interests

I'd like to meet:

with the needle in his arm and his totally fucked up life and his death wish and his ego, he still wrote poems that cut through the bullshit, made everyone else just second rate, exposed the posers and the fakes, with style and wit and a tongue on fire and a voice like a drumbeat that brought the crowd to their feet, cursed with a vision of perfection he thought he could not meet, he charmed the birds out of the trees one minute and turned rudeness into an art form the next. He has no nearest and dearest to report him gone but there's a hole in the world now where his words belong ……

My Blog

bones

you have made a bonfire of love, memories consumed by the flames, but time will stir the ashes, scatter them in the wind, and you shall weep to see exposed the charred bones of all y...
Posted by on Thu, 10 Apr 2008 12:31:00 GMT

Lets Tell The Truth

  I was always able to turn a trick or two, a mistress of illusion, a fool jingling, jangling, smiling, laughing, dancing, somersaulting, entertaining the crowd, bowing to the applause. but ...
Posted by on Sat, 08 Dec 2007 01:22:00 GMT

eve

This is the apple I plucked from the tree one bite is all it takes to flee perfection, to be free, wander in a wilderness of tangled possibilities. I know my flesh, my nakedness, join with me, s...
Posted by on Sat, 24 Nov 2007 21:39:00 GMT

Extensions of Self

the clouds moving at a different speed, each blade of grass singing green, the sun on the tip of my tongue, tasting so sweet, I have not been in this world before, new lines appearing on the blank...
Posted by on Tue, 13 Nov 2007 11:19:00 GMT

Pathway

I was so certain that you were by my side. never doubting you matched me step for step. deep in my own dreams looking to the light, listening to the rustling leaves, humming happily under my brea...
Posted by on Sat, 10 Nov 2007 10:53:00 GMT

The Other Side of War. Womens Stories of Survival and Hope by Zanib Salbi.

    The Other side of war, Women's Stories of Survival and Hope by Zanib Salbi . Women For Women International. Preface read by Alice Walker. Published by the National Geographical Society....
Posted by on Thu, 18 Oct 2007 18:26:00 GMT

Death Of My Mother: Poem/Cat Oswyn

There was a curtain separating us from the rest of the ward, her face was bone wrapped in yellow parchment, gasps shaking her frame, spaced further and further apart, and the last - a rattle in t...
Posted by on Wed, 17 Oct 2007 17:02:00 GMT

The Mary Chapel. Poem/Cat Oswyn

The Mary Chapel generic narrative unfolding spiral patterns of possibilities, logic cannot hold the probabilities expressed at this time, in this space: weeping tears down my plaster cheeks, my ha...
Posted by on Sat, 13 Oct 2007 19:56:00 GMT

A Relative State Of Being: Poetry by Cat Oswyn

I count the days between the flaring and fading of stars, calculate the concentration of mass along the line, the space between signifier and signified, the distance between my God and yours, infini...
Posted by on Fri, 12 Oct 2007 05:15:00 GMT

Letters To America: Surviving Cancer by Marie Photiou

As she walked away from his back door, the wind blew her hair and the plastic carrier bag of spare make-up, unwanted items etc. He stood at the top of those lethal steps and called after her D'you wa...
Posted by on Thu, 11 Oct 2007 06:01:00 GMT