Vegas Or Valhalla Online |
After a lot of messing about VegasOrValhalla.net is now online.Go look.Now.
Posted by on Thu, 17 Jul 2008 07:11:00 GMT |
Even This |
This is barely a poem. But I guess I needed to vent. "Nothing lasts forever", you once told me. "Even this." Even storm-chasing, Chinatown, laughing in hospitals, kissing in supermarkets,...
Posted by on Sun, 20 Apr 2008 09:43:00 GMT |
Trouble with Writing |
I left it too long, ignored and dismissed for too long ideas I should have brought to completion. Bored of my disinterest, they start to do their own thing. Now, like restless children, grown t...
Posted by on Thu, 06 Mar 2008 06:11:00 GMT |
Vegas Or Valhalla - a Reiteration |
You've dined in halls of heroes, and you've kissed the lips of sin. You've played the gods against the odds: the house will always win. You've pawned your pride for pocket change too man...
Posted by on Wed, 05 Mar 2008 16:04:00 GMT |
Tired of it... |
Now the people have gone, leaving the house a little less empty than I feel, I have time to think things over, and find myself feeling numbly disappointed by the quality of my thoughts. The same few w...
Posted by on Fri, 02 Nov 2007 14:35:00 GMT |
Kiss Like Napalm: Part 1 |
It wasn't meant to be original or ground-breaking - just a tribute to some of the films, books and characters I've fallen in love with over the years. Oh, and it was bloody good fun to write.One...
Posted by on Sat, 13 Oct 2007 17:41:00 GMT |
In unrelated news... |
This banner was rather niftily created by a fellow SuicideGirls Hopeful:This officially makes me famous. In a very small way.
Posted by on Tue, 02 Oct 2007 20:07:00 GMT |
Starting Over |
They realised it wasn't working, so they decided to move away and start again. There was so much to pack. They lovingly wrapped all their hurts and long-nursed grievances in sheets of old newspaper ...
Posted by on Tue, 18 Sep 2007 14:08:00 GMT |
318 London Road: A Requiem |
For my grandmother, who died a lot longer ago than it seems.Last summer's bluebottles litter the window cill, trapped between panes of glass. Dry, fragile, the bodies of moths and butterflies lay flat...
Posted by on Thu, 13 Sep 2007 17:16:00 GMT |
I’m sorry... Should I remember you? |
The bedroom looks like a crime scene. A stocking hangs off the bedpost and twitches in the breeze from the open window like broken police tape. The sheets are a tangled mess after our earl...
Posted by on Fri, 10 Aug 2007 17:21:00 GMT |
