Dereliction I

Brick russet as dead foxes,

torn walls and empty boxes.

Paraplegic doors ineptly

Grasp at squalid confidence.

 

Slate grey, dirty hands,

broken hopes and lying charms.

Slippery they jaunt insanely

Thrust like frigid countenance.

 

Dreams who, barely grew,

now their withered dying fruit.

Childlike hand delightedly

Clasped in pallid expectance.

 

Ends behind, dimly dark

caress him kiss him, sharks.

What wildest eye immensely

Observes a rigid common sense?

 

Down behind, god and cash,

little hopes burn, they smash.

Never remembered openly:

The bright new screams of dissonance.

 

The motivation of Derelection I came as I walked past an abandoned old school building, left behind in a desire for modernisation, newness.  The many lost memories that belong to a place, the dangers of forgetfulness, of being too practical (in this case defined as ‘common sense’), of what present joys can be lost in the effort to gain a future perfection, were at the forefront of my mind.

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Industrial Morning

Crowded ways and

empty valleys.

Contained in space and

concrete chalets;

in urban sprawl.

 

Cross chains, silver

tubes and chimneys.

Contagion steps on

iron walkways;

to dimly crawl.

 

White sky walks and

grey men tarry.

Sighs and signs;

to vivid talk.

 

Lost in massive air,

the raining windows.

Leaping clouds in

blue sky vessel, sun

Indwelling.

Lurching.

Burning.

Lost in Logres reanimated

In an effort to write again, and to spread myself about a bit (I’m told this is a must for generating interest in one’s work) – internetly speaking – I’ve decided to resume blogging; but only in the sphere of poetry, stories, art and spirituality.  I may offer the odd review or opinion piece, but essentially I want to keep out of controversial matters and focus on my literary output.  Such as it is.

Ransom & the Lady Meet in the Dawn of Perelandra - Version 2

My aim for 2017 is to produce at least two short stories per month, to be published first here, and to keep my friends and readers updated on where I am with my novel Anselm.

Anselm is set in an America of the near future that is deeply, and quite literally, divided.  It follows Anselm’s rise to political dominance and ultimately destruction.  Along the way there are gay love affairs, human sacrifices, cats, mystical experiences, torture, and resurrections.  I can’t tell you much else right now, because I never know what my characters are going to do until they start doing it.

So, I hope you will all keep in touch.  I welcome positive or constructively critical feedback on all my work, and hope that you enjoy reading it – and get something worthwhile from that reading – as much as I have pleasure (and sweat and tears and throwing things) in writing it.

Christopher.