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Full house

There’s an atheist in my attic

rattling his chains

shuffling up and down

tapping on the drains

There’s a pastor in my fireplace

but I can’t get him to burn

he quotes the scripture at me

though I refuse to learn

There’s a demon in my basement

lurking under the stair

it’s only by his awful stink

that I even know he’s there

There’s Mormons knocking at my door

and they have no bloody idea

the bullshit I have to put up with

living in here


Eve’s choice

there is a snake in my heart

coiled neatly there

it stays safe and warm

I let it in

it brought an apple

it brought some tears

but that’s okay

I keep it near

that warm little snake

in my heart

The saints

The saints are returned to walk amongst us
unrecognised at first
Some say they are genetic experiments
Some say they are the devil’s seed
Some just stand and stare
silenced by their silence

We humans are drowning in our own detritus
roiling filth and chaos is up to our necks
Is it any wonder then
that blessedness should fall elsewhere?

The holy dogs walk amongst us
and calm spreads like ripples
through water

They make no sound
They appear where they will
Cameras and phones fall unheeded from hands of onlookers
You will not see them on any screens
They regard us
and walk on

Some say they should be shot
Some say they can cure ills
Some who have seen them say little
but their faces shine
and tears pour like wine

The saints walk on
paws padding softly
heavy heads held high
tails slowly waving
They walk on


She hears them in the street

as she walks home.

When she turns around

no-one is there.

They sound behind her car

as she sits idling at the lights.

In the rear view mirror

there is nothing to see.

They echo in the dark

as she lies in her bed,

sheet clutched to her chest;

the sound of horses running in the night.

The gift

There is a bird

he is calling

this pale morning

his cry wringing

and wrenching the rain from the sky

a sudden silver shower

I rinse my soul clean

and hang it on the line

to fly in the breeze

dry in the breeze

the bird flies away

leaving me standing

nothing to hear

but the dripping of trees

a new day


this cup is in motion
this chair is a song
this table is a string of pearls
a thought can slip through
swimming in the infinite space between
as does a fish
scales gleam in a shaft of light
then dim into dark
a silent wish
echoes in the void