Asperging: The British Problem, a polemic by Andrew Watkins. Starting with the baptism we are welcomed into this world anew afresh with bright ideas we stride out; but wait! What about the poor souls we meet along the way? Surely, they should be made to feel something good. Intransigent? No, welcome! Asperging is the paganContinue reading “Hello Blogosphere!”
Tag Archives: thoughts
Unconventionally poor like a dog without a saw tooth bark I sit in my unconventional chair and write without imagination I speak the prose of Shakespeare, not Barthelme And I wonder aloud well in my head How can this unconventional life be so bad? and deep and lonely when all I want is a friendContinue reading “Unconventionally Poor”
What spark did flitter Among my thoughts like glitter gold against the soul
Put down something
Hell did not put it first but I did my own bidding or so I thought. In the street, onto the beat of things came my whip and onto the next street, my mind did a strip. And the next street and the next strip, strip, strip. And never came and went. Eventually, I venturedContinue reading “Put down something”
Take It Easy
Tied up by time Constrained by your emotion thoughts like quicklime On an island, on a plane On a boat to nowhere. Stand and stare then retreat slowly Playing out the twists and being the vine in blue jeans, in the commotion your sensing a crime. Your world in motion connected to mine through lightContinue reading “Take It Easy”
Why do I seem constantly frustrated by my angles? © 2017 Andrew Watkins
Mad Munc – Todays Thoughts
Edward… Ring any bells? The nineties… blag prosody. Smooth skin rancorous streets, Single bed You know it best. 2016 student of the avant-garde life award for best trousers Pass it off as your own Advertising will never notice Too wound up in itself to care about me dancing in the street. Yeah. I danceContinue reading “Mad Munc – Todays Thoughts”
Behind us lies the truth
Back from the dead. I chose death. Behind me was life. I chose death. Close by life. I chose death. Behind was the tale that I grew up. I chose death. Behind was the impression effort made. I chose death. Behind were my friends. I chose death. Behind were accomplishments, minor and many. You knowContinue reading “Behind us lies the truth”
What Is Old?
White paper bags containing boiled sweets passed over by rheumatoid hands bent grotesquely A smile a million years old seen briefly All sitting comfortably in chairs or for dinner The one day they disappear?