Please read this now!
It’s irrelevant; void,
As of now; by the end of today.
In the t’s and c’s;
Near the end; in invisible print…
(somewhere here),
Can you see?
It should say!
Please read this now!
It’s irrelevant; void,
As of now; by the end of today.
In the t’s and c’s;
Near the end; in invisible print…
(somewhere here),
Can you see?
It should say!

Half-a-pence
Of nonsense
And a teardrop
Of morose
Slow drowned
With canned
Laughter
And nothing
Comes close

I notice that you’re a dreamer
That you continue to stand there,
With Sir Polar Bear;
Engulfed in its colossal shadow,
And I can see that you know,
That I know
That you know this too.
It seems you can be forever surrounded,
By an endless sea of molten metals
Your mysterious lands;
Crumbling,
Decomposing with rust;
Endlessly being anchored –
By your hidden flamboyance
Always to be taken –
By complex science
To a certain past
And a future lost.

Dry felt-tip pens
Odd florescent socks
Tracing paper
The Muppets lunchbox
Sweetshops
Dull board games
Lots and lots of dice
Shortened holidays
Longer Sundays
Missing the bus again… twice!
Morning Telly
Pop! Go the ants
Nothing and everything
In soaking wet pants
World cup dramas
Bad wrestling fights
Unwelcome relatives
The endless summer nights
Bad haircuts
Cracked pavements
Thick scabby knees
Puddles
Beer sweets
Sherbet dib-dabs please!
Fake blood
Loading times
The gallop top 40
BUNDLE!
Less of your cheek
Naughty-naughty-naughty!
Too short in the trouser
Satchels
Gizmo top of pet names
Xmas, birthday, Xmas
Nonsense ball games
First love and embarrassment
Marbles on the drains
Saturday + Sunday = two day week!
Diving paper planes
The register
Good… morning… Mrs… Teacher!
Worms and Daddy longlegs
Scare girls but won’t eat ya!
The dreaded Chinese burn
Now wait your ruddy turn!
I could go on…
Someone out there,
Identical to you; in every possible way,
and you passed them in the street, unnoticed…
Only yesterday…
Oh well.

“I’m Chile Peru,” said the woman keenly.
“That’s an interesting name,” replied the man, he didn’t want to take his eyes off his full whiskey glass; buried snug in the folds of his palm.
“It’s a great name!” she replied, and as she did, all her facial features seemed to slide magnetically to the centre of her crimsoning face; she leaned into his right shoulder, breathing her distinct breath into his ear.
“Thanks, but I’m not here to have a conversation, and I don’t recall asking you… for your name that is.” He stared ahead blankly, continuing to drench the inside of his mouth with alcohol, unsubmissive to his breached personal space.
“Thanks and all that, and yes… you didn’t ask! But considering I already know yours – I just wanted you to hear my name,” she whispered, “my name will probably kill you.” she trailed off her speech as if talking to a good, little, attentive child.
“Ok, Chile, so…this is the scene where I’m supposed to think you’re clearly insane, maybe… consider walking out, without finishing my drink?”
“No silly, this is the scene after that…You’ve already thought about leaving; that happened as soon as I introduced myself. You’re not unnerved, you’re furious because I’ve ruined your usual evening… alone, at the bar. You’ll remain in your fury no doubt, until you enter your drab little studio flat; there you’ll remember only one thing, my name… ‘Chile Peru’, there you’ll rot, your mind will be in freefall; likely to die – very soon, after you slam your front door shut!”
“Wow, Chile… I gotta say that’s a cheerful little story you have there…You really know how to sound like a psychopath – well done to you, you have succeeded! And all this insanity directed at me, a complete stranger, I’m blushing.”
Then, he glanced at her for the first and only time while sliding off his bar stool as gracefully as a soft rubber mould of himself. Leaving his whiskey sour at the bar (just as she predicted), he walked uneasily to the door; the handle of which seemed to duplicate itself on reach, it turn stubbornly when he grasped it; twisting it anti-clockwise, before obliging him with actually opening the door, and the sharp chill of an autumn nights air.
He stumbled in his haze passed the widescreen window; like hundreds of thousands of replicas did, day in day out. He did not look inside, but if he had, he’d had noticed that Chile Peru hadn’t moved; her posture was as stiff as if she were sucking on the last remnants’ of his soul that remained at the bar.
Before her final swig of his drink, she whispered bitterly, “Have a lovely evening, Vinnie.” and then proceeded to neck the remainder of his drink, at which point the chairs were being stacked purposefully on the tables; and by the only person that had overheard their conversation.
Losing my grip now,
and so gravity ensures
my future’s prescribed.
Gently tumbling;
prolonging,
buoyant;
like a fleck of fresh dust.
How structure and design
now discards me;
to unearth odd ceilings;
calmly engage my feet;
on hovering,
flirtatious,
ground.

Wheels rattling
Hardened grip
Push shunt
Kerb trip
Toy fallen
Toddler crying
Comfort-comfort
Parent trying
Winning line
Neck stooped
All losers
All pooped



The Island was now like a vision of every colour imaginable, mirrored by the water that underlines its form it was a floating diamond on the sea, luring him. He has never seen these colours before. Just the occasional fleeting of blue from a human-like’s eye has pierced his landscape screen of grey. The whiteout has bleached his memory of colour. He is like a completely blind person from birth that could only rely on the description of colour from someone with perfect 20/20 vision. He now sees all vibrant colours at once, if only it could be believed to be seen he thought. To the Man with Glasses, the Island was as real as the slow torture he had endured till that moment. He felt complete and uncontrollable exhaustion in swimming to the shore of this unknown Island. With the hypnotising magnetic pull of the colours, somehow, with his body, not belying his own, he finally succeeded.
Now on the shore of the Island his human-like battery-life flickers on again, he manages to pull himself by his insect limbs. He realises he is no longer wearing his glasses. He smiles a wonky smile as he finds to his bemusement that he no longer cares for them. Already, the world before these golden sands was distancing itself from him. He summons the strength to stand and turns around, stares at where he has swum from and opens his mouth, revealing a shrivelled tongue that flicks out, “How?” but no sound brakes from his lips. He hopes he can see his friends somewhere, but he sees nothing but the cold grey blanketing fog that he has succeeded to escape. Sees enough he knows he will never be able to tell the woman and boy that he survived after all and this Island is for real. He thinks to himself that he would drown on the way back to tell them his unbelievable news. He finds this as funny as it is tragically sad.
The Island is no salvation to him yet, not until he discovers exactly where he is, some food, something to drink and then a place to rest. Then on awakening, his plan is to explore, find a boat in the hope to help the Woman and the Boy to his Island. He begins to walk shakily, as if in a little earthquake, and staggers away from the sea to a clearing. The clearing is between the welcome of fluorescent leafs of trees that he can just make out through his unadjusted slit like eyes. If he knew what a welcome banner was he would have half expected it, along with your our first ever customer. The colours are so dazzling and disorientating for him that he feels again like a new-born baby might, this Island has just given birth to him all over again.
Suddenly in the clearing, the shade the trees cast act like a sudden power cut to his new floodlit world, while his eyes adjust he hears a voice he immediately recognises; from somewhere and everywhere, this voice surrounds him. To his extreme annoyance he can’t make out exactly where or what words are being spoken, and then the voice grows as close as a whisper to a listening ear. In his exhaustion, his legs buckle and collapses face first like a tied up dinosaur.
The Woman and the Boy stay on the beach for two more rotations of the cheap lamp sun and watch it like a bouncing ball in slow motion. After, the man’s disappearance into the sea, they feel more drawn to that sea than ever. They visualise the man with glasses bloated with food and new facial muscles, he now has the opportunity to pull a true smile. He now owns the power to row a boat he found to save them. Their curiosity makes them want to swim even though they can’t hopelessness is full.
After they pick up their pitiful belongings they trudge up the coast, not sure why they should bother or what to do next. Careful words are their only comfort to each other. They walk and rest, then walk some more, continuously, for as long as yet to be, re-invented time. Between them they then begin to hope for anything, even the cannibals would be some break in their monotonous routine.
“The cannibals would be better than absolute nothing.” The Woman moans.
“Don’t say that…please.” The Boy mutters, tears flood his eyes.
“I’m sorry, I…I didn’t mean that, I’ll think of something, I promise.”
And then in the distance, along the aluminium coast, they see a man. The man is tall and wearing glasses, he is staring out to sea. Pointing out to the grey endless sea he senses their presence and calls out to them, “Hey! Can you see what I can see?”