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    Ghosteen wrote a new post

    Was Brighton Pier Mere Gallows?

    No one belongs in my   dreams more than you,   crush my burning lips like ashes   lust is the crematorium’s encore   everyone a whore to skin and bone     At end of Brighton Pier  we shared a bottle of cheap wine  whip'lashed heads upon shoulders  like sniper bullets shrouded in Sinatra     There was no poetry...

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    Al Ashcott and Profile picture of GhosteenGhosteen are now friends

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    Al Ashcott
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    YHoorah! Apparently,, we are all at war again and so it breeds further xenophobia, racism and islamophobia. Shamefully, nowhere worse than the UK. So many w@ nkers over here still think of imperialism and the emipre – oh do f off.

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    Ghosteen wrote a new post

    Children of the Sea

    In the hospital by the sea  the old man lay dreaming of hope  and love song of whales    He swam all night  crawling through dreams  over soft susurration waves  and awoke, stick dry,  to staring nurses  and the sound of a huge belly  scraping over the shingle   

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    • This makes one think. I like it.

    • Powerfully penned, Ghosteen. Excellent write my friend. This one has layers. Appreciate you.

      Damian

      • Thank you Damian. Ii is truly refreshing to see a member who is so kind and encouraging to fellow scribblers. Respect. Rob

    • Me being an ocean goer, get it. Although my ass is going to end up in Texas eventually, LOL. I love swimming in/under the ocean. We used to play in riptides, for Christ sake! (Don’t panic, go with the currents, etc).
      I’ve swam in it during a thunderstorm, at night, name it.
      One of the VA hospitals near here is partly over the water. My dad was there awhile, before going home to pass on. Yet, it seemed so cruel for the patients to look out the windows at the water… I dunno.
      Anyway! I sense morphine in your write. (I’ve had my days on it!)
      You take us on quite the journeys when you explore your mindscapes. I’m all in!

      • As per, you get me Mark (or, at least, try to see under the currents).
        Swam in thunderstorms? There’s a trilogy of poems in itself. The UK is such a small island, at no point is one further than 70 miles away from the sea.
        One of our school friends (we were 9) drowned and from various parts of the promenade we saw this small creature taken lifeless to an ambulance. Haunted many.
        I forget you are ex military. Is that the morphine? 2 of my good friends are ex UK special forces and they reside in your part of this mad universe.
        Respect. Rob

        • Yeah, good ol Army injuries, etc. Six surgeries over the years, in and out of the military. So I was acquainted with “morph” a few times. I love the visuals I got while on it. LOL.

          • Ha. The world would be a better place if every1 was prescribed morphine daily! During the rave culture (late 80s / early 90s) ecstasy was the pill to pop.
            ‘Dave one ball’ had his testicles rearranged courtesy of an IED in Afghanistan. No one – and I mean no one – calls him that to his face. I have so much respect for vets. Some write about how “tough” they are, whilst others have actually lived it.

    • I’ve read this over 3 times. Dreams are a magical gateway.
      Makes me wonder how our experiences change the older we get.
      There is something about it that sticks to the mind.

      • Thank you A. You and Mark need to go swimming under moonlight. A poem for all ages.
        Age is the strangest conundrum. Who wants to grow up, who wants to go back?

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