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Prose insane

Saturday, 23 May 2015. A Stranger Leaving 2 by Adam Parry. Aidan’s Dad was asleep on his end of the sofa, but not for long as Max 2 barked her usual terrified greeting at the sight of Aidan. Now that Dad’s moustache had grown thicker since the last time he saw him he somehow suited it. He grabbed a mug of tea and asked Aidan why he was here. 8216;I haven’t seen you for a bit.’. 8216;You saw me two weeks ago,’. 8216;No. Why are you here now? They sat in silence. Then William said:. Without setting off the...

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Prose insane | proseinsane.blogspot.com Reviews

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Saturday, 23 May 2015. A Stranger Leaving 2 by Adam Parry. Aidan’s Dad was asleep on his end of the sofa, but not for long as Max 2 barked her usual terrified greeting at the sight of Aidan. Now that Dad’s moustache had grown thicker since the last time he saw him he somehow suited it. He grabbed a mug of tea and asked Aidan why he was here. 8216;I haven’t seen you for a bit.’. 8216;You saw me two weeks ago,’. 8216;No. Why are you here now? They sat in silence. Then William said:. Without setting off the...

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Prose insane | proseinsane.blogspot.com Reviews

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Saturday, 23 May 2015. A Stranger Leaving 2 by Adam Parry. Aidan’s Dad was asleep on his end of the sofa, but not for long as Max 2 barked her usual terrified greeting at the sight of Aidan. Now that Dad’s moustache had grown thicker since the last time he saw him he somehow suited it. He grabbed a mug of tea and asked Aidan why he was here. 8216;I haven’t seen you for a bit.’. 8216;You saw me two weeks ago,’. 8216;No. Why are you here now? They sat in silence. Then William said:. Without setting off the...

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proseinsane.blogspot.com

1

Prose insane: a poem by Adam Parry

http://proseinsane.blogspot.com/2014/03/a-poem-by-adam-parry.html

Friday, 7 March 2014. A poem by Adam Parry. She puts upon herself her outside face. She cannot see outside her inside face. In that holding mirror. Streaked with gold and moss. Inside her outside face she. Weeps, the old ache of such subtle pain. She could never name, only ever blame. It was me who killed you her old eyes say. As if to tame these same old tears. But floods of rain reveal themselves and speak. Of all the things she forgot, lame laughter in a many seated sitting room. Or run away again.

2

Prose insane: December 2012

http://proseinsane.blogspot.com/2012_12_01_archive.html

Sunday, 23 December 2012. Here in the break of a day. High on my sunseat. The river plays stage left. Passing me centre stage somewhere. Round the curve stage right. Playing old songs with it. Like a seagulls lullabye. But the tourist stays on holiday. Now always and there seems nowhere left to go. Tossing away those sweaty well photographed clothes. The noble tramp emerges. Dressed in hair and old shoes that takes him over to a. Green verge across the swamp of road. Here in the break of a day.

3

Prose insane: May 2013

http://proseinsane.blogspot.com/2013_05_01_archive.html

Wednesday, 29 May 2013. Cure me of this dreamless sleep. Cure me of these dreamless nights. Inoculate my eyes from tears. A voice calls out the morning. The day, the day begins to blossom again. Taking all tired eyes upward. To spectates the sunshine, the flight path of a song on the wind. Flowering about us as steps upon the. Grass regulate the dance our steps take to. A cloudy sky we levitate,. Then let them lower us to the hard hand of the earth. Tuesday, 21 May 2013. You are colour I am sound.

4

Prose insane: April 2013

http://proseinsane.blogspot.com/2013_04_01_archive.html

Monday, 29 April 2013. Tuesday, 16 April 2013. The leavings of love. All that is left of love is ours. Now love lies unkempt. Lost as a bedroom head. Now love is found with an open door. All the churches are closed, but,. Does God wait for all of us to know him? What is left of God is all that is left of love. An ancient God old. too tired to keep an eye open in this heat,. But God's heart still holds with a eternal beat,. Takes time to reach a well crafted cave. And holds his Goddess at last so near.

5

Prose insane: March 2013

http://proseinsane.blogspot.com/2013_03_01_archive.html

Thursday, 7 March 2013. Lost in a mirror. Lost in a mirror,. Hard hatted and holed heart,. To what I am, so scornful. Crossing the edges of my eyes. So proud of the no things. Own my own face. So in a chair I look at that man so lost in a mirror there,. I was lost in thoughtlessness. Waiting for the silence to end. The adverts turned themselves over. A day to snore away the oblivion. Yes, I was lost in thoughtlessness. Flicking noisy fleas from one braincell to another. A blonde topped figure, long, lithe.

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Prose insane

Saturday, 23 May 2015. A Stranger Leaving 2 by Adam Parry. Aidan’s Dad was asleep on his end of the sofa, but not for long as Max 2 barked her usual terrified greeting at the sight of Aidan. Now that Dad’s moustache had grown thicker since the last time he saw him he somehow suited it. He grabbed a mug of tea and asked Aidan why he was here. 8216;I haven’t seen you for a bit.’. 8216;You saw me two weeks ago,’. 8216;No. Why are you here now? They sat in silence. Then William said:. Without setting off the...

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