“The irony of putting effort into writing a poem about you” – a poem.

This poem is dedicated to someone I used to consider a friend but who nuked that from orbit and demanded an apology from me for their hurt feelings over something I did not do.

A strange and powerful lethargy

Astonishing in it’s motionless

My hand stills ascribing without glee

My pen not racing to express

Ideas of showing how I see

Deep into your soul (what a mess)

I am fitting to your reality

Mind steeped in syrup thickness

You exposed yourself to me

Thank you for at last being honest.

 

 

 

 

“The irony of putting effort into writing a poem about you” – a poem.

Crash Space – a modern Novel

Crash space, a novel of geekery by Moylen Green

I have published Crash Space via smashwords!

https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/893134.

The blurb:

“Rusel is a bisexual, non-binary nerd, who just wants to have a good time and coast through a life filled with sex, role-playing, and pranks. It’s a great shock then to find that someone dislikes them enough to attempt murder.
Who does Rusel know who would dislike them enough to kill? What on earth could be the motive? Could it be one of the housemates or an ex partner with a grudge?
Rusel downplays their impact on other’s lives, and navigates a life filled with parties, social events, drugs, complicated housemate relationships, and jokes gone awry. Motives are exposed and must be dealt with before the next attempt is made.”

Some things I want to say about this novel:

This story evolved a lot since it’s inception in something like 2010 and I worked on it on and off for years; to be honest I changed in a lot of my viewpoints from 6 year-ago-me to now-me. Largely I realised how ingrained misogyny was in my reading and thinking habits (despite me thinking I was a bit of a feminist). I rewrote so much of this to make it not like that.

 

Continue reading “Crash Space – a modern Novel”

Crash Space – a modern Novel

The Hairshirt – a poem

A dark force plays with abandon tearing apart your soul; you cannot admit that

your legacy is blackened and unripe fruit. Treading on it yields neither wine nor juice;

Bottled up, it festers into logic and reason that must needs be denied.

Assumption of superiority helps sooth the waters of turbulent reason while

The bile and fear lap at your toes, calmed only by casting your eyes towards heaven

It is a test you must pass, denying qualms, signs and portents, extinguishing candles lighting the path

Your hair shirt, your denial of the senses; as you cook and then bite into the sadness which you feed

to your child who inherits the fear and the pain wrapped in a bright shell of promise

The Hairshirt – a poem

Why don’t I have what you have – prose

A poem on behalf of those entitled out there who thinks the world should revolve around them.

*

If I think about your life

I suffer such disgust

How, instead of me

Did you end up with so much? Continue reading “Why don’t I have what you have – prose”

Why don’t I have what you have – prose