A Game of Tag

He is It. She is running. It is an uneven match. He is older, faster, stronger. “You’re It.” He turns around and slowly strolls away. She looks puzzled, walks up, taps him on the back. “You’re It.” He replies over his shoulder: “I never played.” “But … you did.” “That was probably someone else.” “It’s... Continue Reading →


Paper days

Some days are paper days.   When I’m cut down at the ankles, losing touch with my roots, Floating down a river outside of my control.   Stripped of my protective shell, with every naked fibre on display, A soaked through, rolled out, dried up, bleached pale copy of myself.   My skin as rough... Continue Reading →


I started writing again about 2 years ago and over time, as I was digging deeper into my past and present poetic psyche, I unearthed that …   My poetry is a shovel – shifting layers of memories my childhood home is perched upon, their respective colours indicating the stages of decay of the truths... Continue Reading →


Car door slams shut. 2 seconds grace, while I start the engine. “What do you want to talk about today?”                                                       *kid’s voice* Felix, 9, back seat. “Hmmm”, I reply, “… let me think.”                                                                  *pause*   You seem now at ease, with me living downstairs, While society shouts: "You should be scared!" Relationships change, there’s no... Continue Reading →


As I enter the front door, little footsteps trickle down the stairs, Wash over me, like a sobering wave of cool reality.   While I address the unanswered monster in the boiler cupboard, Three quick glances complete the Sitrep: Kitchen dishes untouched All curtains drawn Your sofa slouch unchanged   A decorated hole opens in... Continue Reading →

Ode to my …

I … am sorry. I am sorry, because … I sat on you. For years! Until my right butt cheek turned into a fire alarm, That keeps on going off, … Reminding me of our time spent together.   But still, you have my back And I trust you … With all my life. Printed... Continue Reading →


German-English bilingual phonetic poem   Meine Wurzeln reichen tief in die Erde der Tradition, der Kultur, haben Haken im Unterbewusstsein verankert, Schnüre wie Saiten angespannt schwingen mit jedem Subtext ...   Subconsciously. Having grown up in soils that now feel foreign, the moisture and consistency consistently all wrong; its PH-value palpable, not caustic, but still... Continue Reading →

True Colours

When I was in secondary school, I wished people could change colour… Not the human spectrum kind from, say, a Warm Sienna to a Honey Bronze, But rather an emotional colour wheel to show me how they feel.   They’d turn searing lobster red in dislike. Flash from piercing acid yellow to sickly vomit green... Continue Reading →

Allied Voices

A minute’s silence please, … Because here lies another voice, shot down, shot dead by male privilege.   Stopped in the street, or the classroom, or the bedroom, without asking permission, Just flashing the badge of entitlement, Not even considering there might be another answer to the question that was never asked!   Expecting full... Continue Reading →

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