End game

Spill the cheapest wine, most expensive Grange, you will see the end is near the same. For it’s not the plonk drenched on the floor, it’s your fears possessed, left wanting more. To be left heightened in a state of need to keep things clean in fear of greed. For it’s not the spill it’s…

Storm clouds

Sometimes the bluest of skies rolls by ever so slow and gracefully, and it leaves me wondering, Will a storm ever come by again? ~ Mark Thompson


She was the mechanism that made his second hand tick. ~ Mark Thompson


Together they danced with devils, pushing biological clocks to the nth. They tasted the fruits that natural law neither forbade nor considered. They were the truly free, not concerning themselves with the myths of wrongs, or the perceived, collective rights of us. The tether of other’s thoughts – sometimes mistaken for heart-felt flutters of empathy…

Fuck you

Wearily I laugh at the racist jokes my ignorant, tunnelled-brother tells, as I fear my voice will take on none whilst my truth resides in darkened swells. I fear that if I reached deep down into that deep and cavernous well – that not yet a dam of bursting pour, that I will find that…


What if youwere going about your day,when all of a suddena giant so large,so completely unfathomable,stomped on your world,destroying everythingyou had come to know. Your home destroyed,your village, your crops,your friends, your family,life snuffed out,life disregarded,destroyed in an instant. What if wewere all antsto a giant? Think about that next time you step on an…


Herded cattle, eyes on glass, ears plugged in. A bustling train – so empty; the walking dead. What’s your fear? Fear of contact? Of culture? Of difference? Of the unknown? Smile. Try it. Just once. Make a play. Open up. Closed. No response. Darkness fading. End of the tunnel, Bringing forth the bright. Sunlight ripples…

Sweet refrain

In sweet refrain she found herself observing that which held her back, by taking pause to reflect upon her inner voice – the right, the wrong. From within, she searched and found a treasure held in sunken chest, a heart that beats in love, not pain, beneath her fears, in sweet refrain. ~ Mark Thompson

The Banyan Tree

The banyan tree danced in gentle sway long before this urbanised decay took its place; the selfish choice of man, with a need for more – a master plan? The banyan grew in twists of knowing, knotted in fear; man’s need for growing, and whilst now saved from the sap-drenched axe, others made way for…


She was his North. ~ Mark Thompson