Blog

A triceratops roaring against a prehistoric sunset. I always research my projects thoroughly. I once wrote about someone from Quebec and said it was his home town. Next thing I know I get a message calling me a cunt and telling me it's a city. It was fair enough I suppose but to pick on that error rather than the other 999 words of perfect prose was something I found insulting. Especially as fuck ups are all the rage these days, well intentional ones anyway. Social media has

Rey Mysterio has defeated the Big Show. He's much smaller though. A wrestling haiku. Part of a series.

A little football poetry from New Zealand. Our first Kiwi Haiku celebrates All Whites striker Chris Wood, his goalscoring and his undeniable quality.

Off to Vancouver for my first live World Cup game. Tipping rows, a street encounter and a hot chicken that changed my life. Not for the easily offended.

The room is too bright. Nothing is coming back. The apology template is queued and ready. There is a reasonable possibility, building slowly, that he is dead.

Morphine, cocaine, cannabis, and the voices that speak once they're gone. A bleak, honest monologue from Mental Ramblings.