Thursday, July 5


So here is the last poem for the Ouroboros Project.
It is the initial inspiration for a short story I have just started which I will tell you about at a later date.


He looks to the crowd with their swastika smiles. He sees the Fuhrer amongst the furor, with a hand raised to the sky. 
He takes his place, and another in the field of white faces, the master racers, chiseled faces, diamond eyes, glazed edifices.
The silence. The silence. The silence. 
Silence. Then - crack. 
Off he slides. Effortless. Barely worth mention.
1936 and the heartbeats as the fastest man on the earth is then robbed of his handshake. Other business was the Fuhrer's call.
And it's funny that at that time, the man who would cover the land in a shroud of red and velvet and death would not see that he was wrong, not fathom his plan as being such madness.
And then, home again, home again, jiggity jig and it's one Fuhrer, two Fuhrer, three Fuhrer, four, back entrance, please, when it comes to the door.


Well the Ouroboros Project was cool.

I did a poem a day for 40 or so days which was a great challenge. My intention was to continue endlessly - or for as long as possible. 

But ultimately, after a string of busy busy busy (yes, 3x) days it faltered and it just didn't seem right to contrive a continuance and to write make-up poems.

In general, I really enjoyed the exercise. My aim was to find just one part of a piece in which I felt the prose orally flowed. So writing was a very physical experiment with lots of reading and rereading aloud. Especially in the beginning when I was recording them. Alas, my hours at work increased and to be honest so did the amount of partying and activities that I've been doing. Bam!

I also started to focus on short stories on the side too which, in all honesty, was a tad more exciting and fulfilling.

Cheers to those who read these and gave me feedback.


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