the streets are melted butter to your knife-like walk, you’re oblivious to my kindergarten talk I’m religious to your cause trying to get my claws into the essence of you – your every word is true. my very word is false, still every line I write is for you. (you never did ask, it’s true). […]
sings of love as “a healing thing”, her singing “when you give everything/You’re loving the world – The world gives you love to hold onto” in a voice that sounds like love, in a voice that could have you in love, in a voice that loves the listener, in a voice the listener loves “when […]
he only liked her because she was there it wasn’t as though he’d actually want to care for her. but she was there she looked the part her beauty was her only art. she couldn’t chat she didn’t read she wouldn’t write but she would believe. he’d marry her because she’d […]
Mike The Juggler. I met him in my first year here, I was down for university. He was up for throwing tennis balls about. Full of piss I was, as was usual then, and I marvelled as the man – a throwback to some sort of carnival barker, barking mad perhaps, but hey, who’s to […]
be true to your own set of rules. you are not an outlaw as such, but live outside the law – if and when you can – that’s the crucial part of the plan. Without that, you’ve given up before anything else can get started.
Welcome to episode 67 of Sweetman Podcast with support from our sponsors – T Leaf T, Yeastie Boys and Le Petite Chocolat. This conversation is me chatting with the poet, historian and academic Jeffrey Paparoa Holman.
The beauty of music is best realised when the hairs on your arms prickle as the tune begins – or reaches its key moment, its peak, its greatness. An oft-listened classic will evoke such response. Sometimes – when lucky – a new tune will do much the same. That’s the time when no one can […]
There he is at the crease, no runs on the board, but he won’t be ignored – as he aims for the middle and never heads too far down the pitch. He is always able, just, to dig it out from the block-hole, best foot forward, which is obviously right. He’s left with the bat, […]
I move the mouse or does it move me? Strange wee Ouija board that takes me where I almost never need to go, allows me, once in a while, to smile out the window(s), on the way to wherever – as some of my past lives flash by – and at several things I might […]