We’ve come to the end of a dead end road,
there used to be a factory here that made
small things and shiny things
but not anymore. Now there’s a shell,
an insect carcass, a quiet as death carcass,
padlocked and lifeless in pools of broken glass.

Brambles and rusted metal
sprout from cracked concrete
in a dandelioned winter garden landscape
under the sunset of a broken empire.

Waiting for spring
night fell, silently collapsing
as we were standing there,
and it kept on descending until it met up
with the light of the moon and they made sweet
silhouettes together.

So we watched until the rotting carcass
became just an indiscernible spirit.
We watched until that too disappeared
into the same atrophying notions
that had once engulfed us like a depression

until we stopped caring about
the small things and the shiny things
and realised we had come to the end
of our dead end road.


©2007 P.A.Levy
First published by Glass Coin 2010


Letter Home To Parenthesis

Elision screams
says she can’t go on like this
she needs to feel compl’te
please stop the rain
words run off the edge of the page
(is that po’tic?)
and all lost letters
will find their destin’tion

* * *

dear dad
dear mum
I had to leave home
all my friends were full stops
lo’tering amon’st the cut and paste debris
like brok’n verse vagab’nds

bored ellip’is

searching for meanings
inarticulate dots

in leath’rs and zips

there was a mess’ah
we kissed on the ‘ips
but a question mark
hung over ‘im

now I feel free
(un-(prevented)) uninhibited
I’m learning to breathe in
breathe out exclamations of happiness

must dash
- ps - will send another letter


©2007 P.A.Levy
First published by Streetcake 2009



last night i was so pretty
over two hours getting ready
then i couldn’t help myself
i admit it
i was an eager slut way too willing

this morning (not so pretty)
hair’s knotted
make-up’s splurged
i need a shower
i’ve lost me knickers

last night i was a heathen girl
carpet burns
furniture bruises
there’s blood and skin
under my fingernails
but oh god
have i been so joyously savaged

and now i look at him
glowing in the after
as he floats
face down in a tranquil quiet of
post nympholeptic sleep
all spent
and in this exact moment
snug in the warmth of passion
i surrendered

©2010 iDrew
First published by Poetry Pill 2011



with a tinsel halo
and a pair of little feather wings
butter wouldn’t melt
dressed in white
like a choir
we were singing naff pop songs
as loud as we could
snaking our way
along the high street
pretending we were dead good

lined up
on the guest list
we sounded like a latin prayer
mia donna christina
emma victoria alice emma
rachel drew hannah gemma
holly joanne holly may sophie

but after the club shut
we were that dun in on holy water
hannah had a gutter wee
down the side street by monsoon
donna caught a whiff of the body shop
threw up on their doorstep
she almost passed out outside waterstones
sat on the pavement taking deep breaths
legs wide open
for no apparent reason
tossed a burger
at the window of jane norman
holly had dun her first pill
was electric and sparklin’ and buzzin’
all loved-up with everyone
one of the emma’s gave it large
about some flash buff bloke
fingered for a phone number
and a bottle of doubleewekaydee blue
alice reckoned she’d given some lad
a shuffle in his pants
slut rachel fessed she went
so much further
than that

becci’s hen night was well wicked
shame becci vanished with the stripper
wasn’t around to witness
christina flashing her tits at some fit copper

even though we’d forgotten
most of the words
we was still singing robbie’s angels
with our voices ever so saintly and sweet
that angelic
are we

©2010 iDrew
First published by Beatnik 2010


Dead Red Roses

Dead Red Roses Poem


©2007 Charlotte De’Ath
First published by Outburst 2010