The Same By Any Other Name

Names of affection,
(Little Eddie, Sweet Baboo)

projection and deflection,
(Camille, Flame, Agapanthus)

colours and food,
(Pumpkin, Bean, Red, Blu)

some, unmentionably rude 😉


Prompted by this post at Go Jules Go

HooHoooo (or, as they say in French, Hou Hou) – for Gabrielle Bryden and BĂ©nĂ©dicte Delachanal

A poem for friends Gabrielle Bryden (sublime poet and lover of owls), who is currently fighting the dreaded winter lurgy,
Bénédicte Delachanal (fabulous artist), who crafted these wonderfully funky owl paintings.

 The Comfort of Owls

From tsunami dreams
We bolt upright
And heart and breath
Race to the death
To drown out silence
Of dead hours
And throw us wide-eyed
To the night.

Then, faint, through darkness
Comes strange calm
To tension-wired
Synapse and bone,
The ebb and flow
Of delta waves,
Like a mother’s kiss,
Floats softly down
In owl’s low call,
Primal and deep,
Submersing us
In tides of sleep.


For more things owl, check out Owls on WordPress and YouTube.

The Song Remains the Same

We were cigar-smoking sylphs,
we were angst-ridden waifs,
not quite role-model material
We were The Clash and The Cure,
Lena-Lovich demure,
but never Nirvana funereal

We were Flashdance and Fame,
we were Grease, Purple Rain,
not Dolly-sweet 9 to 5vers
We were Wham, All That Jazz,
Chorus Line razzmatazz,
Saturday Night Fever survivors

We were pathological humour,
the kohl-girls of rumour,
but never drug-addled chic
We were Dark Side of the Moon
and Kate Bush la lune,
living The Dreaming mystique

We were polka-dot punkers,
Spandau Ballerinas,
not tattooed suicide-grunge,
Twisted Sister crazies,
You were Thelma, I, Louise

in the end,
only you
took that plunge

I’ll have what she’s having

There’s one in every suburb

posing as a bestie, but beware

for it is said

this creature is a beastie


Rent-a-husband is her game

and yours is in her sights

when darkness falls, she’ll come for him

so don’t go working nights


“Can you help me with my …”

(stick WHATEVER in the blank)

ain’t his boy scout skills she wants

Girlfriends, let’s be frank


With all-consuming envy

she’s competing for your life

she wants your house, the car you drive,

to replace you as his wife


So, good women everywhere,

keep friends you know are true

but guard against the frenemy

lest her prey is you



Two friends, two lives

one, a garden variety drama,

the other,

a monstrous horror movie


unfolding slowly

picking off  joys one by one

like psychopathic forces of nature

stripping away

what should have been

for one so precious:

limbs like the wind, a planet-sized brain

that crazy infectious laughter


by the madness of grief and disbelief

I could no longer watch,

even through my fingers