Sleep Grimalkin (Revisited, 3rd July 2015)

♦ From my book ‘Nothing But The Rain’ ♦ Grimalkin sulked and snuck, Matted fur, feverish night, The witching hour lay insight, Mistress soon would raise her head, She baited the mouse, slithered, Waiting to pounce and devour, Only four teeth remained, But still enough to snap bone, She purred playfully to herself, The stench... Continue Reading →


Philip Wollen (Quote of the Week)

"We torture and kill two billion sentient living beings every week. 10,000 entire species are wiped out every year because of the actions of one, and we are now facing the sixth mass extinction in cosmological history. If any other organism did this, a biologist would consider them a virus! - Philip Wollen  

Words Drawn

♦ From my book ‘Nothing But The Rain’ ♦ You drew a picture Of me today, Surrounded by The words I tend, With no surprise, Each of them Led back to you, Your lines, shading And hue accentuate The idioms, lexis And expressions Of me, You make I, Infinite, ongoing, Tracing the circle of illustrated... Continue Reading →

Blood Moon by Phen Weston

A new poem of mine featured on the blog for The Night Forest Cell of Radical Poets. They’re still open for submissions, so go check them out!

Night Forest Cell of Radical Poets

On Her working days She was known as Blood Moon!
In Her infinite moments, Blood Moon had collapsed through legend
and sustained Her luminosity bright above burning infernos.
When menfolk offered Her anguish and lifeblood as sacrifice
Blood Moon had cleansed their empires and burned them as livestock.
She did so with fury, while dancing bolts of raging white
across the nights sky into the empathy of the devourer.
“I am no goddess,” Blood Moon rumbled in thunderous displeasure,
“Nor anything less than all that fell into forgotten places.”
She slept for centuries; between disaster and eclipse – waiting.
Slumbering below the blank cosmos, amongst the splinters,
and o’er the great division – the displaced appetites
that swept away in influences akin to monsoons, yet without
the illustrations of materiality. Blood Moon was,
and always would be. Blood Moon carved and craved
the immeasurable abyss and through Her all points…

View original post 22 more words

The Bird

Did you glide above lost stars or tumble amongst the sycamores? “I am wings,” you sang, “adorned in finery, bird of kings.” Fearful of grounded dreams that lock you to twilight streams. “They are held untrue to nature,” you whisper “There are no roads in the cobalt blue. They are for the lonely - you.”... Continue Reading →

The Left Behind

I am unable to be seen. That is, in the sense that beings echo around me, see through me, disregard me. I fall near to the wind as it flurries against my edges - touching those that live intermingled - but it refuses to touch me. I am wraithlike, insensible, obscured. As though when blinked... Continue Reading →


The shade of death Upon your lips parallels Fallen leaves upon the ground. Symphonies are notes Just stitched together. The wind upon susurrated tears. Those departed. One we all hum, Sooner or later. Yet, sometimes, I wish sooner Would hurry its way along... © Phen Weston, 2018

Pretty Little Narcissist

“Oh, I am the victim,” He cried as he lit the match, fanned the blaze, too pretentious in his own heirdom to play any other game, but fatality. “Yeah man, like, your behaviour’s upsetting me. You betrayed our friendship circle” While stealing, lying and spreading vampiric disease through to any soul broken enough to believe... Continue Reading →

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