I was sitting in the waiting room at my GP surgery and noted that there was a distinct lack of reading material provided. Just a couple of leaflets about ****** and a few old Mills & Boon paperbacks.

Mills & Boon, a very strange corner of fiction indeed. A strange corner in which the sight of a ladies bare ankle can cause a dashingly handsome cavalry officer to positively swoon with desire. A strange corner where the mere use of the word 'hosepipe' can cause a nun to blush. A strange corner in which the heaving ***** of an 80 year old great aunt causes palpitations and sweat gland problems for her even older gardener.

Mills & Boon is a very strange corner of fiction indeed. A strange corner that makes Austen and the Bronte sisters  look like purveyors of ****** ****.

I reach for the leaflets, and wait.

They will fall to the ground...
Blossoms of the cherry tree...
Without you,
being in my womb...
ripening grain,
And the heady scent
of primrose flowers
from the moon...
and his dust...


به روی زمین خواهند ریخت...
شکوفه هايِ درختِ آلبالو...
بی آنکه تو،
در رَحِمَم باشي...
دانه اي،
در حالِ رسیدن...
و عطرِ خوشِ پامچال ها...
از ماه
و خاكِ او....

The ticking clock, like gunshots through my head
aimed at my youthful ignorance...
the scent of you still lingers in our bed.

I ghost through space, not living, not yet dead -
straddle chasms of our best intents-
the ticking clock, like gunshots through my head...

My mind still hears the poetry you read,
replays the laugh of youth's exuberance,
the scent of you still lingers in our bed.

I enter empty house now, filled with dread.
I feel your absence, all it represents-
the ticking clock, like gunshots through my head.

A fog billows in, begins to spread,
as death comes to erode all innocence.
The scent of you still lingers in our bed.

My nose has plundered through each precious thread
for faintest linger of your redolence...
the ticking clock, like gunshots in my head.
The scent of you is fading from our bed...



© Mar 2018, Winnie Carolina

I was walking here tonight and saw a billboard with an advertisement for a communications company with the strap line:
'Connects 100 devices in your home'.
'Connects 100 devices in your home'.
I'm sorry but if you have 100 devices in your home you deserve to get hacked.
'Connects 100 devices ...' and what are these devices?
This is my fridge freezer, its connected to the wi-fi, it Tweets me whenever I have the unmitigated audacity to have the door open for more than 3 seconds.
This is my washing machine, its connected to the wi-fi, it emails me when its cycle is complete, even if I'm stood next to it doing the washing-up.
This is my carriage clock, its connected to the wi-fi, it Tic-Tocs me when it stops.
This is my games console, its connected to the wi-fi.
This is my television, its connected to the wi-fi.
This is my stereo system, its connected to the wi-fi.
This is my central heating, its connected to the wi-fi.
This is my dog. Its collar is connected to the wi-fi.
What next? This is my *** toy, its connected to the wi-fi, it gives me pretty graphs on Facebook.

(To audience: From that reaction I'll conclude that that last bit is already out of date. You naughty naughty people!)

Pagan Paul (April 2022)