http://slow.writerscafe.org/halton The original writings of author Johnny Halton en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776205546 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 when she writesi think of the moon.the way it casts no light, instead reflecting stolen sun when the world is too tired to notice the theft.though she is right; i’m an ugly man, andentirely unconcernedby that fact.and if the knife wants to call the heart a killer no sense canprevent it... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/halton/1108608/ that night on the sandthe snow roared its waythrough the city; we werealone.as light danced across the waves;your lips, stained with redmet mine, in the hazeof wine & wind.a soft flash of luck& grace never seenby this scarred,twisted face.in another city,another world,another lifetime,we mig.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/halton/1108604/ the nightyou let mesee thewoundsi held youlike the dyingrobinyou keptin a shoeboxat 14.all warmth &waiting;mindless ofrecompense. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/halton/1106720/ my dreamsare still plaguedby the Pontcannawhore-housewhere,bleary with gin,i spent the lastof my pay chequeon forty five minuteswith a skinny redheadnamed Sandraand the way shelooked at mewith her sadblue eyesand told mewith all the musicof broken glass;anythinggoes exceptkissing. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/halton/1103270/ drunk in an empty house that is not mine, the fire has died out, and the leaves again fallen. silence breathes perspective and, pouring my fifth whiskey i toast all the old loves of youth gentle & rich with light who never wanted what little i had to offer. the weeds have grown thick and i no .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/halton/1102973/ "will you come with meto the hospital?" she asks."i need somebody therewhen they takethe blood."as her hand grazes minesomehow i understandwhat drives virginsto bridges.i fumble for a word.her blue eyes smile at meand i can already feelthe razor goingin."of course," i say."don't ever think twiceabou.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/halton/1099534/ on these nightsi make myselfas ugly aspossible;i, the tiny-eyedskinhead thugspilling whiskeyon jeansso when sheis wrapped inhis arms& midnightfireworkstorch themoon(illuminatingtheir kisses;in oranges &greens)i can tell youamidst music& weedsmokewhy it wentto hell.we will tastethe backst.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/halton/1097920/ new suits & cocktail dresses will be wornbring flowers for our hostess; glad to smileas soulmates’ voices gleam thru gloam and morn;& spin old tales of brilliance & stylelight smokes up in the kitchen; windows drawnlet wine-drunk laughter proof of friendship belong hands will sweep.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/halton/1097103/ about a lucid dream i had. a little more abstract than usual, to fit the theme. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/halton/1090179/ one last smokein the gentle ruinof the night'sdrink.dusty fluorescence burns lowas mediocrity polishesits crownas museum guardspatrol dead chambersas words falter, passed upto the flameas the millions oftrembling souls -untouched,unkissed -bury light in earthand pray for theflood.i am colder than i .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/halton/1085039/ i've been reading a lot of ee cummings recently; i thought i'd attempt writing in his style about this recurring lucid dream i've been having. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/halton/1076337/ (maybe i got a bit carried away with this one) http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/halton/1072398/ before my mother met youwe had very little money,warming our tired bones with canned tomato soupand counting the hoursuntil payday.and suddenly there came steak dinners at the Almada,the golfing range on Saturdays, there camethe BMW and that goddamnsilver Rolex.suddenly, there came the.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/halton/1040004/ early this morningin a cracked and dusty mirrori saw my father's facefor the strange flashof a moment.the same large, clumsy nosethe same dark eyesthe same hairline, fadinglike used love.i studied that absurd reflectionshirtless and hungover,and wondered with a grinwhat it must taketo love this hair.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/halton/1039598/ deep calls to deep,sing the roses that sleepin gardens where the gatesrise highgazing sunward they swayas the earth steals awaydreams of growing to thegreat wide sky. sings the sky- I pray we could touch somedaybut we’re each anchoredto our own sad seathough my light breathes lif.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/halton/1038801/ i have never been good with words.at times of beautyi fumble for phrases of some originality, trying to convey the magic,but plain and tawdry clichés tumble round my minduntil all that comes through is silence.i hate to be thought of as cold,detached, or unfeeling.it’s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/halton/1038003/ the other guy who fell for herbroke his fist through the toilet door of a cluband screamed 12 drained pints worthof bitterness down herphone line.i say a man doesn’t act like thatunless he is a misogynist.believes himself entitled,owed something.so when i kissed her and a.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/halton/1037994/