http://slow.writerscafe.org/stormcaller The original writings of author anon en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776037666 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Neural disorderbasal ganglia region, motor, vocal tics. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/1318127/ red is the colourof my dreams,red like pepperor paprika.blue is the colourof my mother's dreams,blue like pneumoniaor mouldy cheese.she once told mei had to redecorate mydreams,to make them bluelike hers,but blue alwaysmakes my eyesitchsoi thoughtperhaps best not eh? http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/963920/ i always hated anything lockedup in a cage, so when i was giventwo tiny blue Caribbean birds asa gift, i at once opened the latch,like it was a Heathrow terminal,and watched the lovers departfor cannabis scented air, thenloop the low and long flat together http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/963919/ Written during the London riots, August 2011. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/963907/ 1  got tattoo needled with 1960scult play Little Malcolmat Wakefield little theatre,late,Thursday evening.  came out into coffeescented airfeeling awfulafter Malcolm’s suicide,  didn’t sleep that night.   2  travelled to&nb.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/963903/ my step-father and i painted the bedsit wallswhitewithout conversation.i was tongue-tied, living out of town,adjusting to life with a new birdafter betrayaland long-haired grief.i refused to eat the fish wrapped in newspaperwhile we took a break,i didn’t know you didn’t eat fishhe said,i.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/963897/ 1  when i was youngerin junior schoolMr Morris read usBrendan Chase out loudin hush of roomto class of kids,and i’d lay with dreamingflesh pressed tight to deskas words hung on space likestars,and i’dsail on wooden raftalong wet riverbetween bog and glenbeneaththem  &.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/963893/ we walked frazzled in the sunlightpast the phallic-cold-stone-Jesus and the crowds of faces that flew by with folded heartsand bland facades, and my blond-haired companion hatched a planand turned to me and said; i’ll see you tonight, 7?he spoke a little too loudly so the gir.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/960478/ walked in a grey gloomalong the roadside. drizzlefrom low-clouds enunciatedmy thoughtsfor me,sometime, noontime.and my eye met the oval-facedgigantic child’s eyesacrossthe asphaltwhere the cars slashed bywith sounds of wind and rubber,and nameless people strodeover pavementswith strength and h.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/955965/ a Scotsman plays bagpipes alone in a tartan kiltwinded sounds bellow aroundin front, and to the side, of Cleopatra’s needle,small, and homesick, for Egyptian sands, in thedistance.he leans his below against the railing and ironengravingof a Wordsworth poem,standingbeforethe bone white European.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/955925/ slogged on the steps of the cinema as the sun stood at the balanceof day   an elderly African offered me a gleaming ripe orange fruit held, in his outstretched hand   like a preacher pushing a pamphletof some solar deity, incarnate http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/952007/ make no mistake my cherished one while the world turns on its axis  and men and women run on their scripted programs of thou shalts and thou shalt nots,as termite machines eat through rotting wood -with self-indulgence and greed,  a bit of sadism too, yeah?&nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/951959/ nothing much to do since my phone broke,flick through a bookforty years out of date, meditateabout a decent course, walk around the houselike a wordless pawn, boil a packet of pasta from a Morrison’s store,slice in a few button mushroomsand a knob of Utterly Butte.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/951942/ if loners could flyi wouldn’t be walking home after summer classbetween bodies of four-legged blurs of beasts and breasts (hand-in-hand),shopping on the noisy street in the open-air, and windless light,  thinking of you, small and blonde and very far away &nbs.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/951495/ walked around Harrodspretending we were rich,and making plans to buyfreshaccoutrements for our home,   “yeah, £600 lampshade,no problem, i’ll write a cheque”  time elapsed, we moved into evening,bought take-outsvege burger.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/951414/ i spend days,countless dayswaiting,   days orbitingaround sun  suspendedbetween worlds  of sleep, of waking,   of will they, of won’t they,   with nothing muchto do,  but wait, .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/951413/ i cannot tellwhether you take offyour blue socksas iput on my red ones,sighas i delight,stub outas i spark up,stare at the stars in the dark,while i facethe sun, come to London,as i land in Tokyo,andvice versa as we fly back homeagain,  i canno.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/951412/ when you rain insidei speak to the little girlin you, wait until the sunclears those skies,and when you smilei smile,those drops that fall,become flowers http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/951411/ she gives answers with kisseskeen scented, too laughing, and the kisses return too laughingas harmony unleashes, like a hound with fast feet, how soft the sound that greetsthe air, how tender the wings that bring the love, become the light, moves swift into union with firm kisses  http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/951398/ i would like to step inside the screen, head first, arms, then body, legs, and in,   but not to fight over dogmatising opinions, or to brandish cruel inciting words, like swords  that cut through onions  before rounds and roundsof mock .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/951397/ i haven't touched a drop of winesince the last time we were together.the time before that was when wewere on the far west-coast, Seaside,our wedding night, and i nearly ordered an $80 bottle of Rosé by mistake - as we sat down to eat our evening meal.you should have seen y.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/951394/ i take many pains in my arm just to be with you my beautiful darling of all perfection in my life and more things that only if drunkenness found me could i sayto youbut what wounds and fevers would i not gladly endure just to travel half the world and sky to stand handin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/951393/ we first met. in the flesh.outside my front door.(true story) . . . she smiledwhen she recognized my satyr like grinas i walked toward the red-brickedterraced-house . . .her favourite colour, and mine,flushing hot in her summer cheeks,a transatlantic flight reflectingback from ti.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/951392/ we evaded the triangular stench of the collection agency aardvark's rip-off scams,drank tree coloured brews in coffee houses on empty stomachs with poppy red shirts, bad hair (without berets), and bongo drums beat out our dreams in booming perfection,and we rambled on with pidgin En.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/950958/ you speak near perfect English, but beyond thatyou speak the species language of woman.   and it’s not in your Romanian rolling of Rsor your coquettish come-to-bed gypsy glances  as you twirl your well-tended hair,like a Freudian pin-upwith bea.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/950950/ i didn’t join them in the showersas a kid,when i was younger, instead,i made-up excuses,slipped away, like a tissueof fabric from a box,  cheeks burnt in humilityand embarrassment,as i staved offtactless remarks, and a ruined rep,  i admiti.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/950949/ she sometimes mutters in the hall, legs thickened with age, toenails gnarledand curled, like horns, she climbs each stair one-by-oneas heavy as an Ox, as careful as a fawn, on ice. she opens the door, to rubble of room, her blitzed grotto tucked away, inside a chimney jagging lane... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/950947/ think i prayed last night.silently. like a childfrom an underprivileged class,  i lay there,  emblazoned in the maddening sadness, spine all shrivelled, like charcoal, in restlessness, and mind growing angrier in a blaze, as thespiky beds.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/950945/ blah! http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/642666/ how could i forget this; illusion, delusion, reality.., ? i could hear everything through my walls, their fücking, her beatings, i'd seen six guys pull up in two blacked out mercs and beat the dirty scag rat shitless only two nights before from a crack in.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/468261/ he trailed a crowd of crowned children in his wake, he'd mastered art and dream, and yet never really achieved, he is the basis behind every composition i have ever essayed, i was small he stood tall at the cycle's centre, his headstrong shadow blocked out the s.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/462228/ here in england we commit things to dustbins, like swineherds, and preachers, and prayers, and communion, and transubstantiation, and finally... god,,, yes. (that old s**t smelling stop gap), not that anything happens, why would it? moody isobars and earthquakes .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/462227/ i want to have endless sex with you and your beautiful brown eyes this autumn weekend, as we lay atop our double bed in the big faraway familial farmhouse, we can make the world the way we want it, you and i, unzipped close together, with smooth skin, aroused .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/462226/ i once painted you in the blossom of your youth when you blazed with life in unimaginable light, like a beam from a lamp, a time when you travelled dangerous paths, passing maryjane littered mountain slopes with inner sprite, and the outline of your face captu.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/460795/ this is a word painting, the year was 1999, before known cells divided, and doors opened - into a higher order.., --------------------------- i'd stayed home on that friday night, listening to early floyd, and pulling the thick curtains back on the late evenin.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/460794/ inspired by warhol http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/459398/ i tried to move away from the everyday world, back in ancient england, where the shrieking streets trapped peoples feet in newspaper sheets, and there's no telling why the magick is strong, where the brain belongs after first death divides, when little black birdlike .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/459393/ I thought I was in love as free, as a passing dove that spirals upwards in the sky, until the day when that b***h dumped me! And the suffering came, knocking at my door, my frozen face stared solemnly at the floor, and the games played briskly on.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/459392/ and they were armed, in the spring of 68, as we sniffed flowers in the garden's grass, they swung in, on middle-aged monkey bars, and paced into our private sanctuary as we, were rising higher, passing by the moons and the planets, laughing, with a magickal, wonderous, .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/459389/ she reminds me of you sometimes, perhaps it's the years spent wooing before that first tender kiss, when i was deep in my studies and reality was unreliable, filled with that sensuous emptiness and longing, beyond all the earthly confusion of life, this fish in bliss in.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/453008/ i open the door, i examine my own quirks, i let her in, i flop into my chair, (i can't believe...) i slip into my counselor mode, i encourage her to talk, i stay silent, we're the savages - she says, we the species do so enjoy inflicting pain, murder.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/449934/  Show me the doorway to escape the malaise of this shielded room ofmy own private place so that like the light of your stars I can continue to dance and escape to afar from the hollowness and numbness ofthis empty silent space, so deep, so deep inside of me... Show me the wa.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/448817/  Ha! LetHa! Let theHa!Ha! Ha!Let – the - thunder - come!Ha!Ha! Ha!Ha! Let the thunder drum!Ha! Let theHa! Let Ha! Cover the Earth with rain! Ha! LetHa! Let theHa! Let the thunder drum!Ha!Ha! Ha!Let – the - thunder - come!Ha!Ha! Ha!Ha! Le.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/448111/ I am the sphere from both within and without; my tended garden will notdie under the fires and breathless heat of the relentless, andunforgiving Sun. I have visited many times before, coming alive in thefragrant air to transfer the quantum consciousness of my anima, mysoul, from  the at.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/448110/   I remember,                         the dusk had begun to settle,  and the lustrous moonlight enveloped my purview. I was traveling south,  .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/448106/ once i thought i'd be trapped in sorrowful silence forever, after college, when the system collapsed, crashed, in the years of youth, i was much more abused than most, tempting tremors, before the danger gushed over from the dark circles of the city's bleak geometry, .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/443755/ I traveled across the void of tortured time, served the sun Ra and the glory of the infinite stars, with silence and the secret science of the unseen flow, from the pleasure of my eternal mountain / pyramid that'sas dangerously high as you are dangerously low, and the wild winds of .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/443166/ Wrtten in a midday lethargy... http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/443151/ I removed my tie and shoes, and crushed the shroom between my teeth and tongue. A bitter, acerbic taste filled my mouth reminiscent of dirt. I rushed straight to the fridge in the kitchen and saw a sinlgle lingering berry remained poised on the middle shelf, and a bottle with the last rema.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/441586/ Mother Nu, most high Queen, let the children live their lives in safety and peace, kiss them with your wonderous lips, and protect them, hold them tight, with your magickal majestic arms, and return their smiles, return their laughter, free from frowns, for the biological.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/stormcaller/441583/