Forum Comments

'The child looked at his hand as if it didn't belong to him'. The price of detachment. This is authentic and realistic writing. Guilt puked out in an attempt to rid the horror of your thoughts.

Susan sounds vacuous, like an imploding fart lost in the stomach of someone else's life. Fancy dressing up to see the dead. She'll find her man, and he'll be a lapdog loser hanging onto her every whim. Poor sod. Still, you pay for what you get. I'm in Rome at the moment (sat in an internet point next to Termini, 1.5 euros/hr rather than Bernini, 3 euros) and only just found out that Keats and Shelley have a house/museum at the foot of the Spanish Steps, which was where I used to hang out when I was 18, so I went there again and hung out but it wasn't the same, or maybe it was. I'm not into graves though, apart from Jim Morrison's in Paris which was where I used to score puff from German hippies when I'd just arrived in town. Good story, and I liked the one about peeing in Ireland as well. All the best Richard

Thanks Darkoe, just about to put the fourth installment on which should get your jaw dropping!

I always click on your name to see if you've got anything new out and then I realised I hadn't read even half your stories and poems on the site. This is so 'in the moment', relayed with the emotional turmoil we feel when love fails to live up to our expectations. It felt like you'd written it in the red Fiat in the drenched Tesco car park on the back of a magazine. Very prosetry. I'm off to cat-sit in Perugia for a few weeks so I'll have time to read your whole body of work with the Apennines as a backdrop. What could be better than that? All the best Richard

Awe-inspiring, my eyebrows drooped further and further down my face as I read this with anger rising. I'm sure I would have cried if I could allow myself, but still the little boy inside me sits and waits. I need to set him free. My own parents didn't fight with fists; they did it with harsh words and eerie silences. Fantastic poem. Thank you. All the best Richard

Yes, Kevin, you squeezed a chuckle out of me as usual. Mark's Jesus post has now fizzled out and died a teeth-chattering death at 66 comments (the number of 66.6666% of the Devil), tank da Lord. It never fails to tickle me how religion can raise seemingly perfectly normal people's blood pressure to boiling point (like in your latest). Thanks for reading, Rob. Looking forward to the reading evening on Wednesday and saying hello again. All the best Richard

Make the link to each comp a different colour so that it's visible, spilling Ink ended 1 July and couldn't find machine of death's comp on its website. Try and be as accurate as you can and research the competition organisers' credentials. If you don't, people won't return to the site. There are a lot of comp list sites already so it may be wise to limit your site's listing to credible, interesting and well-known comps. All the best Richard

A modern day problem, which, if you let it bother you, leads to nowhere at all.. I'm in a library, and there's someone eating and drinking, another's on the phone and one more's a nutter talking to himself. There's another guy who taps his keyboard so hard you think it'll break, and now someone else is answering his phone. 'Hellooo!!' There are children coming in to sing a song, marching towards a corner. That's nice, though. That's what libraries were intended for, but adults these days tut at these children as they text and eat popcorn and pick their nose on Facebook. There's no order to life anymore. The wrong uns rule. Decorum and good manners are surplus to requirements for most people. No one knows the other and everyone thinks they're having one put over them with a head full of too much gunk to even contemplate niceties. That's life (when you can't afford a bloody dongle and have to go to library). The fact is, people don't change for anyone but themselves, and it's cringeworthy to see forum topics dressed as posts scrounging comments or is it the other way round? I don't read enough (I'm into forum topics at the mo cos I can't concentrate on writing) but I do leave comments if a piece deserves one. If I think it's crap, I'll leave it but if it riles me, I might want to say why. Oh God, da gang have arrived and it's all 'yo!'- tut -'wot?'- tut,look away quick- murmurs of 'arsehole, I'll kill ya'. What a lovely mixture of peoples we have, all working in harmony for the common good.

Oh Maggy. What are we to do with you? Your work is just so impossibly, indescribibly beautiful but here goes.. An achingly hot blister of a poem that's too hard to pop, nature fighting illness, held together by the glittering, psychedelic imagination of a lost child busy hanging onto bright colours and butterflies as her sanity is bartered by her guardians and dysfunction becomes more and more normal. Thank God the world's out there. All the best Richard

Hi Rob, That's a new word for me, and thanks for commenting and enjoying. About Brussels, I don't think I'd be very welcome. While I might have a little of the required confidence to inspire, I don't possess any such will to lead, which is fine by me because I'm looking for a leaderless society. People should be allowed to lead their own lives and anarchy isn't such a bad idea (I think it's most pure form of humanism). If you think about it, if ninety percent of the population is basically law-abiding, it would make sense to put the responsibility into the hands of the people. That's alot better than the equivalent reading of about ten percent, if that, of MPs. Most crimes are committed through poverty, desperation, ill judgement and anger (which I attribute to the system in most part), and while some are committed through pure greed, these would be far easier to stamp out if, for example, the general consensus was to ignore those touting knock-off Nigels and hooky gear down the pub. If the price was right in the first place.. What I have found throughout life is that people want to do the right thing but they're so used to being ripped off by the system that wrings every last bit of money off them that they try and get their own back when the opportunity arises, but that can never be justified to their conscience, so the air of discontentment continues to pervade society, which is good for the power elite, because they can rely on the people's innate sense of guilt when they pass their crippling new laws and hand down crazy sentences to sacrificial lamb. We're conning ourselves if we choose to believe that this is any way to live a decent life. If Europe thinks the Chinese are going to start throwing dosh at it to save it from imploding, they must be crazy. The Chinese have worked bloody hard for their prosperity and they face new challenges now that the western world is in a depression. If you put twelve people up to represent each of the western world's countries (including the UK), you'd be likely to find one alcoholic swaying on the verge of oblivion (he may or may not have a job andd a home), one man in an unstable, mindless job (perhaps with a spot of undiagnosed borderline depression), one unemployed man with depression and/or chemical dependance, one hopeless, fearful teenager, one innocent baby, one childless working woman on a bottle of wine a day 'to unwind', one emotionally challenged single-mother (probably depressive), one mother who works part-time (she'd be with the bloke with the mindless job), one privately-educated adolescent hoping to make his/her mark in life, one arrogant, spiritually deranged person looking down on everyone else and two disillusioned pensioners harking back to the good old days. I don't use the word 'depression' lightly. It has generally been brought about by societal dis-ease. Recovery's an inside job, and Europe trying to build a working funfair on an unloved graveyard only shows how detached from reality its leaders are.

Well done, Magic. This is no surprise to me. You sowed the seeds of your love and now they've grown into flowers. It'll only get better. All the best Richard

God humouring Lucifer to get answers about modern magic; a novel scenario. Well written.

Hi Julie, I went to the buddist temple in Wimbledon a while back and got a lot out of it. Said to myself, I'll do that weekly and haven't been back since. Such is my resolve to strengthen myself spiritually at the mo. Always great to hear from you and say hi to Raymondo for me. All the best Richard

A second read makes this much more accessible. I think it would help to know who is writing this. It starts freely and then goes to first person quite timidly but the message is certainly arresting and it worked for me. Maybe to expand it and truly own the voice would give it more clout. If this is your first poem, it's much better than my first attempt on this site. The process has been a revelation but I haven't been able to switch back to prose yet. Haven't tried but am uneasy doing so. All the best Richard

Radio Denver; I'd forget about the UK if I were you. We're as unforgiving as you can get when it comes to the topic you raised. You may find the US lacking in intellectual stimulation, but the way you're being received here, it's plain to see there's nothing for you to bite onto. Camilla hit it dead-on, and the fact remains that Assange is a deluded egomaniac. The only way to fight the power elite (it's not just the US) is to stop believing the lies that they make up and start to enjoy our lives instead of buying into all the things they tell us we need. They are pathetic fools but we're the real dorks if we go along with them.

I enjoyed this, and have to admit that coincidence is one of life's most enthralling/eluding factors. I used to yearn for it at all times, meeting a mate on the other side of the planet, seeing something 'twice', thinking about something and then miraculously seeing it in front of me. Now that I'm older, it doesn't happen so often, and when it does I might adjust my mood for a while but it's no great shakes. Yeah, life ends at thirty. After's just secondhand. Forget fifty's the new forty and all that crap. That's for people who never lived. Life ended long ago.

I identify with the importance of the pendulum effect's freedom of movement and think your view is very sympathetic and just. That society is fractured and divorce the rightful passage of marriage, all elementally natural correction to the pendulum's swings is hugely restricted, based on the fact that everything governments say and do is wrong and unjust.

I'm so glad you like the stories. Big cheers to you! Publishers and literary agents are as likely to read stuff as a penguin with a bad back, so it's really really nice to know that people are out there reading for the sake of reading, purely for the enjoyment factor. Many tanks again!

I think the story itself is strong enough without my beady-eyed tinkering. It shows enough naughtiness to put Horrid Henry to shame. Good luck with it.

Choose wisely. This is one of those makey breaky moments where flippancy isn't order of the day. Sit with yourself in a quiet room and close your eyes. The right choice will come after a while and you'll know it instantly. There's so much youth to this and you've a lot of life left in the tank. Don't throw any dice. Just listen to your heart or your head (but not both) and follow it through. New balls, please!

Watch out, Barry. The Old Peskmeister's a Scot. Any reference to this being remotely attached to English humour may (will!) be taken as heresy. Brigadoon; ouch, that hurt. Such is the pain of truth. As usual, if I want a guaranteed chuckle, all I need do is go to your comments list.

I like to think that God is a personal thing, not something to sell at a doorstep, which reminds me of carpet-cleaning services or mobile fish distributors. I've knocked on thousands of doors for work, but they don't all want their house painted. God's an easy word to say. In a syllable, it's easier to understand than higher power or spiritual guru or the universe. The word God can scare away alot of people who need a higher power, but they always come back if they really want it, like in AA and NA. To me, the main thing is that God's not human (thank God). It's simply that which can help me when I know I can't help myself, and if I follow its will for me, I can't go wrong. That said, if anyone burst into my room and caught me praying on my knees, I'd be embarrassed, like they'd caught me having a you know what. It's a private thing, but it's a good private thing. Any religious nutters out there are fighting a losing battle, but perhaps that's half the deal for them; to feel so righteous in their beliefs that they feel drawn to compel others, who they generally regard as sinners who may be thick enough to bolster their cause. This in itself is self-centred in the extreme, and delusional, but let them at it. Why not? No one stopped me drinking, drugging and gambling my life away, so why should I stop them in their own brand of delirium? What I do know is that when we are in dire straits and can see no way out of a dilemma, our gut reaction is to call upon God. We've all done it, and that is proof enough for me that there is something very special out there that, when called upon, calms us right down. It doesn't have a beard or bellow like in the movies. It's not about fear, anger and hatred. It just is. It rests in our stomachs, not in our hearts or minds. It's what feels right, that's all, and if we do what's right, we can't very well go wrong. Those that believe that religion is on its way out are right and justly so, but it won't happen in a shake of a winky. There are too many good people doing jobs they know are spiritually wrong, but they can't get out of the rat-race because there are hardly any spiritually sound jobs around, and those that are there pay badly, so the capitalist cycle grinds on, with an entire population guiltily deflated by its lacklustre contribution. Look at the heinous crimes committed in the name of God, though, for which the perpetrators know very well that there will be no price to pay for their crimes, all because their God gave them free will. It can't last too much longer, surely? My God's so loving that it gave me free will enough to see that my own will was worthless without a higher power, that I'd continue to shrivel and delude myself if I was in charge. I'll always fight against capitalism and for a free world where people are given back their human rights and we all recognise ourselves as responsible human beings, which we are, because I know that's my calling. Morality is in all of us but the powers that be don't want us to recognise this because it will render them powerless. It's like in that animated film, 'Antz' or the other one that came out at the same time. It's just a big con. All we need to do is recognise it and do something. Don't worry; we'll be desperate enough soon.

Enjoyed this more as it got going. Your son sounds like a good sort. Maybe he's a writer in waiting and senses Marnie's place is perfect. Or maybe he's got a string of girlfriends to woo! One can go much further much quicker with univeristy girls when they're presented with advantaged surrounding. They seem to change from snooty middle-class feminist to social-climbing, submissive whore as soon as they get through the door, unless they have bigger plans in mind. (Please note that, for the sake of political arsepicking and general smallmindedness, the author of this passage wishes to make known that he does not believe that all university girls are gold-digging bloodsuckers.) There's a typo 'it' in the para 'They wave us through' and the end of that para's a bit of a mouthful. Was the gate's lamb-count in LED like a petrol station price-board? Sad to say that's how I saw it. It's a beautiful morning and I'm going to Brighton marina car boot sale with me sis now. Enjoy the island.

Story of the Week's a just reward for this inspired story. Don't blooming well delete this one. Send it off to people who can share it to a wider audience.

'Watching each other read', lovely imagery all the way through.

This is is brilliantly insightful, especially as I know what it's like to wave at someone who's waving at someone else. Just shows how incredibly sensitive we are. It usually means nothing to the other person; just a human error of judgement which we all make. My one qualm is this; I know it looks like a poem but isn't it really just a short story dressed like a poem? I'm not very well educated as to what a poem is or isn't but will hopefully be able to learn from a response to this question. I mean, if anyone mentions the words 'stanza' and 'wondrous' I'm going to scream and run riot in the library. The content's insanely great and shows a brill imagination.

Brilliant idea. Send it to the Oscar people to see what they think. I'm sure they'd love it.

i watched a BBC program last night on the plight some Scottish families so it's timely to read this shocking and lifelike tale. Thank God it's fiction but yes I know it goes on all the time. It really gets to me. Nil By Mouth eat your heart out. All the best Richard

hola

This reminds me of Roald Dahl's earlier short stories (check out 'Skin', which is a collection he wrote in New York). He's easily my favourite short story writer by a long chalk but this story stands tall against his work. The thing that Dahl did so well was give (most of) his stories some sort of bombshell ending that made it all the more rewarding to have read. While this story weaves its way to a culmination, there still seems to be an ending which still fails to present itself to me. I think maybe Lily Bart, or the woman that Higgins saw Maudlin with in the mall, should enter the shop for some reason. That's just me idly tinkering, but this work just goes to show how much talent there is on this site that this didn't make SOTW, but it's definitely mine.

Luigi, Thanks for your encouragement. I'll let you know when it's ready. All strength! Richard.

Thanks very much, Unfolding Head. Ta, Oldpesky. I used to think it was normal, drink/drugging the way I did, and used the FEAR tactic; fuck everything and run. Now I use a new improved version (the AA one); face everything and recover. It's a lot better. Good advice with the timer. I might just try that one. All the best Richard

Every two-bit corporation uses sex to sell, even Barbie. Perhaps there lies the travesty of what I see as the threefold disease of society; the defeminisation of women, the sexualisation of children and the demasculation of men, all of which has only skewed our reality because marketing men (sorry, and women) get away with it to provide shithead governments with reliable sources of taxation. Talk about eating the hand that feeds you! It's just plain wrong. Women personify beauty and finesse, children personify innocence and joy while men personify brawn and animality. Let women be women, children be children and men be men, otherwise we'll start proverbally crawling up eachother's arses. Horses don't seek sex-changes for the simple reason that they can't have them (they get on with 'life'). Addicts wouldn't seek drugs if they weren't available (and we'd all be happier). Megalomaniacs wouldn't seek victims if we didn't let them (but they'd be far happier). I'm all for gays coming out, male nurses and women footballers, but why should children be subjected to the insanity of the modern world (which I find backward in the extreme) that persists in exploiting people in order to sell shit to them based on their insecurities. But that's nothing to do with your book and the merits of a woman having a tussle with an alien.

Hi Sean, Feb's that great month when the reality of the Euro comes to the table. Germany won't take it lying down.

I think a rendition of the fabulous 'Meow Mix' advertisement is in order.

Thanks Insert. It's always good to get your thumbs-up. Thanks Mark, you're not wrong! It's all about having the guts to step out of the boxing ring.

sorry for posting three. On my phone late night, very slow.

This is a good insight into the poverty of spirit among the masses as they stride ahead with their muccus egos, standing tall at the head of queues, trying to guess the thoughts of others as they prepare a suitably vile response of indignation, justifying their place with smiling ignorance, desperate to appear balanced and mature. I can't see how this is a poem, though, apart from the fact that only a quarter of the horizontal page was used. Poemheads, give me hell!

Playfair deceives you, Sean, because all you're doing is tut tutting me for tut tutting the Big V.. Maybe you'll see that now. Writers are a prickly lot and I'm a particularly facetious one, although that's a trait I don't enjoy much. If I'd made a similar comment (ie. get sharing) to you when you first joined, and you'd left, that wouldn't have been down to me. That would be your excuse. You've taught me one thing, which is I shouldn't bother with forum topics of this kind. I'm getting out of this mental boxing ring now. Life's too short

Ewan, I saw you had some more comments on this piece and wanted to look, so it was with surprise that I read Simon's scathing comment. I applaud your response, and don't let this unnecessary post get you down. If I get published before I'm dead, then that's the icing on the cake for me. He said something equally weird on another well liked piece, 'For Egypt' I think. Maybe just a bad day. Whatever it was, live and let live is the answer. Here's to us unpublished failures! All the best, Richard

I lived in Cambridge till I was one and a half and I'm bloody glad I left reading this! My father was a founding research fellow at Wolfson in 1965 but then he shot himself in the foot. Runs in the family, I reckon! No wonder he told me to steer clear of university if this is what it's like, and that law student; so well depicted, Insert. Chilling insight to the sickness of a spent system in only a few words. I hope your son gets the right questions but as you know a degree is about as useful as a bald tyre these days. Enjoy the May bug!! It's usually April and May that are the best months for sunshine in England. Like many things in this country, we start with the best intention.

Brilliant! I'm getting these same feelings/thoughts about things that have always seemed so foreign. We're so opinionated and defiant when we're young that we tend to miss the grand plan, but it's all part of life. I just love the tone of this little gem; comical, lackadaisical, floated over to us, no hoity-toitiness, just as it should be. All the best Richard

Adolescent anarchy, joyful, playful, without a care in the God-damned world. There's so much flitty, tongue-out, girly humour in this, especially the Japanese flag and the sister's reactions. Like a teenage female Bukowski, this stinks of dosharooneys. Be proud, be very proud, but don't let that head explode. Compliments will be coming from far and wide for this one, and I can see how you can churn them out when you're on a roll. Sexy, and the voice of the girl is so special and free that I'm sure I haven't heard it anywhere else for ages and ages. You're a total one-off. Fantastico! Richard

Less is more, like the wearing of the coat and its presence in the hallway. Very visual. Too many memories to wear again, kept in full view for when mistakes may be made, a constant reminder that love hurts. You're on a roll.