Sunday, 20 August 2017


Someone said:
How lovely
The mirrored lies
Those lips made 
For scarlet sighs

Oh, but I,
Having seen more dawns
And dawning regrets
Then most folks forgets
Denies them easy ingress.

For entry and success
First must some be blessed
With stubborned insight,
Or else be born
Hopelessly blind.


Tuesday, 1 August 2017

Chronicles of a Middle Aged Vampire - Part 35

So that is how I ended up sitting in one of the city's most distinguished and pricey restaurants with a neolithic dame, an amorous dwarf, and a gawky geek. All vampires, and all slurping up oysters on the half-shell which I personally abhor, and drinking pissy French wine; so I ordered Lobster Mornay...and champagne,

I must admit the conversation was fascinating! Specially though the haze of gilded bubbles from that bubbly ticking my nose...

"But you must understand! I was the avatar of the Goddess! I dispensed justice, and justice was death. The fact that these necessary acts also benefited me is beside the point!"

"I just ask if you wouldn't have been so quick to hand down death-sentences if you DIDN'T benefit!"

"That is beneath you!" Mama Lema's monumental frame quivered with righteous indignation. "And insulting to me, as High Priestess of the Lady!"

Dr Al dabbed at some oyster-juice on his chin. "I meant neither disrespect nor insult: It was a logical question, and a valid one, I think. Perhaps subconsciously..."

"Subconsciously? Subconsciously my left tit! In all my life I have never come across this mythological entity. The subconscious is just something you blame for shit you want to do, but don't have the fortitude to admit to!"

"Mama, as a doctor..." Al said, and was rudely interrupted.

"I'm telling you the truth. People these last century and a half have been waffling around spouting about "awareness" and "conscience" and "social awareness"? It's all crap! I've never seen such selfishness or self-absorption in 10.000 years."

"I don't agree! Look at the degree of poverty, hunger..."

"Hunger my fat twat! And poverty is relative. All things are relative, and if you look at it in a framework of 10.000 years, you will see that never before have so many people had so much to eat, and so many possessions."

I took another sip of that liquid icy gold, and let that delicious shivery sensation skitter up my spine. I was on my way to tipsy in one hell of a hurry.

Donny just served himself another half dozen oysters and calmly sucked up that salty snot as if it was ambrosia.

"Millions starve...Millions!"

"Of course. There are billions! Loss is always proportional.You need to update your stas, quick!"

"I must say," I slurred slightly, "You have a very modern and pragmatic view...I wouldn't have expected it of a lady of your...antiquity."

Mama Lema slammed her fist down on the table and bellowed a laugh, sending the rest of the well-bred patrician patrons of the restaurant into polite and very discreet hysterics. The Maitre'd wrung his elegant hands in despair, and stepped closer to our table, but did not dare by gesture or word to even imply censure of our majestic dinner companion.

"Antiquity!" She laughed and laughed, her massive shoulders quivering. "Antiquity!" She winked at Dr. Al. "This girl has sass! I like her! You'd better get a move on and nail that juicy tushie before someone else gets in ahead of you, Al!"

The Doctor, who had been taking a sip of his wine - some rare vintage from somewhere unpronounceable - choked and spouted a red gush through his nose and onto the pristine Irish linen table-cloth.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the Maitre'd shudder and hold himself in place by sheer willpower. Mama Lema must spend extraordinary amunts of money here, and be one hell of a tipper...

I slapped the Doctor on the back. Under that worsted jacket his body was rock hard. Under my hand muscle rippled across broad shoulders. He wiped at his nose with his serviette and dabbed at his watery eyes.

He turned to me apologetically: "Greta, I'm afraid Mama Lema is sometimes a little too free with her opinions. I assure you I will never...EVER..."

I leaned in and wiped at a drop of wine at the corner of his mouth. "Never, ever? Really?" I giggled and pouted my lips invitingly, even as I felt my eyes beginning to cross. "That is a pity...It really is...Gosh! Hics! I was rather looking forward to that..."

Shamefully I must admit: That was when my head nodded and a wave of irresistible sleep washed over me.

OK! I passed out. I passed out on that table under the gleam of the crystal chandelier, with my cheek pressed to the exquisite genuinely antique Victorian cutlery, still clutching my Bohemian crystal Champagne flute.

The last time I had passed out, as I recall, had been at the Bull-Balls & Bells pub, after a drunken binge on salted peanuts, pork-pie, and vinegar chips. I can still taste the smell of stale beer-puke on my hair.

I was definitely moving up in the world.


Saturday, 22 July 2017

Most music is ephemeral and forgettable - a polite handshake at an effete tea-party; jazz is visceral, sensual,violent. It dives in and performs open-heart surgery without an anesthetic.


Friday, 21 July 2017

Commiseration and sticky sympathy never helped anyone, a swift kick in the butt, however, is the best kind of wake-up call.


Thursday, 20 July 2017

The underprivileged always have time for ball-scratching.


Chronicles of a Middle Aged Vampire - Part 34

So it was with mixed feelings that I saw that my little tête-à-tête with Doctor Al was about to be interrupted...

Mama Lema and Donnie were approaching arm in arm, and a more curious sight was hard to imagine!

Palid Donnie, thin as a whistle and freakishly tall; Mama Lema with a lustrous amber complexion, five-foot-tall and quite as wide.

"Greta, Mama Lema," Donnie sketched a curious little bow in the ancient vampire's direction, "Wanted to meet you." Up close, Mama Lema had a massive presence - I had once met the Queen, and her regal dignity faded to childish posturing next to this woman's innate power and charisma.

Taking Donnie's cue, I curtsied awkwardly: not a graceful courtly curtsy; but rather like those gawky bobs parlor maids surely sketched to passing Duchesses in rustling silk, while their slack-lipped mouths gaped in awe.

"An honor..." I stopped myself from genuflecting, and pressed my hands together and nodded my head, smiling vapidly.

"Child," in conversation her voice was low, musical, and seductive. Mama Lema exuded a sensuality that was disturbing. I doubted that any would dare label her as obese - though by scale she surely was - she was a sculptured ode to fertility and sex in living flesh. There was nothing flabby or flacid about her. Nothing.

She smiled, flashing just a hint of dainty fangs, and her face was transformed. The idol became a girl, with darkly twinkling mischievous eyes and deep dimples. She would surely not have been older than sixteen at the time of infection. Then I realised: 10.000 years ago life expectancy would probably not have been much more than 20 or 25. "Have dinner with me, I'm intrigued by you, and at my age anything intriguing is worth exploring!" Her dark eyes swept over me speculatively. OMG!

"Mama Lema," I murmured, "Of course, it would be a pleasure and a privilege!"

She extended a tiny and astonishingly dainty and beautiful hand imperiously. "Come!" She turned to the Doctor. "Join us Al! You seem as fascinated by our little newborn as I am."

The Doctor nodded. "Thank you Mama, I accept. And yes, Greta is indeed a captivating lady..."

He raised my hand to his lips, but instead of just brushing the back of my hand with his beard, he turned it and pressed warm and disturbingly firm lips to the pale lilac vein on the inside of my wrist.

A shudder ran through me, and I gasped. The Doctor smiled, and stared up at me. His eyes were dark with floating flecks of amber and gold. Where my delicious Ghoul's telegraphed frank and uncomplicated lust that set my body on fire, the Doctor's eyes were unfathomable molten pools that promised something more - something deeper that I might not be quite ready for.

So I was off to dinner with a 10.000-year-old woman and a man who attracted and disturbed me in equal measure. Both vampires. OMG! What if I ended up in some freaky ménage à trois in some alley enticed and compelled to acquiesce to their beastly lusts by the irresistible promise of virgin blood? Anxiety attack time! (Yes I know...too many Gothic novels in my teens)

Then I remembered Donnie! SAVED BY THE DOLT! I reached out and hooked his bony arm in mine. "And Donnie too, of course!" I giggled (yes, I know but I had to) "A girl can't do without her sponsor and adviser in such august company!" I admit I simpered and batted my eyelashes, but only slightly.

Mama Lema smiled graciously: "But Donnie too, of course! How rude of me...Thank you child."

I caught the Doctor looking at me with distinct amusement, as if he knew exactly what I had been thinking. There was a promise in that smile, a world of promises. I had a feeling my life was going to get very complicated by the end of this night.


Tuesday, 18 July 2017


I brought red wine
and walking home I stole
from an over hanging bough
limes dark and sultry
malachite green and
in the garden next door
branches heaved
in the fumbling breeze
heavy with velvet-skinned
apricot dreams.