"Jam Wouldn't Be So Sweet In Jaws Of Steel!"

Excerpts from "Jam Wouldn't Be So Sweet In Jaws Of Steel!"

"Aye there's the rubbing alcohol!" he said shaking my pen knife, like a drunken knave with as much dexterity as a impotent gnat!"Pg.16:04

"I bit the top off the cork, spitting it from me at an angle that said, pretend you haven't just eaten cork numb nuts. I poked it with my childhood pen knife, striking till vino cork soup gulped into my neckages!"Hey Riley, what did your mother say again?""Don't bite the bullet if your teeth aren't real, and Jam wouldn't be so sweet in Jaws of steel!""Smart woman!""Lousy Dyke!"Pg.39:06

"Hey, don't be such a creep!" Said Janice, always Janice, that girl who dressed in table clothes just to act unique!I took my navy black corvette to the beach, walking the pier with my two left feet, threw the bottle in the ocean, thinking "do molotov cocktails ever get read?" Till the bottle bounced back to the dumb blonde sand, finding inside it a drunk hermit crab.What a bitch!"Pg.123:01

"The obsequious nature of dutiful husbands echo razors, slight and guided, like trapezoids longing for new angles, or shapes. The mosquito fluttered over his hand, darting away from the toxic nicotine of his last cigarette of the night, as he sipped a slow melancholy from his canteen drifting away from the sound of the city, to the flapping of his force ten gale tent.

“I’ve drowned in worse places.” He thought as he planned his day. Then Zip! Startled he danced upwards, his sleeping bag slid like the shiniest of lizards. It was Domanik. A withered heroine physique coupled with the stench of someone who lived in their clothes and worst of all their socks.

“Hey gravy man, what’s cooking?” Guttural, short and stink ridden.

“I’m going to bed!”

“Well tell me when you get one.” He laughed, pushing him aside to make more room.

“Maybe you didn’t hear you cunt!”

“Hey, hey I only came to tell you that I’ve got a ride! But if you’re not interested?”

“Where to?”

(He pulled out the leather wallet that always clinked like a sweet shop jar, and I knew at once he just meant junk.)

“Cook up somewhere else, I’m out of spoons and short of patience!”

“Fine” He said leaving the tent open just as the wind picked up dragging with it sand to land in the last sandwich he’d left for breakfast."

Poem from The Markasite Journal (unabridged)

The surrogate pet of a half wit press
Sets the tone for the holy as a rambling jest
I control ever edit for the one you adore
So they never see 'the jester' is the cutting room floor

The Clink? Or make a toast??

"There was a story that my friend Josiah would endlessly tell, to any new person who entered our fold. Of how he caught a fish and instead of throwing it back, he taught it to read, and gave it an education equal to that of Oxford. This coming from a Cambridge professor, gave the group a laugh every time.

I was born on a theatre stage never knowing the difference between the real and the imagined world. Which always gave Josiah's stories so much more comedy. As an infant I developed polo, and walked with callipers and a cane for the rest of my life. Thankfully my mystery as a playwright meant I was rarely alone after a performance. But there is a difference between a kiss from a stranger who believes you to be a King, and two paupers making love. Josiah engaged with the majesty, while I sort out the pure, we both ended up with nothing.

But still he told the story; of a fish he taught to read."

"If it wasn't for 'the service', we'd all end up giving 10%!"


"If it rains you'd better get wet, than walk in the puddles with ONLY 5mins left!"