Skip navigation

Monthly Archives: August 2013

More notes on commuting, in the bygone pre-credit crunch age.  That summer it seemed like the apocalypse even before the financial crisis kicked in, with towns in the Midlands and Wales under water.


Red Tie, a blossoming of pink butterflies;
Smart Black Suit
Legs crossed,
Shining black shoes,
Raised blonde-dark hair.
Red face (sunburn).
He talks to a colleague
In a deep gray suit,
Psychedelic tie,
Peering at the Times,
Reading about submerged Tewkesbury.

They talk:
About the flood, the roof not even leaking,
30,000 gallons of rain per second
And drought
And how financial services is doing well
But retail and IT are slow.

The Ironic Fantastic issue 1 which features my absurd prose poem The Clockwork Sun is now available in ebook form here:

It’s been too long since I’ve posted.  Parenthood, Summer, life, holidays, studying, work, you know.   I thought it was time I posted another poem in The Passengers series.  My current workplace does not require me to wear a tie.  It was mandatory at the job before that.  What does it all really mean?

Tied In

It rustles gently,
silk tie on nylon shirt.
Coiling against my book
smelling of the day;
polluted train stations.
Silk, yet the weave
Shiny ripples.
Deep purple fibres,
contrast with lilac fibres;
crossed with straight
navy thick lines.

The tie was a leaving present;
Legal and General;
chosen by Anthony Jones,
(tasked with finding the most ugly).
I was leaving a company
with a casual dress policy.
For an accountancy-led company
That insisted on ties
at all times.

My soon-to be former colleagues were disappointed.
The tie, not too bad; Anthony Jones’ taste,
too conventional to be lurid.

I never wore it at my next job,
or the next, or next.
Until now.
I have embraced the shiny purple tie.