Paul Ginz
My name is Paul Ginz, I live in London, England.

The Empty Morning (Chinese Gloom)
Waking in a gloomy grey dome
I'm aware of what to watch
It could just bring me some cheer
Probable that I'll see you
As I have joyfully before this year
I gain heart substantially from seeing you
Bringing me relief from my terminal headfuck
Emitting a picture of fragile beauty
Even if you seem today to have no luck
Perhaps we could wallow in each other's sadness
You could do with a comforting arm
Your company if only for a day
Would bring eternal gladness
Then you could smile and behold my charm.

Daniel North
28, Maldon, Essex, England.

Sat Nav

Go on crush me like cookies
Caught with an muffin in the mouth
Swirl around like vultures now
All the fallen crumbs have gone south.
The Himmler lights are fully on
Got to be faster, got to produce,
Trapped in blue crab boulevard
The pavement slabs have become loose.
But what will it take to please
An sour faced wanker of little cheer?
Without all the painful nit-picking
By the glued-on faces that are similar to Southend pier.
So greetings from the hothouse!
Watch the live booting of the chastised slow
Who are aware that none of it is their fault
But still sent to Coventry, with nowhere to go.
Dancing with the cherubs one minute
Then sugaring the weighty boulders
The white Pit Bulls leap at the barracking fences
While the unknowns tattoo across the shoulders.
A rabbit then darts into the headlights
Behind the tear-jerking V2 downpour
But where is that wartime togetherness
That our past ancestors once saw?
As anything is in marker pen
It's just rub-off demands of a blood-sucking land
And I’ve drifted off into an odd limbo again
I can’t find the Sat Nav, so is it all planned?

The Old Tyburn

You hold it
You hold it against me still
Seeing me in that angry confusion
The belligerent footprints then followed
A missed line in darkness’s will.

I said
Many times for the end
You said you were poisoned
By my arbitrary mood
My polluted, dented friend.

Tell me my love is it easier to detest me
Than it is for you to accept?
We were the unmet romantics
That fell into a bleary oblivion
Where the final centrepiece was inept.

Every drop of liqueur pictures your face
I hang grey by the old Tyburn gaze
Walking, humming with slashed wrists
Pleasantly daydreaming over memories
Behind the rowan berry yielded maze.

My sweet cancer, my talking little tumour
That I can’t live with but don’t want to detach
Our relationship, a halibut
In a blind herring's outfit
Yet I still remember its company’s latch.

durlabh singh paintingDurlabh Singh
I am a poet based in London, England and have been widely published in anthologies, magazines and on the net. I have four books of verse to my name, the latest being
CHROME RED (ISBN 1898030464) My aim is to revitalize English poetry with new themes and expressions.


Moon goddess came to visit the forest last night
Riding on chariots driven by the velvet monkeys
Guarded by hornets and the armies of wasps
Beleaguered in obscurities by Obtaka the magician.

A maker of charms for the thieves and the lovers
Talisman of skies from paled skins of foreheads
Nail maker hooved webs of the antelopes
Shifter of the sharp swords for the reddish ants.
Striding solid at the hour of the midnight
Giving way to doorways to enter the corridors
Illuminated by the translucent light of the moon.

Tender are the dreams under the wider skies
Where buffalos roam in mud staked stripes
Conversing with mirrored spirits of golden ghosts
Witches, wizards, nymphs or other watery sports.

The chameleon on converse with the blizzards
Obeying the command to put spur on the lizards
The crocodiles, hippopotamus, ibis and the lion
Drinking at water holes under direction of wizard
Rocked white, stone turned hatches for the rabbits
Skin rigged, log wooded dug outs for the jackals
The eel of the deep laughing on its trailed dance
And Obtaka the magician roams in rugged stance.


Gloomy and remorse
A sterile smile
Stretched like a snare
Along the jagged wire.

Did you know the fury of my blood
Where deeds are mortgaged in duress
In darkness remote shifters of smile
Recovering grudgingly sanguine guile.

In crippled colours of cindered circles
Beneath the bowers of thousand showers
Where animated grief has stripped away
Incongruities of the heart's desires.

Striding forward in awareness of dreams
Burdened with a pile of drunkard words
Like streaks of lightning in traces
Like crevices in some dirty faces
When the skies dripped in wintry stress.