Hey kids

It was bound to happen eventually. I know you were all waiting for it with baited breath. I've written prose, made pretty pictures... what was there left? Why, poetry of course! Hoom. The start of an illustrious career? Or the still-birth of something that should never have seen the light of day? I don't know. It's my first time, for Bob's sake! Sure, the structure is forced, the subject matter as clichéd as you can possibly get... Blame Andrew Motion and Philip Larkin. The former wrote an excellent biography of the latter. And I always rip off / am inspired by those whose work I have last read. So, yes, clichéd, forced, but I like it right now. In a few months time, were I to re-read it, I'd be as harsh a critic as ever, like I am towards all my work. I can barely manage to read most of these weeklies; they're puerile rubbish! Maybe one out of every ten is acceptable, and then only when I'm lucky. But, see, at the time I liked them. Same with website designs. Most all of my old sites make me cringe in despair when I look at them. So I don't. So I won't with this. I like it right now.

~

Drawn


This did not bother me, before last year,
     But then I was drawn in.
It didn't last, I fucked it up,
     They wormed beneath my skin.

By failure paralysed, for a time,
     Fear of losing friendship.
Then, 'What's left to lose? You live but once!'
     I did something about it.

Or half-did something anyway.
     What I wished to tell her, I would not.
     When I tried to kiss her, I could not.
The other half was missing.

This did not bother me, before last year,
     My mind was cold white clean.
They wormed their way beneath my skin,
     Not even safe in dreams.


-C. Eastman

~

C. Eastman is a pseudonym to write poems by. East from Bret Easton Ellis. Man from Patrick Bateman, the eponymous star of Ellis' best known book, American Psycho. C. for Caleb.

Earlier this month I lived in a house, on my own, for a week. The one my dad rents out that was temporarily vacant. Fences and walls needed painting, so that's what I did. I have yet to photograph the red shed.

Just to clarify; Caleb is not a happy bunny. This is partly why a decent weekly has not been written in quite a while. However, Caleb has come to terms with not being a happy bunny, hell, even harnessed it for what little good it might do him. Yay.

-Caleb