Poetry
Autumn in Hampstead Heath
On 2020 November 12th by montyToday I visited the Heath, Came to ask how it was doing, See if it was lonely. But the Heath in autumn is far from lonely. Though the picnics and ice cream vans of the summer are gone, The many walkers, retrievers, terriers, and setters remain. Couples cling to one another, all the closer-knit to
Poetry
With thanks to Naoto, Yuji and Hirokazu
On 2020 October 5th by montyIn my first few steps The acceleration is like an irresistible tugging Like being pulled forward by a current It feels slow at first Until I realise how far I’ve gone Until I realise I am now running faster than a fighter jet The green streaking in patterns of dark and light beneath my shoes
Poetry
The Moon
On 2020 October 1st by montyTonight is a full moon, the Harvest Moon, tolling in the last few months of the year. It is also national poetry day, so here is a poem to celebrate… I am convinced the full moon does not exist Huge and round on the horizon glowing ethereally Its seas defined its shape apparent its pull
Poetry
Life’s Song
On 2020 May 15th by montyI sat one day, outside my home, Quite laissez faire and all alone, When all-a-sudden, something here Inevitable did appear: A figure of impressive height, Within a cape be-weaved of night, Who wore a cap of stark, thin, hair And locked me in its soulless stare. “I dare”, they wheezed through cracking teeth, “I dare”,
Poetry
Nature’s Knell
On 2020 May 15th by montyThe world was gold chaotic beauty, born beneath our star, Filled with life; a fruitful, free utopia. Once the endless bliss of Eden shone and rode And met itself, an endless reach around the globe. This natural perfection bore us all by its selection, But this world so great and generous has not been treated
Prose . Pulp
Ink Story – Rowena
On 2020 May 14th by montyThe third story I wrote to be a campfire tale told around the time of King Arthur, and the only completely original one (the other two were versions of existing stories). Based off a suggestion by Qita Iseley. I hope you have a fun time playing through this little tale. If you wish to check
Prose . Pulp
Ink Story – Wichtlein Nix
On 2020 May 14th by montyThe second of three choose-your-own campfire stories that may have been told by adventurers in Arthurian times, created using Inkle’s Inky writing software. This is also the second to be based off an existing piece of writing here on my site: The Wichtlein Nix. A horror story that was very fun, but even more fun
Prose . Pulp
Ink Story – The Way Wailer
On 2020 May 14th by montyIn 2017 I wrote The Way-Wailer in the Wall as a fun little fan fiction for Inkle’s videogame adaptation of Steve Jackson’s Sorcery! books. I loved the choose-your-own adventure series Fighting Fantasy, and the digital versions of these titles from that series were particularly incredible. Fast forward three years and Inkle are making an original
Pulp . Work in Progress
Video Games as Escapism I
On 2020 March 15th by montyPart 1: A Personal History of Video Games and Grief I want to talk about video games, I want to talk about loss, and I want to talk about my dad. My father killed himself when I was five years old. I remember very little from the months following his death, and only vaguely recall
Poetry
Hope
On 2019 August 23rd by montyHope. There are things that I want, Through impulse, urge, lust or greed. There are things that I wish, For me, you, and those in need. There are things that I crave, Out of hunger, habit, or being alone. There are things that I take, A seat, advantage, for granted the things that I
Poetry
A History of Our Love
On 2019 August 13th by montyTen thousand moons ago, beneath the light of stars, In some forgotten kingdom realm of far away, A pauper fled his prison cell of iron bars and met his princess love upon the dawn of day. For in each others’ souls there lived an endless fire Which cruelly did endure a time of years apart,
Prose
Joe Chicago in Flight
On 2019 August 13th by montyMy dreams of producing a fully-fledged Joe Chicago novella may never come to pass, but I will always return to him; even if just to touch-up the scant few scenes that I have thus far devised. I decided one day last year to polish up the Joe Chicago in the Angels Brothel piece that I wrote for