Sunday 27 January 2019

Girls to the Front No. 10

 With MIRI

 RoseRed and the Butterflies 

 Roisin McNeill

 Bity Booker 

 Lanre 

 and 

 the 

Savannahs.

It seems to have been the last one for a while, as the main organiser, MIRI, needs to focus on her music for a while. 

Monday 14 January 2019

The ghosts of the 14th



I locked the door
and my ghost and I
walked down the unlit stairs.

We walked in silence down All Saints
murmured encouraging words to each other
as we walked down Lancaster
and became engulfed in silence once again
 as we reached Ladbroke Grove.

Somewhere half way down,
between the tower and the spire,
ghosts floated restlessly,
circling above the silent masses
all of whom were dressed in green.

My ghost rushed to embrace
the swarming cloud of silvery ghosts
that floated around in circles
twisting and turning in agony
yet touching and stroking one another
softly and tenderly,
sharing their love,
sharing their fears and frustrations,
sharing their anger and disbelief…
Looking for a way
to escape the hold of gravity
and the darkness
between the tower and the spire.

The people below met in silence
all of them aware that this was not their moment
it was the time for their restless ghosts,
a moment in time in which
the ghosts are given the opportunity to speak,
a moment in time in which
the ghosts are given the opportunity to be heard,
a moment in time in which
the ghosts might possibly be set free.


As we marched along the streets
the traffic stopped
the air stopped
the beat of the city stopped
and the marching crowd stopped every now and then
listening to the silent
thunder
of the ghosts,
letting the ghosts soak in the surroundings
they have almost forgotten
letting the ghosts of children run barefoot
along the empty Grove in January

After an hour of walking in silence
I set off back home
turning once or twice to see
If my ghost had bid farewell to his friends
and is following me
or have they suddenly
figured out how to escape gravity
and the darkness between the tower and the spire.

But even before I reached St. Marks
he was floating above my head
urging me to go home
where we will be alone,
away from the noise
away from the lights
away from the world
away from it all
sitting in the darkness
sipping single malt
talking to each other
as if there is no one else in this world.

As we talked, he surprised me by asking:
‘What is it like to be alive?’

I thought for a long time,
contemplating,
letting the question roll around the echoing waves
and finally settle in my restless mind
finding a place to throw its anchor
if only until the next storm

After a while I replied with a sigh
‘I have no idea.
I’ve been dead long time.’

We sat in silence
for the whole of next week
drawing the curtains
not allowing the world to speak.

Both of us were hoping next month will be better -
he would find a way to escape gravity
and I’ll stumble across a ray of light.


(first draft)
Sunčan P. Stone
North Kensington, 14th – 16th January 2018


Sunday 13 January 2019

Saturday 12 January 2019