The Pilot by tom hunt

The Pilot by Tom Hunt

Thirty five thousand above your feet
A Pan Am smile for all you meet
In order to avoid catastrophic capsize
You have begun the departure from behind your eyes
Through the last door of brain and bone
Autopilot operations are divorced from your own
The waters of routine are so well defined
Extemporaneous actions have long since declined
In favour of a rehearsal for every social exchange
Giving no hint that your thoughts have grown strange
Yeah no sorry excuse me fine thank you
Cup of coffee or tea please one sugar or two
Any plans for the weekend and how are we today
Fucking terrible thanks I’m in an advanced state of decay
No sorry that last one wasn’t meant to leave your lips
I know that your self-control sometimes slips
But the dissonance between the mouth and the mind
Has made inter and outercom so profoundly misaligned
That the idea of yourself has been split asunder
And this rent could be revealed by a small verbal blunder
Through pressure and time and force and defeat
Who you were took flight in full cognitive retreat
I know you want to rant and rage and spit bile
So it’s best if you remain in a holding pattern for a while


The bucket woman by chelle obayda

The Bucket Woman by Chelle Obayda

Amelia is a woman, but sometimes she turns into a bucket.

This transformation only tends to happen on Wednesday evenings when she is walking home from work, and if she manages to leave work on time to catch the early train she can get through the front door of her flat before she becomes a bucket. If Amelia is late, then becoming a bucket becomes a bit more difficult. It's hard to open her front door as a bucket. If someone sees a bucket just standing in the middle of the pavement, they tend to put it away somewhere, which makes it hard for Amelia to get where she is going. Sometimes someone will see the bucket and start putting things in it, and this is what Amelia hates the most. When she transforms back into a woman she finds her pockets full of random things, usually people's' rubbish.

One Friday morning, something terribly awkward and embarrassing happened. Amelia became a bucket in the middle of a very important meeting. Amelia is a criminal defense lawyer and the meeting was with her client, an elderly man who had been wrongly accused of armed robbery in his local fish and chip shop. The man was very distressed in the meeting as he was explaining his story to Amelia and her colleague Jane, and just as he started to explain what kind of sauce he had ordered with his chips, Amelia became a bucket and fell back into the chair she was sitting on. Jane was so engrossed in the elderly man's description of the beer-battered haddock, and the man was so involved in telling the story, that thankfully neither of them actually saw this happen. It was only when the man stopped to fetch a tissue to dry his eyes that they both turned to see a big blue bucket sitting in the seat where Amelia had sat just a minute before.

Jane, who is twelve years younger than Amelia and still a junior lawyer, looked very confused, assuming that Amelia had left the room, left her with this blubbering old guy. Jane wasn't very sympathetic as she wasn't much of a fan of fish and chip, and she secretly thought he was guilty anyway. The man finished blowing his nose, ready to start explaining how soft the chips were, when he noticed the bucket in Amelia's seat. Jane picked the bucket up assuming it was rubbish, opened the door to the street and put it outside, closed the door again, and carried on listening to the part about the ketchup.

Amelia sat on the street for a few minutes as a bucket, hoping to turn back into a woman soon. She was quite close to the backdoor of a kebab shop, and suddenly someone opened the door and placed a mop into the bucket. Amelia got very annoyed. The mop was soggy and smelled of cooked meat. She let out a big sigh, and was surprised to hear a deep voice sigh back and say "Tell me about it".


the wind by gunay demirci

The Wind by Gunay Demirci

The wind is knocking at my door. 

It's been doing so for months now.

I have had no rest from the winds howling screams

and its violent persistent knocking.

It has given me such terribly restless nights

So I decided to open my door to face the howling wind and ask the reason for this.


As I walk to my door, my knees tremble, my determination to face the wind begins to melt away.

My mouth is as dry as the driest desert waiting for that miracle rain drop for years.

My saliva turns into barb-wire as I try to swallow.

I feel faint,

OPEN..... I do

Big breath....

The wind just enters in,

sits on my sofa.


As we sit across from each other

he tells me how lonely he's been for years and that all he wanted was the warmth of a conversation. 

We talk and talk

and talk....


Now the restlessness and the knocking has stopped. 

Every time I walk out of my door the wind caresses my hair and hugs my entire body at once. 


untitled by mike whitfield

Untitled by Mike Whitfield

The townspeople were looking up at the sky.
– There’s nothing there.
– We all heard it.
– You’ve all been hearing things for weeks.
– Now that’s not fair, you’re not that deaf, and even if you
were, you could still feel it.
– What? We’re all fully aware there is no ground
beneath us!
– That’s not what I meant...
– I should bloody well hope not.
– But, there wa..
– Was what? Something down there?
– No, of course not. I know the proof as well as you do.
– Yeah, well it was your Aunt who made that proof.
– We still heard something though.
– Yet the sky is empty. You’re just stirring things up for
– For what?
– So that you can make a bloody great hole for us all to
fall through. Everything we’ve built up.
– Well what do you suggest we do? It doesn’t need to
be huge. Other places dig without crumbling away.
– Other places haven’t proof that they’ve only three feet
of rock above a vacuum. Just keep looking at the sky