Pedalling through road traffic:

bike, car, bike, bike, bike, motorcycle, bike, motorcycle, bike, bike…

arriving to classroom traffic:

the scraping of chairs as minds change gear

from stop to go, sleep to work –

or don’t

and struggle against the blustery speech

of the professor.

Utrecht’s morning commute.

Disco Ball


like a disco ball


from the security of the ceiling

into a crowd of oblivious dancers.

Battered –

splattered by pools of ethanol

that strip its shine

and bruised

by a riot of flailing hands butts feet.

Yet still it glitters –

shards of sunlight

glancing off it

and illuminating the dust

that pervades the now

empty space.

It doesn’t move:

it just sits there

atop her flaccid neck.

Sometimes we wake up with heavy heads that feel like disco balls.


Cranes dangle their


from the deep blue sky, fishing

for people; hauling

them from their homes

and landing them in nets

that they can’t escape

without the help

of the ones who

caught them.

There are so many housing developments going on in London right now. The government’s intentions are (I hope) all good but can they please for once just consider the effects on the local people?

P.S. I apologise for this less than cheery start to 2019.