My Diary: Me With Fried Eggs For Eyes

Gerald's Rather Strange Diary

I started the day composed entirely of sand and anxiously watching the tide coming in.‭ ‬The figures the other side of several sets of doors were composed almost entirely of light‭ ‬-‭ ‬I knew they were there by the sound they made.‭ ‬June waved to what may have been only a reflection and I went out into the garden to be a dog perpetually trying to catch its own tail.‭ ‬I pictured a civilisation crumbling to dust and raised my hands against the unthinking weight of the atmosphere.‭ ‬A neighbour looked out of his window with falcons as eyes‭ ‬-‭ ‬I wondered if they had been fed before coming in as a photocopied replica of myself.‭ ‬The kitchen table had been replaced by a giant hand and I foretold its future with an unwashed pot and pan.

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Perspectives on Life, the Universe and Everything

King in my own right
World moves around me
I, I, me, me
Nothing else I see
No one else I want to be
My planes, my ships
My palaces, my trips
I, I, me, me
Nothing else I see
One night in my dream
A gale pulled me
Took me to the sky
Showed me the light
And how tiny, insignificant
My kingdom appears to be
Ships were specks
In vastness of the sea
Myself just nothing
Nothing at all to be
Then I was left alone
Falling from the sky
Pondering on the way too steep
I, I, me, me
Nothing is what I am
Nothing is what I be

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The Journey of My Left Foot (whilst remembering my son)

Saturday 8th October





From setting up the venue at nine thirty this morning, to the singers, theatre groups, comedians, dancers, (both modern and ‘Bollywood’), male voice choir, a school samba band, a rock group…..

And I’m still here…..

Almost midnight.

The DJ is rocking the house.

And, it’s for you, sweetie pie…..

Love you so very much.


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Random Ramblings: October 8, 2016

Life Project Blog


This is a story of culinary triumph and sheer stupidity. It all began a few weeks back when my wife and I were visiting her sister in Wisconsin over the weekend. On Saturday afternoon the women went off to pick apples at a local apple orchard while the guys stayed behind to watch a football game. When the women returned they had not only apples, but pumpkins as well, and since I am a fan of seasonal cuisine, I began thinking about making one of my favorite dishes which is Southwest Pumpkin Soup.

My particular take on Southwest Pumpkin Soup goes back a few years to a cold and rainy December night in Washington, DC. We had a couple of pumpkins around the flat that I needed to use for something and when my wife received an invitation to a big White House doo, I saw my chance to have…

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Last Light

Kevin Brown Poetry

​These dim lights,

Flicker across her face -

Giving way to all,

Her little nuances,

Her subtle smiles,

And expressions -

Anger, hurt,

Love or laughter,

It bathes her,

In a certain shade

Of perfection,

As she runs hands -

Through tied back hair,

Removed from her face,

Like her makeup,

The side I alone get to see.

She knows not

That as she reads -

In dim light,

I see her more clearly,

Than she sees herself.

Kevin Brown © 14.08.2016

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