Encased in a cocoon

like a giant joint

I will soon embrace

the soft smog

surrounding me.

I will get lost.

I will hide.

Close my eyes.

You can’t find me.

I will dream

of my dog chasing a red balloon

on the beach,

of its teasing torments

and the short time

that was spent

before the balloon burst

and the colour was gone.

I will dream

of being



a box in the ground

with only the sound

of some gold bullioned priest

promising peace

as comfort.

I ask you

to come forth and pay

respects, and say to me

what I want to say

to you.


The Curse of the Righteous Stone

As I staggered softly to my home,

whistling, giggling, I heard a groan.

I stopped, concerned, and stole a peek

to see a bloodied stone  in the street.

My neck, it bristled like a wolf,

a hackle rose, and goose-bumps goosed.

‘Is anyone there?’ I shouted, brave,

but no single answer came.

I shrugged, I turned, continued my stroll,

to reach my modest, lonely home,

when I heard a pitter-patter on the road

and turned to see the bloodied stone.

No eyes as such, yet parts did glisten,

as though some macabre mind was on a mission –

but such thoughts! Thoughts from one so drunk!

I laughed and turned and slowly slunk.

‘An evil stone? What crude, strange thoughts!

I must be half-a-penny short!’

I laughed and carried on my stroll

yet my heart stopped dead when I heard the stone.

It didn’t speak as such, but scraped a whisper

and said: ‘Your wife… do you still miss her?’

I wiped my eyes, said: ‘Leave me alone.’

yet my body shook with icy bones

‘I know you well, oh little man.

I know you are a drunk. I know you ran.

Your stricken wife, she needed you,

yet you ran away, you cared for you.

I am a righteous stone. I right the wrongs.

Your time is up. It won’t be long.

I will take you sir, will take you now.

It can be easy, painless, if you allow.’

I shook my head. I mopped my brow.

A fetid fever, am I sick?

Stones today, tomorrow a brick?

I laughed, my conscience was out to play.

No time for games. I ran away.

I heard the pitter-patter follow me home

this conscience hungry, righteous stone.

A supernatural stone, a ghostly spectre

bought to this earth to bully and hector.

I reached my door, ran in, and turned the lock.

Safe at last, I laughed and mocked.

I opened my letterbox, put my mouth to the gap,

and felt the stone crash against my teeth,

they snapped.

The stone forced itself inside my mouth,

I coughed and choked and fell about.

A mouth full of blood and broken teeth,

the stone rummaged around, a violent creep,

clattering, crashing, fighting to break through,

my throat was raw, my terror grew.

A violent violation, an awful dream,

for help I tried to shout and scream.

Merely gargles burbled out,

my eyes they bulged, my nose a spout.

The stone blocked my airways, the light turned black.

I saw my wife. No turning back.

Silicone Baby – Rebirth, Remix.

An orange Mother
at the gym
worked out hard
to keep slim.

She went on sun beds,
had face peels,
pampered her feet
and wore heels.

One day she saw
she’d put on weight
so to the surgeon
she set a date.

“Doctor rid me
of this weight.
All I have is salad
on a plate!
I go to the gym
I work out hard
and now obesity
is on the cards.”

The doctor looked
and stood quite still,
“My darling girl
are you on the pill?”

The woman opened
her full lipped mouth
and thought hard
which caused a pout.

She took a test
and got a plus.
The woman scowled
and then did cuss.

“A baby now
is on its way
and this now means
I’ll put on more weight!
I shall get marks
and large veins
and on my arm pits
I’ll get stains.
I shall start now
I shall prepare
with botox
and new underwear.”

The woman went off,
brought some youth
then went to the gym
and spread her news.
She did some yoga
and the splits
all with gravity
defying tits.

Nine months later
she called triple nine
and kept a frozen face
the whole time.

“I dont want this baby
to age me.
To be calm and sage
is clearly key.
I learnt in yoga
to be wise
and after birth
I’ll get new thighs.”

With one big heave
there was a pop
and those who saw
needed botox.
The baby was
and the horror
indeed factual:

With sunken cheeks
and slitted eyes,
a face pulled back:
a faux surprise.

A waste of fresh
smelled baby skin
devoid of wrinkles
with leg rolls slim.

The baby pouted
and then preened
from natural beauty
it had been weaned.

The doctor gasped
and then surmised
“through birth this
baby never cried.”

“If this here baby
shed such tears
she’d know she’d age
many years

and if she were
to catch the pox
the stress indeed
would need botox.”

The mother nodded
and agreed
then for perfect stitches
she was wheeled.

The baby lay
and was all calm
in her incubator
oil of olay balm.

The Silicone Baby…

Spawned from a world obsessed with beauty and youth, silicone baby came out of the womb like a model comes out onto a catwalk. No blood at all, instead a sunkissed shine which made you expect a tanning machine to come rolling out of there after the placenta. Instead of screaming and scrunching up it’s face, the baby pouted and winked a perfectly coloured emerald blue eye. The doctors stared, their mouths agape. How could this happen? How could a perfect child to outdo all the “perfect children” in the world have been born? And why did this baby feel so different, sort of rubbery and perfectly soft like a whale? The answer was in the Mother. Her of the platinum blonde hair, cheek implants, botox and pink lip gloss. Her tits perfectly perky and pert with no hint of milk excretion. The Mother smiled at this creation that had come out of her soon to be stitched back to virginity vagina and reached out. With the baby in her arms she looked down at it and after stroking it’s perfectly soft hair said “Darling, we really need to get you some hair extensions.”


– Written by Jo Cooper. Silicone Baby created by Jo Cooper. Ta.