The Black Light Engine Room publishes magazines and chapbooks out of Middlesbrough in the North East of the UK. It is a thriving collection of poets marshalled by editor-in-chief p.a. morbid who also organises and hosts regular poetry readings - in short he has helped create a community of voices for the North East of England which I am proud to have been a part of.

BLER has published a number of my page works (including poetry, stories and sketches) which are wholly different to the more rambunctious performances that I have been delighting London with these past years, and so I owe BLER a debt of gratitude for enabling me to express the quieter whisperings of my mind. If you have only seen me perform, please do take a look through this little collection of works published by The Black Light Engine room.

You can read the story that was pubished in Issue 8: Funeral which also shows the back-cover artwork I created for issue 9 (the front-cover artwork is shown here)

As well as my half chapbook Dark Matter 9 BLER have published the following works:

Issue 5: London Knives

Issue 6: The 11th Minute of the 11th Hour, Nothing Says I Love You

Issue 7: End of days, Let The Shadow Grow

Issue 8: Funeral

Issue 9: Front and Back cover artwork

Issue 10: St. George's Day 2014, May Day 2014

Dark Matter is a series of chapbooks from The Black Light Engine Room press. Each book in the series features 2 poets and aims to give more space to feature their work following on from contributions to the Black Light Engine Room magazine.

Volume 9 features Ant with Kirsten Luckins, (both represented by Apples and Snakes) and in this collection Ant has presented a series of works more aimed at the page than the stage to provide a new insight into his work.

This collection contains mature content for adult minds

We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence then, is not an act, but a habit."

Aristotle

I guess I may be a curmudgeon, but if you've read this far you'll know that. From my April 1st piece you'll see my first reaction to the whole write a poem a day idea was to slag off the arrogance of so called poets treating words so blithely, shitting out sonnets and vomiting up villanelles on demand. In reality though, I was just having a pop at the anonymous London poetry scene out of the frustration that knowing people always inevitably brings.

But after the first few days of April I found I was doing exactly that, writing a poem a day. So just to torture myself I persevered. Than by the 8th, the month got interesting in a landmark kind of way. That's when I decided to compile this journal. I'm not claiming the work to be beautifully crafted, although it is crafted as beautifully as my brutish hands can manage. I do hope that as time passes, because of the events we have lived through, it will be an interesting slice of nostalgia.

I did of course cheat. Somedays writing two poems, somedays writing none. Some photos were not taken on the day, and a few we're not taken by me at all. If that stuff bothers you, then I'm sorry to have consumed your life. If it doesn't bother you then please join me in thanking those who have unwittingly contributed: Calm Carl Chamberlain, Jane Taylor and my ever suffering wife Christine Adams…
Read On

This collection contains mature content for adult minds