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.

BLER magazine 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

And also half a chp book (with Kirsten Lukins) containing:

Night Terror

Misplaced

Spring

If I could bleed the blue from out of the sky

Surviving or Thriving

Winter

Jumbled

The Disappeared

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…
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This collection contains mature content for adult minds