Passion Killer

He said I liked to twist the knife
Turn any happiness into strife
This may be true, he may be right
As when I found out he had a wife
I simply chose to end his life

And watch him bleed till morning light.

Little Ginge x


Middle Child

My mother put glasses on the dog again
My father fagged it in the shed
My sister went on a rant again
My brother banged his head
I lifted the gun from the mantelpiece again

Pulled the trigger till I was dead.


Little Ginge x

The Hunt

The eyes never leave and neither does the fear

Few people like to walk alone in the trees

Find a dog ahead, three days dead

Something stalks the wood that isn’t right in the head

An average godly man with his hand on a gun

Heard a sudden sound and nearly shot a loved one

Walking closer to Dante praying all the way

Stops in a clearing his eyes start to survey

Just barely making out the shapes in the gloom

Wishing he was back safe in the womb

The monster appears with no time to scream

And the man finds out that this is not a dream.

Little Ginge x

Nuclear Family

‘Can we not fight tonight?’ are the words that echo through the wall

It’s the third time this week and I think their marriage is in turmoil

The kids are sent outside to play whilst they scream out every fault

In pyjamas at midnight whilst the secrets come tumbling out the vault

The boy stares looking for an escape as his mother breaks the plates

His father’s no good with native tongue so his daughter helpfully translates

They’re all in the kitchen brawling they don’t notice that the boy goes missing

And when his body is found three days later they spend all their time reminiscing

‘A sweet child’ the papers write whilst his parents praise his quiet sensibilities

And once again their talking covers up and glosses all over his vulnerabilities.

Little Ginge x



Stop, listen

Can you hear

Lots of footsteps

Very near


In the jungle

Squelch and squeak

Or on the mountains

Cold and bleak


On the floorboards

Creak and crack

Or at dancing

Tap and back


In the snow

Slip and slide

On the ice

Learn to glide


On a boat

Unsteady on rocks

Run away

From hungry crocs


Did you hear that

In the woods

The footsteps

In the mud


A father walks

With a glock

Silent talks

Chiming clock


Children lie

Filled with dread

Baby cries

Now they’re dead


Mother screams

Killer whistles

Blood streams

In the thistles.


Little Ginge x