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The First Time (2)

May 2, 2019 AA Moore 0

“Are you looking for an arrangement? Would you care for another cocktail?” Air caught inside the two with the same intonation, some American inflection and a smile inside each syllable. He drained the flute, tipping the glittery, syrupy sap down the gullet. The waiter materialised for the re-fill, poured, nodded, read more

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The First Time (1)

April 2, 2019 AA Moore 0

It was in the Clapham Grand, on a floor like treacle. Just a scalp with matted brunette sweat, stuck across his eyelids. He was a disembodied cranium bobbing on a ball pit of gelled and slicked-back cruisers. That one. He was just a forehead on a dance floor. “That one,” read more

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Burn One Down

February 28, 2019 AA Moore 0

Leaves fall, drop from naked arms, sprout tiny lime and avocado buds full bloom and crinkle into fire again and shit, it’s been a year.   I should have come sooner.   Remember Uncle Dave’s funeral, you attempting to get your eyes dry in the cold, I tried to hold read more

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Hear Me

December 12, 2018 AA Moore 0

My only company is the questions resting between my fingers and the keys, alphabet shadows Over-Thought WITH CAPS Is this too personal? And the killer, who cares? After a decade of swagger and strut, “stories” dressed-up in costume but barely hidden between the lines, A tool I use to be read more

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Carny Casualty

August 29, 2018 AA Moore 0

A braided beauty in aztec-patterned high-top shoes, reverses back against a boy in blue.  Daggering to the bump of sound system bass, She leans too far forward and topples on her face. She’s a five-star carny casualty. Six tiny-looking girls inhale matching blue balloons, A collective breath is taken until read more

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Lidl (Shepherds Bush)

June 1, 2018 AA Moore 0

You appear on my front step with a box of food in your arms, smuggled rations, you check your blind spot to see if you were followed. A red face, dressed in your army coat, you’ve been at war. Left years ago, with the promise of fixing fajitas, came back read more

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weeeirdos Rave, Berlin, 26/05/2018

May 30, 2018 AA Moore 0

The art space, a lonely pin, buried deep inside a deserted retail park. Techno, obviously. And Weirdos, self-proclaimed and exquisitely smiley, compared to the sauer-faced doorman we had encountered the day before at Ohm. The party was eight floors up, at the top of an apartment block and the moon read more

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Home

April 1, 2018 AA Moore 0

This is my home everytime I roam she pulls me back like a jealous bitch an itch in my fibre. Thirty-somethings move away I’ll stay. She’ll financially cripple me triple me in debt. Never forget a decade of secrets hidden in these seams Guardian of my dreams South to East read more

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Don’t Speak

March 26, 2018 AA Moore 0

  A face peeled back, skinned, unwrapped, those bare minted polos. Hearts hacked out and filled with acid, Sucked out like Rolos.   Drenched walls of an Icelandic box, dug deep inside snow drifts. On a parallel planet of frost, their reality shifts.   Disappearing, waning, gone, nothing to touch. read more

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Hang the DJ

March 7, 2018 AA Moore 0

Between the black T. Shirt beard scratchers, and the iTunes shufflers, stands the DJ. He’s in the firing line of well-oiled mouths loosened by a couple of tequilas.  The crucial spot to have his nuts grabbed, ears burned. Third-person agony aunt, emotional punch bag. He’s caining the rider beers, there read more

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Forgettable

February 15, 2018 AA Moore 0

  If you just had confidence you’d be… he uses his hands to illustrate a bomb exploding, Hiroshima between palms. I feel, eyes full of smoke, just another particle of self, eroding, giving additional ammo to my internal voice. It’s the word just that loiters, downloading every memory we have read more

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Bus Stop on Uxbridge Road

January 22, 2018 AA Moore 0

  Wot you call it? Urban? Each night here there’s a show, Man’s on … he’s gonna get that money he’s owed, Every night a different fight, at the bus stop on Uxbridge Road. Blue northern lights, blinded by, sparked-up and glowed against flammable cladding. 2-step? Newsagent bloke, built like read more

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Things I’ve Tried To Be Happy

December 7, 2017 AA Moore 0

  Chasing the snowy cotton tail, Rambling the Indian travel trail, Fucking the bearded sexy male, Consuming the vegan super kale.   Winning the mega-bucks client, Acting-out tall like a giant, Fitting-in the system compliant, Railing against it defiant.   Toning the belly thin, Guzzling down the gin, Sleeping skin read more

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disappear here

November 2, 2017 AA Moore 0

Dig your nails right in, fizzy cola top, carrying a sheep on your head, old style, like a shepherd from the bible innit? He’s grinning super-cute and wide, looks like an adolescent Michael Jackson with that mane, cotton wool cloud full of storms, dig your nails right in girls, don’t read more

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For my DJ friend

October 2, 2017 AA Moore 0

  This one doesn’t plug-in the mains, must adapt to fit the mould, Not as straight-forward as the rest, not the connector you were sold. Mad intensity because he knows it, you can’t ignore the sound, LOUDER and it will find you, on the commuter belt of the underground.   read more

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What We Say

September 15, 2017 AA Moore 0

He said that you hadn’t been sleeping, You said you’d gone to the doctor to get some sleeping pills. He said that an old Indian man had told you the balance was off inside your body and that you cried, You said, that guy was on drugs. He said you’re read more

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Day Interrupted

August 29, 2017 AA Moore 0

Margaritas for breakfast, ordered by the pitcher load to dull the mild hangover that was chipping away at my grey matter. “It’s a Marathon Monday tradition”, I was told, as I slugged it down with one beefy firewood fajita and the Everest pile of sweet potato fries. The window seats read more

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Midnight in Tesco

August 13, 2017 AA Moore 0

Ribena Fingering the box, Ribena dents in a corner with her nail. The Chemist doesn’t run 24 hours so, hair piled, she shoves the compressed cardboard inside her coat and moves her slippers like cross country skis past the skeleton in blue performing the midnight wash. He exhales a low read more

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Once upon a time in a Dog Cafe in Korea…

July 29, 2017 AA Moore 0

It wasn’t like he couldn’t remember. Thick grey that hung inches from his nose, stroked the pavement so there were no edges, the giant ball sinking into a sea of it. Coloured like the one they used to bounce across tarmac and never let him at, he’d never quite catch read more

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What is an “Artist”?

July 4, 2017 AA Moore 0

Dishoom on a sunlit Sunday, chewing hefty squares of paneer tikka soaked in “super-hot” orange sauce cooled by limes. My extra-long (as they’d say in India) non-writer friend takes a slurp of mango lassie and gets a fennel seed stuck in his top teeth. Sucking it out he announces, “If read more

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Sleeper to Hampi

June 30, 2017 AA Moore 0

The peppercorns of his eyes swell, devouring the egg whites around them. He’s shaking, white-like-a-chicken and overweight. His jellied arms wobble in American cooking-fat and jam. “They’re eating people alive in there.” He lurches for the kiosk. “What you got?” The shy woman blinks three times too many. “Dahl Shrimaan.” read more

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Annie, Dee & Me

June 10, 2017 AA Moore 0

Her lungs fill up as she physically expands across the yellow line, her presence widening, pushing the tiny bits of uninhabited air to bend inside the corners of the tunnel, the downwards curl inside her mouth. Sir, mind the gap, Sir step away from the doors. The man with the read more

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The Pricing Out

May 25, 2017 AA Moore 0

Fourteen Leonard Street. Fourteen. Silicon. A grey tinge, a shine like rainwater, a reflective blue from the high windows that flanked all three hundred and sixty round. A tin foil Ferris Wheel, a merry-go-round of shofer-driven electric. Round and round, it made her dizzy, the height of it. Black taxi’s read more

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Brinks

May 8, 2017 AA Moore 0

You ever hung over the edge? Over the edge so completely, like you might fall off? He’d woken me up with an illuminate burn. Right inside the retina. Searing out my dreams. Warm dreams of being at home where the air wasn’t sticky and didn’t sting. He hung-on like the read more

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Sunday

April 16, 2017 AA Moore 0

It was a Sunday. The type of Sunday where broken limbs snapped themselves. Where the only light was Netflix’s, flickering like a vacant picture show against the blank canvas of a soul. Where I was head fucked, lips shredded, egging on death to be impending. The type of Sunday where read more

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London Internal

March 7, 2017 AA Moore 0

Having spent nearly a decade of my life living in London, it seems to me that London is more about the internal self than the external place. When I am feeling on top of the world, confident and beautiful London has laid itself before me like a theme park after read more

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Musings from Cambodia

November 7, 2016 AA Moore 0

Delicate wings, dragonflies shape blue and black cut-outs, butterfly patterns, hovering, hundreds to electric piano house, in the morning Sihanoukville daze. “To see the monks you say?” That smile breeds adventure, trekking to the Wat and leaving at dusk when all the English words have sprawled themselves across the sky read more

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Travelling to Cambodia

October 6, 2016 AA Moore 0

Writing is my freedom. From October 21st I will be residing in Phnom Penh, getting high off the energy of Cambodian children and falling in love in front of golden Buddhas. I’m excited to start my next project from SE Asia. Watch this space. Stay free.

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808 as f-

September 7, 2016 AA Moore 0

What happens at the festival, stays at the festival. And for good reason. “808 as f-” is a story told in installments, fragments and differing styles. Gradually adventures unfold inside this magical playground, love is found and lost, where music is the ultimate high. For the 2016 UK festival season.

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September 1, 2016 AA Moore 0

Coming Down – Time is a tricky fuck. An illusion, crawling when you plead with it to skip, hurtling when you scream at it to saunter. The End is here. But it snuck up, Grandmother’s footsteps snapping legs. It crept up from nowhere with its dark paws and its gravity, read more

HELP POINT

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August 25, 2016 AA Moore 0

The Bigger the Hair the more I want You – Strawberry blonde. Fundamentally ginger in a certain light. Elbow length. A waterfall. Curls that easily wound tight around the fingers. Ringlets. Juliet Coleman. Fucking Juliet. Sweet and sugary, here on her European summer of self-discovery. American. Had “like never really read more

Festival sleep

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August 17, 2016 AA Moore 0

Festival Dreaming –I slipped into hallucinating, where she left me, lying on the grass. I don’t remember my eyes shutting or the exact moment the real fused with the unreal or when my clothes turned a stunning turquoise cobalt like the ocean. The pink and orange flags continued to ripple read more

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12

August 8, 2016 AA Moore 0

Couples Dance – Hot grass flattened from a couple’s embrace clingy they fit like serrated pieces of broken smuggled-in Havana Club that the earth has swallowed and caked the sides of a mirror image one half of a heart they gulp and swig at each other’s tongues drown in sticky read more

Glasto FLAGS

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August 1, 2016 AA Moore 0

Date Interrupted – “Pleeeeeease man, don’t be a pussy, okay?” A viper hiss shot out of my mouth and into the emergency mobile, a startlingly low and desperate frequency forced from my throat. It’d rung ten separate times, off the hook, vibrating my leg, tightening up my chub rub, until read more

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10

July 26, 2016 AA Moore 0

Ben’s Poem – Wanna beer? Burning sun licks your salty eyeballs raw, jaw aches in the harsh sting of – but you’re wrong, this light’s not even strong, it’s late in the day – but fuuuuuuuuck it hurts anyway! Drum, drum, drum, dumb you blink, limbs crawl phantom-like around, feeling read more

Eyes festival

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July 22, 2016 AA Moore 0

Natalie’s Poem – She has a polish that’s just the right amount of coarse, Glossed lips shoot swear words like cupid’s arrows, forced to look up from a distance, tripping on your heels, Breath shallow, lungs tight – FUCK-  so this is how it feels. The shadow on her face, read more

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July 14, 2016 AA Moore 0

Burnt Toast – Claire ran a nail across the charred toast top, chipping it so it rained black dust. Her mouth was heated sand, throat as tight as a cat’s asshole, her initials scratched in the burnt-out bread, she tossed it across the grass. “Mmm yummy.” A familiar voice, girly read more

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July 7, 2016 AA Moore 0

Way Up Here – Way up here, in the vapour haze, everything is clearer. Air wrinkles and whips the fabric flags, vibrating the steel poles in ricochets across the valley, fragments of washing flying on sticks below. Pastel sheets wave happily to one another. A hat blows off and tumbles read more

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July 1, 2016 AA Moore 0

K and the Totoro go to Tea Pt. 1 – The embers were soft peaches, excess from last night’s flame, as she sat on the edge to smoke, adding her ash, in one of the many tepees that stitched the lining of the hippy fields. He tried to explain, straining read more

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June 24, 2016 AA Moore 0

Life is made of small moments like these (Above & Beyond) “Whenever we hear, sounds, we are changed, we are no longer the same, after having heard certain sounds, and this is more the case when we hear organised sounds, organised by another human being; music.” – Stockhausen, Karlheinz William: read more

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4

June 16, 2016 AA Moore 0

Romeo Spunk Muscle – Rosina Maria Osborne wasn’t born to be a cheat but her mother was, had five full blown affairs just while Rosa was a kid alone. Was a gorgeous Italian woman with huge black hair and gigantic red lips. Rosa’s mother was built for it, an excellent read more

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June 10, 2016 AA Moore 0

Just say NO – Hippy crack. Most attractive and overly satisfactory piece of gas, stored in a shiny metallic pellet, looks like a pill, a capsule, bizarrely polished and neatly squeezed out. Silver bullets amass like seagull shit on a pier, scattered and littered across dry cracks. Trampled down so read more

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June 6, 2016 AA Moore 0

Follow the – Red like a river of chilli, a flame, the tail of a firework, in amongst a brunette electric shock. That’s what I notice first. I watch across the crowd, draining the can. A disembodied clump of grey with that matted explosion poking out the sides, bobbing across read more

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1

June 1, 2016 AA Moore 0

K is for… – William wasn’t wearing anything under the Totoro, except chequered boxers with grey socks stuffed in Vans, and he had never stripped in public before. The girl clicked her tongue, impatiently playful, as slowly he began to peel back the warm Kigu skin from his own, wishing read more