Collaborative Poem with Martin Hayes

Pleased to have a collaborative piece with the brilliant Martin Hayes published via the Culture Matters Website. Hit the following link to access it!

Author: Jamie Thrasivoulou

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Bleak, blank, black and white dots


Originally Published In CITY-ZINE: Issue 14, July 2011


Bleak, blank, black and white dots


Today; let’s paint a picture, nothing perfect, but something truly unrepresentative of the truth; Part-scandal/part-fact/part-fiction

The F.B.I decides to take a grassroots approach in a bid to locate and capture an 81-year-old Mafioso member…he’s evaded you long enough let him die running…milk carton advertisements are so last decade.

Will Cheryl and Ashley’s marriage work itself out? Who gives a shit?

There’s loadsa bee’s swarming down Regent Street; a real dilemma for the rich businessmen and their suit-tailoring monopolies; nature has them down on all fours licking the pavement for remnants of honey to soothe them for their loss of money.

Reasonable force can now be used to protect your own property! About time you daft twats- Not that I’d need permission to batter a thief for breaking into my yard; I always use the powers of the force in a reasonable manner… Like Yoda on steroids recovering from extreme- post-gangrene-treatment…you’d have thought Lucas would have sorted it out for him- but no poor old master had to wait for Obama’s health-bill to go through; it looks like he’s gonna be waiting a while for that last medical appointment and that prescription of skin-ointment; Oh to be a pretty boy like Beckham or Depp; unfortunately I left my skin products in safeway on the counter, when I suddenly came to my senses and realized I was a bloke.

Dictate not truths and burn the Thesaurus; one word is enough for any; simplify the linguistic code and replicate our tabloids; simple, short, concise words like; sun, star, and mail…not to mention pretty visions like the times and mirror, mirror on the floor smashed into a thousand pieces.

The shards of a nation fighting not to be Britain…At least we might do well at the footy in the Olympics if Gareth Bale’s on our side….but oh no, what’s this more deceit and lies- The egg firmly on Derby’s face…just what we needed! More bastard redundancies- the perfect accompaniment for a city on its death bed…A city that could be anywhere in the U.K….It’s all just as grim North of London!

Make squatting illegal and carrying a knife ok…as long as you don’t threaten anyone with it.

Teenage Hacker arrested in Essex…clever bastard…smashing geographical stereotypes.

Review the culling of badgers…rate it on a scale of one to five….Stars; just like our government celebrities from the commons,  live, on BBC parliament- Big Brother house to the politicians…Oh how they wish they were Lords…all in good time…failing to heed to warnings from unions….everyone will strike unprecedentedly for their pensions…you aint seen nothing yet Cameron…you and your mate Kenneth are gonna tackle drug addiction in prisons…but we have to ask ourselves a serious question in relation to this grotesque task- is there any gold at the end of the rainbow or is that just a fantasy…hmm the similarities are uncanny…never mind prison what about our other institutions…namely our places of education…nine mistakes on GCSE and A-level papers! Who the fuck is setting the questions? Educational ministerial monkeys…more vigilance required…stop this lingual halitosis and hire someone else to do the job properly…Life in Syria lived in weekly protest; men women and children shot dead in the name of democracy by the orders of hypocrisy…

Greeks contest in Athens-Austerity measures needed; everything is needed…we need to follow America -we can do it best through media; with televised party-debates to fool the nation Clegg’s great. But now we see the true picture and it’s bleak…black and white fuzzy dots just like when the signals lost. Hopeless but not defeated; in dire need of fine-tuning;

And so I wait for the day, when the cats at the top are in tune with us rats at the bottom…but we all know that aint never gonna happen.



Copyright © J. Thrasivoulou 2012, steal it and bear the ramifications of your actions.

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I don’t know but he does


Originally Published in CITY-ZINE: Issue 10, November, 2010


I don’t know but he does

Stewart was pacing about, looking anxious. He was waltzing around his living-room in a furious kind of dance. There was no music on. No television either, what was he doing? Was he repeating tribal rhythms in his head? Was his mind simply in another, far-out, more rhythmic kind of place?

I don’t know, but he did, sort of.

-Ware tha fuck avva putit?

I gesture at the cat for some kind of answer…

The first sign of madness is…talking to animals, asking them for answers to questions…Just tell that to the dog whisperer.

-What the fuckin’ el avva dun wivvit? I adit a minit-ago.

I’m just walking around like a complete and utter twat; looking for it. For what you ask, my marbles?


Not quite, I never had them to lose, none of us did. Its water, that’s what I’m looking for. A bottle of; fresh from the fridge, I took it out but five minutes ago. But I can’t think where it is. Where have I put it? The thing with me is; there’s a talking me, and there’s a thinking me. But we’re both different. We aren’t at all the same, in any way shape or form, we are opposite. But we are one; we will always be one, but the water man the fucking water. Why the fuck are you looking in the fruit-bowl? Does it resemble ones thoughts? My thoughts, they aren’t yours no more sunny Jim, you’re a few apples, Sh-short of an orchard my boy, better call FRANK.


I’m, well him; he’s beating the wall…ha-ha, chuckle-chuckle, giggidy-giggidy.

What the fuck am I, I mean he, what the fuck is he doing?

I assure you that these are not my actions; I would never plan such a vile and stereo-typically repulsive act of self-vandalism. The whole thing is bloody preposterous.

And still no fucking water, I need water as well Stewart you buffoon. Where is it Stewart oh where is it sonny? Oh where is it Stewy boy? Where is it lad? Where is it kid? What are you crying for child? Are your hands cut? Do they hurt? Pour some vinegar in my friend, maybe some salt as well, and then tear at your own flesh, with your own teeth. It will taste good, it might hurt at first but escape the pain, let me take over. Mind over matter, you are as good as vegetable matter. A pointless existence leadeth you. Yoda is summoning the darkness, the dark-side of the force. Legislative manslaughter. Cries and whispers and murmurs. God this is fun, man, you’re real fun Stewart!



I’m back, hands hurting, broken but I’m all right, I didn’t eat my flesh if that’s what you’re thinking; Although I may do later, if he keeps on asking me. I don’t like to upset him; I don’t like to upset anyone.

So now I’m gonna look behind the door, whatever he, I, we, mean by that.


He’s gone and head-butted the bloody glass-panel in the kitchen door now. What’s he like eh? Mad as fuck and still no water. He’s out cold instantly; the glass has severed one of the main arteries in his neck. He’s drowning in his own fluid. Blood, Puddles of blood galore, the cat looks on. His eyes remain open, his hand reaching for his own neck, trying to strangle his way to freedom, out of this life and onto another. He doesn’t want to die like this, not bleeding, not on the floor with the cat watching. Not like this.

Then the oxygen and blood, it stops. Gone forever, replaced for piss and shit in an hour or so. And then the stench, the smell of death, it will come to us all one day. But I live on watching him, laughing all the way to his afterlife.


Copyright © J. Thrasivoulou 2012, steal it and bear the ramifications of your actions.

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Rainathon (days of a dumpster)


Originally Published In CITY-ZINE: Issue 12, Feb 2011 

Online Version Available Here:


Rainathon (days of a dumpster)

I started work for an agency; I’d been there six-months (on ‘n off). One Monday I goes in ‘n they ‘ad a position on the bins. I took it; piece of cake, I was thinking.

Half an hour later the Bin-Lorry came round the corner and picked us up; I couldn’t believe me eyes; I knew one of the lads in the front; Smudge, a geezer I used to knock about with back in the day.

Him and the geezer driving (Kenny) made us feel welcome; showed us the ropes ‘n that.

That first day they stopped at the chippy for dinner; cuz I’d not brung any with me. The weather was pretty nice that day; I remember getting a right sweat on sat in the front of the lorry and yammin’ all that hot food down me gob.

We knocked off about three-o-clock that day; finished the round a little bit later than usual, Smudge ‘n Kenny said. Fuck-it though, I don’t think they was being funny about it; don’t think they were trying to hint at oat. They knew it was me first day so I think they were all good with it.

From the Tuesday onwards I got me Mrs to make us a pack-up; nice sandwiches, loadsa crisps ‘n chocolate ‘n all that.

The first week flew by, the weather was proper sound. I was buzzin’ with me pay-packet the following Monday; I’d earnt more than I’d ever earnt in me life. That night I went out on the piss proper style, me n Smudge was on-it-like-a-car-bonnet!! Avvin it proper.

The next morning me enthusiasm for the job was beginning to wear-off. At first I’d enjoyed the running about ‘n that; felt like it was doing me good ‘n keeping me fit. That morning it was different though; it just wasn’t the same. The kebab I couldn’t even remember eating started to repeat on us, I ended up pukin me guts-up on only the fourth street. Smudge ‘n Ken were laughing at us like fuck; the bastards, bet I looked a right-sight though. I vowed to quit drinking after that day, at least on school-nights.

I kept up me vows for the remainder of the week ‘n got smashed at the weekend. This became a routine for the next month or so; a true WEEKEND OFFENDER, but I was beginning to dread the Monday morning.

But despite the dread Monday morning rolled on next week ‘n I went to work. I was beginning to get really pissed-off with the way people leave their bins, always wonky ‘n full to the brim, heavy as fuck to push along when you have to do pissin’ eighty to a hundred on every bastard street. I was happy when lunch-hour came, I scoffed me food down like a savage.

A couple more days went past ‘n then it was the Thursday, it looked like it was gonna piss it down. I walked to the depot anyway. That Kenny was beginning to piss us off, he kept going on about their old-partner Dezzy; a legend him ‘n Smudge had said. ‘N that was fine; it was fine to think of an old-colleague to be of legendary status, that was not the problem. The problem was that Kenny kept dropping fucking remarks like;

Not as fast as our old ledgy-Dezzy is he Smudge? ‘n stuff like that. It was funny the first few times but I was beginning to take it personally.

By the time Kenny ‘n Smudge pulled out the lock-up and picked us up it was proper tearing-it-down, I couldn’t fucking believe it. I got in the front ‘n Kenny was grinning, the smarmy bastard, I was feeling fucked-off with it all.

We started the rounds ‘n I finished off the first couple of streets; I was soaking wet-through, I’d never been so bloody wet.

By the time I got back in the front and we were approaching the third street I’d already decided what I was gonna do. We pulled up at the top of the street; Renfew Street. ‘N then I did what I knew I was gonna do;

I ran, I ran like fuck!

Luckily me mate lived round the corner so I knew where I was running to, so I jogged on and never looked back and never set foot in the depot again. I could here Smudge shouting as I was leggin’ it-


I felt bad for Smudge cuz he was a good lad but me days of carting people’s shit around were well and truly over. The twats at the agency even gave me a full day’s pay for me marathon!

A couple of weeks later I got on at a factory round the corner from where I live. I’ve worked there ever since I ran away from the bins.

This job felt pretty steady until recently; all the government cut-backs ‘n that; they’ve been laying-off left, right ‘n centre. They say on the news that things will improve in the next couple of years. Apparently them Conservatives ‘n Liberal Democrats know what’s going on ‘n they’re gonna sort it out. It’s that kinder stuff that makes me not want to watch the news, sometimes I’m just not convinced they’re telling the truth; I think they might just be- all out for themselves; without a thought for you or me.


Copyright © J. Thrasivoulou 2012, steal it and bear the ramifications of your actions.

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