Oops!… We Did It Again (last may)

Erm… hullo there. (This is rather awkward…)

Dear Reader, the stuff that was originally posted here has been removed.

We have done this because said stuff has since been included in one of our published books. We hope you’ll believe us when we say we’re not trying to be stingy. No, this has been done to honour the people who have already spent their hard-earned money on our eBook creations.*

If, however, for some reason you’re unable to buy one of our books, and feel you’ll die without seeing this piece of writing, then please contact us via admin@unbolt.me. We won’t allow our Dear Readers to fade away in the dark. We’ll send you the piece in question, and it will be absolutely free. All you need do is ask.

* Of course, we would be like two happy puppies if you too decided to buy one of our books.

© All rights reserved 2017-2018

A Bad Dancer is Always Impeded by his Testicles

My name’s Diego. Surname the Prowl.
On the pull tonight, struttin’ like a peafowl.
Cannot get enough of this demure goth chick
So I decide to woo her with my party trick.

Yeah, I do the mash.
I cut a rug and throw the scraps.
The muncher mash.
Shake a wicked hoof in cowboy chaps.
Trippin’ light fantastic. No, I’m not gay.
Just want the women and won’t swing that way.

No girl can resist the force of my mojo
When I twirl it about like a loco yo-yo.
Pelvic thrusts and crazy jitterbug.
Yeah, fly to me, my lurid ladybug!

Like, I do the mash.
I roll Stones and I do the Jagger.
The muncher mash.
I wobble my jelly with a ghastly swagger.
I’m the Man in Black, not a dusty rock star.
Just want the women and a hella cool scar.

I cavort with bodies like lightnin’ greased
’Til my arse falls off for the ghouls to feast.
On this night of All Hallows’ Eve
Even arms plop from their gory sleeves.

So, I do the mash.
Through this house of death I dare to tap.
The muncher mash.
My feet a whirl of ‘don’t give a crap’.
In this dance universe I’m immortal Duncan.
Tango, waltz, and freaky hula funkin’.

I twerk on the slab under strobin’ light.
When my brain drops out, a queasy sight!
It skids across the floor like a raw meat pie,
Half eaten, left alone to petrify.

Yet I do the mash.
This lust for her I can hardly quash.
The muncher mash.
My heart’s no more than charnel squash,
For on it she jumps like an undead foal.
I’m left cryin’ a river with the dungfly shoal.

© All rights reserved 2016

My first (and unexpected) collaboration

It’s not a verse, actually. Rather, it’s a creative flow. It was started just out of the blue. I didn’t realize that we had started until the third strophe. It was an open start, and we decided to leave an open final because this dance can’t be finished…

Thank you, Kasey, for such an amazing experience! Will you dance with me again?


I’m like water. Water of life… Water of death… I’m just flowing and dissolving all that I meet. While you float into eternity in the currents of time, I’m the rocks beneath the surface. Silent, worn and still. I’m singing, I’m dancing, I’m playing with a pebble. I’m tickling your rocky heels and smoothing your rough pleats. Shadows waving over us as the wind dances with the tall grass along the shore, taming the sun’s heat. Earth’s ballet going unnoticed. It’s going unnoticed… We are involved in our dance. A passionate bolero is whirling us. A dance of Water and Stone. All other things don’t make sense. Hear the sounds of a soothing melody, so lovely and bright. Guiding us towards desires held tight. Somebody says that it’s a battle. A wave was broken, a rock was bitten… But it is only silly tattle. Moving to the rhythm of the currents, we’ve danced our way downstream. Polished enough to reflect her beauty back at her, we drift, soaked in moonlight. The rhythm becomes faster… the song becomes free… the brilliant variations, the giddy pirouettes. Enchanted moon looks down on our silhouettes. Spiraling into eternity, the sound echos through and through. Giving the greatest view, our movements were laid down within the stars…

© All rights reserved 2014


I mask the shadows under my eyes with coal.
I hide the paleness of my face under chalk.
I turn my broken movements into Butoh.
I’d gotten a pirate version of my life.
My being is counterfeit.
I’m a bug…

You look at me with unreserved admiration. You love my speaking glance, my noble pallor and my grotesque dance. You don’t know that it’s not a performance. You can’t guess that it’s my life. By the way… I keep the installation file still.

Do you want to try it?

© All rights reserved 2014