FebulousFebruary 2026: The Old Photograph

…watch this space for a cascade of creative juice flowing from some of the LGBTQI+ community, including their friends and family on the theme:

            To My Childhood Self

and there will be daily posts throughout February, in celebration of and contributing to, LGBTQI+ History Month.

This year’s theme : To My Childhood Self.

FioxiRose, X

              ~ To my childhood self ~

hoping you enjoy the daily posts and please feel free to leave any feedback.

And if you get inspired throughout the month there’s still time and space left to add your piece to celebrate LGBTQI+ History month 2024.

FioxiRose xx

~ To my childhood self ~

hoping you enjoy the daily posts and please feel free to leave any feedback.

And if you get inspired throughout the month there’s still time and space left to add your piece to celebrate LGBTQI+ History month 2024.

FioxiRose

We used to party

with our fingers 

inside each other 

under the table 

of our local pub. 

Laughing willdly 

because nobody knew 

what we were up to. 

Entwined 

encased in music 

gospel reggae soul

erupted 

as we partied hard 

under blankets 

made smooth by 

so much action. 

We partied until 

we were breathless. 

Two souls swirling 

in the dance 

of life .

Then like autumn 

leaves 

you blew away 

and for a while 

the ghost of you 

weighed a ton. 

But at least 

for a time 

we were able 

to stable each other 

on the floor 

in a rapturous beat.

Jo Fraser, Bromley

Poitin

It’s Sunday. Ten thirty. We’ve both dropped a pill.

And you know and I know it’s time to distil.

When the taste of your spirit is spit on my lips.

When I dive through the dark fathomed dip of your hips.

With your back and my back and arching and bending

we’re sending ourselves along deep, broiling tracks,

through the volatile, vaporous, wolf-wiley packs.

Through the thickening pot.

Through the cool and the hot.

Through the licking, slick tongues of the liquid

that gleam cleans the rot.

And you are the dance of the gluttonous flame

and I am the burn of a chemical beast

that cooling and boiling can’t tame.

With the chill … and your hot/sweat … condensing my soul

I know light and dark are the same.

In blackening waters we boil and steam.

We are vapour and mist,

we are blood, we are fist,

we are flood and vibration and dream.

I can’t scream.

I just coil in your coppery arms,

collecting myself from the spray on my thighs.

I am almost nothingness, formless … and formed.

I’m the tips of the swords in your eyes.                                            

Renée McAlister, Brighton

Sweet 16

I’ve got an empty 

Mum’s away to Mrs Muir’s caravan for the bank holiday weekend

Word spread like wildfire that

I’ve got an empty

Shall we have a theme? ….cartoon characters….disaster movies…we finally settled on hats ….fancy hats…mmmmm…. then at the last minute Clare said Hatasrtophe!!! Brilliant!

Living room blitzed, coffee table in bedroom……ideal for rolling a Thai grass joint Clare found out later …..the couch, we squeezed and scraped into the wee cellar …table and chairs fitted neatly on the wee verandah. We had a dance floor! 

Louise and Karen with lots of slap, wonder bras and borrowed heels managed to pass at the offy….loads of cider, lager and a bottle of dry martini was the prize.

Kenny, Ian and Graham begged, stole and borrowed amp, cables, speakers, Wharfedales Wow! and a big black case of vinyl….passing through with a cheese and silverskin onion hedgehog I see Kenny flicking through the LP’s ….Wishbone Ash, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Fleetwood Mac, 10cc, Peter Frampton, Bob Seger…..

In they piled to the living room as 10cc blared out….arms in the air heads keeping the beat bodies rocking 

Well the band were playing and the booze began to flow

But the sound came over on the police car radio

 Louise with a huge billowing flame coming out of a fireman’s hat bumping bums with Jasper and his stag horn head…..Clare skips in with her sombrero and guitar still singing Nelly the Elephant, packed her trunk and said……..Kayt and Colin wearing two sides of a bridge construction bopped together with Kayt mouthing to a puzzled Ian “The Tay Bridge Disaster !” Turn the music up!

Down at Precinct 49

Having a tear-gas of a time

I’ve got an empty 

We’re having a party

Load up, load up, load up with rubber bullets

Fiona Thomson. Kent

ESSENTIALS FOR HEAVEN

from I’m Still Your Negro An Homage to James Baldwin by Valerie Mason-John

iPhone A Flat Screen 

Black Mirror Credit Card 

A Plastic Note A Wrap A Spliff Doobie BC Bud 

Dj Sound System Reggae Hip Hop Trance Techno 

Spotify YouTube Apple Music Strobes Zoom 

Toilets Cocaine Blade Straw 

Afro Comb Hair Extensions Lippy Mascara Shades 

Chewing Gum Dance Floor 

Go Gos Visuals Projections 

Ecstasy Water Dancing Shoes 

Poppers Corkscrew Wine Beer 

Earplugs Mouth Guard CPAP

Vitamin Pills Echinacea Essential Oils 

Twitter Instagram Facebook Messenger Snapchat 

WhatsApp Netflix HBO Amazon Prime 

Iboga Ayahuasca 

Sleeping Pill

TIK TOK

The party 

Welcome to the party,

Not you.

Too fat, too femme, too something.

Too Nothing really, nothing special, but still here.

Welcome to the party.

Not you.

No G, no T, No Special K.

Just something, but not enough.

Just something enough to stay.

The party is on, it’s here, but always looking somewhere else. 

What’s new, who’s new, where’s new?

Why are we here? Where are the others?

Always at the party, always looking for others.

Never looking at self, for self, in self.

The party is over. 

What, who, where – am I?

John Gilmore

Canterbury and Dublin