Steve Coel - Tented Song

Steve Coel - Documentary Fiction Photography

Tented Song

Here -

Where...broken rhythms pulse out of boarded second hand door darkness..

Where...stolen boxed official paper deliveries lie forgotten behind metered indoor yard..

Where...beggared song is shuttled away from bagged evening collection..

Where...glass eyed conversation is embankment tented secret..

Where...newness is nailed down and closely observed..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Steve Coel - Wired Beauty

Steve Coel - Documentary Fiction Photography

Wired Beauty

Here -

Where...drowned road happiness is traded for pennies..

Where...beauty is inked into loose skin..

Where...hostel dispute is shop door knuckled..

Where...salted air breathing is painful reminder of loss..

Where...wired thought becomes backroom industry..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Steve Coel - Metal Carpet

Steve Coel - Documentary Fiction Photography

Metal Carpet

Here -

Where...knotted metal carpet rolls lean on concrete window salesroom..

Where...reflected sleep is caught shuffling across bridged river..

Where...drained smiles remain confused..

Where...doctored papers shield gridded nylon building..

Where...ordered talk is wooden..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Steve Coel - Open Mic. June, 2025. Y Gogledd: #2

Steve Coel - Documentary Fiction Photography

Paper Bag

Here -

 

Where...banned entry is monitored by walled bored glass eye..

Where...cracked machine street furniture empties rigid oil onto skated shoe..

Where...paper bag eating is tin roof sheltered..

Where...curious hands grip tightly bridged water passage way..

Where...alarm bells herd crowds into uniformed wallets of silence..

is the place language comes to die.

Electric Hair

Here -

Where...tree scaffolding shields stained daytime drinking..

Where...coughed innocence is heavy in charity cotton shirt..

Where...electric hair passengers are stiff backed against fake safety exit..

Where...metalled corner stubs become local broken emblems..

Where...chested aggression clips rough handed into rum hinged crowd..

is the place language comes to die.

Glum Dance

Here -

Where...slim concrete staircase funnels nervous jealous glance..

Where...starched wrinkled skin sticks to stretched bone..

Where...young people die old..

Where...unopened door fades into peeling brick and small bottled back yard..

Where...glum dance patters on fractured acre..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Steve Coel - Greedy Laughter

Steve Coel - Documentary Fiction Photography

Greedy Laughter

Here - 

Where...filmed movement is bound by derelict building and deadwood fire..

Where...sober silent conversations are concerned and paper free..

Where...official tattooed authority is broken by wired library bench seat..

Where...early evening heron fishing gets plastic bag poison water netted..

Where...greedy laughter clings to painted doorway shadow..

is the place language comes to die

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Steve Coel - Open Mic. June, 2025. Y Gogledd

Steve Coel - Documentary Fiction Photography

Painted Hatred

Here -

Where...silence is timed..

Where...kerbside road walking is never local..

Where...car lights halt hooded debt collection..

Where...early morning cigarettes are gathered from canal path bin..

Where...painted hatred shows handcuffed hints of humour..

is the place language comes to die.

Sad Eyes

Here -

Where...crowded thoughts are positioned above empty guide dog begging..

Where...plastic bag clumsiness shelters fenced bus stop..

Where...shadow glassed laughter becomes bitter and sad-eyed..

Where...blistered wood holds signed memories of yesterdays bargains..

Where...puddle damp trainers split through confused traffic..

is the place language comes to die.

Metallic Stumble

Here -

Where...straight talking is a cold charmless metallic click..

Where...wind launched building demolition scratches neighbourhood itch..

Where...stickered light falls on damp nylon shoe..

Where...last nights takeaway guides corner walled stumble..

Where...gritted smoke sticks to dark glass passenger..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel/An 11.59 Publication

Steve Coel - Open Mic, June 2025. Y De.

Documentary Fiction Photography - Steve Coel

Adult Hands

Here -

Where...illegal plastic high releases urgent stammered step..

Where...solitary private glass is windowed in shoddy single drinking room..

Where...stolen adult hands are nailed..

Where...blown factory wall rage by-passes toughened water..

Where...sponsored imagination drains away through rusting pipe..

is the place language comes to die.

Wired Beauty

Here -

Where...drowned road happiness is traded for pennies..

Where...beauty is inked into loose skin..

Where...hostel dispute is shop door knuckled..

Where...salted air breathing is a painful reminder of loss..

Where...wired thought becomes backroom industry..

is the place language comes to die.

Metal Carpet

Here -

Where...knotted metal carpet rolls lean on concrete window salesroom..

Where...reflected sleep is caught shuffling across bridged river..

Where...drained smiles remain confused..

Where...doctored papers shield gridded nylon building..

Where...ordered talk is wooden ..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

* Add ons - random choice[s] from 2023 - Stretched Bone (An 11.59 Publication)

Steve Coel - Wire Horizons

 

Documentary Fiction Photography - Steve Coel

Wire Horizons

Here -

Where...truck loaded panel shelters are fragile and small minded..

Where...bird wire horizons become tortured tree reminders of industry..

Where...casual uniform is formal authority threat to liquid thought..

Where...lamp post stickers appeal to irrational voted thinking..

Where...empty towers crumble into bottled grass memory of a good better time..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Steve Coel - Tin Canal

Documentary Fiction Photography - Steve Coel

Tin Canal

Here -

Where...alarmed rent money is silently spent..

Where...hi-rise wind flows between tin canal and secretly painted terrace..

Where...glued actions bustle into map markets..

Where...electric fear spreads from street to newspaper columned whisper..

Where...window shadow warnings are ignored..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Steve Coel - Board Yards

Documentary Fiction Photography - Steve Coel

Board Yards

Here -

Where...shuffled animal recycled pathways stay unused and ignored..

Where...newly painted rail station gallery is haunted by plastic discipline..

Where...cryptic commands rattle through tight van streets into twisted board yards..

Where...key-ring novelty is blown into punctured building machinery..

Where...boxed reminders become land-fill..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Steve Coel - Tickertape Blossom

Documentary Fiction Photography - Steve Coel

Tickertape Blossom

Here -

Where...blanket river scene is reflected on forged interest brick and cemented error..

 

Where...empty windowed business shields broad shouldered silence..

Where...tidal courses are banished..

Where...apple tree blossom tickertapes sullen grass verge..

Where...beat box music, early morning bird and shrill delivery van collide...

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Steve Coel - Begged Scandal

Documentary Fiction Photography - Steve Coel

Begged Scandal

Here -

Where...old parking is pavement rumour and small stone guttered..

Where...eclipsed views remain splintered with caged scissor precision..

Where...begged scandal is threatened..

Where...24 hour slowness is eyed suspiciously through boarded shop window..

Where...young shoes shoulder new passages on to industry dust covered machinery..

is the place language come to die.

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Steve Coel - Hedged Whisper

Documentary Fiction Photography - Steve Coel

Hedged Whisper

Here -

Where...misled concrete steps shape movement towards shuttered corner stall..

Where...brittle smiles are forced reminders of drafted opportunity..

Where...roomed time is measured through medication and juiced meal..

Where...coated weather is blossomed and publicly stooped by hedged symphony..

Where...trip wire walking forces cloudy watered decision..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Steve Coel - Tight Lips

Documentary Fiction Photography - Steve Coel

Tight Lips

Here -

Where...muscled acting falls into stolen mosaic underpass..

Where...plastic bag bicycles negotiate pot holed routes to plotted work space..

Where...music is sprayed on to tin wall..

Where...flat motors echo across dry beer yard roof..

Where...fly-tipped sell by dates mischievously clutter loiter behind fenced in side-street..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Open Mic: Y De, May 2025 - Steve Coel

Documentary Fiction Photography - Steve Coel

Iron Shelter

Here -

Where...pavement shy funeral cars are smokey..

Where...mapped walking is silenced by small group gossip..

Where...sleeping iron sided shelters are brick piled into bulldozed walls..

Where...music is daytime dead..

Where...beaten up fenced trees strangle the air..

is the place language comes to die.

Cupped Smoke

Here -

Where...recycled gloves spill glassed ale in corner seat of damp pop-up..

Where...grey cigarette stained trackies stand broken in cement bank shelter..

Where...midnight football is supported by passing runaways heading to early morning meal..

Where..cupped smoke and industrial strength poison cans work full-time to keep the cold out..

Where...sharp light slices into puddled indoor short-cut..

is the place language comes to die.

Solo Rooms

Here -

Where...plastic fairground jewelry lies chewed up..

Where...kerbstone wheels dawdle in tune with open door security..

Where..words spoken in jest between strangers are echoes of threat to local trade..

Where...shuttered industry is impatient and bolted into fabric of labour..

Where...failure becomes habit..

is the place language comes to die.

Illegal Fragrance

Here -

Where...dining room corners are secretly guarded..

Where...tightly held anonymous bottles conceal early morning agenda..

Where...rusted chainsaw vans clutter side-street rubbled warehouse..

Where...cheap illegal fragrances batter muted steel trimmed trolley romance..

Where...unseen walking is never invisible..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Open Mic: Y Gogledd, May 2025 - Steve Coel

Documentary Fiction Photography - Steve Coel

Sleeping Path

Here -

Where...youth stubble walk across butchered sleeping path..

Where...hills consume history and memory is wiped out by nature..

Where...half gloved hands rap on steel plate and small window..

Where...slow of foot shadow wooden shovel..

Where...boasting is frowned upon..

is the place language comes to die.

Steel Mesh

Here -

Where...shaded front windows blank out screamed memory..

Where...watered gravel road hides handshake meeting..

Where...cheap endeavour is forced..

Where...emotion is mid-air and blank eyed..

Where...coat collar romance is early evening and drunk..

is the place language comes to die.

Fallen Brick

Here - 

Where...stubs of paper shape tomorrows nightmare..

Where...fussy overcoats and woolen carpet shape grassed up valley roadway..

Where...modern memory is glazed with empty cans of blood..

Where...fallen brick slices postered railing..

Where...bottom shelf goods are swallowed by small pockets..

is the place language comes to die.

Machine Winnings

Here -

Where...failure becomes habit..

Where...values are challenged and always disputed..

Where...machine winnings replace job prospects..

Where...happiness is solitary, forgotten and distant..

Where...teenage angst lasts long into retirement..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Steve Coel - Sharp Cement

Documentary Fiction Photography - Steve Coel

Oiled Pavement

Here -

Where...sharp cement spaces hurdles are guidelines for hooded meeting..

Where...energy is mimed into chalk board reminder..

Where...cladded hostel debris lies tattered stranded and broken inside blistered berry bush..

Where...lunchtime windows open on to oiled pavement..

Where...shadowed running is urgent..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Steve Coel - Chop Shop

Documentary Fiction Photography - Steve Coel

Chop Shop

Here -

Where...hidden alley way problems remain unspoken..

Where...broken woodland studded guards mock nature behind bladed 

hands..

Where...silent animals pursue the sleepless old under canal side 

bridge towards the dreamless forgotten city..

Where...stunted authority is doorway suited..

Where...cloned cob-web window warnings are nightly reminders from 

chop shop vehicle..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel / An 11.59 Publication

Steve Coel - Crow Time Feeding

Documentary Fiction Photography - Steve Coel

Crow Time Feeding

Here -

Where...recycled memory daytime hiding is scripted into knifed tree bark..

Where...reckless noise making is brutal and metal knuckled..

Where...vape bloodied cafe gardens groan beneath rusted leather footstep and betrayed seating..

Where...crow time feeding is weed killer gravelled..

Where...small group silence reflect rejects courtyard posters and charity reclaimed allotment..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel

Steve Coel - Powdered Laughter

Documentary Fiction Photography - Steve Coel

Fractured Actions

Here -

Where...animals hide from angry feet..

Where...guilty nightmare litter blocks tented scrapyard sleeping..

Where...fractured actions are choreographed by cheap powdered laughter and open car window..

Where...branded safety is insecure and ignored..

Where...stickered library steps are shouldered with morning smiles..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel

Steve Coel - Silent Passage

Documentary Fiction Photography - Steve Coel

Silent Passage

Here -

Where...stripped smiles are lay-by shackled to crusted warning..

Where...hidden living thrives..

Where...marketed dependence is crushed by sliding door argument..

Where...silent passages of time become enshrined in wasteland broken bottle..

Where...muddy spaces challenge twisted tree industry and nuggeted machine..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel

Steve Coel - Knuckled Silence

Documentary Fiction Photography - Steve Coel

Knuckled Silence

Here -

Where...shouldered bag running is closely followed..

Where...bus stop seated sleeping bag remains untouched..

Where...knuckled silent demands are reflected in glueless gated shop door..

Where...selected fence post information guides restless suspicion..

Where...street jumbled eating is rapid and pathless..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel

Steve Coel - Illegal Fragrance

Documentary Fiction Photography - Steve Coel

Illegal Fragrance

Here -

Where...dining room corners are secretly guarded..

Where...tightly held anonymous bottles conceal early morning agendas..

Where...rusted chainsaw vans clutter oiled side-street rubbled warehouse..

Where...cheap illegal fragrances batter muted steel trimmed trolley romance..

Where...unseen security walking is never invisible..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel

Steve Coel - Machine Muted

Documentary Fiction Photography - Steve Coel

Machine Muted

Here - 

Where...cracker jack bucket fire is street parked alongside guilty night time dog walking..

Where...laddered conversation is machine muted..

Where...rusty girdered security newspaper string hats hide and shelter..

Where...painted nightmares reflect pub door stumbling and grumbled farewell..

Where...bitter enjoyment breaks up shadowed days..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel

Steve Coel - Small Pockets

Documentary Fiction Photography - Steve Coel

Small Pockets

Here - 

Where...stubs of paper shape tomorrows nightmare..

Where...fussy overcoats and woolen carpet litter grassed up valley roadway..

Where...modern memory is glazed with empty cans of strong lager..

Where...fallen brick slices postered railing..

Where...bottom shelf goods are swallowed by small pockets..

is the place language comes to die.

Note: Speeding cars, shoplifting fights, Sunday league arguments...can all turn a simple stroll into an inner city symphony of sorts...a human soundscape that is probably being repeated almost everywhere...Steve Coel

Steve Coel - Sharp Light

Documentary Fiction Photography - Steve Coel

Sharp Light

Here -

Where...recycled gloves spill glassed ale in corner seat of damp pop-up..

Where...grey cigarette stained trackies stand broken in cement bank shelter..

Where...midnight football is supported by passing runaways headed to early morning meal..

Where...cupped smoke and industrial strength poison cans work full-time to keep the old out..

Where...sharp light slices into puddled indoor short-cut..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel

Nylon Building - Steve Coel

Documentary Fiction Photography - Steve Coel

Nylon Building

Here -

Where...knotted metal carpet rolls lean on concrete window saleroom..

Where...reflected sleep is caught shuffling across bridged river..

Where...drained smiles remain confused..

Where...doctored papers shield gridded nylon building..

Where...ordered talk is wooden..

is the place language comes to die.

Steve Coel

Screamed Memory - Steve Coel

Documentary Fiction Photography

Screamed Memory

Here -

Where...shaded front windows blank out screamed memory..

Where...watered gravel road hides handshake meeting..

Where...cheap endeavour is forced..

Where...emotion is mid-air and blank eyed..

Where...coat collar romance is early evening and drunk..

is the place language comes to die.

This particular 'word riff'...which became Half Stolen Buildings (2024), An 11.59 Publication...still fascinates me...Somebody told me they saw it as 'short story in experimental poetry form'...Fair enough...but I am not a Poet...for me this is not poetry...it is MicroFlashFiction...Steve Coel

Hollow Buildings - Steve Coel

Documentary Fiction Photography

Hollow Buildings

Here -

Where...hollow buildings shadow painted moment..

Where...dull flowers pilfer hedgerow litter..

Where...warehouse beams trap steel smile and welded arm..

Where...daily trauma functions alongside passing rumour..

Where...lost faces merge with condemned brick..

is the place language comes to die.

Frosted Vision - Steve Coel

Documentary Fiction Photography

Here - 

Where...narrow lane adventures are captured in muddy headlight and cry of tortured bird..

Where...broken lives are inherited..

Where...evenings shadow lies distressed on ripped rock and moss border..

Where...isolated youth walk through decades of frosted vision..

Where...small trees blanket fallen brick..

is the place language comes to die.
 

Fractured Acre - Steve Coel

Documentary Fiction Photography

Here -

Where...slim concrete staircases funnel nervous jealous glances..

Where...starched wrinkled skin sticks to stretched bone..

Where..young people die old..

Where...unopened door fades into peeling brick and small bottled yard..

Where...glum dance patters aggressively on fractured acre..

is the place language comes to die.