Milk Shadow Books presents Walking to Japan. A wet work of comic wizardy by Ben Hutchings. Launching very soon. Please swing past…

September 16, 2011 - Leave a Response

Word Perversion #1. How dirty will we go? Feel free to drift on down to the circus…

September 16, 2011 - Leave a Response

Sights To Contemplate Whilst Staring At A Computer Screen

September 16, 2011 - Leave a Response

The traffic
lined
up for a look
at
the car crash
next to
the cemetary.
They didn’t have
far
to go.

A
chemical fire
in
the rehab
centre couldn’t
be doused
by
water from the
Church
next
door.
The windows were
barred and
the
doors
locked.

At
night
in
New
Or
lins
we
heard
alot of
car backfires
but
didn’t see
any
cars.

After a looong time away… We’re back! Here’s the covers of Yuck! 5 and 6 to whet the ol’ taste buds. Yes, they are available at www.milkshadowbooks.com Accept nothing less!

September 16, 2011 - Leave a Response

Feel free to stop by our new official site! Yep, it’s up and running – www.milkshadowbooks.com

February 9, 2011 - Leave a Response

Art by Bobby N.

Big Arse Comic Book Launch #1

January 27, 2011 - Leave a Response

3 New works set to appear in the Copeland Valley Press Sampler 2011

December 14, 2010 - Leave a Response

What We Did For Kicks – Coming Soon! Early Cover Art by James Andre and Luke Pickett

November 26, 2010 - Leave a Response

What We Did For Kicks – Coming Soon! Early Variant Cover Art by Jacek Zabawa

November 11, 2010 - 2 Responses

Kagemono: Flowers and Skulls out now! Featuring Lucifer’s Looking Glass

November 11, 2010 - Leave a Response

Milk Shadow Books will be on sale at the National Gallery of Australia – At least for one day @…

October 25, 2010 - Leave a Response

XXX Neon Sign Out Now!

October 25, 2010 - Leave a Response

Yuck! 4 Coming Soon!

October 20, 2010 - Leave a Response

Monster Addict – Regular Cover Edition and Horridly Limited Edition Line Art Cover Edition Out Now!

October 20, 2010 - Leave a Response

The Loneliness Manifesto – A cover in progress by Brendan Halyday

August 26, 2010 - One Response

http://brendanhalyday.blogspot.com/

Take Me Further

August 4, 2010 - Leave a Response

Shivering
trembling
I
beg
her
to
take
me
further
she
pushes
another
of the
caffeine pills
into my
mouth
and says
this
will
keep
you
awake
for
awhile
no
painkillers
for
you
yet
no
dullness
you
need
to
feel
it
all
I bite
it
She slaps
me
across
the face
says
don’t
chew
it
swallow
it
for
slow
effect
sit up
with her
still
on
top
sniff
some more
amyl
which
snorts
up
my
nostrils
runs
down
the
back
of my
throat
brain
opens
up
red dots
lines
everything
becomes
clean
for
a few
seconds
the sex
feels great
she says
no
more
of
that
yet
we
still
have
the wine
and
x
to go
riding back
she clasps my
hand around her
throat
closes her
fingers
around
mine
make me go
blue and purple
she chokes
pinch each others
nipples
hard we
lose
air
together
she
comes
sculls more
vodka
push her
down on
the bed
push in
passing
ou-

A Thought Before Sleep Awakes

August 1, 2010 - Leave a Response

I come then kiss her to sleep and the smell of burnt toast drifts around in here cause it’s so small what with kitchen next to the bedroom. Recently a thought come into my head, which was not right to begin with, but a thought came into my mind that love is the purest of evil thoughts. Animals and machines don’t feel it and they get along fine, nobody would ever accuse either of being an evil thing. But then again they don’t hate either, they just exist. But love, that nasty fucked up thing, which binds and creaks it’s invisible bonds and strings across all hearts that know it for a short eternal time, creates murder, and mayhem, and imprisonment, and The Need. Anyway, the story of how I got her here into my house and arms is not much different to yours, or hers or his, it’s not that interesting truth be told. You could rip a romance novel up into a hundred pieces and still find a few words or passages that would be the same story as ours. It doesn’t matter though, not in matters of happiness or sleep. She’s here and it’s all that matterzzzzzzzz.

Everything Eventually Eats Away

August 1, 2010 - Leave a Response

In the taxi on the way home from the last great Opera to be performed before the Armageddon was due to erupt, the metaphysical white lump of clay shaped like a human, called Death slowly inhaled the soft fat scent of the taxi driver’s obvious cigarette before he’d had a passenger aboard and listened in silence along with the driver to a sad bluegrass song previously announced by the station announcer to be called Seashell Beach.

As they approached the edge of town the reception started to break, but neither complained about the static or crackle because what was left of the song underneath was so simply, beautiful. The driver, with his long mustached beaten face of an ex-armed forces man, was pulling a gentle con by taking Death past certain streets and turns which would have shortened the trip but it didn’t care much anymore. In a few days, due to the pressing of a button, all humans would exit this place. Hell would get flooded with Heaven only getting a slight boost in numbers, whilst Purgatory blablabla. It didn’t want to think about it anymore. Mainly due to the fact that it couldn’t do much to help. It was set for a dusty exit too, for when nothing is living, Death will die.

How I Spent My Youth

July 5, 2010 - Leave a Response

Customer Service

July 5, 2010 - Leave a Response

Dumb Rant

June 27, 2010 - Leave a Response

Six O clock, when all the supervillains sleep after a hard night out doing supervillainy things and all the heroes sleep after a night out doing heroic things I wish that a million tonne mega monster would devour the small town I live in. It’s not a bad town, but ya wouldn’t want to be trapped here forever. Fat, suckin down a cig through sun stretched lips with ya hair fallin out and ya gut spillin over your jeans down the pub every fridee and satdee. Nah, not my style for life but I ain’t got much of the way of a fight in me, and I love a good lay but not much chance of that happenin now unless I pay and I’m broke. So walking back round the streets by mself everyone says its dangerous out but lucky they listen to everyone else so no one leaves their house. There’s sirens blasting round the bushes nearby. Somebody’s gonna have to do a runner cause they’ve been having too much fun. Why I’m walking round doesn’t really make much sense but I got so much meth in me that well that doesn’t make sense either. So just keeping walking. I can hear the sounds of the river rats rushing round the river and I wish em luck. The big bucks burger joint be opening up in another ten or so and even though I’m not hungry be nice to have the illusion of some grease in front of me. What am I gonna do? Sun’s up soon, somewhere I lost my key, joint’s probably being emptied now. Ah well, yeah so what was I saying, oh yeah, the monster thing, well this town could be worse, least they got an early opening burger joint that serves a cold drink, I’m parched. See ya later…

Slugs on Drugs – The Lawn Mower War Begins

June 10, 2010 - Leave a Response

XXX Neon Sign – Process of the Cover Art by Bobby N.

June 10, 2010 - Leave a Response

Paranoid Yet High After Reading Fear And Loathing in Las Vegas Too Many Times

June 6, 2010 - Leave a Response

Gestation

June 6, 2010 - Leave a Response

They Got Live Dead Girls Dancing All Night, Man!

June 6, 2010 - Leave a Response

The Garbage Truck Failures – Back In Stock!

May 31, 2010 - Leave a Response

The Infernal Sugar Dive – Original Art and First Edition Modified Cover

May 31, 2010 - Leave a Response

Yuck! 1 and 2 – Back in Stock!

May 29, 2010 - Leave a Response

That Bastard Benway in Dicks – The Anthology… Available now!

May 29, 2010 - Leave a Response

The Night Sighs…

May 20, 2010 - One Response

Out
into
the darkness
we drive,
all those
looking for
the score.
Whether it be
flesh.
Whether it be
chemical.
We reach out,
we
branch out.
That
moment.
We need to
inhale it,
we need
to
penetrate it,
smoke it,
swallow it,
spike it,
get it
into
us
and make
it part
of us
to
alleviate
what is
left
to once
what was.
To become
the master
of what
is once
was,
and back
again.

And
when
it
is
over.

When the cool air
breathes
through
smashed cold lips
of the individual,
alone,
we thank
the light
for making it
home again.

Beauty
crushed
into
nerve endings.

…Forget the
regret.

Pinup for The LisT

May 16, 2010 - Leave a Response

New Jacek Zabawa Production Art for The Infernal Sugar Dive

May 16, 2010 - One Response

Unused Art from The Infernal Sugar Dive

May 16, 2010 - 2 Responses

The Sour Milk Suck Experience

May 16, 2010 - Leave a Response

See a perfect beach ball shaped couple waddle and swap chewing gum tongues in fat heads. Love comes in all shapes and fucks. Eat a plate of greasy meat. Clog lick the heart. An actor with platted goatee has admitted that he has a massive illegal gun collection just before blowing his brains out onto a bowl of red spaghetti. Want to make a robot to replace me. Then it can stomp a city or two. A tornado has hit a Vietnam village and swept over 5,000 into the slaughter or OZ. No mirrors in the room, no sun in my head. Criss cross kill a bug. Why’d you do that, it did nothing to you, there it was, just minding it’s own business and you had to- They only have a short life, a few days. So, it was a conscious being. Shut up. Want more grease, want to crush it and feel it drip down the fist. Inside out egg carton stomp. Kick a rock for fun. Start up, stare down. A bad bar. Go in. Spackle out. Shiny gold floods into the noir hole over the tip tongue taste across back filled teeth down the wince throat past pumps the heart into guts sits for a bit while being processed into intoxication by the limey liver and moves into intestinals before beautiful bladder rebirthing water redistribution. Pour me another one. What’s the magic word. Ricockulous? You’re vile. But funny. Not at all. You smiled. No. Smidgy smirk pour pour. Sclock sclock. The stainy glass sits half empty with poison. Her poached eyes stare on the verge of potential picklement. Pure fucking horror. What are you doing? I’m bored. Razor slow start drags cutting wrinkling fresh flesh leaving open a ploughed trailed maroon line. Don’t do that. What? She lifts it more exposing a wound verging the length of an unsmoked coffin nail. Give it here. Temper tantrum snatch the razor away. This is how you do it. Clench teeth stretch skin tight to be parted by the stainless steel. Pressure it down breaking through the layers. Blood simultaneously pops to air and lightens. Feel the blade pressing down but not the sting of pain. Drag it up and down and around and along the arm. Nothing. Feel the tear but no pain. Shrill back down to earth. She’s screaming lungs into throat. Never heard you scream before. What the fuck! Hold out the pulsing red network of cut rivers and run off waterfalls for her to see. That’s how you do it. What the fuck is wrong with you? It doesn’t hurt, I can’t feel it at all. Not anything? No. Throws her glass against the table. Picks up a soaking chunk of the melted sand. Try this. Push it deep into the soft back of my palm. Only the force, not the pain. What happened to you? Something, in the sleep, must of, I don’t know, the nerves aren’t right anymore. Drive down deep inside ourselves but find a mass of spurting wet organs so come back to the surface and wake up. Something is broken. A small vein. The flow has stopped. Nails grow with sluggish speed. Cold cuticles. Hair sits dead worm like on the head. Can you feel my heart beat? I don’t want to touch you. Fuck off, do it. No. Stare. She puts pus warm fingers to the throat. Yeah, some movement, maybe. Right, normal enough. An indestructible grain of sand ejects from the eye of a star and ejaculates towards earth, Accelerating at multiples of millions of kilometres per second, By the time it reaches earth it is travelling at the speed of infinite, It has already destroyed earth before it even got here, A thin hole pierced by the approaching material causes oceans to run in and cool the core, Hot sweaty mud chocolate breaks from that pimple and crashes down, Dirt drowned pores, Mouths chunked with earthy delights, Choking, Swimming in thick tarry brown, Watching everyone else go, No fire, No famine, No disease, Just swallowed back into an instant burial. So that’s how you’d like to see the world end? Yeah, you? I want to see it melt. Like plastic in a big microwave? Yeah, but also with some foil in there, you know how it arks when you accidentally put it in. Yeah, so lightning and melting all round? Yeah! Ah you how I think it will really happen? How? Boredom. Go on. Well, there’ll be a leader who’ll have it all, power, porn, prostitutes, powders, but he’ll have no ties, ya know, like no family, no wife, no dog, no real friends, and one day he’ll just think this is fucked, I’m gonna give that button a press. They can’t just do that though can they, don’t they need a couple of them to push the button? Yeah, but he’ll figure out a way, see he’s been thinking about it for awhile, maybe since he was young, could’ve been the reason he got into power ya know, like he just wanted the opportunity to say, I’m number one. Would you push the button? Yeah probably. You? Nope. Why? I just wouldn’t do it, such a stupid way to end it all, a little human pushing a little button, it’s pathetic. You even smoking that thing? Nah, you asked me to hold it when you started rambling. Vacuum open lungs for sweet harsh material entrance. But, ah fuck it, I dunno what we’re even talking about anymore. Nah, you want to get down from here? Alright. Push hands slide back across burnt tiles. Slow stand and watch for crumbling areas. Pigeons twist diseased knowing eyes straining in blown bubble heads attached to speckled necks across at us. Find the hole we came out of. Back down across large and tiny rooms filled with broken mirrors, burnt cotton, religious icons with smashed in heads, running obscenity tags quick written on ceilings, and mould growing from cavities. Two floors later. Still no sounds anywhere. Finally the burned out church exits us into the alarming unarmed chasing night.

Stereo Sound Snapshot

May 4, 2010 - Leave a Response

Vocal Faux Pas Due To Too Much Cheap Scotch

May 4, 2010 - Leave a Response

Losing

May 4, 2010 - Leave a Response

…And Hands Were Thrown Into the Air Twenty Seconds After Quitting A Boring Desk Job

May 3, 2010 - Leave a Response

Yuck! 3 – Now Available!

April 28, 2010 - One Response

Yum! Yum! It’s The End!

April 25, 2010 - Leave a Response

Train Trip to the Country

April 22, 2010 - Leave a Response

Road lights floating like fireflies past the reflections of passengers reading dog-eared paperbacks, others pushing their hands through their hair in sheer frustration at the current situation they’re in, and a precious few’ve got no problems at all, or atleast, no visible ones, kicking their feet in time to tunes plugged into their pockets. Giant diesel engine chugs and chews and spews us forward forever away from what just was. People start to fan themselves, others fall asleep. In the dim cabin light I can make out second hand headlines of yesterdays news marked with today’s date, with columns on crimes that could not be prevented only watched, and alcohol ads that make me thirsty for the quench and numb, and little bi-lines about something that somebody somewhere cares about, but not me. Stop, fake sleep and listen to the sounds all around. The engine roar, the slip sound of swishing undistinguishable middle aged lady conversation, the rustling of plastic, papers, the crushing of a aluminum can, leather straps and the creaking of a handbag. Sometimes it’s easier just to close your eyes.

The Subtle Heat

April 18, 2010 - Leave a Response

It’s
all
come
crashing
down
to
this
one
moment
of
warmth.
Worth
it,
and
vital.
Worth
beating
that
heart
for.
Always.

Worse Words Exist

April 11, 2010 - 2 Responses

The
dying man said
I
ain’t
got
much more
to say
about
love,
to God,
but
I hope
love has
something
left
to say
to
me.

People Comin’ Round

April 9, 2010 - Leave a Response

People comin’
‘round.
Gotta get
pants
on,
Gotta get
that
sticky
orange
out,
Gotta get
ready,
Gotta
get
that
big bad bassy amp out,
Gotta get
them
party pies
on,
Gotta get
that toilet seat
cleaned up.
Gotta get
that
dust
and dirty
grime
cleaned up.
People
Comin’
round!

A Million Reasons For Crime, Plus One

April 9, 2010 - One Response

I miss ya,
the only reason
I haven’t done myself
in yet,
in this place,
is ‘cause
I still think of
you,
and that’s why
I ain’t done it yet,
but
I know
you would
condone the action,
‘cause you still
hate me,
but damn,
we still
belong together.
It’s
not much,
I know.
But…
Yeah,
I know.

Don’t Pullover, You Got Nothing To Stop For

April 9, 2010 - Leave a Response

Cruisin so fast down the spot where normally the lowered cars usually purr and go past the girls who go wooo! we got nothin to stop for so smashed past our prime it aint funny we could slow but they would just go booo! and the prime was when we had bags of fun in our pockets and more of that good time in our smile we gotta go to the spot where it’s dark and shaded, pull out the ol homemade pipe to sit n’ reminisce, contemplate fighting a group of hippies next to us who say fuck you man, but get out with large sticks and say fuck you cunts and then drive away to a quieter spot deeper and darker near the lake than anyone sane would come this time of night serial killers beware we are here so fuck off and watch the night lights of the city smash and melt into something not for us god love ya we watch until it burns into something darker get high and wonder what coulda been what coulda still happen paranoia is here but so is the high man beautiful it’s not wearing off love it good sleep tonight.

Deep In Philosophical Thought For A Few Minutes

April 5, 2010 - Leave a Response

To celebrate the return of that maniacal motherfucker named Boredom I decide to see what makes the insides of a bottle of bourbon tick. An hour later giggling at a direct to dee vee dee gore movie it is time to contemplate what move I will make to make a million dollars. Since a career as a banker or an advertising man is out of the question, not only ethically, but cause I lack the brains for that kind of scheming, it becomes apparent that I must try my luck at the creative side of things, again. Pictures! The plot must be thought of first, or the characters? Now to analyse what makes a great character, cause I can’t think of a plot. They must be quirky, so let’s be clever here. How about…a detective who only resorts to hardboiled violence when he hears classical music, and here comes the twist! His partner is a beautiful female violinist who is searching for her father’s killer. Yes! Tee vee or movies, sorry, film? This thing could be taken across many series, yes, no wait sequels, movies, sorry, films make more money? Hmmm no.  What is hot right now then? Vampires, apparently. By the time I get anything done that trend will be over. It’s moving onto werewolves by the looks, probably too late for that one too. By this curve it will either be Frankenstein’s monster, or Egyptian mummies next. I could be onto something here! Nope? Damn…

The One Drink Curse

April 4, 2010 - One Response

Never go

out

and say

I’ll

just

have

one

drink,

a quiet one,

cause next

thing

you know

you’ll be slurring

gibberish,

jumping

off the chandeliers

of the club

with a kebab

in one hand

and a jug

of beer

and a

bottle of

scotch in the other

hand.

THE NEXT MORNING

Arrrrrggghh

I gotta

work

in ten

minutes…

TO BE CONTINUED

With

a

good

nights

sleep.

Paid Entertainment

April 1, 2010 - Leave a Response

Pissed, the
lounge
singer with the
holey liver slurred
I was going to sing
a song about
a whore
and
a killer
but I can’t
remember the
words so
instead I will give
you
some advice
my grandma
gave me
she said
fear the living
not the
dead.
Then
the audience clapped
and heckled at the
same time
which barely
cut through the thick sweat
of
slime atop his
head. He stood
there stunned
while the stage lamps
ate into his very soul
and then he said
goodnight to you all
bye bye farewell
The mirrors at the
back of the thin
brick club gave way
after he
threw
his drained
beer glass hard.
Then
security
pushed him
outside
onto the grass.
He slept sound still,
pockets picked void
until morning a street
cleaner
asked
what do you do, are you a
funnyman?
to which the singer
sighed
sometimes
he lied
then went
back to
sleep.
Somewhere
he is
still
singing,
not dead or
alive.

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