A deep green canopy Back-dropped by a swathe of gold Corn Swaying in the wind An overwhelming urge To dive into that green sea The climb and swing And scream With primal joy But there is a mountain of time Between me and that green Eden Made of commitments and constraints Burdens and dependencies So it dwindles In my rear window A deep green canopy In mist
The traffic slowed We were all following a hearse Today In respectful frustration I took the time To look around At the rivers and fields That normally Speed by We are all following a hearse
Trapped. In a world where everything is measured and control pervades every area of life, four people begin to break down. Instead, they break through the walls of deceit and propaganda and into a world of revolution.
Each, in their way, vow to overthrow the established order. They embark on a journey against the forces arraigned against them, forces of state and self-doubt.
Ultimately their paths converge on a dangerous road and the discovery of an ancient secret.
One one level this is a story about how different people react the ever growing and relentless pressure of everyday oppression. It explores their journeys as they are broken and rebuilt and investigates their modes and motivations for rebelling.
At another level, it is a critique on the darker side of capitalism and free markets and how that has driven us further and further away from the evolutionary advantage that gave us supremacy in the first place. It questions whether the human race has doomed itself or whether we still have the capacity to wrench ourselves from the track we have so tightly committed our society upon.
Shake! Awake! Shake! Awake! The sun. Is up! Rise up! Rise up! Open eyes! Beneath Blue skies. Cast off Sleep’s reins. See! The plains. No sleep! Breath deep! Sun warms. No storms. Stretch arms. Take arms. Run! In the sun! Take bow! Go! Take spear! Disappear! When Wind blows. Lift nose. And scent why they sent for you. They come! They run! See! The birds. Speak. No words. Watch them lead. They will feed. Feel the land. Trust your hand. See grass sway. They come this way. Feel the ground. Hear the sound. Thunderous sound. All around. A mound of meat. Trust your feet. Spear and bow. Blood will flow. With one voice. We rejoice! And the buffalo pass, to greener grass.
It’s not fair.
He started it, I didn't.
He called me names.
I had to do it to stop him.
How come I get told off?
It’s not fair.It’s a shameful waste.
What they do to our world today.
The forests they cut down, the whales they kill.
The fields they destroy, the new roads they build.
The way they leave their scars on the world.
It’s a shameful waste.It’s a bloody liberty.
I will not stand for it!
I earned my money fairly.
I will spend it pleasantly.
I will not stand being ripped off!
It’s a bloody liberty.It’s a downright disgrace.
The way these youngsters behave.
They will not heed my words.
They will not do as they are told.
I will leave my mark on the world.
It’s a downright disgrace.He needs no name on his grave.
He was a model man.
He stood for what we all stand for.
He spoke the words we all speak.
He was me and you and all those to come.
He needs no name on his grave.
As the nights draw in, settle down in front of the fire, get comfy and enjoy some spooky tales!
A collection of short stories concerning ghosts. Some are traditional ghost stories in the tradition of M.R. James and Edgar Allan Poe. Other are not. Some scare, some are fun. Some play with the concept of a ghost. There are ghosts who are out for revenge and the living avenging the spirits that curse them.
Ideal for sitting around a campfire and late at night under the covers. Or maybe not if the stories themselves are any guide.
A paperback version os being worked on for those who prefer the feel of the paper while huddling by the fire – on your own – in the dark – with that noise behind you……
Stark black against cold grey skies
Black lightning frozen in time
Towering and immense
Spread over the world
The tree of the dead
On the termination of every branch
Every twig
Hang the skulls
Uncountable, unimaginable
They observe
From their cold black sockets
With their chilling grins
They watch
And judge
The tableau
Of life
Broken shell Evidence of new life or life cut short A new hungry mouth Or a hunters hunger sated Either way Life is given Evidence found In our humble garden
Amber brown bristles Fletched true Sighted On the smooth straight shaft Knocked Creak of wood And leather Tense flesh Strength of arm Years Of hard work Hard life Peaked In tense flesh Aimed
Deep russet red Undulating tight Over perfect form Moving with surety Strength and grace Slender neck Proud eyes High points Antlers spectacular
Slow high-speed Flight True Through high trunks Ancient towers Sturdy and rough Flicking leaves Pungent smell Of spilt sap Over lazy ferns
Struck Sunk deep In perfect flesh Deep russet red Covered in bright Fresh crimson Hunter Has hunted
Dusk Deep red sky Flecked with sparks Orange Embers fly On aroma Of roasted flesh Venison Consumed Hunter sated For now
Started awake Cold Stone and straw Shit and piss And chains A dream Of a memory Despite all A happy dream Amidst horror And darkness
Weakness Flesh wasted In forgotten depths Waiting For nothing Time drips Away Into nothing Sodden straw
Stronger arms Clad in chain Dragged from darkness Down cold Stone corridors Into light Hammering eyes Screams and shouts Hammering ears
Then rope And wood Strong scent Of wet rope Rough against Weak neck And wood Creaking underfoot Screams and jeers A clunk Freedom from weight From the wait Exhilaration Then……