My unpublished Young Adult Novel (s)
A killer energy ring has surrounded the City. It’s closing in fast, but when the Entities show up, the real massacre begins!
In the meantime, there are published books and many videos and downloads that are available right now!
Art, like beauty, is the eye of the beholder. Your interpretation is all that matters.
Here's one from the vault, never shared.
F Pencil Life
The
sixties were only three things
Vietnam
protests, drugs
And
psychedelica.
The
seventies were only
Watergate,
Star Wars and bell-bottoms.
The
rush of the eighties
Saw
fluorescent yuppies on Wall Street.
Kurt
Cobain only had Courtney Love
Grunge
and Heroin.
Y2K
Mish-mash,
Free-for-all
disappointment
Whittled
down to summary safe
Dot
points
Exploding
misinformation
Complexities
And
opposing actualities
Let
alone undercurrent subtexts
And
pre-encumbered sentiments
Coveted
From
prior generations.
Your
underestimation
Is
ensuing.
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A teaser for my next post - stay tuned!
Until then,
Peace
Anthony
They were young and in love. But what happened with their miscommunication?
The Push and Pull of Life.
In this scenario, it's a couple in the midst of separation.
More Videos
More Poetry
Try something different with some Satire or Short Stories.
Free Downloads, Short Films, Books and more at ...
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| My last book (2022) and perhaps my last. Stories and poems on connection, many based on real people and events. |
Until next time,
I hope you're well or at least, still getting through life. Sometimes just getting through the day is hard enough.
Peace ☮🙏
Anthony
World Suicide Prevention Day.
Co-incidentally, I wrote this almost on the day itself, one year ago.
Closure
I want to save you
The time
And myself
Of the pitying parlay
And there’s no escaping it
In any regard
Though there’s a temptation
To just get it done.
12.40 am
21.9.23
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| Ink drawing by Thomas Nast, late 19th century. |
I'm so right.
Democrats - Republicans.
Labour - Liberals.
Russia - Ukraine.
China - Taiwan.
Israel - Palestine.
That 'modern' term, division or conflict, will never end. No one individual or group is responsible for it. If we look within, we see our own contradictory natures. As Bruce Hornsby sung, 'That's just the way it is. Something's will never change.'
I'm right and they're wrong and that's all there is to it.
Summed up in this little video I put together. Resonate for you?
More Videos
Hope you have a good week.
Until next time,
Anthony
Hi,
Here's a new, high quality AI image below I 'created' which represents me as a melancholic, middle aged writer. Impressive technology.
But firstly, how do you view your mistakes? Some refuse to acknowledge that they make any at all.
Here's a little insight into mine.
Mistakes
Like it might be for you
I am more a product
Of my mistakes
Rather than successes
As one far outweighs the other
Causing emotional pain
And therefore self-reflection
So, we can alter our attitudes
To avoid that hurt again
Until the next disappointment.
Success usually prompts a repeat
(It must be a ‘recipe’ after all)
Though rarely do all the pieces
Remain static.
Perhaps I’m being presumptuous
In speaking for you
Or anyone else
When I can barely work it out myself.
All I know
Is that I don’t really know
Or I’d get the balance right
Every time.
I simply know to expect
The unknown
As even mistakes
Aren’t always known
Until afterwards.
They’re simply
Plans of action
Sprinkled (or soaked) with hope
With the outcome
Out of our control
Left to the stars
And the realm of the gods.
13.10.22
5.50 pm
Just prior to the release of my book, Us & Them. (Not in the book).
Hi,
This is a true story, from the early 80's. In poetry format.
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| AI generated |
I did not have to try
To not listen to my teachers
They never said anything that interested me
The only words I can remember
Is that ‘if you keep this up
You’ll never amount to a thing.’
Maybe she was right
Poets and writers don’t earn much
If that’s what she meant
And I’m certain she relished her own words
As she told my parents the same thing
In the early days of parent/teachers interviews
When my folks actively participated
In these ego crunching affairs
When there was still a little hope for me.
Exactly a decade later
After I had left school without completion
Securing that teacher’s prediction
(and I’m sure I was not the only one)
My father ran into this same woman
Who gleefully asked him
With wetness inducing anticipation
What had become of his son.
‘Oh, he’s managing an upmarket restaurant/cocktail bar
In one of the most
Prestigious suburbs of London.’
Her chin dropped to her knees
And her crotch hit the pavement
Splat.
And least that’s how I like to think of it
The rest is bona fide solid
Unlike her theory.
Peace
