Free ebooks now available

       



Free ebooks are now available for download at Smashwords.com. A Glimpse Beyond... and A Prelude to Apocalypse can be downloaded free of charge in 7 different formats or viewed online in 3. They are provided as an introduction to my work in a way that allows some-one to read my poems at their leisure rather than having to visit my websites to view them.

Waking Nightmare

I feel my mind is slowly lifting

Through hidden doors dark shades are drifting

Last ghosts of quickly fading dreams

Retreating forms of silent screams

In momentary silence lying

With unseen nightmare spectres dying

My drowsy sleep-thick mind is idling

Why is the air so warm and stifling?

I open up my eyes to see

But all is black, how can this be?

How can there be no shred of light?

My god, could I have lost my sight?

Why do I feel so stiff and sore?

Why am I lying on the floor?

So hard to move my arms from rest

Why are they folded on my chest?

I raise my hand to test eyes flawed

My knuckles graze against rough board

My elbows knock restricting sides

With horror then I realise

Like half-remembered memories

Nghtmarish echoes surge with ease

From dark recesses of my brain

Where they were locked to save me pain

I hear the grieving mourners moaning

The distant solemn voice is droning

Of how life can be so unjust

Ash to ash and dust to dust

But these spectres are from no dream

No-one can hear but still I scream

My heart is filled with icy dread

They’ve buried me, BUT I`M NOT DEAD!

A moment of clarity...

Apocalyptic Vision, the title poem from my anthology of Dark Poetry Apocalyptic Visions, has special significance for me as it was the first. It was written during the winter of 1990-91 as the world held its breath awaiting the inevitability of the 1^st Gulf War. At the time I was living in the attic of an isolated tumble-down bungalow on the Lizard Peninsula in Cornwall, struggling to survive on little money and less hope for the future as I mourned a love lost. By night I drank and wandered the rugged Lizard Downs, often finding myself at the cliff top above The Point, by day I slept off the night before. I felt my life could get no lower. Then everything changed...

On a crisp winter’s day I aimlessly wandered the streets of Helston during a rare daytime visit to civilization, noticing the shoppers going about their day little more than they noticed me. I was pulled up suddenly by a strange noise that was not so much heard over the bustle that surrounded me as felt under it; a kind of throbbing vibration in my breast and temple that droned on and on, louder and louder. I looked about in confusion to find the source and saw that no-one else was reacting, the crowd simply parted about me with a mutter and a scowl at my obstruction of their vital journey. Slowly my gaze was drawn upwards as I realised the noise came from above, beyond the low hanging blanket of cloud, as comprehension washed over me like cold rain. I was hearing aero-engines, big ones. Some-where high above this small town English street large aircraft droned across the sky, bringing to mind US B-52 heavy bombers en-route to the Persian Gulf. The throbbing reverberation rumbled on, increasing to a dull roar that surely even the most ardent bargain hunter could not ignore, and yet they did, paying more attention to the obvious lunatic staring dumbly at the sky and blocking their path to the sale signs.

At that precise moment I had an epiphany. I immediately purchased a pen and note-book and boarded the first bus home, sketching out the bare bones of the first couple stanzas of my Apocalyptic Vision by the time I reached the bungalow. I retreated to the attic, my garret, and continued to write...

The contents of Apocalyptic Visions is a direct expression of that moment...

Runaway Train

Happy haddock, willow tree

Humpty dumpty, silver sea

Ping pong, bunny, apple pie

Singing haystack, purple sky

Little teapot, grinning cat

Talking horses, silly hat

Parcels, ribbons,tiny tots

Sky blue pink with polka dots

Roasted peanuts, candyfloss

Silver moonlight, springy moss

Rainy mondays, growing grass

Snakes in apples made of glass

Rocket, lolly, unicorn

Bugle, trumpet, rhino horn

Mary poppins, poppy seed

Bill and Ben and little weed

Wibble, wibble, blibble blime

Honey suckle, twist of lime

Silly sausage, carrot top

Pc Plod and Mrs Mop

Ivor engine, rousing song

Hanging baskets, Babylon

Wizard, fairy, crimson grape

Icy snowflake, sticky tape

Milky, milky, gooey cake

Yellow roses, frying stake

Choking laughter, falling star

Deafened by a bridge too far

Floating sofa, fishing gnome

Smokey bacon running home

Howdy doody Mr Spoon

Comfy ceiling, tiny room

Birdies tweeting, bouncing ball

River deep and building tall

Spotty toadstools, angel sings

Brainy badger, ravens wings

Giant beanstalk, puss-in-boots

Mother Goose in big black boots

Scented candles, ticking clock

Climb the ladder, on the block

Round in circles, chase your tail

Falling ashtray, sirens wail

Cabbage corner, smoking joint

Woven basket, needle point

Wedding bells for dusty bin

Bright confetti, creeping sin

Dancing oysters, pea green boat

Bright balloons, they bounce and float

Snowball fights in sylvan woods

Burning crosses, pointy hoods

Teeter-totter, swinging tyre

Metal monsters, spitting fire

Gaudy pennants, coloured plumes

Silent children, cloying fumes

Jingle, jingle, sleigh bell rings

Rising waters, acid stings

Test-tube babies, empty beds

Missing limbs and extra heads

Smiling faces, staring eyes

Crawling beetles, buzzing flies

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Mellow music, padded white

Baggy trousers, jacket tight

Platitudes, a bright new pin

Oblivion is closing in...

Beyond the Mask cover design.

Here is the new cover designed by Caroline Quin (Facebook profile) for my soon to be released book of poetry, Beyond the Mask.

Have a look at the sample poems:

The Jumper
The Treatment
No Compost Mennis

The new book is scheduled for release on 20th July, 2011.

No Compost Mennis

There are toys in my attic

But the marbles have gone

There is no-body up there

But the light is still on

Though the lift is still working

It won’t go to the top

A screw has worked itself loose

And it made the lift stop

There are bats in my belfry

And their chatter has no end

So I climbed off my rocker

Up the pole and round the bend

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Now I’m free, out to lunch

All the fairies are there

We’re dining with the Hatter

And the rabid March Hare

Apocalyptic Visions cover design

Caroline Quin (Facebook profile) has produced this brief video demonstrating how she designed the cover for my book, Apocalyptic Visions.
Take a look at the sample poems:

A Painful Truth
Morbidity
Prosperity Calls

Caroline has also designed the cover for my up coming poetry anthology, Beyond the Mask so watch this space, details coming soon...

The Jumper

I have out-lived my usefulness
Rejected to my loneliness
Discarded here upon the shelf
My only company, myself

It is a dreadful truth to see
To know that no-body wants me
Of this sad fact there is no doubt
Who’d want me now, I’m too worn out

Before me now my life is played
As I sit here with edges frayed
Each fibre of my being stretched
My misery in creases etched


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Unravelling, I wonder why

It came to this, I start to cry

I long for peace in endless sleep

With eyes closed, off the cliff I leap

New cover commissioned for Apocalyptic Visions

The Revised Edition of Apocalyptic Visions has now been released with its all new cover. The new design has been commissioned from accomplished artist, Caroline Quin, who created the image after reading the poems within.

The new cover is a striking addition to this new edition of the book which includes the fully restored version of the title poem, Apocalyptic Vision, along with two new poems not included in the First Edition. This eye-catching and atmospheric image is perfectly in keeping with the major themes of this anthology of Dark Poetry and greatly enhances this new release.

The Revised Edition of Apocalyptic Visions is now available to buy on Amazon.

The Treatment

Alone I sit within my room
So small and painted white
Walls padded like my mother’s womb
And lit by blinding light

Some-one behind, I don’t know whom
Then draws my jacket tight
Into my view strange faces loom
And tell me it’s alright

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A needle’s jab brings torpid doom

It does not help to fight

They lock me in my sterile tomb

You think this soothes my plight?

Prosperity Calls

The charges are set
We’re ready to blast
There’s no need to worry
The mountain will last
This rubble is needed
For factory walls
We’ve no time to rest
Prosperity calls

Stoke up the furnace
Don’t let the fire die
Keep the coal coming
An endless supply
We must keep producing
There’s more fuel to burn
The darkness at noon
Is not our concern

There’s no time to rest
There’re more trees to fell
The more we cut down
The more we can sell
It’s all they are good for
They’re dead anyway
Soaked in pollution
To wither away

Send out the trawlers
With wall of death nets
There must be an hour
Before the sun sets
We have to work harder
The only solution
There’s less fish to catch
That’s man’s contribution

The pressure is mounting
Our profits are down
There’s no time for sleeping

Get up off the ground

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There’s so little time left

We have to get on

Why is it so dark?

Where has our world gone?