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Excerpts from published eBooks

Captain Disaster: The Dark Side of the Moon - 1 2 3
The Captain Disaster Collection - 1 2 3 4
The Mellow Hip of the Thing - 1 2 3
Captain Disaster: The Damaris Touch - 1 2
Outside, Inside - 1 2 3

Wednesday, 20 September 2017

Excerpt 3 from "Outside, Inside"

Life and Death.

The raindrop slides slowly
down the windscreen,
like a teardrop falling
down a cheek.

Reaching the bottom,
it is engulfed
and disappears from sight,
swept aside by
merciless wiper blades,
cut off in the prime
of its journey.
The rain continues falling,
yet never can any individual raindrop
be replaced.

Another tear appears,

joining the torrent.

This poem is from my collection Outside, Inside.

Tuesday, 19 September 2017

"Up, Down and in the Middle" released

You know the love poetry collection I've been talking about?  I've only gone and released the thing.  As is my wont I have priced it at the lowest possible point, 99p, since it's quite short (41 pages) and I don't feel people should be asked to pay big amounts for small works.

As always, available on Amazon for Kindle.

Excerpt 2 from "Outside, Inside"

Inside a Tormented Mind

I awoke to the sound of a silent scream from a distant dream,
Voices of the dead echoing through my head.
What had I been, and what had I seen?
What did I do, and who did I do it to?
Feelings of guilt felt as if they were inbuilt,
Like this invisible chain suffocating my brain. 

Why this madness?  Why this pain?
Why did I feel like I was going insane?
Who were my victims, and was I unjust?
Did I do it for vengeance, or was it for lust?
Were these sins fresh as morning dew, or old as ancient dust?
Discovery would be painful, but find out I must.

I asked the Police, but that didn’t work -
They just looked at me as if I was completely berserk.
I looked in the library for a clue or a hint -
There was no ray of enlightenment there, not even a glint.
I tried asking everyone that I called a friend;
They said it was too long since I’d seen my CPN.

They all think I’m mad, that my guilt is illusionary -
They think my mind’s gone, my memories delusionary.
But I know the truth, voices in my head told me I have to pay
For the evil I’ve done, but what evil they won’t say.
I just have to go on searching, one day my answer I’ll find…
And then they won’t think that I’m out of my mind.

I’m on medication now, I think they call it Depot.
The voices have gone away, but the dreams still persist.
Now I think I’m insane, but they think I’m ill…
Their arguments seem persuasive, but sometimes I resist.
This feeling of guilt is too real not to be true,
Isn’t it?
I wonder.

Read the full poem in my collection Outside, Inside.