Well, we had quite a bit of stir over our little blog here yesterday. It seems someone took exception to the type of material we post. How ridiculous! It clearly states on the preceding page before you get here that it is not suitable for anyone under 18. Oh, the lack of understanding in the ignorant.
Our usual featured author is away for some rather important business. Ben is turning in his Master's thesis; a huge accomplishment that not many even dare to tackle.
KUDOS BEN! WE ARE PROUD OF YOU!
In his absense, another gentleman from the UK has shared some of his poetry with us. Please welcome wordsmith Danny Kemp!
I Am
Me.
Don’t
label with a name,
Don’t
label me by colour,
I
am me,
I
am no other.
Don’t
foster on me your bigotry,
Nor
peddle me your deception.
I’ll
live my life as it pleases me.
Through
my own perception.
My
life has been surrounded,
by
sycophants like you
With
words full of nothingness
Thinking
they will do.
Never
can you fill my mind
With
hatred and detestation.
I
will live it in my way,
With
steadfast determination.
Take
your petty criticism and
Take
away your disdain.
Live
your life removed from me,
As
I quickly forget your name.
Love
Of Life.
A
laugh is infectious.
A
tear, shed alone.
A
love never offered.
Is
a fear never shown.
Passion
can be passing.
Love
can last forever.
Life
can fall apart, but can
Love
can bind it together?
To
seek but never find.
To
look but never see.
To
want but never have,
that
love that can never be.
To
rise from the broken.
To
love someone new.
To
taste what’s forgotten.
Is
to find the real you.
Take
this heart from my body
Lay
my soul bare.
Take
every thought that I have.
Treat
my love with care.
My
heart is now dead
but
my soul lives on.
I
was a man once
Now
that life has gone.
Reality
Or Not?
Indifference
built the walls, that locked creativity in.
Self-interest
added the wire, that compounded that sin.
Expression
was apprehended as complacency swallowed the keys
There
was no public trial, and no-one listened to the pleas.
Innocence
was the next to fall, trampled and crushed.
As
to the deviance of wickedness all had rushed.
Greed
played its hand, and what a hand it held.
Untiringly
inviting, ‘til all felt compelled.
Step
forward compassion, with the purest of heart. “Where do we begin,” it said?
“Where do we start?
The
battles have been lost that’s true, but the war is yet to end. We must stand
together as one and this world we must defend.
This
world existed before us, and will survive beyond our years. Hide away your
diffidence and shed no more tears.
Creativity
will be our sword, expression our eloquent speech, And innocence, it will be
you, that bursts through the breach.
That
which those four bearers of evil, has bestowed upon us all. Is now ended, and
this will be our rallying call.
We
must conquer and divide. We must succeed this day. That is my pledge of
allegiance I offer to God to whom I pray.”
Hope
was recalled, where deep in memory it lie. It joined the side of righteousness
and raised its banner high.
The
skirmish was uneven, as conscience won the day. The forces of evil were
vanquished and sent far, far away.
Suddenly
I awoke, as the day shone into my room. It was a dream you see, and I was
engulfed, in the unchanged GLOOM.
Along
The Way.
“I
am heavy, I am tired” said the old man to the child.
“My
life, is drawing to an end. It is not what I have done to life that has brought
me here today, but what life has done to me along the way.
I
was strong, I was fierce, I took no-one to my side, simply brushing them aside
with no need of them. Now I find that I’m alone, but don’t pity nor disown
those memories that I’ve sown, along the way.
My
path was never straight, sometimes narrow, sometimes wide but along it I did
stride to find you here. And I am pleased that I did, otherwise you would never
know what I managed in my life, along the way.
I
have reached that final bend, the one that leads me to my end, and now I leave
you here to make your own way through this life. Tread your path with care, and
always be aware that there is no such thing in life, as a mistake.”
Thank you Danny, for sharing your heart and your masterful ability in poetry with us!
A
Bio.....
Let me first confess something to
you, I'm vain and like talking about myself. Usually I'm surrounded by people
who only want to speak about themselves. I call them selfish and myself;
misunderstood.
I will not bore you with my likes
and dislikes, there are far more interesting people out there where you can
measure your own against theirs. Instead, I will give you an example of what
influenced my life. Just past my seventeenth birthday my Father died suddenly
leaving me, his only child, and my Mother, who was verging on blindness. I was
studying to be a Chartered Accountant, having changed my aspirations, from
becoming a Helicopter pilot, on getting my 'O' level results from Shooters Hill
Grammar School. I was a disappointment to both parents, having concentrated
more on becoming a competent cricketer and the best open side wing forward
never to play rugby for England than on my academic studies. Anyway, there I
was on my way to the office when, without rhyme nor reason, I signed up to
become a Police Cadet.
At the age of nineteen I was an up
and running Police Constable, and here comes the thing. One day, whilst on
duty, I found an eight year old boy who had been reported as missing from his
home. Dutifully I returned him there to be greeted by a thankful Mother and a
contemptuous Father sitting next to a roaring fire, stoking it with a steel
poker.
When
I saw the fear in his sons' eyes I knew immediately what had caused the inch
wide festering wound on the boys face. I'll let you imagine what injuries I
wanted to inflict on that man, but I didn't; and I've been ashamed of myself
ever since.
I had a short career in the 'Job,'
but no less eventful. I was the first to arrive at three deaths. One a sudden
natural death, one a very 'bloody' suicide and one, where a jealous soldier
shot his wife full in the face with both barrels of a 12 bore shotgun. All
three were horrific and disturbing, but nothing has haunted me as much as that
eight year old wounded child. I wonder if he ever lived long enough to extract
revenge on his Father. I guess, in the age that we all live, I shouldn't say
that, should I?
Why I
started to write.
I was at work ( I am a London
Licensed Taxi Driver) one sunny November day in 2006, minding my own business,
stopped at a red traffic light when a van, driven incompetently, smashed into
me. I was taken to Hospital and kept in for while, but it was not physical
injuries that I suffered from; it was mental.
I had lost all confidence in myself,
let alone those around me. The experts said that I had post
traumatic stress disorder, which I thought only the military or emergency
personnel suffered from. On good days, I attempted to go to work, sometimes I
even made it through Blackwell Tunnel only to hear, or see, something that made
me jump out of my skin, and the anxiety attacks would start.
I told my wife that I was okay and
going regularly but I wasn't, I could not cope with life and thought about
ending it.
Somehow
or other with the help from my dear wife, and professionals, I managed to
survive and ever so slowly, rebuilt my self-esteem.
It took almost four years to fully
recover and become what I now am, somewhere close to what I was before that
day, but it was during those dark depressive days that I began to write.
My very first story, Look Both Ways,
Then Look Behind, found a literary agent but not a publisher. He told me that I
had a talent, raw, but nevertheless it was there. After telling me to write
another story, he said that there were two choices open to me: One, wait for a
traditional deal. At sixty-two, with no literary profile or experience; little
hope. Two, self-publish through New Generation Publishing.
This,
I'm delighted to say, I did.
The success of my story, The
Desolate Garden, is down to my sheer hard work, luck, in meeting a film
producer and the uncompromising stance taken by Daniel Cooke my publisher, who
never 'massages my inflated ego,' as he so often puts it.
From
my Amazon Profile Page.
Once arrested for attempted murder
in England, Danny Kemp decided that a career in writing was for him. No
different than Nicholas Sparks, Mr. Kemp's first novel The Desolate Garden was
picked up in a snap, and is currently being rendered into a movie. Outside the
field of "run-ins with the law, Kemp draws on decades of experience,
encompassing the Metropolitan Police, the tenancy of three English Public
Houses, and the Licensed Taxi Trade in London, as well as being a radio
voice-over artist in several radio plays, where he honed his sense of story and
pacing.
(I
was not found guilty…LOL)
Links.
(Four chapters on Amazon)
UK)
http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Desolate-Garden-ebook/dp/B008BJWJ2Y/ref=tmm_kin_title_0
(US)
http://www.amazon.com/The-Desolate-Garden-ebook/dp/B008BJWJ2Y/ref=tmm_kin_title_0
WATERSTONES
http://www.waterstones.com/waterstonesweb/products/danny+kemp/the+desolate+garden/9142641/
Filming
is due to begin this year with a set being built in the Unites Arab Emirates,
and then locational work here in London. The budget for this project is
$30,000,000’s. The production company is English, based in London.
