Suicide Room
There's a room where people go to do something banned and sad.

They go there to commit suicide.

I caught a glimpse of it in a vision after a ***** night when Emma had forsaken me.

The white wood walls are blood splattered.

Daylight comes thru gaps in a boarded up window by a corner.

A small curved potato peeler knife is what everyone uses.

Such a wicked and effective tool.

People ravaged by despair and failure come here to die.

It's a long list; the knife's always ******.

Something from that dark multi emotional place came thru my vision and lodged in me.

What?

A ghost or the reason why?

Why all types of people go there to suicide?

I can't see it; it's hidden.

I do see what 5 years of failure in love has done to me.

Decades can be added to that.

So much **** in my head, life, heart, me.

My turn will soon be here to end my life in that room.

The Suicide Room.

Emma will be next, following me.

Death by razor sharp potato peeler.

Thanx Em.

I started to love you and look what you made me do.

I'm mad at you but don't hate you.

Quite the opposite.

Goodbye.

And There Were Three
Late mark Griffon engine Spitfire is sliced apart by German gunfire. Defeat! Spit pilot takes to the silk and bails. He saw his executioner executed. Swift justice handed out by a Tempest. No one said the Salamander was in service.

Volksjager peoples’ fighter, for everyone but only flown by the best, killed a Spitfire before  a Tempest killed him. Did the **** pilot perish? Unlike the Spit pilot? Eyewitness to his own shoot down. Advanced air war 1945, Armageddon beckons.

Enough! Time for a coffee and some biscuits, teen combat pilot dreams aside. I close my book and go to make a brew. No decaf for me. Need my caffeine before I battle the Luftwaffe in turbulent European skies. Shame I’ve no beer!

Never mind about being there, seeing history made. German jet genesis, almost mastering state of the art piston engine fighters. Back to my book. At 17 my mates were out chasing girls, I was in the skies.

Hidden
Call me The Baron. My full name is Nicholas Arthur Armbrister. I ****** hate that name! Do you know how I feel? My first name used when I’m naughty. “Nicholas, you’ve had a new tattoo!”

You must be part German with a name like that. Say it slowly out loud:

A-R-M-B-R-I-S-T-E-R.

They got images of ******’s panzers and Blitzkreig, Stukas and goose steps. No denying my heritage, I’m part German, on my dad’s side. Armbrister.

He was in the British Army in World War 2, a Tommie. None of his mates guessed he was part German. Doing his bit for King and Country. His name is Arthur. The middle name I don’t tell anyone. Even today, I’m unsure why? Makes me eccentric – Nicholas Arthur Atmbrister – The Baron!

My dad is my best mate. His stories of seeing Manchester in flames, December 1940, when he was in his dad’s car going from Ashton to Oldham, fascinated me. When he was conscripted, I knew he was no German. He saw his army mates die and became a man. How can I compare? Arthur, the name I never use. Known only to me and my family.

Some things are hidden, for hidden reasons. Others are an open book, for me to decide. What would you think if I told you my middle name is Arthur? After my dad. He saw **** bombers high over Coppice. A silver speck against the blue. Our gunfire missed by miles. If these same planes had bombed my dad, I’d never be born or called Arthur.

He told me how he collected warm bomb shrapnel, when the Germans did bomb. Memories of an old man, passed down to me. When I’m in Manchester tonight with her, I’ll think, What is it like to see a city burn at night while under enemy air attack?

SCOTLAND



Scotland, beautiful land, land of the sky, clouds

hugging your mountains, mist in the glens.

Deep black lochs full of mystery and monsters,

age-old secrets for very few to find.

Everyone can see the beauty of this land,

next to England but a million miles away.

Once we were enemies but now friends,

a country with so many moods and colours,

the sky, timeless in her gaze and her poise.

Snow covered mountains, ever so high.

Sheltered coastline, hidden bays full of promise

and the essence of mystery, maybe a mermaid,

Scottish maiden…

I was lucky to meet Lori in 2003, our brief time together

showed me another world.

Deep mystical Scotland, England’s neighbour,

a world in itself.

Natalie. Basic
Basic flight training was like dancing to The Elementals. Basic, scary and fun. Did Nat know that in a year she would be at the controls of a deadly multi million dollar warplane in the wrong war, with the wrong enemy? No amount of gothic looks would appease her situation over the coming months. Was it all real? That was a distant question, not for now.

The girl danced and flew with equal passion and ferocity. Her brown hair was all over her face and she danced like a spinning airplane. Eyes shut, she was somewhere else. In her mind, she was in the cockpit of her red coloured training plane. Her flight instructor, Alberto, allowed Natalie to acrobat the little plane. She flew it with wildness that surprised everyone, including her.

Rolling upside down and pulling the control stick to her guts, the red airplane moved like a kid’s toy. Diving straight downwards, picking up speed. Alberto was going to take over before top speed was reached but Nat second guessed him and pulled back into a half loop. Up they went into the blue, a hawk in the heavens. Free. Natalie screamed in joy. Looking over at Alberto, her smile said it all. She was a born pilot.

When the record changed, Nat went to the bar and ordered a glass of red wine. Joining her friends, they chatted on guys, music and Nat’s new air force career. Several of her friends had nice boyfriends or lovers with them. In close embraces, they kissed and made small talk. Nat chatted to Katie, on the fundamentals of aerobatics and flight, demonstrating how to loop and roll with her hand. Her other held her wine. Time passed, music played, wine was drunk and Nat slow danced with Roberto.

Being Catholic and part of a close knit family, the girl was a bit of a rebel. Her mother wanted Natalie to marry and have children. Nat was having none of this; it was music, flying and the air force. Not even men like handsome Roberto swayed the girl for marriage. He was local and conscripted in the army. His passion was films and he had to give up college to serve his country. After a year he would finish off his film studies, if fate allowed. Both were friends and occasional lovers, now they danced in Sacha’s.

Nick’s Inner Beauty
There’s more to me than my tattoos.
I’m the person inside;
I have views feelings, emotions, dreams and desires.
I’m not a piece of wood.
My inner beauty shines forth.
BUT
I wear my soul upon my skin.
See what bits you can spot.
Turn me inside out.
I’m a bare white light of energy.
My inner being is free.
My love of a certain band =
a certain tattoo of them.

Zoos Comet
Her empty lies mean more than all the halls of silence.
We've been shafted, double penetrations are the worst.
Are they excited at where they'll wake up after committing suicide?
No more ****.
Metallic grey sparks on metal elements realigning.
A case of falling space objects.
In town they complained of the noise.
**** rock could have flattened them.
The Theran dance goes on.
Cast out by the hand of fate.

Eat Me
Big wolf ate the large monster.
Now the big wolf is shaped like a whale.
He took on a different form.
All because of his unique diet.
Each time he eats, he looks different.
On his last occasion he ate a cat.
And looked like a dog.
A unique genetic event.
If he ate me, what would he look like?
A battleship or nuclear missile?
Shall we find out?
Eat me eat me eat me.

YUMMY YUMMY IN MY TATTOOED TUMMY
I like eating very much, call it a passion coz obsession sounds too mad.                                                            
Give me a sandwich tuna mayo one sliced tomato on bread times two.                                                        
Not enough!
Time for chicken donner on nan with everything on: hot sauce, salad cream with salad, peppers too, Jalapeno style. Add an order for onion barges, samosas and chips in pita bread with mild sauce on.
Yummy yummy in my tattooed tummy!
Half an hour later, an Italian beckons. His pizza looks cool! I say three types of meat, sliced, on top. Extra cheese, deep pan and two types of olives. Munchy time and yes, I enjoy this meal.
Later… What next? English fish and chips with salt and vinegar and a drop of gravy. No mushy peas, I hate them! I’ll take two fish cakes on the side. Traditional English grub down the hatch. Then meat and potato pie on a muffin. Careful not to burn my mouth! Did that before.
Yummy yummy in my tattooed tummy!
Time for some American influence, supersize me! Huge portion of fries, mega big burger and a litre of strawberry milkshake.
I’m multicultural in my diet. Foreign people are cool when it comes to their cuisine. I love Norwegian apple juice, as I need a drink after eating their goats’ cheese on rough white bread.
Yummy yummy in my tattooed tummy!
Chinese crispy duck is desirable, just like egg fried rice and prawn crackers. All available food is welcome, I’ll eat your left over’s on my trip of eating.
Yummy yummy in my tattooed tummy!

LANDSCAPE TOGETHER

Memories become reality, events are lucid
and ongoing as brown haired girl stares thru
her frizzy hair, it’s not fair!
It’s too deep – do I like the girl?
Is your sister weird too?
Are you so weird too?
Maybe you doubt my love for you,
a foreign landscape dwarfs you,
diminishes you, makes you nothing but a girl.
You ask me my view, I reply
you’ll have to make up your own mind.
A million pretty girls have walked this land,
most are dead now. Their beauty heart stopping,
their country wordless, timeless.
We go to triple north deep fjords, midnight sun,
hazy skies of Freya. You invoked such a girl
in our spell on our enemy,
one day I, we’ll go to such shores.
To Viking lands, Leaves Eyes music,
Tristania and Mortiis. No mere girl can encompass
my love for you or a beauty you have yet to see.
Take you to frozen lake where biplanes flew
and fought against **** enemies.
A beauty rather indescribable but from your soul,
see it with me and you’ll understand.

Hate Time Now
I love the world as it is now.
It's how I created it in my dream,
thus unleashing your nightmare.
It bothers everyone who is no one or someone.
England leaving the EU and their laws,
Neo Soviet Russia bled white in her many wars,
America being led by a new ******, Trump,
Red China is his international target of hate,
Mexico too for it needs a wall,
Daesh and other Muslim terrorists blow things up for hate,
Germany is fed up of millions of refugees,
Far Right hate groups spring up everywhere.
All this adds to my script, is my script, for you all.
The only people who benefit are haters, undertakers and weapon makers.
Choose your side, boil up your hate and prepare for war.
The battle will be long, ******, to the end and fun.
Written by me, Old Nick, in the depths of Hell.
Pop on down and keep me company.

You're all in my story.

AURORA

I’m in my stealth jet circling the planet at mach 25,
every minute means a new orbit, light into dark,
dark into light as no one can stop me, I’m ever so fast.
I ain’t human, I ain’t alien, I ain’t a ghost, I’m the Aurora,
the spirit of the northern skies on a speeding flight
to the heavens in my silver skinned craft,
as streamlined as a bullet and as graceful as a swan.

THIS CITY
This life, this people, this city.
All living in a certain geographical area – here, this city.
Dying eventually, one day which only God knows.
Today under a tram or of old age.
This city with many names, is it like your city?
I know you were a cold war target, so were we.
People make love, fight, laugh, cry
in your city just like in my city.
You have been bombed, so have we.
Quick, dig them out! Shall we join them
and **** them, their corpses can't say no!
Go to see a Goth band, add our own
little histories to a history of this city?

Word Count
What's in a word count?
You tell me.
Five hundred words saying?
Are they good or bad?
Full of longing or despair?
Life or death?
Readable or not?
In English or gibberish?
If it's ours or foreign, it matters.
There is meaning there.
In the words.
We must find the key.
Then we understand the world.

MAJESTIC SKYSCAPE

If you lie on your back and look up at the sky you will see a huge vista of sky before you. Swirling, majestic skyscapes always changing, never the same twice.
So much water vapour is up there in the huge grey clouds, soon all that rain will be released to drench the land.
Now the sun shines down from a burning blue sky drying out the earth.
As night comes the sun sets lower and darkness starts to creep over the sky.
Every day shows the heavens in different moods and colours like so many different people.

Hot Day
It was a hot day in the Nevada desert.
Slowly in the distance, a dot trailing smoke came closer.
Minutes passed.
Above a faint jet engine sounded, no more than a whisper.
The sun was at its highest, burning mercilessly down.

An omen of coming events?

The dot was now a vehicle, an old yellow school bus.
Bars covered the windows.
Hands poked out of the gaps, as if asking for solace.
Rumbling along at twenty miles per hour, the bus eventually stopped.
Level ground arced out miles around it, leaving the vehicle naked.
Rusty hinges creaked and the front and rear doors slowly opened.
Nothing happened for a few seconds.
Then three dozen hardened criminals sensed freedom and left in a riot of arms and legs.
Some ran almost falling, others staggered unable to grasp that they were ‘free.’

Up above the jet engine was louder now, diving down upon its target.
With sudden ferocity the F-20 Tigershark opened fire with twin 20MM cannons.

TAT - ATAT - TATA - TAT! roared the guns.

Shells kicked up sand, bounced off rocks and exploded across the bus.
In a hiss one tyre burst, the bus leaned drunkenly over.
A small fire started inside.
Several men were sprawled on the ground, red blood soaking in.
Other prisoners now knew what was happening:

liquidation.

They ran for their lives as the jet curved round to re-attack.
It dropped a cluster bomb at a group of fifteen prisoners.

POP - POP - POP - POP! went the small bomblets when the case opened.

Most were killed outright, sliced and diced by anti personnel bombs.
One or two had arms and legs blown off, they moaned for their mothers.

A small hill gave cover for four men.
Rolling down range, the fighter came in.
The pilot selected rockets.

WHOOSH - WHOOSH - WHOOSH  WHOOSH! screamed the 80MM explosive rockets.

Like the cluster bomb, they were area weapons and the complete hill was blanketed.
Nothing survived the wicked explosions except drifting smoke.

Another gun run hit three men running over the open desert, cutting them down.
Two more men stood their ground and told the F-20 pilot to *******.
The pilot saw their raised fingers.
His remaining cluster bomb soon sorted them out.
Now it was time for his ‘dumb’ bombs.
Three tumbled free, aimed by computer, and hit the yellow bus.

BOOM - BOOM - BOOM! spoke the 750lb bombs.

A cacophony of sound and violence tore the smouldering machine apart.
Six men who had doubled back and hid inside or under it were blown to Hell.
With only a few cannon shells left of air to ground ordnance, the pilot spotted a lone figure.
A dive, a burst, a **** and it was over. Too easy!

Climbing back to altitude, the Tighershark went in search of his only airborne target -
a Boeing 747 full of 500 murderers.
Like the old school bus, it was remotely controlled with no crew.
Two Sidewinder missiles would take care of this beast and his underwing drop tanks were still half full.
Happily the merc pilot grinned. This line of work was fun and paid well.

And it got rid of ****.

Off To Mars
All creative people are to live on Mars.
Imagine how cool it would be.
The aero/space program would be ******* awesome.

Designing spaceships to get there,
rockets like the nuclear powered engine,
space planes for going to the surface,
habitats to live in,
terraforming to make a breathable atmosphere and more.

When it's all sorted, then we write, sing, paint, sculpt.
Totally ******* awesome.
I'd also fly on Mars.
Gliders in the low grav sky...

Wow Times
Falling between the lines.
For what reason?
Sunshine and existence.
Star power is energising us.
All the way across the galaxy.
We're star children whether we like it or not.
Created by Mother Nature.
Possessing intelligence and energy.
Now no longer physical but luminous.
Our light is out there amongst the darkness.
Light energy contrasting with dark energy.
A black hole stole our bodies and our craft.
It may keep them for we have evolved.
----
Plaintiff...
Sounding melodic when I'm sad,
tremendous aura of jealous, odd,
akin to the path for the unwanted one.
A world where all promises are done.
Thoughtful wonders and wanders,
mending all the broken feathers,
sowing its own chaos faults,
dragging a self out of fools.
No strings attached no relationship,
no nothing but we're friends
with benefits but no feelings.
Boundless commitment, imposing.

Jimmy Boom Semtex is into many things. Writing is one. His varied work includes poetry, prose and stories on a variety of topics. Erotica like his Fire Extinguisher Man series, poetry on current world events, horror stories and more besides. Jimmy loves getting tattooed, listening to alternative music, drinking beer and living a simple but fulfilling life. Check his Facebook page out. He's working on new ****** stories and a poetry collection. His writing career is diverse and so are the authors/poets/writers he’s collaborated with like Filipina poetess Shy Lhen Esposo and Indian Saurabh Pant. Jimmy Boom Semtex is a pen name of Nick Armbrister.

My 80s Days


When Jimmy was a kid in the early 80s, he used to take the **** out of glue sniffers. Hey you, you *******! They used to chase him and his mate. Running in zig zags, never catching us.
Back further, the old stone house opposite Locking Gate Rise at Waterhead. We smashed the stones out of the walls. On the day it collapsed, I wasn't there. Wasn't me! I was watching Grizzly Adams. We heard the roar as it fell. My mum saw the dust cloud go past our window.
Soon after, new houses were built. I used chalk to write on the wall: Glen is gay! This lad wanted to beat me up but never caught me. He threw a big white pebble at me. It missed.
Years later, I remember the alternative girls. One had a house with Siouxsie posters on the walls. She looked the same. Stunning. Another gal ran barefoot. With blond hair, she played New Model Army over the CB. What did she do with the rest of her life?
The 80s. I remember.

unshackled
i want to be the master of my fate
i want to be in control of my life
even if it meant i took myself to hell
i want to be in control of my life
even if it meant i was doomed
i want to be in control of my life
i want to be in control of myself
i want to be in control of my life
i want to be my own boss all the time
i want to be in control of my life
i want to guide my own ship to the rocks
i want to be in control of my life
i want to blow up my own bridges
i want to be in control of my life
i want to do my best even if i fail
i want to be in control of my life
i want to take off in a 1 winged plane
i want to be in control of my life
i want to be free even in my own jail
i want to be in control of my life
i want to be free of you and your orders
i want to be in control of my life
i want to be free to breath a single time
i want to be in control of my life
i want to be free before my execution
i want to be in control of my life

sorpses
we feel our bodies slowly deteriorate
under the cold winter sun
as our clothes rot away to dust
the same as our corpses
no longer once proud
like the ******* bosses
who used and abused us
decades ago
seemingly yesterday
global civilization now a memory
galactic events moving forward
take off your clothes!
repeatedly ****** us on the desk
sparing us no pain
for what once was
never to be repeated
life on earth
a dead world...

cindy
cindy the raunchy hippy gal gets it on
with her 22 year old toy boy lover
he called round at hers' and grinded her
covering her neck with love bites
and filling her with his seed
while she rode him hard
and used and abused his body
both of them deserved it
for it was what they were
a willing young buck stud
with his older **** activity partner
drink was involved cider style
mixed with wine and *****
and fruit juice with ice
some of which found its way
onto her body for ****** purposes
like ice on her *******
and also banana cream on her *****
while he licked kissed and bit
her at every single place
with each opportunity he got
more experience for him
and another notch for her
the aging fun loving hippy
who'd f8cked a thousand men
and two hundred men
in her debaucherous liberal life

atari games
when i was a teenager i had an atari games system
me and my mates played space invaders, pacman and river raid
competing to get the best score and be the best

it was a saturday afternoon in summer in the 80s

that's when it happened while we gamed away
we heard a huge bang and ran out of my mum's house
and down to the road for we knew it was bad
a crowd had gathered and oh ******* hell look!

a girl was lying still on the ground

was she dead?
but i only thought that later
we could see she was nice, too nice,
for all of her legs and **** was on display
as were her ******* and raised short skirt
and what of her face?

i knew she was pretty

there was blood on the ground
but we didn't see it till later
she was near a bus stop which was bent
was she waiting there when she was hit?
hit by the car that was halfway off the road

and equally thru the stone wall?

where was the driver?
the crowd said he'd fled the scene
over the fields and look,
there's tracks thru the grass

my mate's dad came to help the girl

her told his son to go to their house for a spoon
the girl was vomiting and it would **** her
soon his dad cleared the girl's mouth
so she could breath and he stayed by her side
while we watched from over the road

the ambulance soon came and took her away

and later still, the cops nicked the driver
he was drunk and driving and almost killed the girl
later still i learnt she made a full recovery
i wonder where she is now?

does she remember how close she came to death?

and what of the driver who hurt her?
this was 35 years ago and i remember it
like yesterday and the message it says:

don't drink and drive...

clip god's eagles
they praise god at every single turn
and worship him like an addict high
blessing everyone and themselves
even their aeroplanes are blessed
with god's name on the nose
this applies to both civil and military
the warplanes especially are blessed
with pilots who are adept at killing
what does god think about this?
or should we ask the devil?
ten thousand killed in the yemen war
blown to bits by saudi bombs
dropped by planes with god bless
painted on their nose
tell me is this a wise thing?
what is holy about these heinous act?
i'm sure god has something to say
when he speaks who will listen?
the heathen muslim saudis
who use fakely blessed jets
to **** terrorists and civilians
and further an unnamed cause
in the name of who, god?

moon spider
you are so self centric
full of yourself
like we should worship you
we don't matter to you
only your wishes and aims
nothing more or less
you sell us like slaves
make a fortune off our backs
not caring if we love or hate you
you're oblivious to us
your image on all the magazines
your fame is number one
as you are number one
we are number zero
infinately below you
you our boss who loves
all the cash we make you
from our blood sweat and tears
it has always been this way
the moon spider feeding
we food to the hunter
but we say enough!
this ends tonight...

mystery gal
the gals who existed a centurey ago
no longer exist and arent with us
except in a few old photos
and maybe a poem
i think of them
what were they like?
in all ways...

hagley
i remember back in 06 i worked in a warehouse
it was for a store that sold varied things
there were varied staff there in several departments
we had a boss who was a real hag and she ruled us
like adolf ****** ruled occupied europe
iron fist and no carrot
so you can imagine what i thought
as i got to know her ways
i eventually left as did a dozen other staff
leaving the store with a skeleton crew
head office did an investigation into this
it was due to the manager who was a real *****
she was both my manager and area manager
so if i had a problem and reported her
it was the bizarre situation of reporting her to herself!
a surreal investigation into herself
i wonder where she is now my old manager
still giving her staff absolute hell?
i've never met a hag like her...

australia 2
this same template was used at another place
it was full of all types of criminals
the name was oldham

australia 1
when the english lord and gentry set australia up
they did it a certain way and followed a plan
not sending their own equivelants but another set
they sent criminals of all kinds
there were teenagers who stole a loaf of bread
murderers who killed without mercy
racketeers who failed one last scam
and every other kind of bad boy
sent half a world away as punishment
but really they were colonisers
serving their sentences in an alien land
never to see england or their family again
they were controlled by their masters
several centuries later their descendants
lived like kings and had good lives
the criminals bred and become rich
with good jobs, a home, families and more
living in a sunny tropical paradise  
descended from common criminals
how many remember their forefathers?
sent there for english jails were full
to a new empty land full of promise
here was a chance to steal it
so why not send english criminals
ruled over by their masters
who in turn ruled the new land
australia...
the plan worked...

boxing
the guinea pig sleeps in a purple box
the artillery shells are stored in a brown box
the beer tins are chilled in a blue box
the false teeth are placed in a clear box
the nuclear reactor rests in a concrete box
the corpse rests in a wooden box
the ***** lives in a cardboard box
the black dog hides in an iron box
the laser gyro functions in a crystal box
the magician escapes in an iron box
the fire burns in an insulated box
the prisoner rots in a wire box
the alien hides in a plausible deniability box
the box is in a box in a box in a box in a...

garage tools
orbital sander sanding away
big it up for the orbital sander
getting sand on now now now
hear the orbital sander sand away

orbital sander
orbital sander
orbital sander
sand sand sand!

like his mate the orbital grinder
give it a good grind
grind away on the go
watch that baby grind away

orbital grinder
orbital grinder
orbital grinder
grind grind grind!

hydraulic ramp going up and down
no car is too heavy
fantastic hydraulics
touch of a button up down up down

hydraulic ramp
hydraulic ramp
hydraulic ramp
lift lift lift!

laser gig perfectly aligned
laser beam on target
crash damage repair perfection
laser accuracy beyond compare

laser gig
laser gig
laser gig
laser laser laser!

boss is doing a ******* eppy
the tech is too reliable
he bosses and bullies
his young apprentices about

sweep the floor
male the brews
fetch the butties
you ****** slaves
boss boss boss!

Motionless White
Numbers on a map.
No more.
So much ocean.
Men adrift at sea.
Only hope keeps them alive.
That and faith in God.
Old misplaced ways left behind.
New ways reborn.
The miracle happens.
Picked up by a trawler.
Too late for one.
Fine for five.
A miracle?
You, Jesus, tell me.

urban clash
they concentrated on fighting
destroying each other in rows
never cared to do things
going places together

if only they had
instead of clashing
they’d still be together
and not both single and alone

nuclear axe
man with an axe must cut the cable
for the h-bomb will go off
and fry them all if he fails
he must sever the power
and risk being fried like a fish
his island mates'lives are his
tho one is already dead
he was the shark bait
to allow his pal's salvation
which will be short lived
if he fails to chop the wire
a big fat wire carrying the juice
a million ******* volts!
the plane is on the way
to give a signal to the trigger
then the bomb will fire
and a sun is born white light style
and the test will be postponed
till the plane crash survivors
are rescued and their story told
the nuclear arms race received
a slight delay to save lives



before the axe
their seaplane crashed by the island
they thought they were safe
but it was fake salvation
for an event was planned
a massive earth shaking event
britain's bomb program continued

simply a girl
imagine being called karin ulbricht
imagine being a student
imagine being unhappy
imagine demonstrating in leipzig
imagine it was early november 1989
imagine being arrested
imagine girls separated from boys
imagine being taken to the barracks
imagine that this was east germany
imagine it was the cold war
imagine that you were ******* terrified
imagine you were defiant
imagine you wanted to change things
imagine that you actually did
imagine that you were just a girl
imagine that you were the girl
imagine that you are her
imagine that you stood against the whole communist world
imagine that this was you
imagine that you helped knock the berlin wall down...

Ice Fly
How many pilots died and old aircraft lost when they flew over jagged snowy peaks in the remotest corners of the world? Doing a dangerous job knowing the risks and trusting in fate and luck to bring the through. Some never made it, there planes impacting vertical mountain sides in sickening crashes. Bodies lost forever, frozen in the time of death. Icily cold and otherworldly remote.

From the Andes to Himalayas, Alps to the Rockies. If you ***** up or your engine stops, you’re going to crash and suffer. Survive and you’re *******, twenty thousand feet above sea level with no chance of rescue, just a slow cold death.

Of the ones who live and beat death in the mountains, they have stories to hold their grand kids in awe. Did you really fly a C-46 over the ****, risking *** fighters and Mother Nature? Sure did son, it was a walk in the park. Of the ones who didn’t make it, they remain forever on coldly beautiful mountains holding up the roof of the world.

Maybe their ghost will remain there forever, in rapture of the beauty of icy mountains, forgetting how they died.

My Town
My town is a cool town, where you can go and drink beer in many pubs and clubs, from rock and metal ones to trendy dance bars. Fancy dancing the night away? Night clubs are open till gone 4am, with girls to dance close to and cocktail drinks to exotically drink. See a live band in The Abbey or Whittles, see a drag act in The Dog and Duck or try some Real Ales in The Upsteps.

If you want a job you can work in a variety of industries, from being a baker at Park Cake’s bakery, making cakes like chocolate éclairs and custard creams, to warehouse work in Littlewoods or Jacobson’s. Want to better your education? There’s a university and a new science training centre where you can learn something different.

If you want to write, there are several writing workshops. From Fitton Hill library to Oldham Central, where you can write poetry and stories about anything your heart desires. Myself, I write about my life and times gone by. Want to check your emails or go online? Every library is plugged in so you can chat to your pals in Australia.

Much of the old town is gone now. No more Mump’s Bridge, the two rail bridges are gone. The huge mill on Park Road is rubble, making away for something new. Same with the train station, haven’t you heard? We’re getting the Metrolink and trams to Manchester and elsewhere. You can come up and visit me and my town.

We’ve plenty of sights like Dovestones with wild moorland, deep blue reservoirs and hidden deep valleys. Enjoyable in every season, taking your breath away. Spend a day in Uppermill, a small tourist village, with a historic museum and lots of gift shops like Pieces of Paradise. In the other directions, you have Rochdale, Ashton and Manchester, where there are shops aplenty to keep you occupied.

People from all four corners of the world come and visit Oldham, some settle here. From the Caribbean, both America’s, Asia, Europe and more. Languages from many different places are spoken here and people have unique names like Anneke or Dalmia . All unique, adding to the culture. We’ve no aliens or Martian’s yet but never say never!

If you want history, you’ve got it. Churchill was once an MP in Oldham and a deadly **** V-1 bomb hit Abbyhills. Many died. To balance it out, you’ve local bands like Blouse, with not a breast in sight, doing top rockin’ tunes. A host of others do fun gigs and excellent nights out. This is my hometown, Oldham. Come and visit us, have a beer and try a local chippy or kebab.

Walk
We’re off for a walk tomorrow up the big hill at Dovestones. We said we’d do that walk for eight years. I’ll even wear my Lacuna Coil top that I was going to wear years before. Time stands still and I’m back in 04. Before our silly row and my move to London. Now I’m back north and we’re going to defeat the hills. Even though there’s snow on the ground, I saw it from town today when I met a friend for coffee. Be careful we don’t fall and break our legs or it’s an air ambulance job then and a chance to fly in a state of the art Eurocopter chopper. I’ll take my camera to take some cool photos of the snow and the hills.  Bring it on *****! Yomping up the huge ******* hill in the snow. Are we mad?

there is a car that drives by here
when it passes things happen
all types of things
good, bad, indifferent
they don't know who drives it
it could be a drone car
or driven by satan himself
or even jesus or an alien
this car is the global car
appearing everywhere
even on your street
beware when you see it
something may happen
good, bad or indifferent

boeing 747-700x
they say that size doesn't matter
but i disagree with them
and say they're full of ****
size DOES matter
this is why i fly my jet
a boeing 747-700x
my baby is f8cking huge
a touch under 280ft long
i can carry hundreds of people
all around the world
flying in luxury in my jet
served by **** air hostesses
with bruce dickenson my co-pilot
take it from me size does matter
and yes my jet is big and black

NORWAY MUSIC
Sat here in my flat I think of Norway,
of all the places I’ve seen there and the bands –
Gaate, Blood Red Throne, Satyricon, Amulet and more.
To my Norse gothic bands I’ve seen here in England –
Mortiis, Madder Mortem, Leaves Eyes, Octavia and Tristania.
How I love it and can’t get enough of them.
When will Sirenia come gig here?
Norway and your music, I love you very much.

Paper

They were just pieces of paper, buried under a field in Germany. What harm can bits of paper do? Nothing. It's what's typed upon them. Good job the location is secret.
The mayor of a local town looks for them. He digs up the fields. And gets death threats. Such is Himmler's legacy on these docs. Also hidden is alleged Jewish silver. Not gold?

UK investigative journo did a report; his result was nothing physical. But the letter to the mayor, hidden room in the castle and rumours were there. The new ground penetrating radar scanner was meant to be great. No go, **** rain.

Go back in the summer, find the docs and silver. Change world history. And run for your life. **** guardians safeguarding this secret will hunt you down. This generation's evil soldiers.

WW2 reaching out to touch us. Detailing more than the Final Solution.

BELTANE SONG

Here is the coming of summer when the sun shines on the land and the oak tree gives forth his new green leaves

The deer run through the forest people dance to the pipe and drum all celebrate the kiss of summer who banishes winter gone

We are all one with nature as the Gods and Goddesses are with the planet that is coming into bloom with the scent of hawthorn and elder

For Mother Nature has smiled on the land in this the time of Beltane a time of new birth and happiness and a time of love and healing

THE DARK TOWER

On the barren northern moors lies a dark lonely tower. No one ever goes there, not a bird sings or a rabbit jumps. This is the place of loneliness and of despair and foreboding.

The sky is a leaden grey and the wind howls around the tower. Long lost souls cry for release. Some may be your friends of long ago or some long lost lovers of times gone by. This is a night time place of the lonely day.

A traveller comes along, over these barren cold hills. He sees the tower over the horizon distant, far and on its own. In a minute he is there standing before this stone monolith.

Slowly he enters the dark tower. The stairs are steep and the walls cold. Coming to the top he sees the souls, they are of everyone we knows. Just his presence there will set them free.

Violet light hits the tower, the sky turns blue and the souls are free. The traveller meets his long lost love dead for a thousand years. Now Lancelot and Guinevere are together again.

TROPHY

Some girls collect men like trophies, fashion accessories to show their friends.
Am I such a trophy for you to say that you are with a Goth?
I think yes but I’m not in your head, so I keep my views in my head, just for me.
When will you find someone to replace me, as you trade in an old car for a nice new one?
Another trophy to show your mates, you a typical girl in her twenties, of the scally generation.

Future Craft
Once the Gryphons flew in a mighty air fleet.
Now there are only twelve left.
Each with a poetical name like Kesef.
Let us fly aboard such a craft.
A 9th generation biotic craft.
Sentient and aware looking like a big dragonfly.
They subdued entire continents
Armed with unbelievable weapons.
Flown by reborn pilots.
Each totally committed to his task.
Connected to his machine.
Pilot and war plane as one.
Unbeatable in battle.
God and Goddess like in power.
With their names and legacy.
Utterly beautiful in flight.
One family of advanced flying machines.
All created by a young pretty woman.
Her mind was a gift…

Natalie. Battle Maiden
Flying the Skyhawk was easy. Learning tactics wasn't. Aerial refuelling was hard, as was formation flying. Natalie grew up and lost her girliness. Inside she was a woman. Her view on the government remained. Should she bomb the junta in her plane? Thoughts of that were brushed aside when she was deployed near the Chilean border when tension increased in the long running border dispute.
Flying three armed patrols convinced Chile to stop sabre rattling and withdraw her soldiers. Nat was gaining experience. Public opinion was turning against the government, an ongoing crisis that needed expert handling. War was the answer. Not with Chile but in the Malvinas.
An army, armed to the teeth, sailed and was flown out. British resistance was subdued and Argentina took the Malvinas. Natalie and her squadron were on standby for action. Britain retaliated and UK ships headed south. Nat trained in anti ship attack. Soon her skills would be needed.
People were behind the war. Not questioning about The Disappeared or how to get rid of the evil junta. The Malvinas were finally ours and a joyous mood overtook many people. In the military, it was different. A real fight would soon erupt. The Brits were coming and Nat was scared. What had she got herself into?
Training continued and there was no time for her band, seeing her friends or little else. Not even secretly discussing how to help make the government fall with her fellow activists. It was a fine line of madness. An Argentine air force jet pilot with illegal views and rebellion songs.

She could change the history of her country, Argentina, forever. If she dropped a few bombs on the leaders, it was over. The new war, The Disappeared, the fear. All of it. Could she do it? Would she? Nat knew where the leaders were and would strike on her next armed training mission. Fate stopped her. Events moved quickly and the young warrior woman never had chance.

protein
like in the matrix when humans are batteries
in quatermass humans were protein
only the young for they were innocent
their bodies not corrupted by age
fake ideas put in their heads
and false emotions in their hearts
drawn to the old stone circles
and pre-historic mounds on the landscape
for it was here the transmitters were located
placed here by aliens before the dawn of time
when they discarded their flesh and became machines
they made us by altering the apes
and had a ready food source
to feed their machines pure human protein
harvested from us the young people
taken in a flash of bright light
believing they were going to an alien world
to be happy and live the perfect idyll
but it was all a lie put there by the machine
a thing so alien nobody knew what it was
few even cared or could understand
the young all taken in their billions
their ash turned the sky purple
their protein fed the monstrous alien machine
fuel for its engine to **** our world
and doom our race subservient slaves
destined to almost die out
till the next time it came back
starving and lusting for food
when it would harvest our youth
as it had since the dawn of time
it fed on the young
not wanting the old
who would die soon
and were powerless to stop it
it the ravenous alien machine
a galactic engine

was it god?

gimme a flaming pumpkin seed
for i wanna do some trouble
create havoc down below me
hypseronic devil craft
created by man to ****
thermonuclear detonations
wherever i wish
got 122 nuclear warheads
snug in my belly
each one a city killer
or able to destroy an army
kicked out by springs
easy as having a beer
nobody or nothing
can touch me
unlike me upon high
easily the most evil weapon
riding my own shckwave
skipping the atmsophere
into space where i reign
the winner of all wars
before they begin
but winning without mercy
if they start
soviet russia my target
and any one else
who wants to dance
my flaming pumpkin seed
power beyond god
created by america
to rule you all