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Hi folks

I’ve been wrapped up in work these last weeks so please excuse the delay with posts.

I intend on publishing a collection of my own short stories that I’ve amassed over the past 13 years. I will use Smashwords  to do this as it seems to be one of the few online publishers offering a fairly decent deal to the authors. As far as i remember they also give you an ISBN number and are targets for future talent via Barnes and Noble, Amazon, etc.

Smashwords also offer a service to have your book cover illustrated and designed, but they also offer authors like myself who are working with images and photography the dimensions to DIY it. I have not made my own yet, but recently I helped a friend with his and after some hours of screen sharing via Skype we managed to find his image of a four legged, masked girl with  a flying piglet on her lap…

Yes, of course, I did think it was a wind up when he first requested this image but soon realized his sincerity and here is what he got.


1919 - Outside blog

Anything can be created from imagination

I write this information here on the off chance that any of you writers and poets need book or CD covers. I have a nice stock sitting here (samples here ) not doing much apart from being eye candy for the net.

I’m also aware that cutting a living from being a wordsmith is not so great, so I will discount each case as it comes by as long as you’re being honest. The more you earn or claim the more you donate for my time and efforts please.

You know where I can be found.

Good luck with your missives and metaphors.

Power ti yer pens




Somewhere inside us is the trace element of a star that collapsed -ages ago- and somehow all of the atoms from that explosion collided formed all of this, the plasma or lcd you’re looking at and the TC and AG  amino´s that formed to make us. We get up, we work, we feck and somewhere in between, either on the shortcut back from the pub taking a leak or dazed on a beach on our two week break in the sun we fall on our backs and stare hard at the same stars that our predecessors stared at and wondered how far they might fall when their boat left the end of the earth for infinity.

I think about it all the time. Always thinking, always pretending I might be arrogant enough to stumble across the great truth about the universe and why we’re here, but its a given that in a lifetime, we all do. We’re only going to get the answers when science exceeds it’s boundaries with faith of the impossible, proves God is the Law of Attraction and Neutrinos really do travel faster than light.

Stephen J Hawking tells us in one of his quotes that those who look for the answers will find the hell, because God created it first for those who go looking for the answers. On the other side of his great wisdom there are specialized and trustworthy (yeah right) groups who are supposed to know the real truth about why we’re here. How we arrived at where we are, and exactly where we are supposed to be. They are of course sporting silver grey or near white hair and regularly attend the lodges of the world, especially the ones of the ancient order and Scottish rite freemasonry. They spend their Friday afternoons going through the chapters of knowledge until they reach the dizzy heights of chapter 33. Here, they get the truths we all want to know or understand. I don´t know what that is but I guess it is something to do with the great architect of the universe as they refer to a lot in their books. I expect also, it has a lot to do with the secrets of our reason for being here. Other little clans of societies with secrets, co exist with freemasons, they are not exactly secret societies either, especially after the bestselling Da Vinci Code.

Anyway, those who do and those who don’t. I ask what the purpose of our universe is about? Not on each and every blog I am going to post, but after reading an excellent book called “View From Planet Earth” by Vincent Cronin. I was struck by the depths of his research and facts. Take the closest star, it’s a fine balance between something that could have burned itself out about a billion years ago and what gives a few of us the melanoma today. Freeman J Dyson explains it in a paper he gave in 1971. It’s all about helium-2 and protons and could confuse you if you’re not into all that stuff but it made a lot of sense to my mind. How could that have happened by chance? I read it and remembered a programme from BBC about the suns heliopause. This would be the extent of the suns force and it is somewhere like 4 times the distance between the sun and Pluto. The sound of radio emissions from a coronal mass ejection leaving the sun and then passing the probes Voyager 1 and 2 showed it passing them about a hundred days apart and then it reached this area at the end of our solar system where it made this faint noise like the sound of a baby in the womb; from an ultrasonic scan.

I pondered that distance for a week or two, and it made me think that maybe the sun delivers the day-to-day thoughts of us the same way a magnetic disk transfers information.

I don’t want to bore you completely with all of my background and my curiosity on aurora borealis and astronomy in general, but you only have to understand the simplicity of how they happen and when the 11year solar low, solar max cycle of the sun’s energy changes and affects the weather in our planet, no-one knows how exactly, it just does.)

What if all of the stars and the universe has a purpose as well as us on this wee pebble, spinning around drenching each other in hate, oil, blood and holding faith in the biggest absentee landlord in the world that we were out here in his / her image or one of the other ones, but I’ll put a sock in it just there. I daren’t step over the images of religious leaders in metaphor or cartoons. That is after all using free speech the same as free thought and that’s a bad thing in today’s world, right? It might be anything and like the universe when you –both readers- were just a swirling gas being pulled into a mass by something that proved to be gravity. It came in all different smells and colours. It was just there. Like us, just here, pondering, or too busy surviving to notice or care.

The sound of cordial pouring into a glass.

The hush between prayer and class.

The silence in the breath of a new line.

The puisant colour of a rainbow arch.

Choked throats clearing after laughs.

July’s whispering thistle’s, sheep field Colosseum,

the arena for larch.

Or, the rising hunger of winters trout

awakening on a springs day spinner hatch

Kingfisher’s samurai concorde flight,

bright leonid on an amazon of

cherry blossom pink, blue, white.

I see this, clearly, when I’m here.

Once I had a fear, about the air around near.

Me floating to momentary flashbacks

and  unhealthy prayer.

when as well, I’ve been through hell.

I, once the boxer responded

At the ding-ding of bell.

I’d spring on my toes and make strangers swell.

Upper cuts hooks and a wee bit more

The explosion of hatred, erupted within

Just to prove to  myself, it was still there,

the passion, the screaming, the violent flare,

of rage, and the roar!

I’ve crawled my voyage of living sore

where some people give

a fook, others won’t.

This is why one day 

I changed pugilist to poet.

after my head was all torn.

I wanted to know

why I had ever been born

I didn’t  want to be around

in the morn

So I picked up a pen to

release my scorn.

And realized why

from here to Mars I’d been thrown.

Because I was a self centred junkie

with a lot of fire, an eejit, a deceiving liar.

Then I found an answer.  Challenging our maker

The coward, the victim, sanctuary away from my past,

my buried agony to run and hide in,

spend the longest winter night in

hour after hour, day after day.

You can save yourself from

The kick-ins, the beatings,

You can fix it out,

It will flow, not the booze and the pills

but the knowledge you’ll know.

I can’t believe how I’m lyrical blinding.

These missives of hope from this

valve, that now, I take pride in.

I got it all out, shouted from within

and gave it some clout.

Because I knew that bell would

eventually clang, DING DING! again

The end of the bout.

But a killer punch is just one blow,

and pyschosis KO’s you

if your too slow.

So I opened my head, my heart,

and let  flow.

I was shocked and surprised

when I wiped the tears away from my eyes

and opened wide,  to live, love, laugh

I can’t  believe that I devour life now.

Without  a care as to when and how?

And gone is that really stupid looking

furrowing brow.


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