Nice to see you.

''They are not long, the days of wine and roses:
Out of a misty dream
Our path emerges for a while, then closes,
Within a dream.''

2014 Pushcart Prize nominee. (more)

Many stories and poems published worldwide.
My work is raw and from experience and observations.


Pseudo Eyes - New Book - Front Cover

Pseudo Eyes

Don't believe what you see

Final Artwork
(Not final design)

There will be a back blurb to provide a good idea of the type of stories contained within.

What do you think?

Have we lost the art...?

Feel Good Quote (Original) #3


If you liked it please copy the image and share.
It helps me and it's also nice to share something original rather than what's doing the rounds.
Besides, it's a good message, don't you think?

More Feel Good Quotes

There will be 10 in the series.

A Dad and Daughter Mini Holiday - Kiama

KIAMA Blowhole NSW 6 year old's Holiday 

Grab a drink, relax and simply enjoy nature combined with music.

Kiama is situated approximately two hours train journey south of Sydney.
Simply my daughter and I. A quiet few days away. Not long enough, but still very nice.


Seeing the Blowhole (though not at it's peak)
Whales from a distance
Stingray's up close
Chatting to strangers
Kiama Village
Great music!
General fun

KIAMA Blowhole NSW 6 year old's Holiday by anthony-j--langford

Songs: (in order)

Amy Shark - Weekends,
Richard Ashcroft - They don't own me,
Soundtrack - The Big Blue - Eric Sierra,
Band of Horses - Hag,
Yukar - Am I Dreaming.

Something a bit different from me. Hope you enjoyed it.

Beautiful simple, 7 Pillars of Love

Bill Cosby's Super Cocktail Secret!

You’ve heard of The Harvey Wallbanger.

Now we can present The Cosby Bedbanger!

Got my eye on you!

One sip and you’ll have 

the best sleep ever.

You’ll wake up 

feeling somehow 

different, but you can’t 

quite put your finger 
on why.

Before you know it you’ll be performing 

real quotes from the  Cosby Show with 

such lines as… "If anybody hits her, it'll be

 an improvement,” and “You can 'walk' 

your sister... down to my 

room and get her cleaned up!”

       You may even break out into song. 

          "Hey Hey Hey! It’s Hooorny Albert!"

Once you try his black, you'll never leave his sack!

You’ll spontaneously break into tears without knowing why! 

The Cosby Bedbanger!

It’ll knock your socks off!

(pants too!)

Where's that handgrip? Hey Hey Hey!

Original '60's album. Why didn't we see the clues?  

I came across this at a Salvation Army Depot. If I'd had a dollar I would have bought it. 
(I lie. I had a dollar. It wasn't worth it).

Being serious now, if this man was not a celebrity he would have already been jailed for fifty years.

It's sickening.
Same with Rolf Harris.
Same with Cardinal George Pell.
And all the rest.

What a insult to his victims.

Back to something more positive next post.

More Satire Bytes.

Feel Good Quote 2

Please Copy and Share

More Feel Good Quotes

If I use the word Poem no one's going to read it. So it's a quote. ;)

Coming next week,
That wonderful role model Bill Cosby drops by.

First look cover - New book - Pseudo Eyes

New book - Pseudo Eyes

First look cover 

Early Version

The idea is that she (representing people) has stars in her eyes and is so captivated by the promise of the dream, that she neglects to notice the chaos and danger behind her.

The original title was Stars in their eyes, Glow on the Ceiling. The premise being that the stars turned out to be the fake kind that glow on a kid's bedroom ceiling. (The idea actually came to me while singing my daughter to sleep. She has those fluorescent stars about her room).

The title remained until around March 2017. It was far too long. Hopefully the title as it is combined with the image conveys the message. If not, as long as it entices in some way, I'll be happy.

As for the image, I wasn't entirely happy with her look. So the final image her expression is changed somewhat. Which you'll be able to see soon. And in colour.

What do you think? Does it convey that notion?

Coming soon
Feel Good Quotes

After another horrific terrorist event, it's time to offer something positive.
I'll be doing a series of 'up' poetry/quotations.

5th Anniversary - In Pictures


I do like this shot. Looks natural. Totally setup of course. My step-daughter took it with a digital SLR.


Had a fantastic night as MC'd by Jack Peck

Jack Peck

Hazzy Bee

Hazzy Bee

Original cover - that never saw the light of day

At Travis Little's Book signing in England. What a guy.

The box arrives

Many years in the making. Not the book, the publication.
(I know, it's a horrible shot...)

My fifteen minutes. 

Alas all the copies are gone now, so if you have one, you never know...
(I may yet make an ebook available).

This was a little flyer I added with the book.

The writing of Bottomless River 


A novella 

Anthony J. Langford 

The initial draft of Bottomless River was hand written on a train going to and from work over several days in 2006. It was simply a short story then. I tend to get enthused about most things I write, but I let them sit for a while before typing them up and begin the redrafting process. It’s then that I can determine whether it’s any good or not.
I liked the story. It was personal and there was something emotional and raw about it. I spent more time on it and it grew. I let my partner read it and she liked it, and she is quite critical of my writing. She pushed me to get it out there. I searched around for somewhere to publish it but it was too long to qualify as a short story and too short for a novel. Most publishers don’t print novellas, for reasons unknown. You’re guess is as good as mine. Perhaps the cost of printing them makes them expensive and they don’t believe that people will invest in something with a limited amount of pages. I disagree. I think in this time strapped age that they’re due for a major comeback. (A novella is usually between 10,000 and 40,000 words). Some famous writers wrote novellas, including Franz Kafka, Albert Camus and Fyodor  Dostoyevsky. Did you know that Animal Farm, Dr. Jeykll and Mr Hyde, The Old Man and the Sea, Breakfast at Tiffany's and Of Mice and Men were all novellas?
Every year I would give Bottomless River another draft until finally in 2011 I came across Ginninderra Press. I gave it one last polish and submitted it in May. A month later they came back with a yes. And it’s taken a further 11 months to get it released.
A long genesis for a little book with a big heart.

Dinosaurs to the Moon - An original 90's video available first time

History of Earth

Pre internet so footage was sourced from several doco's recorded on vhs, and the tv reception was not great. 

It's essentially a very big story in five minutes. I quite like the way it turned out, quality aside, the editing holds up as does the wonderful music of Phillip Glass.

If you like it, please Share. The more the merrier!
(I'll be sharing more older videos in time plus new ones too).

More Videos.

Coming soon, 
First look cover of Pseudo Eyes
Plus Feel Good Quotes

Take care!

Second sight


I knew that it would happen

I just knew it

I had a feeling

I long suspected

I lost track

Fell off the rails

Fell off the bandwagon

Joined the posse

In the hunt

For salvation

Which always arrives

As scripted

Just not

In real life.

The Premonition by Michael Vincent Manalo 

More Poetry 

Innocence - Cut down


Fist to our chests
At the pointlessness
Little parts
Run through

Little voices
Too swift to cry
Premature for goodbyes

Clutch our babies tonight.


for the victims of the manchester massacre.

photo may 17- ajl

(I've put this compiled version together so you can easily copy and share it should you wish).

The Worst Director of All Time

Famous After Death

Edward D. Wood Jnr

The Worst Director of All Time

Poor old Ed Wood. Died of alcoholism at 54. Broke. With a look of pure terror on his face, according to his wife Cathy, who found him in bed. It was 1978.

Ed Wood with real life girlfriend Dolores Fuller in Glen or Glenda
(she later became a famous songwriter).

20 years prior he made Plan 9 from Outer Space. It was barely seen. For good reason. Lower than low budget. Terrible acting. Shaky sets. Unintentionally hilarious dialogue. Silly story. Something about aliens bringing back the dead. Or something. I have the poster in my bedroom. Above my head. Quite creepy now that I think about it. 

Scene from Plan 9

Thanks to the advent of late night movies, Plan 9 and it's director found themselves lauded in the late seventies. Not long before he died, Ed knew of his new found infamy, but it was all too late. He died in poverty, having not long being evicted from his apartment.

He made a string of bad films, mostly sci-fi except for the truly bizarre (and kind of wonderful) Glen or Glenda, about a cross-dresser, based on Ed Wood himself. (Apparently wore a bra when he parachuted during WWII). It was very bold material for 1953. Made in only a few days on next to nothing, Ed had managed to become friends with an old, frail and drug addicted Bela Lugosi, a horror has been. He appears in the film. His last screen performances were with Ed. Their friendship appears quite touching.

Bela Lugosi in Glen or Glenda

The mythology of Ed Wood grew after his death, culminating in several books and a feature film.
If you don't know his story, I suggest you watch Ed Wood, the 1994 Tim Burton biopic. It's fantastic. One of my favourite films. As a fledgling film maker at the time, I could truly relate to Ed's struggle. Not to the cross dressing, but each to their own. 

Young & dashing
Johnny Depp as Ed

He made eight feature films, a bunch of shorts and wrote a lot of cheap, trashy novels, some pumped out (so to speak) in days. People love Ed Wood now, but not so at the time. One suspects there's been a lot of Ed Woods over the years. He just happens to be the most famous one.

Later years

Edward D. Wood Jnr 1924-1978

More on Ed's films

Purged - Tenth Anniversary of First Published Story

My stories couldn't be more different nowadays. 
But back in 2007...

My (very short) story The Purger was published online in May '07. It feels a lot longer than that.

My first actual publication was in the Murchison Primary School newspaper (pretty certain it's long been defunct), when I was eight. (The year? Please don't spoil it). It was for a limerick. I won a chocolate bar. I still remember that chocolate. It was a block with different flavour liquid inside varying squares. Crowning achievement? It made me proud.

Surprisingly, that very short 2007 story is still online, in an archive form.

The Purger

The site is still running too. Pop in. Read. Write. Submit. Support. Have fun.


If you can't be bothered to click away, here it is:

The Purger

Yakob³ was a traditional flesh chemist. He was proficient, but not because he enjoyed helping others. He didn't care about flesh people. They could not afford biomechanical enhancements and were therefore, sub-standard. Flesh disgusted him.

What he treasured was the purification of the individual. It was his prescriptions which purged patients of their impurities. Converts came to him every day to cleanse the tiny evils that dot the interior, like specks of old cancer. It was Yakob³'s dream to purge the entire Starbase. He was no fool. Nearly half of the population were without biomech aides. It would take him a lifetime, but with every case, he garnered new pleasures.

He had discovered that with so many flesh verminpassing through his confined business, impurities would find their way into the circulation. Minimising his oxygen intake had proven to be unsuccessful. By the end of each day, his thought processes had begun to decay. He would rush home and seal himself into his pristine cublica, circulating a purifying concoction of his own design. From there he began the ritual of cleansing. He would follow it with a dose of proto-pellets and in most cases, this would see him true until rejuvenation.

Nevertheless, he would dream of extraordinary filth. Transported to a dark world, stumbling naked and dirty through mountains of rubbish; toothless flesh people slithered on piles of effluent and decaying tissue. Toxic rain sizzled on his skin. Jets of vomit fell from his stinking orifice. He sank into the slush until he was submerged where multitudes of hungry parasites sucked the meat from his bones...


When Yakob³ woke before First Call, he was trembling, withdrawing. He sprang into action. He barely arrived at the sanitiser before the structo-organisms could drain his glands. Afterwards came extraordinary relief — a euphoria, almost sexual — a throwback to sapien days. He cleansed his smooth and hairless body for an hour. He dressed, ate, and with the greatest relief, once again felt purged.

Everyone should feel this way. He'd purge them all. He had only just begun.

He opened the business, fantasising about new conquests for the day.

Minutes later, a clownish figure strolled in, targeting him. It beamed a toothy, decaying scrawl: 'Death to biomechs!'

Yakob³ was more confused than alarmed.

The clown raised a handmade tool, jagged, and slammed it into the sinews between Yakob³'s shoulder and neck. As it withdrew, blood and bio fluid gushed.

Yakob³ staggered. The tool came down into his body again, and again.

'Release the flesh!' The clown scrambled for freedom.
Yakob³ stumbled to Central Terminal. He sat. He vomited.

Onlookers converged.
His body liquids ran — murky and multitudinous. He defecated. He urinated. He had become the flesh mountain of his nightmares. His head swam. Colours seeped into luminous white. It was oddly soothing. He felt almost…tranquil. Almost.

An inner voice, a throwback sapien voice, spoke truths. He had been wrong. Bioenhancements were the stuff of pollution. The flesh was meant to be free.
At last, he was truly purged.

Not the sort of thing I write much anymore, but there it is.

Three of my seven Novels would be considered sci-fi and one fantasy. 
I guess never say never. 

More Stories

C o m i n g S o o n

Pseudo Stars

A Collection of Short Stories

Anthony J. Langford

Insecure / Helpless

John Cavacas Photography

Much of my poetry comes from a place deep within, (you rarely see me writing about birds and landscapes for example) and I'm not ashamed to lay open my raw emotions, revealing a somewhat fragile state.
(Genetics? Upbringing? Nothing so simple?)

Many of us are, but some are better at masking it than others.

Unknown source

So here it is.
A poem from 2012 that has never been published. 
(like the bulk of my poetry. Not rejected per se, merely not submitted)

Add to Check Out

My Holier than thou has dropped
Scattered from my persona
I’ve given up on the Defence
(A dilapidated fence)
And pretence.

I’m an empty casket
Waiting for a body
I’m nothing new
But a rusted freight train
Barelling towards the shed
Without any goods.

If only the cargo could be loaded
In a way to allow
An event unfamiliar
A complete special offer
A surprise package
Without fabricated trimmings.

I’m weary of my shell
Is there not an Option Two?
Purchase and Check out
Without Checking out.

An enduring sigh
Even knowing why.

Notre Dame 1934

Poetry has sometimes helped me in bouts of depression. Well, I like to think so.
I can look at it, analyse it, and hopefully then put it behind me. Not always successful of course. That's life.

How do you vent?

More Poetry.

Next post, a trip down Memory Lane.

Coming Soon,

Some good news.
A new video.
An anniversary.

Always open for suggestions. Please help me out by sharing the work. It's the only way to reach others. And I'm a terrible salesman.

Have a great week.