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2014 Pushcart Prize nominee. (more)

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Greatest Written Films - Dreams Plus a Poem - Sleep is a dream I once had



There is nothing special about this poem. In fact, it's rather average. But I just wanted to share with you my current life. Writing is next to impossible. Finding time to post this is hard enough. I have some written work in reserve but this poem is something I scribbled up at 3 am some dark hour this week. Or it could have been 2. Or even 6. And don't ask me what day. Days no longer have any meaning. And my mind is beginning to scare me. When you read the poem, it will all make sense.



Sleep is a Dream I Once Had

Got the Can't sleep blues
nothing makes no sense
plodding thoughts
head dense
full of horror
raining there outside
pouring in here
Why do I
bother
Attempting Sleep
When I'm submerged into Fear

its a baby thing
a droopy eyed no grin
yawning
teary
can't complain
cause I choose
this
didn't you deary?

so i'll do an internet search
with no goal in sight
and i'll wander feet bare aimless
for yet another fucking night

and i'm up again
and the line recedes
and again
and the crying succeeds
but there's no end...


zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz


(Update: Written when my daughter was four weeks old. No wodner!)


Greatest Written Films


Dreams (1955)
Directed by Ingmar Bergman



Dreams begins with a scene involving a photography shoot. It is the land of Dreams. We meet Doris, the model. Soon we are drawn into her world. It transpires that she is engaged, but the problem is, her beau is rather square. She has big aspirations. She wants more out of life. But she is not the only one with dreams. The photographer, Susanne, is missing her ex lover. Trouble is, he broke the relationship off because he is married. Yet she's not about to let that stop her.




To say more would be to ruin the plot, but we soon meet other characters who also have Dreams. It seems we all do, but more often than not, we are not allowed to achieve them. And perhaps that's not always a bad thing. We seem to spend most of our lives with desires, untapped and unreachable. Bergman knows this all too well, and tortures his characters with their yearnings. Their desires out of step with the mechanics of day to day living. This internal conflict is the basis for excellent drama. As always Bergman keeps the struggle between man and woman upfront. Anguished lovers are foremost in the frame. There is desire but it is fraught with complications. Like real romance. The Europeans have been upping the Americans with romantic films for decades, particularly if you consider when this was made and what else was around at the time.

It's not Bergman's best film. The characters are sometimes very selfish and it is hard for us to sympathise with them, but this is the point. For most people, Dreams are elusive. How can we exist in the world if we cannot have what we want? It's a heartbreaking realisation.

Some say Bergman was the greatest Director the world has ever seen. I'm not sure about that. Tarkovsky was a visual genius, but Bergman is certainly more intimate, his stories deeply personal and instantly identifiable. He achieves success again with Dreams.




Next Post
A Short Story,
Ferris-Wheel Frivolity

Ode to Dead Young Friends

A couple of months ago, I made a submission to a major UK publisher with my fifth novel, Ode to Dead Young Friends. I've tried to snare an agent before, mainly in the US with my second and third novels, a Young Adult sci-fi series, but I haven't really tried to get my other novels 'out there.' 

There are a few reasons for this. Mainly that I've been too occupied in the process of actual writing over the past six-seven years but the truth is that I'm terrible at the business side of writing. I'm a creative. I know. I need to do more. 

 Anyway, I finally got this one out there and thought I'd talk a little about the novel. I'll keep you up to date on it's progress with the publisher, who are seeking new writers and wanted to see the whole manuscript but are only choosing one submission. Chances are, I'll be rejected as I'm sure they had thousands of entries (it was a type of competition), but it's an opportunity to talk about the book.


It's different than my other novels, as it was not directly targeted at Young Adults (like the first three Novels I wrote). And it was mainly a memoir. I say mainly as I had to change a few things and I'll explain why in a minute but it was mostly fact, at least 80%. Yet because of that, I couldn't call it Non-Fiction either. A tough sell? I don't know. Perhaps its better to be quiet about such things. I wonder how many memoirs are 100% fact. I'd say none.

Especially if its Auto-biographical. I never trust biographies anyway. The truth is only a matter of perspective anyway. 


Ode to Dead Young Friends, is literally what it says it is. It's based on four friends of mine who all died young. 

Avita – A stunning but wild, free spirit. 

Andrew – A passionate country boy with fire in his blood. 

Rosemary – A meek city girl just coming into her own. 

Ryan – A confident young man with a zest for life. 


I have changed their names and some situations, to protect the real people involved, but I wanted to honour their memory and my association with these young people, who were all very different. Their only commonality was their youth and that they all knew me. It's respectful, though honest and as a consequence, isn't always pleasant. 

I found this very difficult to write as I realised that it was impossible to tell their stories without including myself in it. It felt very narcissistic. But I couldn't tell it any other way. Well I suppose I could have dressed it up within the confines of a fictional story, but somehow, I don't think people would have believed it. Some events can only exist in the real world. 

I did however, end up revealing much more about myself than I had planned. I'm still reluctant about it. Yet, I had to be truthful. At times, I don't come out looking that good. I didn't want it to be some Hallmark / Mills & Boon version of what happened. 

Youth is a difficult time for most. Youth is painful. And it was painful to write. More than once I ended up in tears. I miss my friends. They were too young to die. It's still hard to talk about. 

I almost decided to shelve the book and never release it. And it did stay in the drawer for over a year, before I pulled it out and decided to redraft it. I had written the initial draft quite quickly, I think over 2-3 months. But I spent almost a year rewriting it, while I was working on other projects. It's simply written. No reams of eloquent, flowing, wistful Victorian style prose. That's not me. I believe in simplicity.





The Book is divided into Four Distinctive Parts and yet, sometimes the timelines blur as some of these people knew each other. I remain the constant factor throughout. It covers an almost twenty year period, from when I was 17 through to 36. The theme of the book evolved into a celebration of youth itself. I came to understand that we are all slaves to our age; it defines our thoughts, never more so obvious than when we are young.




I'll let you know what becomes of the submission and perhaps I'll begin shopping it around if it comes to naught. It would be nice to see it in print. If only for them. I'll leave you with this little tag I wrote for the synopsis. An epic novel dealing with the fragility of life, the bond of friendship, the jealousy's, the intensity of emotion between friends and lovers, the misunderstanding's, the breakdowns, the violence, the insecurity's, the discovery of sex, the emergence into an adult world and the very essence of humanity, captured in youth. 



 Coming Next Post, 

 A New Entry in Greatest Written Films 
A Short Story, Ferris-Wheel Frivolity 



Until Then

Poem - Flip Flop


Hi,

This is a 2021 update. This post was created in 2010. It's one of my favourite poems and one of the most popular. I included it in my 2013 debut poetry collection, Caged Without Walls. I hope you like it. Please share if you can. I could do with the support.

Peace
Anthony







Flip-Flop

It was windy though not cold.
She was grumpy but not mad.
She hung out the washing but it was not wet.
She put on the kettle but there was no plug.
She sighed but was not depressed.
She sat but was not tired.
It was getting dark but it was still day.

Her body ached but she was not old.
She wondered how her life had come to this but she did not care.
She had fought for liberation in her youth but she was not a feminist.
She had wanted to belong but she felt rejected.





She said she would never marry but she did.
She said she would never capitulate to a man but she begged him to love her.
She said she would sooner die than have children but she had four.
She had surrounded herself with family but felt alone.

She said she was a child of God but did not ascribe to a religion.
She felt like she was on trial but had committed no crime.
She had enough of it all but couldn't give up.
She began crying without feeling sad.

She didn't know what to do but was determined.
She let the tears fall though could have prevented them.
She stood up, though her legs ached.
And got on with her day.

She was a set of contradictions.
Like You and I.





More Poetry

My Books


Next Post,

a new entry in Greatest Written Films,
and a short story, Ferris Wheel Frivolity.





Poem - The Universe is a Tit

My daughter was born this week. 

It's been quite an experience observing her. 


The Universe is a Tit 

It's a whole existence 
in a nipple 
and who gives a fuck 
about the world 'out there' 
and those 'important' entities 
with all their hoarded conceptions 
the fashion sense 
the existential crisis 
there is no self stylised image 
when there is tit 

A Moon has nothing on a Boob 
a Drive Thru Galaxy 
no need for upgrades 
consumerism is an empty illusion 
there is only Beauty simplified 
a non hand me down 
a non sold concept 
fresher than truth

ill take it 
and discard all the words 
all the false promises 
isn't all else merely bullshit? 
when there is tit 
It's the closest thing 
To pure satisfaction I'll ever have again.