Danny Kemp

I did this first one as a way of illustrating that fear some have of darkness and the sounds within.

Watching eyes, listening ears. Mouths aghast, more to fear. The door swung open, the light switched on. All our worries are past and gone.


With this one I had the News Broadcasts Channels and Newspapers in mind. It has always fascinated me that only on Christmas Day do they carry happy news. I wonder if we would all change our outlook on each other if more happiness was spread.

Lies and fear are what we are fed, to keep us worried and full of dread. If truth was the manner on which we could feast, could life be easier and panic cease?


I was at work today and thought of those who have paid tens of millions of pounds to live at the top of the “Shard’ in London. It is a towering, narrow shaped glazed building often with the very top shrouded by cloud.

Heads in clouds, millions they pay. To keep their lives far away. From those that walk the streets below. With doubts and problems as they flow through life’s mystic and the hand of fate that dealt the cards and sealed their hate.


About Danny Kemp

I was at work one sunny November day in 2006, stopped at a red traffic light when a van, driven incompetently, smashed into me. I was taken to St Thomas' Hospital and kept in for a while, but it was not only the physical injuries that I suffered from; it was also mental ones. I had lost 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 that's when 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 of my wife and medical professionals, I managed to survive and ever so slowly rebuild my self-esteem. It took almost four years to fully recover, 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. His advice was to write another story and that I'm delighted to say, I did. The success of that debut novel, The Desolate Garden, was down to sheer hard work, luck, and of course, meeting a film producer.
This entry was posted in Author/Writer, Raconteur. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s