Reality or Not?


Taken From Anything But Hackneyed.

Reality Or Not?

Indifference built the walls, that locked creativity in.
Self-interest added the wire, that compounded that sin.
Expression was apprehended as complacency swallowed the keys
There was no public trial, and no one listened to the pleas.
Innocence was the next to fall, trampled and crushed.
As to the deviance of wickedness all had rushed.

Greed played its hand, and what a hand it held.
Untiringly inviting, ‘till all felt compelled.

Step forward compassion with the purest of heart. “Where do we begin,” it said? “Where do we start?

The battles have been lost that’s true, but the war is yet to end. We must stand together as one, and this world we must defend.

This world existed before us and will survive beyond our years. Hide away your diffidence and shed no more tears.

Creativity will be our sword, expression our eloquent speech, And innocence, it will be you, that bursts through the breach.

That which those four bearers of evil, has bestowed upon us all. Is now ended, and this will be our rallying call.

We must conquer and divide. We must succeed this day. That is my pledge of allegiance I offer to the God to whom I pray.”

Hope was recalled, where deep in memory it lie. It joined the side of righteousness and raised its banner high.
The skirmish was uneven, as conscience won the day. The forces of evil were vanquished and sent far, far away.

Suddenly I awoke, as the day shone into my room. It was a dream you see, and I was engulfed, in the unchanged GLOOM.

© 2012, Danny Kemp. All rights reserved.

Anything But Hackneyed.

Anything But Hackneyed.


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.
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