A Living Earth, by Danny Kemp

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A Living Earth

Dark virgin soil piled high from the ground.

Now sentry like and brooding as an ugly mound.


Hidden for centuries, undisturbed it lay,

Now it stands naked and on display.


What purpose did this earth not serve,

To cause a treatment it did not deserve?


What if it was not earthly matter, but you and I

And out of view we chose to lie?


Does this loam now prefer be seen,

Or remain, like many of us, behind a screen!


Elevate yourself, no longer cower nor bend,

Be a voice that the world will comprehend!


© 2014, Danny Kemp. All rights reserved.

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THE HORSEMAN OF HALLOWEEN, by Danny Kemp

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THE HORSEMAN!

The fat lady sings, the opera is complete.
She’s off to a restaurant, a friend to meet.

Outside the theatre the crowd are mingling.
Somewhere in the distance she hears someone singing.

As she approaches, there’s a terrible scream.
It’s then she remembers it’s the night of Halloween.

She tries to run, but her legs won’t move.
There’s an old memory she cannot remove!

It was on this night many arias ago,
A night that was cold, dark and covered in snow.

She saw that vision in ghostly drab,
Run from a body that had been stabbed.

It was her, from a scene, that was about to be sung
Il Cavaliere Rusticana had just begun.

The violins struck up, but she forgot her lines,
Don’t let tonight deliver anything so unkind……… Beware The Horseman!

© 2014, Danny Kemp. All rights reserved.

 

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Illusions, Abstracts and Reality, by Danny Kemp

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Dark as the dark reflected through the glass.

Deep as the deepest love that’s ever been asked.

Both are illusions that can never be touched.

But life can be felt, if it’s tightly clutched.

© 2014, Danny Kemp. All rights reserved.

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Memories, by Danny Kemp.

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Autumnal changing colours against a summer blue sky.

The season has changed but the weather won’t accept why!

How long will the remaining days of autumn be as kind,

Until the icy winter winds bring harsh memories to the mind.

© 2014, Danny Kemp. All rights reserved.

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THE FIGHT IN YOU, by Danny Kemp

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To feel the anger of giants,

To taste their rotting breath,

To have their weight upon you,

To have no mortal rest.


No friend nor ally can help you,

You must face the trial on your own,

See off this fearful danger,

And walk the path alone.


Though sword and spear may strike you,

And wounded you become,

Your Will must be strengthened,

Then your Passion will overcome.


Hope will breed fresh resolve,

Even though each heavy step brings more pain,

You once had a purpose,

It’s that you must regain.


Bloodied and battered you’re used to,

It is the reason you are you!

There is no other outcome,

But to see your journey through!


© 2014, Danny Kemp. All rights reserved.

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AN IMPORTANT LITERARY DISCOVERY! Made by Danny Kemp.

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The following is taken from a previously hidden stage production titled…..COHIBA.

It was penned by that renowned playwright Sir Sausage E. Bacon as an appeal to Queen Elizabeth not to allow Sir Walter Raleigh to continue the campaign, he was raging at the time, on the good folk of London, forcing them to smoke the tobacco plant he discovered growing amongst the knotweed at his home at Icia, Amersham.

It was commissioned by the forward thinking Sir Horatio Scope, who foretold of a London enveloped by a cloud of impenetrable, choking fumes that would harm the health of his house servants, and all other ‘below stairs’ type of folk.

It has been alleged that parts, and names of this play, were used to form the core of many performances for the stage by a chap named Will Tremblingpike, who, when accused of plagiarism, quickly changed his name to William Shakespeare but as we all know, to escape recognition one needs to change both first and last names!

Historical dates themselves have been rewritten to cover the conspiracy surrounding this work!

It opened at The Sphere Theatre, London on April 1st 1441 and was performed in the round!

The extract I have chosen is taken from a speech made by Juliet, an insignificant serving wench employed by a certain Lord Tom Thumb. She has just had her head severed, by her employer, after stealing, and smoking, one of said Lord’s rather inferior Romeo cigars. The wrapper is curled around her wedding finger!


“To have, or not to have? This must be pondered upon.

Whether tis of more upright standing that men enjoy the pleasures of a Cuban women’s thighs, than that of their own man’s roll-ups is sharp and arrowed. Aimed at the heart of fortune.

Doth a man sling his full purse at his beau, or trouble the Jewish shylocks of this life, to enable the shuffling of coins to foreign parts?

Bodkins I say. Let common reek consume the suffering of discontented heartache.

Any King would beg for a horse, giving his very kingdom to escape the slinging tempest of unnatural puff.

Was not I devout in my mortal life? Do I not even now hold my head with grace. Was it not my innocent desire to have and smoke, that brings me here this day?

Death, where is your wound? Where is your stench of resignation?

Be thou all my sins remembered.

Freemen rise against the oppressor, unless your conscience makes cowards of you all, having preference of your bed in which to lay! 

Waits yonder the calamitous spreading fire and cloud through the wards of London’s town.

Now sleep awaits. That eternal sleep, to lay with no dream. But there’s the rub, and what say that rub?

Be it thigh or be it palm, that is the question.

Flesh has no respect of ownership!”


Perhaps you can now see why the discovery has been kept a Royal secret. I came across it whilst rummaging through the private draws at Buckingham Palace today when I went for my usual cup of tea. I now fear for my life!

Please, keep the secret safe. The credibility of the complex English language depends on it. So does Stratford-upon-Avon, Anne Boleyn, King Lear and their three daughters ……All is a tragedy.  When did they come into the script?

© 2014, Danny Kemp. All rights reserved.

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Never Make a Promise You Cannot Keep. By Danny Kemp

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Never Make a Promise You Cannot Keep.

“Everything is everything,” she said to me, as she balanced on a low bough of a chestnut tree.

“What!” said I in total surprise. Gazing quizzically into her bright green eyes.

“Well, if it’s not then what’s the point, of saying something that’s plainly not true and not right?”


“But you’re the one who said it, it was not I. What puzzles me is that I cannot think of any reason or think why!

There we were, walking side by side, watching the day end as the sun lowered and died,

When suddenly you stopped, mounted this tree, and began to speak so mysteriously.”


“You promised me everything. Those were the words you spoke. But I know that you have nothing and you’re stoney broke.

You should never make a promise that you cannot keep. It will only end in pain and could make that person weep.

All you can do is promise what you possess, your love, your trust and your truthfulness. You can keep all the other……worthlessness!”


© 2014, Danny Kemp. All rights reserved.

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A Sad Tale Of Toes, by Danny Kemp

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A Sad Tale Of Toes

His feet were warm, having been spread out in front of the hot radiator whilst he worked at his desk. Hers, on the other hand, were cold. Freezing cold!

She had not worn slippers to protect her feet, preferring to simply tuck them under herself, sitting in a leather armchair watching the TV. Now they were about to strike!

After stretching his stiff legs against the crisp chill of the freshly laundered bed sheet, he lay on his left shoulder, his right foot slightly upon his left, keeping the warmth within his body as much as he could. Her right foot led the attack.

It was a strategy he was accustomed to, but he was not aware of just how cold her feet were. The big toe was first into the fray, surreptitiously sliding against the underside of his overhanging right heel. The next move was not her usual method of attack. She had recently read a recount of Nelson’s attack on the French fleet. Nelson’s innovative move had surprised them, now it was about to succeed in bed!

Or was IT?

Both feet then attacked simultaneously.

Raising her leg she placed her knee heavily against his kidney, causing her right foot to slide further up his pyjama clad leg, as her left foot slipped between both his feet. He could take no more……..

“Why dear love do you do make such a move,

When you have only to choose

My advances of thrills and bliss

Bestowed on your body but without the risk 

Of freezing my ardor before it does start

By allowing your cold to attack my heart?”

He was Russian. A man of few words.

She was Italian and the opposite, being verbose in the extreme. Only this time he never heard most of her words as she mounted the most ferocious physical attack he had ever been involved in.

She rolled on top of him, pinning him uncomfortably against the bed.

“Ardor you say? You obviously don’t mean harder,

As you couldn’t care less if you tried!

You keep your warmth to yourself, as if your skin’s been fried.

I’m sick of you with your selfish ways, and inconsiderate behaviour too.

You’re just about to be hit on the head, with this heel attached to my shoe!”

She pounded away, never stopping for breath, nor ceasing to curtail her blows.

She sneezed in excitement, but even that, didn’t stop her to blow her own nose.

By now she was away. Her body now warmed, even sweat appearing on her brow.

It was now that he flipped, no more could he take. He swore this solemn vow!

“I promise my love, that from this day, no more are my feet just my own.

I admit my faults. ‘Tis true that my love for you I have not always shown.

I will warm you through, be kind to you, by sharing my bodily heat.

Now please my love, be gentle with me, go lay on top of my feet.”

This tale of toes is not over, it never ended that night as if a sweet dream.

As his feet lost their heat, it finally ended in a terrible, piercing scream!

Her love had departed along with his heat, but that was not all that he lost.

He now saves money, by paying less, than his regular pedicure did cost!

Do take seriously all your wife’s woes,

Or else you too might lose some toes!

© 2014, Danny Kemp. All rights reserved.

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ME.

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I am a sixty-five year old London taxi driver who wrote a book in 2012 that is now under its third consecutive years paid option to become a $30,000,000 film.

Six years earlier in 2006 I had a road traffic accident that left me unable to work effectively for almost four years. I was diagnosed as suffering from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and as a consequence; scared stiff to drive!

I believe that my whole experience could be inspirational to others who have, or, are, suffering a stress related illness and a way of relating how life can change for the better even in those most darkest of days.

The opportunity of my novel becoming a film was never of supreme importance to me when I wrote it, although it is every writers dream. It was simply because I had found a divergence from real life. That initial necessity has since developed into a love of that art.

THE BOOK: THE DESOLATE GARDEN

Synopsis:

The story is centred on one family, the Earls of Harrogate, who since the fourteenth century have been the sole custodians of a secret and surreptitious bank in London’s Queen Anne’s Gate, affectionately known as Annies.

In 2007 Lord Elliot Patterson takes over the running of the bank from his father and decides to upgrade the old ledgers into digital format.

He discovers, in a hidden away 1937 ledger, a huge sum of money beginning to disappear. There is an address in Leningrad, Russia, appended in a margin along with two sets of initials. He suspects that his grandfather, Lord Maudlin Paterson, may have been funding a Russian spy!

Fearful of the disgrace this would cause, Elliot telephones his estranged eldest son, Harry, and tells of his suspicions.

Six months later Lord Elliot is found shot dead in the family’s London town house.

Harry, who on leaving the Army had been recruited in the Secret Intelligence Services, is recalled from the estate in Yorkshire to throw any light he may have on his father’s murder. He seemingly mets by accident an attractive woman in Duke’s Hotel, St James’s, whom he believes to be on the ‘pick up.’

However, she, Judith Meadows, works for the Home Office and knows more about his family than Harry does.

The story is told through the dialogue of the developing rubber band relationship the two have, whereby Harry doesn’t want to tell Judith of his farther’s suspicions, and Judith won’t divulge the full extent of her knowledge to Harry. Until at last they must come together to find whether or not there is a Russian spy, and who murdered Lord Elliot.

My journey has been one of differing sensations. The excitement of being a published writer, with the twenty odd Waterstones book signings and a recent appearance on ITV news at 6pm, set against the constant threat of losing our home.

In order to live through that time off work, caused by the accident, I incurred a mortgage excess of some £80,000 which the bank has now asked to be repaid. I received virtually no compensation for that event.

The only way my wife and I have to rectify this situation is to sell our home, a process we are going through now. We will not be in a position to buy another home!

That journey however, would never have begun without that first dramatic life changing event which I and my family lived through. Another is about to happen, and that too will be overcome.

Thank you for reading this.

http://about.me/DannyKemp

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A Poor World, by Danny Kemp

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If I had more hair then I’d pull some out.
If I had a loud voice then I’d scream and shout.

But I’m just a single voice locked in a cacophony of sound.
Where in this world is there good news that could be spread around?

© 2014, Danny Kemp. All rights reserved.

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