Latest Non-Fiction

SUN ON THE HILL ...

not mine, but true, as attended and witnessed. Pic.: my own ...

Mathematical or just neutral? Reduced to zero, spent and burnt out, finished and washed up, turned down to apathy and out of order, struck down as by lightning and annihilated more or less, demolished thorougly and even sober in addition, as if all the pitfalls weren't satisfactory enough, life is no more than nothingness, while winter paralysis spreads around and greyness seems to be the only colour in appalling universal callousness, with the advantage, though, ...

changed my understanding of  bitter-sweet memories. A Non-Fiction write. Pic: my own ...

I've been to New York many times now over the years, but this was my second time and I wanted to see the Bronx. I was stopped at the first attempt by two policemen who said I was mad and would get myself killed, undismayed I was more surreptitious and made my way there alone, '80's New York was a dangerous place to be, but for sure to be a white man walking amongst those ...

## Autobiography # Jack Dempsey’s NY 1980 Oh god. Oh Dear. A hangover in New York New York. Small recollections through hazes of alcohol pulsed pain. Shaking fingers fumbling for coffee and cigarette. In a dark wood cased cabin from sweat stinking bunk. A million other people who jerked through the same dance. Night before around the world. I stepped in time with you. On subways that fled past as horizontal kaleidoscopes filled with germs ...

Biographical, Grandad came home from the Somme battered and broken, became a drunkard and bare knuckle champion of our town, he hit his sons and wife, his son hit me... it's what I learned, I lived like that until I discovered literature and war. That may sound strange.. "war"? But war teaches lessons for living for some and bastardly for others. There were few discussions sometimes that didn't end with "So I hit him". Nature ...

For my beautiful son who died of a rare cancer aged 18yrs, I wrote two very different songs, I played the guitar on the Blues and I sent my words written after/during a drinking session (Jamisons) to our (David and I) friend who returned "Crazy Diamond" the next morning. They reflect the contradictions of loss and raise questions about grief and its ways. If you read this and take in the music and pictures.. thank ...

Vomit City I was stumbling home the rain had turned to hail. Ahead staggered a woman Spewing in the gutter Looking very pail. So I lifted her from The sodden ground and said I’d walk her home. She pointed out and mumbled And off we went on her trail. We came to a dark door Behind was sounds of cheer She asked me in “Come and have a beer”. The house was full of people ...

I spent 35 years wandering the globe at sea, sometimes serving my country in war, others just serving me. But I went to many spots like this in many different times and places in south and Latin America. 1983 Its only life. We walked from a black freighter with crossbones at its mast und achtzehn sagen mit funfzehn canonen. We flowed down the broken street, feet dropping into holes in the battered, unrepaired, ignored road ...

Learn to love yourself & your loved ones ...

Intro: up to 50 words (delete this text and enter your own) ...

I should tell you, he was a forceful man. Perhaps he had to be. Beware the wrath of Father, eh? ...

“If a society must have an ever-expanding list of laws to survive it doesn’t deserve to.” ChairmanWow ...

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