What Do I Deserve. 2009.

Time for another oldie tonight. I wrote this in 2009 and it is one of my all time favourites. Another Matt Spears inspired piece, exploring bitterness at life I suppose. Enjoy.

What do I deserve?

Little, some might say

I leave when I said Id stay

But thats me

Matt has nothing on me ha.

You might find me in a wine soaked corner

Broken cigarette between bitten smiling lips

And Sarcasm

I will give you sarcasm

And then smile cos you dont deliver.

Ha…Take my broken cigarette

Crush it on your carpet and light another

Tell you a story you have never heard before

About you and your problems

And so do I care?

Matt might have but he aint there

And look into my eyes. Pain? Ha

That aint pain, it is loss

I can handle that. I did before. I will again

Fifty five years and I get used to pain

Dont send you insane.

Just walk out the door, slam it even

Pull up the collar and say ….Fuckem

You wont pull me down. You cant hurt me

Cos I am used to it now. Have to be

And walk down the street

Glaring at street lights reflecting in rain spattered puddles

Daring them. Hating them

Just for being there.

Hearing noises of the late weekend night

Kicking garbage, coke can, and smiling.

And entering some sad local bar

Her in the corner? Too much lipstick, Cheap clothes

And I smile, pulling down my collar

Lean against the bar. Catch eyes.

Whisky…Large one OK?

And scan the lives in this neon lit hell

Talk to you. Sitting on the stool next to me

Putting your leg over the other as you grin at me

Tell me your story, might make me smile?

Ha. That you dont want. Would ruin your night

And I find a seat and enjoy the feeling of trainers

Yea sticking to beer drenched carpet

And think…let my mind wander

Shouldnt be let out on its own.

But suck back whisky and smile at the woman in the cheap clothes

Dare her to talk and feel her pain and want

Because deep down she is me. Lost and alone

Stan Rogers 2009

IF I WERE TO FEEL ANGER. Re-edited.

Between the years of 2007 and probably 2010, I reached the peak of writing creativity. I was always more of a poet, a troubadour of this modern age rather than a novelist I felt, but I did turn out Love Sex and Time Travel in 2007 which is still my biggest seller by far. It is also my favourite novel. I actually cried as I wrote parts of it such was the emotion I put into it, which came from my poetry.

In those heady four years, my brain positively crackled with new ideas. I didn’t write because I wanted to make money from it. I wrote because I had to. I didn’t have a future … I had a NOW.  If I hadn’t have written my words down, I felt that my mind would explode, and so most days I would just write. I would write more and then more. Beautiful poetry, wonderful words seemed to cascade from my mind continuously it seemed.

Also, during those four years, my life changed totally. It was all down to my words. I gave up the rat race in 2008, taking redundancy, and vowing to never return to 9 to 5 slavery, I left the UK to be with my Sandra in the Seychelles. Ideas as usual poured from me spurred on by Sandra and her love of my words. But it was not to be, the Seychelles was not for me and I unhappily returned to the UK a few months later. But my words never stopped and in 2009 I wrote some of my finest work. I also started the Seer Of Albion, which believe it or not started its life as a simple Facebook status, then a very short piece of philosophy about reading people’s faces for emotions. Then it became my project for NaNoWriMo that year. That is a competition held every year to write a 50,000-word novel during the 30 days of November. I succeeded and won my certificate.

I was inspired in my writing of it and even parts of the story by my Raven who I had first talked to in late August 2009. We became online lovers and then real lovers in December 2009 and then she became my wife in 2012. I thought that my life was complete. My writing did continue into 2010 but something was different. My mind stopped crackling. Writing became something of a chore. I missed daily targets that I set myself. My inspiration faltered and instead of a natural flow it became a chore to try to find it. I had lost the plot. My writing became contrived and forced and so the flow slowed to a trickle. I put that down to being so very much in love with Raven. I was happy and very content and I suppose the need to write diminished because of that contentment.  From then until now, apart from a few shining exceptions, I feel my work has been second class and pedestrian.

Yes through these years I did produce some wonderful poetry but it was the exception amongst a sea of dross. My follow ups to Love Sex and Time Travel and The Seer of Albion ground to a virtual halt over those years and that is where they pretty much stand now, along with The Anonymous Poet another novel started in 2014 which I felt had the potential to be my strangest but greatest novel yet. All lay, stuck between about 10 and 20 thousand words. I wouldn’t admit to it but my inspiration had just totally dried up. I became dead inside, mundanity bit, and my inspiration followed it. I had found love but had lost my words.

And now? Well a wonderful thing has happened to me but at a terrible cost to myself personally.  The unthinkable, for me, happened and I lost my dearest love. But slowly my mind has started to function again. I wrote Three Castles, I rewrote Until the End of Time, I rewrote Beautiful Brown Eyes. Not by far my greatest work, they still lacked some of my previous fire, but they were a turning point. For 8 years my follow up to Love Sex and Time Travel has lacked direction. I could not see where it was going, I could not imagine the ending, until a couple of days ago. The ending had been there all the time. I had written it already a few years ago and not known that it could be the ending, a wonderful inspired ending that explains both books and will lead to another follow up. Now it will be. I have a direction at last.  My end has a start…. I am a writer and a poet once more, if a very lonely and heartbroken one although as she knows, she is always welcome to call me at any time.

© 2018 Stan M Rogers. All rights reserved.

I thought I would finish by posting a piece of poetry from about March 2009.  I do admit it was inspired by my very dear friend, Donna Marcozzi. It wasn’t the piece I originally looked for but it does show the emotional depth of feeling I felt back in 2009. Here is, ‘If I Were To Feel Anger.’ It is the past, the present, and the future…….

If I were to feel anger. Tears of rage
Loss of innocence even at my age
Would it be at losing you…before I knew you?
Feel your soul dissipating through my outstretched fingers
Like mist on a summer morning. Dew dissolving under hot morning sun
And a breaking heart in my chest. Feeling your sighs
Touching your face across a void, and mutual highs
But I am me. The guru of love lost.
I find it so hard to be…happy?
So hard…just so hard. Life gives me that as interest.
And I am never ready. Always behind
And where’s the sense in that?
Can I help this feeling of self imposed loss?
Going down with all hands baling
Angry with failing, and fighting my own devils
Punishing myself for imagined future crimes
And past indulgences….back to haunt me
And people feeling anger at me
And I wonder why. Because I dare to be happy?
Because I stepped into their lives?
I hate these feelings of trying to balance
Not to hurt and think of others feelings.
Guilty I suppose… I always am. Perhaps trying
Isn’t really enough.

Should I just lie down? Fulfil my own collapse.
Give up at all that lies before
Renounce myself.
And any anger I feel is at myself
Audacity at my own hope of being
Temerity at daring to think I could ever possibly be happy.
At daring to think that love isn’t possession
Not control…I want to give. But that isn’t right
Is it?
Anger at inner turmoil. At trying so hard
At being the person I aspire to be
Anger at the insults I receive?
No not really…just sadness at negativity and pain
And spite, the worst of human sins.

©2009 Stan Rogers

Promises Made.

 

I am a strong man. I must be, especially right now, and today I was thinking about promises made. I have always set high store on the promises I have made.

To make a promise to a person involves that a promise cannot be made without knowing you have the strength to keep it. It is no good just giving up on that vow. That is why I do consider myself strong. I always keep a personal promise made to a person. For instance, I made a promise to my mother, several years ago before she had a serious stroke that has wreaked havoc on her brain, destroyed it in fact.

We had talked many times pre-stroke, and I knew of her great fear of living her life in a nursing home due to how badly her parents had been treated in one. I made her a promise that she would never be put in one unless there was no other option.

And people say that she is incapable of knowing now if I break that promise, that I should. But a promise made to a person doesn’t just end because that person is mentally handicapped to my mother’s extent. Yes, I could break that promise, but I made that promise and I would know that I had broken it. That is why I cannot.

And it is the same with a promise of undying love for a person. They may not care now if I didn’t follow that promise, they may believe that I should consider finishing that love, but I can’t. I made it in good faith and I thought that another person felt the same. But that promise was made because I meant to keep it. I never considered it a temporary promise. I hoped that person would see that. And it does require from me a lot of faith in that person, even now. It does require a lot of strength from me. But as I said at the beginning of this piece.

I am a strong man.

 

© 2018 Stan M Rogers. All rights reserved.

BAD NEWS AND LIVER CANCER. PART 1

ANGEL FOR LIVER CANCER.

Just three short weeks ago I received news that altered my life. On Friday 8^th of September 2017, just 3 days before my 64^th birthday I was told that I had liver cancer. To say I was shattered is an understatement. In just one short phone call my hopes and dreams became as nothing. To be honest I thought that’s it. My number is up. My mind was in turmoil as to what I should do. Should I prepare for the worst-case scenario? Was I going to die? Was it going to be a painful death? How much time did I have left? After the initial shock I rang Kit who had not long left for work. She was a godsend and bless her she came straight home. I have never needed her more than I did at that moment. As I waited for my babe I looked back at my medical past.

I also decided to post a record of my illness and treatments past, present and future to my blog to help any of you who may be suffering from the same trouble or maybe even your friends/family that may need this information. It may help. I hope so. Please share this post also. It may help someone too.

I have had high liver readings for many years now. My AST and ALT levels have been very high for well over 10 years. For an explanation of these tests click here. If you have the same high readings then please get your doctor to follow up on it a.s.a.p. It was variously suggested over the years going back as far as the early 2000s that it could be caused by alcohol, a fatty liver, or even the Statins I was taking for cholesterol, but it seems it may have been none of these in my case. There is a possibility that statins may cause liver damage. See this article for example but as always make up your own mind or seek further advice before stopping any prescribed medication.

SIMVASTATIN

I used to enjoy a drink or two (lol or more) but over the last 10 years my consumption levels have dropped drastically and I hardly touch alcohol now for months on end. I was even told back then to stop drinking for a month then get re-tested. It made no difference to the results but giving up Statins for a while did seem to make a slight difference, but no further action was taken despite the regular tut-tutting each time I had blood tests over the years.

Just before Christmas 2016 my USA doctor (Dr Pandya) decided to investigate the matter further. Following a battery of blood tests, it turned out that I have Hepatitis C. Shock! Horror! How could I have Hepatitis C? Most of the usual causes did not seem to cover me. I have never used intravenous drugs apart from one time at a party back in 1981 although I guess I could have been unlucky. I have never engaged in gay sex (heterosexual sex is apparently a very small risk) and the most common cause which is through an infected blood transfusion doesn’t apply to me either. Hepatitis C can cause amongst other things, liver damage including cirrhosis leading to liver cancer, so it seems that the Hepatitis C may be the culprit in my case. Note that I say ‘maybe’ as there is not, and there is unlikely to be any definitive proof of any one cause in my case.

A little factoid here. 1 in 30 American baby boomers (born roughly between the mid-1940s – early 1960s), are believed to have Hepatitis C, mostly caught from infected blood transfusions carried out in the early 1980s and further back before transfusion blood products were routinely treated for just that scenario. I believe that happened following the first AIDS cases being spread in the same manner, again in the early 1980s. I have no reason to believe that the figures are any different in the UK either by the way. After the early 1980s blood transfusions were mostly safe. I have had no blood transfusions. Also, most people do not even realise that they have the Hepatitis C until it begins to cause liver damage and that can take many years, so be warned if you were born before the early 1980s get yourself tested as soon as you can. It is just a blood test.

Now I am purely guessing because there is no way of telling, that I could have caught Hepatitis C in 2 ways. I did have a tattoo (another notorious conduit for the Hep C virus) about a year ago in August 2016, albeit in what I believe to be a reputable tattooist in Haverhill, Suffolk, in the UK. Be warned to NEVER EVER have a ‘mate’ tattoo you. I also believe that another likely cause could have been the blood brother ceremonies we carried out back in the late 1970s/early 1980s, usually when pissed late at night with mates. You know the ones if you were there. Cut your hands and swap blood with a mate while swearing a drunken lifelong loyalty to each other. Lots of us did it back then. People probably still do it now. DON’T. But again, all of this is just guesswork and I am never likely to know now.

It can also be passed on from mother to baby. Possible? But unlikely I like to believe in my case. Who knows? But anyway, I have Hepatitis C whether I like it or not.

There followed more blood tests as there is a cure for Hepatitis C but it comes in various genetic types and before they can start you on a drug regimen they must genotype the strain that you have. I had tests in the USA and the UK which both showed only such a small amount of the virus in my blood that they were unable to ascertain which type it was. I was also routinely tested for H.I.V but thankfully that was negative. My treatment for Hep C is currently on hold until after my surgery.

But back to the near present. Back in July this year (2017) I was given another liver ultrasound scan which showed a few signs of something on my liver and so next I was given an M.R.I scan (Magnetic resonance imaging), both at Dublin Methodist Hospital in Columbus, Ohio. My doctor called me in and informed me that there were a few suspicious signs on my liver after these tests.

DUBLIN METHODIST HOSPITAL

I will add here that M.R.I scans are not as scary as some people make them out to be. I had a needle in my arm as they pump a kind of radioactive dye into you during the test (known as contrast) and you are given headphones, a) to drown out the sound and b) so the nurse can talk to you and give you instructions. My M.R.I scanner was fairly open and not the coffin like structure that some people may lead you to believe. It was also not too noisy, a bit like a washing machine running. I found the whole process not unpleasant at all so don’t be frightened if you need to have one. You can feel the dye entering your bloodstream but again it is not an unpleasant feeling at all. It is reasonably fast and not too uncomfortable. For more info on MRI scanners including pictures click here.

A TYPICAL MRI SCANNER

Next were more blood tests looking for tumour markers. I breathed a sigh of relief when the results came back mostly clear. One reading was slightly raised. It should have been 6 or under and mine was 9 although I was assured it was not remarkable and only likely to cause concern if it was, say 400 or so. Another sigh of relief. For more info on these tests click here. I started to plan starting work here and I had already bought a new car to travel to work. But….

My Doc again asked me in and said that there was probably no need to worry but due to the new marks on my liver it would be best to have a liver biopsy just in case. OK I was fine with that and was booked in again to Dublin Methodist after visiting a Dr Toscano (a very pleasant guy), a Hepatologist at Riverside Methodist Hospital, again in Columbus.

RIVERSIDE METHODIST HOSPITAL

I didn’t look forward to it, I must admit as it sounded painful but it actually wasn’t too bad. I was pumped full of sedatives via an IV line and wheeled into the CT scanner room, which is what they use to find the area to biopsy. A kind of grille template is put on your abdomen and then they run the CT scanner (computerised tomography) after pumping contrast dye into you through the IV line. They then draw a small cross on your abdomen where they plan to put the needle in which snips off several samples of your liver. Information on CT scanners can be found here.

A TYPICAL CT SCANNER

The doc will then do his job. The area on your abdomen where he will insert the biopsy needle is numbed so you only feel a slight prick as it goes in and then you hear a few clicks as he takes samples from your liver. Don’t forget that I was sedated so I was pretty much in La-La land and I only felt a slight pain at each click.

Luckily, I had Kit with me as obviously you can’t drive home after the sedatives but after a couple of hours kip I was mostly fine if a little woozy. I was also instructed to take it easy for a few days, i.e. no heavy lifting etc. And that was that I thought. Just get the result back then off to find a job …….but…

BEFORE THE BIOPSY

AND AFTER

The CT scan biopsy was on Friday 1^st September and I heard nothing back straight away, so presuming all was well I started applying for jobs. Until the following Friday the 8^th September when I got the call at about 4pm from Dr Toscano. It went along the lines of “I’m very sorry to tell you but your biopsy proved positive. You have liver cancer.”

Kit was brilliant. I was shell-shocked after the call but I soon rang her at work and she came straight home to me, bless her. It was probably as big a shock to her as to me. She even took the Monday off as well to be with me. Of course we talked a lot about outcomes and what to do if this happened or that happened but all we could do was wait until we got more news. And so, a very worrying week passed by.

My next appointment was at Ohio State University hospital in downtown Columbus with a Dr Anthony Michaels (another nice guy) on Monday 18^th September. We didn’t learn that much other than what we already knew and he simply referred me on to another surgeon in the Transplant Dept. after confirming I would need surgery, although he assured us that I would not be needing a transplant. Later the same day I received a phone call arranging an appointment for yet another CT scan of my chest in case the cancer had spread to my lungs. That was arranged for the next day at a small OSU facility near us at Stoneridge in Dublin. Things seemed to be moving fast.

OSU HOSPITAL

I am getting used to these scans now and this was an easy one. All over in 20 minutes and back home, no sedatives required. I even got a call from the Doctors office the same day telling me the scan of my lungs was clear. One piece of good news at last. And my last appointment of the week on the Thursday was at my GP’s for Hepatitis A & B vaccinations along with my flu shot.

And on to my last appointment which was again at Ohio State University Hospital with the fantastically named Dr Sylvester Black (another great guy, although for some reason his name always conjures up an image of a cartoon villain akin to Dick Dastardly). This was last Tuesday 26^th September in the Transplant Unit. He explained to me what he planned to do.

AT OSU WITH BRUTUS BUCKEYE

Now my liver is otherwise healthy, not scarred or cirrhotic and there is a small 3 cm lesion in the left lateral segment which is good news apparently as it means I can have a liver resection. That means they will just cut the cancerous part out. Apparently, I will spend 3-5 days in hospital if all goes well and it will take about 6 weeks to recover. I will also receive some chemotherapy to make sure all traces of the cancer are gone. And now I just have to wait for my surgery date which I am told should be within 4 weeks or 5 weeks max. The actual operation is only expected to last an hour or so and Dr Black told me he will cut a ‘J’ section in my abdomen for this (another scar to add to my Abdominal Aortic Aneurysm one). He will then cut the lesion out and also pull some of my liver out to examine it (visually or by touch? I’m not sure. Maybe both.) to check that there are no further signs of cancer. Marvellous eh? Maybe I can get him to take a picture of that and I can share it to Facebook…lol.

And now for a very strange coincidence. In my very first novel, Love Sex and Time Travel, my heroine Romilly also finds out that she has liver cancer. I have just reread the parts that cover her tests and procedures and they are surprisingly accurate for 2007 which was the year that part of the novel was set and also when it was written. Even the part regarding the MRI and ultrasound biopsy are fairly accurate, great research and a pat on the back to myself. I know that now myself, although I had a CT scan biopsy instead. Very spooky that I should suffer the same medical problems as Romilly. For those of you that have read the book you will know Romilly’s fate. If you haven’t, well you can download Love Sex and Time Travel here as an eBook for only $4.99 or UK equivalent.

And next. My feelings through all of this? Well Kit has been marvellous and believe me this diagnosis has affected her deeply too. Now I am a person that tends to hide my feelings. Stiff upper lip and all that (well I am British old chap… lol) and I tend to put on a brave outer face a lot of the time but as I said earlier my brain has often been in turmoil through all of these past few weeks. Sometimes I think that I should not put my lovely wife through all of this and it fills me with anguish. I must admit I have occasionally in my blacker moments even been tempted to just run or even to end it all but good sense prevails and I will not give in to those feelings.

MY BEAUTIFUL KIT BOUGHT ME BERTIE BUCKEYE BEAR FOR LUCK IN MY OP.

Despite the Surgeon’s comforting words, I know that lots can still go wrong yet, for example more lesions being found or the cancer returning so I am still very frightened at the prospect of the upcoming operation, it’s after-effects and the future after the operation. But I will be strong. I have to be for the people that love and need me. I have no belief in any so-called gods or spirits but I have to have faith in the skill of the doctors and I have faith in the love of my wife and the love I have for her. I also believe in karma and what will be, will no doubt be.

So until my next appointment I will say cheerio and stay In good health. And please message me if you have any questions.

Cheers.

Stan R – October 6th 2017.

 

© 2017 Stan M Rogers. All rights reserved.

 

 

BLONDE HAIR.

You are beautiful my lover, my only lover

I watch the sunlight shine on your long blonde hair

As you lift that summer dress slowly over your head

Small crackles of static from your flowery summer dress

Long strands of hair static charged dance

Motes of dust swirl in the sunbeams around you

A halo of light, A smell of arousal is in the afternoon air

Your hair falls over those bare shoulders

Skin so soft, so enticing

I lean forward to gently kiss your neck

Lick the small freckles there, taste your salty sweat

As you smile that smile. That woman smile.

Mysterious and ancient. Simple but full of hidden suggestion.

A small sigh escapes you, and you bite your lower lip

It gets me every time … every time … arousal

I get a hint of your perfume, Anais Anais I think

And your skin, so soft, begs to be touched

So I run two fingers across your shoulder and down your arm

Across full breasts

Skin like cool silk under my fingertips

Her hair shines like gold in the afternoon sunlight as we lay back together.

‘’Now would be the ideal time to make love.’’

I smile at her suggestion

She knows I will not disagree.

And after

… we lay, basking in the late afternoon sunlight

Sweat slick bodies, a delightful red flush across her neck and breasts

And she grins

… ‘’You know your trouble Matt?’’

‘’ Which one Rommy? I possess a few.’’

We both know I am telling the truth.

… ‘’You are ugly Matt. But kinda cute ugly.’’

For that a butt slap is in order.

And after? … we doze until the sun goes down

I am in love with her

… she with me.

The world isn’t so bad.

 

© 2017 Stan M Rogers. All rights reserved.

 

 

MY NEW BOOK SALES PAGE.

I am separating my book sales site from my blog folks. Click on any of the pictures to visit my sales site HERE.

THE SEER OF ALBION.

LOVE SEX AND TIME TRAVEL

UNTIL THE END OF TIME

FAFFY THE LEPRECHAUN

NaPoWriMo 2013 – Day 29 – Dust.

I am not too happy with my poem today. I actually got a call to do some work and have been out all day. Now I am shattered and my brain isn’t functioning. And so I have used parts of an old piece of prose of mine that I was working on yesterday. Rhymed a few lines and cobbled together a very hasty ending …. not happy ….. but…

Enjoy.

…..

The truck’s engine roared throatily

Black diesel exhaust pumped into the clear desert air

An arm waved from the cab and then it was gone

Headed towards the interstate. And whatever lay there.

But that wasn’t for him

The devil lived in the cities … or was it god

He’d forgotten, cared not.

 

And so as the blue and chromed truck receded into dusty distance

As the desert calm returned to his ears

He hoisted the bag over one shoulder

An old guitar over his other and faced his fears

And walked on as loneliness joined him.

 

His boots kicked up small clouds of dry dust

One foot fell in front of the other

As each thought passed through his mind

He even remembered his mother

He supposed he was born to walk and … even to try

To forget. To make distance.

 

The road stretched out before him

An endless grey black ribbon without end

Without purpose, not much hope

Or maybe it led to hell around the next bend

He didn’t know … he didn’t care

 

Mirages formed in the shimmering heat

Patterns in the sky. A bird there. A face here.

Maybe a saint with a grinning leer.

And he walked. Boots clicked.

Leather creaked on his bags straps

 

Pools of sweat formed under the blue denim shirt he wore

Sticking to him along with desert dust

But he felt the sweat cleansed his forgotten soul

The sky was bright morning blue still

As he sat for a while

Drinking warm water from a plastic bottle

Washed down a pill.

 

He dozed in the shade of a billboard

It advertised a radio station

And he gave thanks for this shelter

Twenty miles or so?

The trucker had laughed in confirmation

He’d done the twenty already he guessed

It was now time for the ‘or so’.

 

He hit the top of the rise and then on downhill

In the distance a small dusty town.

Occasionally a rusty truck passed

Sometimes a hand would wave causing him to frown

Curious faces behind bug spattered windscreens

Studied the walker

 

He passed an old black dude

Battered straw Stetson with a small black boy skipping beside him

He heard the boy chattering

But the man just looked ahead unseeing

Ignoring the lone walker. He increased his pace.

 

And the town soon became reality

Not just a distant thought

A few old run-down buildings

He heard ringing. A tuneless old church bell?

An old irrelevant crossroads

Four ways to nowhere or maybe to hell.

 

The roadhouse was ramshackle

 In fly blown desolation

He pushed the door and entered

No air con, no fans to disturb the desert heat

Locals drinking beer… and maybe the devil drank here.

Acknowledgements grunted as he ordered a beer.

 

He put down his backpack on the faded board floor.

Watched as dust motes danced in the hot still air

The bartender raised an eyebrow .

 He placed the old guitar on a well-used old bar chair.

 

Searching pockets one by one

Dollar bills and a few coins

Exchanged for cold beer

Grunts from the bartender.

The joint was hot but the welcome was cool.

He swallowed his beer as he sat on the stool.

 

Murmured conversation behind him

The buzz of a fly

But the beer made the place comfortable

A couple more till his time to die.

For he’d come here to kill Ramirez.

And when that was done

It would be his turn to say goodbye.

 

 

© 2013 Stan M Rogers. All rights reserved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NIAGARA FALLS 2010

Just sitting here and thinking of my baby and our trip to Niagara Falls in May 2010. I loved that trip and thought I’d put a few pics up. As always just click on a pic to see it full size.

Enjoy.

 

UNTIL THE END OF TIME.

I have finally got around to sorting out an ISBN number for my latest book. It is 978-1-4461-6752-6.
It should pop up on Amazon soon but if you wish to buy it please use Lulu.com, Amazon seem to want to charge £6 extra per copy (of which I receive none)
If you do buy it enjoy and let me know what you think.
Did I mention that it is published in A4 format and is a beautiful addition to any coffee table as all of the cover art is done by me on this one.
Also don’t forget that my first novel LOVE SEX AND TIME TRAVEL. is also available on Lulu and Amazon….Enjoy.

I GAVE IT AWAY.

I Gave It Away.

Yes. I hurt
You hurt me
And you enjoyed my pain.
It really gave you joy
Didn’t it.

Sit on a bar step
Watching cars drive by
Red lights at the stop sign
Voices in the night walking by
As I drain one to many beers
In this hot night
The smell of food cooking … nearby

A couple walk by. Talking loudly
I smile. Sense their feelings
His anger… her resentment
As their raised voices pass away into the distance
Strangely I can still hear her heels on the cracked sidewalk
Long after their voices die

Did I learn? Yes I did.
Damn. I learned well
Another cigarette. Another contemptuous sigh
Time for whisky. And remembrance
Knowing I won’t find my way home tonight

The hot night stifles me. My mind. My thoughts
Wish it would rain
And wash this part of town clean
But it won’t and the sweat runs down my back
Soaked shirt.

It’s painful to rise. To enter the loveless bar.
My place. My hell. My penance.
Music playing from within.
Wrenching my heart from my chest
But I can only smile
And order whisky

Throw cash over the bar
Sit down in a bulbless corner
Relishing the dark. Comfortable in shadow
I only need the courage to say Yes I can do this and the strength to say No I am not afraid.
But I fail myself
I feel myself in ruins

Tears won’t come
Just shaking. The pain of numbness
No answers to questions asked
Just dumbness
Loss of my own mind
And respect? Ha. No
I didn’t lose it. I gave it away …

© 2010 Stan Rogers