I am separating my book sales site from my blog folks. Click on any of the pictures to visit my sales site HERE.
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…
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.
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.
Yes. I hurt
You hurt me
And you enjoyed my pain.
It really gave you joy
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
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
© 2010 Stan Rogers
Great. We survived the landing in Newark, New Jersey. Next the small matter of a two hour flight to Ohio.
As the Boeing 777 slowly taxi’s to our gate I sigh in relief and let go of Kit’s hand. “It’s OK babe I reassure her, they will soon heal.” I am referring to my deep fingernail imprints in her palm caused by my vice like grip of terror. “Can’t understand what I was so worried about really.” Yes the landing was a tad bumpy but I console myself with the thought that any landing you can walk away from is a good landing.
The engines wind down and everybody stands up expectantly. After about 15 minutes lots of them sit down again. It becomes clear that we aren’t going anywhere in a hurry. Eventually though there is movement and people slowly start to disembark. Welcome to the USA I think to myself and embrace Kit. My smile must give away my relief at being on Terra firma again. We kiss and exit the 777 happily.
Next… Immigration. What jollity. I join what seems to be a 3 mile long single file queue that snakes its way slowly to the immigration desks. Kit and I are separated now. She is a US citizen and joins a different queue. I of course am a member of Al Qaeda till proven otherwise and I assume the blank look of the typical queue dweller as we inch our way towards the desks. I strike lucky briefly as a new clerk comes on duty and I am directed to the front of a new queue. I wait behind the red line till I am beckoned forward. I greet the clerk in my best American. “Hi Buddy. Have a nice day.” I say hopefully. The clerk looks at me dubiously as if I have just greeted him in Afghani. “Passport please Sir.” I proffer my passport. “Form D156 (I think) please Sir.” I proffer my form D156. “Blue customs declaration form please Sir.” “Err what? I ask limply. “Blue customs declaration form Sir? He repeats. I look crestfallen. “What the f**k is one of them I think to myself and why didn’t they give me one on the plane when they dished out the other forms?”
The clerk points to a table where I can pick up the said form and fill it in and rejoin the BACK of the queue. I shuffle away from the clerk muttering under my breath. “I’m sorry sir? Asks the clerk. “Have a nice day.” I grin weakly.
I go to the table and find the form. At least I have a pen on me. Lucky as none are provided and I dutifully fill in the form. It could be asking me if I am importing Bin Laden’s into the US but I just tick all the NO boxes and rejoin the back of the queue again. Eventually I get to the front and I am summoned forward to the clerk again. I can see Kit waiting for me a mere 10 yards away. I turn to the clerk and proffer my Form D156, Passport AND bloody blue customs declaration form with a smile of victory. I am asked to place my fingers and thumbs on a scanner to have my fingerprints taken. Great. Now let me in I think hopefully. But no. This is not my day.
“I see you have a FULL visa Sir.” I nod proudly. “ I sure do.” (And your Embassy wallahs had me over for about 300 quid for it I think privately to my self). I smile happily at the clerks powers of observation. “Why Sir?” he asks suspiciously. My stomach sinks into my boots as I once more explain my misdemeanour’s of about ten years previously. No convictions I explain fruitlessly. The clerk smiles in victory and closing his booth I am led away to ‘upstairs’. Kit looks on helplessly as I just shrug and smile weakly.
I am handed over to a couple of new uniformed guys who take me ‘upstairs’ in a lift. I am instructed to take a seat and wait till my name is called. I sit helplessly and watch as a female customs officer leads a beagle out to sniff the bins for bombs or drugs I presume. They walk past me and it seems that even the dog looks at me suspiciously. As they pass I flip it the bird. It would be just my luck I think to be refused entry and put on the next plane back to blighty. I just hope I can get a drink on it this time because I am going to get so bloody pi…… My thoughts are interrupted when I hear my name called.
I stroll nonchalantly up to the desk. The uniformed guy behind it asks me my occupation? “Writer.” I tell him. He grins as if I am spinning him a line. His smile says “Prove it.” Briefly I think of showing him my pen but decide this may not be the best course of action. I reach into my bag and pull out a copy of my novel ‘Love Sex and Time Travel.’ This seems to fascinate him. He even asks if he can buy it on Amazon. I assure him that he can and sincerely hope he will. He calls his buddy over and they both snicker over my books title. As long as they are happy then so am I and I chortle along with them and after a few brief pleasantries it is over. My passport is duly stamped allowing me into the country till July. As I turn to walk away one of them says. “Hey Buddy. I see you are going to Ohio. Nothing much happens there you know.” I smile and think to myself, “That’s cos I haven’t arrived there yet.”
©2010 Stan Rogers
My book LOVE SEX AND TIME TRAVEL is not strictly a science fiction novel. More of a bittersweet romance mystery.
Here is a small excerpt from Chapter 7 exploring some theories on the viability of time travel.
Originally it was believed inconceivable that time travel was possible, as any action back in time would cause a paradox. The classic explanation quoted is that if you go back in time and kill your grandfather before he met your grandmother then your father would not be born and you could not therefore be born to travel back in time to kill your grandfather. I supposed that this could also apply here to with Romilly and me. If Romilly and I changed history by getting together and not splitting up this time then I wouldn’t marry Elaine and be where I was in 2007 to go back to meet Romilly. Nice little explanation of a time paradox that, but quantum theory allows for a multiversity of infinite universes side by side all branching out from each other and taking different paths from each different action taken and even rejoining as they come back into line.
So if I go back to kill my grandfather then I will cease to exist in that universe but in another I don’t kill him and so go on existing and don’t go back to kill him. Two new universes then exist, one with me in it and the other without. It gets a bit trickier to understand after that, but it seems these different time universes called ‘branes’ by the scientists can theoretically co-exist physically as little as a millimetre apart and there are an infinite amount of them too. By infinite I mean never ending too not just a very large amount either.
I read about quantum computers which we are apparently only a matter of time away from building. They are no faster than an ordinary computer but by using quantum mechanics they can dash off into hyper space and perform their calculation returning instantly with the answer a billion times or more all at the same time, time is irrelevant to them which is going to get a lot of governments worried as no passwords will be safe with them. For example say you have a 10,000 number password protecting your files or even a million then it won’t matter to a quantum computer. It can try every one of the millions of different combinations instantly and simultaneously. Don’t take my word for it. Look it up, it’s all on the internet.
But if any of you budding Doctor Who’s out there think it would be a cool Saturday morning’s work to nip out into the shed in the back garden and knock up a quick Tardis so you can nip back in time to place a bet on the lottery after getting the results, forget it, because although at least possible in theory to build one it would need the power of a black hole to power it up. It ain’t gonna be going nowhere on a few quid’s worth of unleaded I’m afraid. Also who can say if these universes have the same lottery results either?
But anyhow sitting there mulling these mind boggling thoughts over I started to think about dreams, another subject full of theory as to the mechanics and meanings of them. I even remembered reading many years ago about astral projection, which basically allows for the idea that by training the mind to enter a trance state the mind can leave the body and travel around at will. If different but similar branches of the same universe could be so close then maybe in a dream state couldn’t we maybe step from one to the other? In fact couldn’t dreams or even astral projection actually be that sometimes? Insights into a parallel universe that is right beside us. Little sleeping mind trips to a different universe or reality? Could that be what I was experiencing, not a trip back in time but just a small step to a close but slightly different reality in another time universe? My head tried to get around it but just found it so hard to understand it all. Also for instance if there were infinite numbers of universes co-existing would it not be a pretty small chance that Romilly and I had met up in the same one. Wouldn’t that make it statistically impossible I thought? But by following the theories through I realized that all I had just researched allowed for an infinite multiplicity of Romilly’s and even of me’s. Statistically impossible becomes possible maybe even probable. It’s like the old chestnut about being given an infinite amount of time a group of monkeys could type the entire works of Shakespeare. O My God I needed a drink to even start to get my head around that one. But was there any way I could test the theory myself? All of a sudden it came to me. Maybe there was. Just maybe there was a way that I could. But I would need to be back in 1981 to do it first.