Saturday, March 31, 2012

Fear Of Darkness A serial novel by Joe Lake

So far: Julie’s husband has had an accident and disappears. At the police station Julie sees two people who have no reflection in the mirror. Next, her husband is back and she notices two marks on her neck after she takes a dream-like excursion through the universe. Then, she meets a social worker who says that she is from five hundred years in the future who gives her a ring to travel in different dimensions. They step into a parallel universe and return. Susan leaves but

warns Julie not to turn the ring as this could be dangerous.)

Julie dreams that she is held prisoner in a far away castle in the sky where the evil overlord has chained her to a rock. The lord’s torturer is about to brand her as property with a hot iron, which he has removed from glowing coals. She feels the iron closer and closer to her bare chest. She tries to free herself with one enormous effort but can’t.

She opens her eyes. She can’t see. She tries to touch her eyes with her right hand but finds that she is restrained on the bed. “Help!” she cries .

“It’s me, John. It’s all for the best. You’ve been making noises and screams in your sleep and after what you’ve said the previous day, I thought it best to restrain you for your own good until you’ve had your medicine.”

“You’ve put a sleep mask on my face. Take it off.”

“All right.” He pulls the mask from her eyes.

“Why would you do this to me? We’ve been married for fifteen years and now you tie me up!”

“There was some peculiar rocking of the van last night and some horrible screeching and something touched my hand as I had it hanging out over the bed and it wasn’t you and what about the oversized ring you wear now? You’ve never had that.”

“Untie me and I’ll tell you. What happened was that I’ve met a woman who is from five-hundred years in the future where everything is run by computers and we are just a projection from a multi-universe next to ours. I don’t understand it myself. Universes are like slices in a loaf of bread and we are just one slice,” she said.

“Poor little Julie,” says John. “I love you so much and I only mean the best for you. I’ll call the ambulance and they’ll take you up to the clinic and they’ll make you forget all about this nonsense, all right?”

“No, no, please untie... come to think of it you don’t have to. I can turn the ring with my other finger. Come and lie next to me and hold me. I’ll take you for the maddest ride you can imagine. All I do is turn the ring, palm downwards and we’ll float free and away.”

“I’ll lie down next to you awhile, Julie, just to make you feel better. Then I’ll call the ambulance.” He took his mobile phone and pressed for the ambulance while he lay close to her.

Julie turned the ring downwards and instantly there was a whooshing sound and the surrounds became indistinct and next they were floating within a dark kind of fog.

(To be continued next month)

Love Sonnet

What causes love to hammer at my heart?

What need for a result to procreate?

What meteorite has pierced me with its dart?

What bells are chiming there to contemplate? 4

It’s not a god who calls me to repent

And not my conscience that demands my clone,

Nor did the bees demand me to attend

To call you just because I am alone. 8

Yes you, the girlish woman of my dreams

Whose every cell projects perfection’s choice,

Where you exist within your smiles and schemes 12

To wear the queen’s tiara for your poise.

You are the cause and the effect of all;

The epitome’s existence, to enthrall.

© Joe Lake

From Joe Lake’s Songs Of Love

(contemplative sonnets)

Joe Lake's Opinion

We are now in our ninth year of publication and I’d like to congratulate all the people who had their say in the gazette. About 200 poets. Keep it coming. We publish a nice representation and Michael

Garrad is a great editor.

I saw on SBS, the Public Broadcasting service in America, an interview with a poet. I didn’t get her name but she is a trendsetter. She writes poems on scientific and biological subjects which is most likely the future of poetry: Educational as well as contemplative.

I’m working on another booklet of poems and also on the film script.

I’m back on my no-breakfast-no-lunch diet, the only diet that ever worked for me. I’m addicted to food. It succours me and I feel bad without regular meals.

Blank Verse

My mind is blank, I cannot think,

my muse has gone astray

much like these lines bereft of ink,

all ideas been erased.

If only something would inspire

thoughts for some catchy verse;

evocative, emotive, or

amusing, sharp and terse.

But alas, my brain’s in neutral,

my synapses cease to snap.

Having taken pen from pocket,

I’ll just put the damned thing back!

Pete Stratford 17.6.11

Blind Dark

Chewed in the jaws of a scream,

Couldn’t see it,

Felt it,

The door was sanctuary,

But couldn’t touch it,

It dined on the wall,

I think it did,

Heard it moan in black,

Not seeing,

The door is the wall, endless,

Scream last thing I heard,

I think it was,

But, then, oblivion tricks,

Door one wall,

Floor one ceiling,

Night is interlude for shapes,

Dark is confining, absolute.

© Michael Garrad March 2012

My View with Michael Garrad

How much do we take notice of TV commercials? Well, judging by this editorial, quite a lot!

We are pounded by messages every day, unrelenting. We pretend we don’t take it all in but, or course, we do.

And because some of them are so ridiculous, we take even more notice!

Like the multitude of ways to lose weight, especially one, using the loading of a former Spice Girl. Know who I’m talking about?

Or circulatory problems with a former top Australian female swimmer. You must know who I mean!

Or a particular vehicle tyre we don’t want for the simple reason “it isn’t here”. So why bother talking about it?

Or the numerous funeral plans which cost next to nothing a week because “we put family first”. When we’re dead, it doesn’t matter who pays, if, in fact, they do! Let them sort it out!

Or Michael Crawford’s Phantom Of The Opera song selections (ad nauseum). Personally, I prefer Jose Carrera’s version of the Andrew Lloyd Webber classic.

Or “from little things, big things grow - aka superannuation. We all know that super grows just a little bit but loses lots in these volatile times. In fact, goes backwards more often than not!

Or “buying Australian” because “that all helps us sleep better at night”, so “THANK YOU!” For what?

I still don’t sleep better at night!

The Seal Hunter

Do you think you are hunters?

You really are killers.

Your prey can’t defend themselves.

Little white fluffy seal pups

have no chance

As you continually pelt them as they cry.

Have you any conscience?

How do you sleep at night?

Seal killer, what do you get out of this occupation?

Only a reputation for being a cruel barbaric killer

of the innocent!

Shame on You!

© Dianne Woods

Please write to Michael Small, Canadian High

Commissioner, Canadian High Commission,

Commonwealth Avenue, Canberra, ACT 2600, and

tell him this barbaric killing of seals needs to stop now!