Wednesday, January 4, 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, in the two-way mirror, Julie sees two people who have no reflection but is told that it is a trick of the light. Next, she finds her husband in bed with her and notices two marks on her neck when she takes a dream-like excursion through the universe.)

“You are chosen,” said Susan Smith, the social worker. “You were given a guided tour by us through universes by quantum possibilities.”

“Why me?” Julie asked.

“Because you drifted, in your mind, into the realm beyond dreams and there you were collected by randomness chaos to see the truth which is just like blossoms that open to the world without the fear of future and past, then just as others have before you, you’ve seen the small and the huge that flow into a higher sphere of the quantum communication of the truth.”

“But what if I don’t like these dreams?”

“You say the word and instantaneously you’ll have never seen these universes nor have experienced their multiplicity.”

“And why should I go into this quantum world?”

“I have a key for you which opens up the portal to these other possibilities of existence.”

“Could I die, or get lost out there in my dreams?”

“Perhaps, but by putting on this ring that I hold in my palm, you’ll have full control and will be back where you began your journey and this may all happen instantaneously. You may be drifting through multiple realities for years and fully experience them and to find on your return that only moments have passed.”

“But isn’t it a fact that I am locked into this place here at Cooee and I’d have to drive or go to another place and would turning the ring not leave me helpless and vulnerable?”

“You would be safe.”

“What is the reason for all this?”

“A game. I’m from five hundred years in the future. We are full masters of computers. All you see here is the projection of one of these machines, each of which has trillions and trillions of bytes. We enjoy watching you live your lives but unless much more exciting games are invented in this universe, we will switch you off and create a similar world in a different parallel universe.”

“Is there a projector somewhere outside our universe?”

“No. The projection happens from within through the quantum and the strings.”

“Can I try the ring?”

“Yes. I’ll put it on for you.”

“What about my husband?”

“We’ll be back before he wakes.”

(To be continued next month)

Sonnet

Be happy when you find a place to sleep

And then your troubles drown in sweet relief,

Where you unite with her and then you weep,

To dream of eating oysters off a reef.

With friends who won’t desert you when you’re sad

And there drink deeply from the joys of life,

When everything is good and nothing bad,

A little money and a little wife,

Escaping to an island paradise,

With clear and warm blue waters and white sands,

That is a dream’s escape just for the wise,

Where one lets go and drifts and maybe mends.

All happiness arrives when least expected,

But only if the yang has been detected.

© Joe Lake

Sonnet

Be happy when you find a place to sleep

And then your troubles drown in sweet relief,

Where you unite with her and then you weep,

To dream of eating oysters off a reef.

With friends who won’t desert you when you’re sad

And there drink deeply from the joys of life,

When everything is good and nothing bad,

A little money and a little wife,

Escaping to an island paradise,

With clear and warm blue waters and white sands,

That is a dream’s escape just for the wise,

Where one lets go and drifts and maybe mends.

All happiness arrives when least expected,

But only if the yang has been detected.

© Joe Lake

Joe Lake's View

My New Year resolution is not to have a New Year’s resolution. That takes the burden off me.

As you can see by the above picture I am well and truly retired from life. I play bridge (some were hoping that I wouldn’t) and indoor bias bowls - some are sure that I shouldn’t.

I went to the Gustav Weindorfer Memorial Service at Waldheim, near Cradle Mountain, on New Year’s Day to remember his life and achievement.

I wish you all a happy New Year and may

people always like you and what you do.

Lines

The Piccadilly Line

speeds like a bullet,

Platforms, people, blur,

Exploding through air

and sun reflections,

Desperate for the

hungry tunnel,

That artificial night

that sucks it down,

Eager, like lovers,

to consummate union

with The Underground;

The District Line

lumbers like a bear

in paradise on ice,

Rocking to and fro,

Slow, deliberate,

Every passenger patient, waiting

for the giant

that always stops, exudes,

Consumes;

Ealing Broadway,

Ealing Common;

Piccadilly long gone,

Gloucester Road,

Hyde Park Corner

in a fearsome rush!

© Michael Garrad November 2011

My View with Michael Garrad

I am humbled by how well sales are going for my novella, My Song, based on the true story of one woman’s daily struggle against chronic mental illness.

It’s much more than a few dollars, of course. My aim was to get the story into the public arena and this I have achieved.

Promotion of My Song is very largely down to all the many outlets which have readily taken on the business of pushing sales.

I am indebted to the following for their support:

In Burnie, Not Just Books, Burnie Newsagency, Cahill’s Upper Burnie Newsagency, the Burnie Regional Art Gallery, West Park Store, Grove Café, Makers’ Workshop, HQ Counselling, Café Europa, Café Bliss, Rialto Gallery Restaurant, Rieno’s Tapas and Wine Bar, Martini Restaurant, Fashion Folkus, Boland’s Pharmacy, McGrath & Co., Burnie Library and Lady Bugs Café, Wynyard, Renaessance Coffee and Wine Bar, Penguin, and Window On The World Book Shop and Coffee Lounge, Ulverstone.

Special thanks to the beautiful people on check-out at Woolworths, Upper Burnie.

The 48-page book, designed and printed by Print Domain, Burnie, retails for $10.

Digging For A Heart

The hidden archaeologist in me wanted to dig,

So I chose a small plot of land, rich and soft

And sure to yield something amazing -

It was to be my unique discovery.

Growing in the topsoil was a wild rose bush

Of exquisite colour and form,

But so as not to disturb its perfection,

I dug carefully all around it -

And in my naiveté, I wanted to believe

That what I might find could alter my life

And the life, too, of that rose bush,

So inch by inch I dug deeper and deeper.

Then one day my small spade hit rock,

And to my dismay, my disappointment,

I found no treasure there,

No natural wonder, no ancient relic,

no revelation -

Only hard, hard rock.

Suddenly the roses lost their bloom,

Their petals withered, bruised brown

And curled in ugly shapes as they fell to

ground -

Along with my bitter tears.

Is it the same with people?

Can you dig and dig, and dig,

And in the end you see surface beauty

So loved, so admired, lose all intrigue, all charm,

When you eventually find that underneath -

Lies just a heart of stone?

© June Maureen Hitchcock June 2007

In The Eyes Of God

How come,

How come

Some righteous people fervently oppose

The marriage of two people of the same gender

As they believe it not to be right

In the sight of God?

How come,

How come

Often these same righteous people

Don’t fervently oppose the marriage

Between a mature man

And a blossoming female child

Who often is forcibly deflowered

On her wedding night by her husband

Whose marriage has been

Sanctified in the eyes of God?

© Judy Brumby-Lake

Future

Our hope and joy for every tomorrow;

Hope for survival and no more happenings,

Like the landing of the first white man;

Future for all humans to be truthful;

And not to be judgemental.

It is our birthright to be healthy and happy,

This most precious treasure that can continue

Until the final breath in old age.

Like sand on the beach, our generations

Continue to the end of time.

For the rest of my life I will praise thee forever.

Have courage and have patience;

Treat each other how we wish to be treated,

As faith and action work together;

Without either, one’s faith is dead.

Christians teach what you preach;

Human beings show more compassion

Towards the less fortunate.

Get off your pedestal;

Live, love and spread smiles around.

The world can be a better place

If everyone works for a better future.

© Yvonne Matheson

With Or Without You

With or without you, the boat comes home,

Upturned faces on the dock - split into smiles, smeared with tears.

Bones washed up on the beach, picked clean.

Bits of wreckage.

Mum and Dad are dead now,

still looking out for you,

up and down the street.

If you came home, they wouldn’t recognise you.

You came home and they didn’t know you at all.

With or without you,

the boat comes home

without you.

© Kathleen Ahearne