Wondering in 2018

Events have occurred , political intrusion by government Trump or May that have dissolved our lives into a caricature farce that is dark and sadistic so I wrote this…

curious

in a time I never realised before

those blindly blinking

people

heads down

could be swallowed up

by forces unseen

and never know

monuments fall

governments tirade

without distraction

I was a beggar in life

seizing the moments

that never seemed to come often

thoughts and a voice

but nobody would listen

media’s bluster

without so much as

whisper

of human account

cut me into wounds

moral abstract slices

of nevermore and decay

will we be saved

on this exhausted hulk

called earth

or will I shrivel

into that carbonised carapace

and tomb

that is called death

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Matopulas

I met a great guy Peter Sinseeya in New Brighton filming a crime scene for his TV series Matopulas we chatted and I loved the sound of a complex crime drama of three intertwining lives set in Merseyside , so a local production with a core of morals and principles being shot in guerilla fashion .

Time passed then I got a Facebook message that led to me having an acting role in it , I have never acted but I decided to have a go and wow I enjoyed the experience nearly 7 hours of chilly fun in the empty and haunted Woolton Hall a creepily beautiful place.

As you can see it looks brilliant and below is the trailer so enjoy

https://youtu.be/X_Puwh1dcEk

All the best

Beautifully sensuouß

Denise Carruthers ~ @CattyKoala

I want you – come into the kitchen -I’ll show you my recipe
with apron strings undone to my secret spices
I want to make it hot for you – the sizzle and the steam
to stir the juices slowly till the cream begins to rise
and the waters starts to simmer till they boil
in a roiling raging tangle
– that melt before your eyes -a sated tasty mouthful of surprise
I want to make you my ingredient
in dripping decadence
to fill my fondant full of you -the froth atop the fantasy
till your words become a poem and your tastebuds tingle time
I want you- in my recipe – of love

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vessel is broken

oscillation of my heart

a thrum of false applause

nova wheel turns

in loose hands palms sweaty

streetlights searing flares

in greasy windshield stain

accelerating with measure

not panic

plastic neon afterglow

rearview shadows and transcience

nicotine once craved

alcohol once craved

cardboard cup balanced

lid slipped with brown liquid

it’s smell filling nostrils

along with dog

and after days perfume

arguments

those voices thrown and snatched

can be taken back

into a street

cop car drawled on by

tree lined urban paradise

front porch orange glow

parked

engine silently waiting

would she disturb the curtains to see

nothing

was he wrong

then he remembered

she was gone

they where gone

counselling for grief

counselling for depression

arguments outlive those who shout

that once beautiful house

invaded

shotgun splattered

with crimson design

rocking slowly to and fro

applause had silenced

into the false abyss

he would be in the shadows

a footnote on a headstone

living without a porch

accelerating

foot on gas

rubber black stained

breathing in circles

window open

a destination yet unwritten

then tomorrow

cracked on cheap wine

liver brushed

tongue licked by camels

lying in semi stasis

not being illiterate

book slithered to floor

words melting into wood

she was by the full length mirror

naked with no breath left

she was my descent

her depths a surge of rapid currents

I could not read anýmore

tenderloin buttocks moved

her vagina a well visited republic

it’s musty sweetness

gave me a fugue of absurdity

return to me

return to me

her snowy gut roll belly

over my lips

kissing tongued glassy traces

jackrabbit twitching

lowered herself to me

I was forgiven

I had absolution

sweet poetry and flesh

shuddering silver dollars

into the meter

my time running out

would return to book

and motel walls

she a neon scrawl on my eyes

then there would be tomorrow

Hello, Where have i been

It has been a while, can you forgive me for not slipping words between your brain cells, words of poem or loose nonsense it has been a strange time , i became a Grandfather …yes who heard that right a Grandfather , another role to partake being around a small fragile skin bundle who is dare i say ..cute , i love her to bits.

I look around at the Mayverse and Trumpiverse we both sides of the pond have found ourselves in , insane i know we could never of realized it..but that is as far as i go about politics back to now.. the inexcusable silence draped like a morticians apron over you ..but i am back this is just a quick note of love to you all .

I am working on a couple of screenplays ..more to come soon so now i depart but i will be back .. where have i heard that before

Just because you write it doesn’t mean Hollywood has to buy it…

An interesting piece that makes a lot of sense

My Blank Page

poor screenwriterThis reality was one of the hardest lessons to learn when I began screenwriting. I thought like many aspirants do, that just because I finished a new screenplay that someone would care and it would sell. It took about five specs into my journey to figure out that it takes many projects in the marketplace for one to succeed. I’ll admit those early scripts were not amazing and it took me years to write at a professional level to compete. Many times on your journey it’s a long dry period where no project moves forward and you can’t get anyone to read it. Other times every script you push garners interest and some brush close to a sale or option. It’s the ebb and flow as you pursue a screenwriting career.

After I began getting paid professionally to write screenplays, some ended up in development and did not get produced…

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10 Great Foreign Horror Movies You Probably Haven’t Seen

Rare Horror

Here’s our list of ten great, obscure subtitled movies you probably haven’t seen set.  You can click on a movie’s name to see its IMDB listing.
pizza
Pizza (2012)
A pizza delivery boy lands in a mysterious circumstance and it works a dramatic change in his life. (127 mins.)
Director: Karthik Subbaraj
Country: India
hr
hansel
After meeting an mysterious girl on an dark stretch of road, a young salesman is invited to a beautiful house with bizarre secrets and no way to escape. (117 mins.)
Director: Pil-Sung Yim
Country: South Korea
hr
dabbe
Turkish director Hasan Karacadag is something of an unusual case. In a nation that appears uncertain… (119 mins.)
Director: Hasan Karacadag

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Flash Fiction-One Blade

Vincenzo Bilof

GREETINGS!

Welcome to the new website! I hope you like it. To get things started, I’m going to feature a flash fiction piece that placed third (or maybe second, I honestly can’t remember) in a flash fiction contest at Horror Novel Reviews back in 2013. I figure the best way to introduce a new website is by showing off a piece of writing. 

Enjoy! 

One Blade

By Vincenzo Bilof 

    Left to die alone. One blade of grass the mower can’t cut.

            “Cut it my way,” the wife says while I’m lost in a world of dragons and magicians, a realm where I can die and live, live and die.

            “Be a man and get the damn weeds. Those weeds are all over my flowers.”

            A baby screams. Mine.

         The weeds have been murdered, but one blade of grass waves in the wind…

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From Dreamswept Fuckscape

Big Ape Diary

From dreamswept fuckscape

you surfaced to skin.

From sleepsunk night

through half hidden borderlands:

the interstitial spaces of want and have

to the flatlands of a needsome Now,

and found like all surfacing, the superficial

safety of non-committal

pales beside the depths of mingled DNA-

where we exist at truest, 

Where communal histories dance

in millennial veils.

 

Dreams, our clothes at their most naked

and in the awakening we feel

all surfacing a lie-

and yet, where we intersect

at the boundaries of sentences and skin

weaving ourselves to the depths of us,

searching for the other,

we imprint our loves

on the descent into us,

drag the ghosts of our impressions of them into cores

where bodies cling to crusts

and intellect slips to the mantle of our being.

We make phantoms of ourselves

and bind ourselves to myth.

 

We live tangential to life

pulling the…

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