profile image

Ed Kynaston

Updated: Sun, 10 Jul 2016 06:25 pm

Contact via WOL

URL:

Biography

Hi, my is name is Ed Kynaston, am originally from Surrey, England., Take me back to 73, july 31st to be precise, fast forward a few crazy years. And i find i ve had many adventures,thrills and spills along the way, i fell into ,visiting ,and then staying in many European countries. France for 2 yrs. Germany for 5 years. Greece for a year. All while working as a chef, for 15 years. Until my right hand started to stop working properly. A bad case of carpal tunnel and trigger finger syndrome s kicked in. sod s law , my right hand. My writing hand. Suddenly one afternoon i awoke, with stories swirling round my mad brain. Thank you for grazing at my words. To date i have nearly 100 pieces and several short stories written.

Samples

"Blue Wishes" Oh! Them dastardly blues. I woke up this morning,to old re-hashed news and extreme political views. I found out quick,i choose ,not to give in to the blues. Oh! Them dastardly blues, they make me wanna blow a fuse.Leaving me cold confused. Can a little happiness be infused,let the population be amused, not felt abused and left to rot. Find a wishing well,whisper a dream to colour n bloom. Oh! Them dastardly blues. ´Weekend Zero´ This was the big event,people had been waiting for, Years ,even decades in planning.The unveiling of the human race.Some of the workers and planners say there will be a million new faces, all different races. To worship different gods and graces. Seven days till ´weekend zero´. Busy nano-tech workers scurry about,with not much doubt about their tasks ahead. A few tweaks here and there, in the geek department. stepping back ,they all felt a little meek. Yet we all seek for perfection, for this perfect new selection of human confection.All sweet,what a treat. All levels of satisfaction are nearly reached,the terra-formers are sent down in their bright blue bulldozers, to smooth over the rough unforgiving land. Not much different from a cake ready for the bake. Just the right temperature and the right amount of gooiness.A job well done. One more day and we will be away. All the bio pods containing our bods all lit and ready. One million or so(we lost count after 4 or so) are sent down in their right spaces, ready to see new faces and explore new places. All the lights blinking away.All flashing in hypnotic harmony. The elected members of the nano-tech workers union stepped forward and announced´´Ten minutes to weekend zero´´. The fat controller was asked to press the pod release buttons. 10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3....Wait, what fate, will await the new human race? We as gods will decide and abide. 2-1-0- ...Oh what the hell. "Funky punk time" From rock to punk,add a little funk and shake your junk otherwise you ll find your youth ,becoming de-funked. Catch on a little snare drum,throw in a few tom-tom rolls and ignite allota theatrical flair or flare. Shock the audience if you dare,launch your guitar-Townshend style if you don t bloody care. Jump into that crazy mosh pit,there ain t no time to sit,get in there, bang your head and shake your bones. Put away your mobile phones. "Green haze" Bongs ,cheeky lap dancers thongs and reggae songs, are just a few of the things on offer in the smoky city. Walk a while and you will catch all the pretty expensive girls framed in red-lit windows .All the day and the night,its the same old game,helping men to regain their vigour, while people snigger in the shadows. The whispers carry through the neon washed streets, from which thousands of feet have worn the cobbles smooth as a well played record groove. The coffee shop display jars of Mother Nature,all different colours and hues ,to take away your blues. ´´The neural river flows´´ The river flows fast and with much rage,i feel the past flying by,as the future beckons from afar. A knock on my head,wakes my mind ajar,opens several unknown doors in far recesses of forgotten memory. It almost feels ephemeral, my brain cells alight with endorphins and extra serotonin, fusing my neurons and electric highways, into paths of new ways of thinking. Searching for purer thoughts,its harder than you think. The day to day grime and man made time, leave little room for the buzz of natural creativity,god i feel my liberty has been stolen and my tongue feels swollen shut from all the enforced censorship.

All poems are copyright of the originating author. Permission must be obtained before using or performing others' poems.

Viewed 431 times since 06 Jul 2016

Do you want to be featured here? Submit your profile.

Comments

Rebecca Miller

Mon 11th Jul 2016 10:08

Hi Ed :) Thanks for the like on Shared Dreams xx Much appreciated.

View all comments

If you wish to post a comment you must login.

This site uses cookies. By continuing to browse, you are agreeing to our use of cookies.

Find out more Hide this message