Dusty Balls

Standard

DB 1

Please leave a review to let us know your thoughts.

Dusty Balls is inspired by a true story. A story that some of have you have seen first hand. About that sometimes Christmas tree, sometimes “artwork” that adorned the sitting room in my house for two years!
The balls have long since been dusted but the memory remains. I thought it would be a good title for a new story.  David Goldon

 
Yes, as soon as 1January arrived, the Christmas tree – that took 4 days to decorate – became “art” instead of decoration.  I was not about to take down something that took so much work to create after only 1 month.  🙂  Then it was “Christmas In July”, then it was the next Christmas… 😉   That “work of art” will never be done again … by me at least.  Just a few fairy lights and decorations around the house are enough now.  Big Gay Santa is my contribution to this FREE eBook. ~ Michael Young

 
You can download these two stories for free in several different formats from the Smashwords link:     https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/763421

 

 

 

 

Running Forward, Dancing Back

Standard

Here’s a lyric that’s waiting for its melody ….

 

Running Forward, Dancing Back

 

You could be my dream come true

All I want is all of you

All this flirting never ends

Then you say we’re only friends

 

Is this real or fantasy

Are you playing games with me?

Are you feeding me a lie?

Waiting for my heart to die

 

 

It’s foolish to deny, don’t try to run away

It’s plain for all to see, the truth you never say

But we keep running down this track

Three steps forward, Two steps back

So look me in the eye and tell me what you see

Just say what’s on your mind and what you want from me

Then we keep dancing down this track

Two steps forward, One step back

 

 

Why do I keep coming back?

For another charm attack

I just only want to please

All you ever do is tease

 

Others see the games you play

Tell me I should walk away

I let you make all the rules

Smile at me and I’m your fool

 

 

I have to wonder why, you’re choosing to deny

This tension is so real, this fire that we feel

But we keep running down this track

Three steps forward, Two steps back

It’s driving me insane, this life of endless pain

I’ve nothing left to lose; it’s time for you to choose

Then we keep dancing down this track

Two steps forward, One step back

 

 

So many sleepless nights wishing you were here

Holding you close to feel you breathe, your naked body touching mine

So many dreams of what we’d do if you were here

I could taste you, kiss you, tease you, please you, wrap my love around you

 

 

See the goal but then it’s gone

Always stringing me along

I’ve laid my truth on the line

Why do you still waste my time?

 

Throw away the foolish rules

Made to chain the weaker fools

Here is where we’re meant to be

Take me now or set me free.

 

 

 

I have to wonder why, you’re choosing to deny

This tension is so real, this fire that we feel

But we keep running down this track

Three steps forward, Two steps back

 

So look me in the eye and tell me what you see

Just say what’s on your mind and what you want from me

Then we keep dancing down this track

Two steps forward, One step back

 

It’s foolish to deny, don’t try to run away

It’s plain for all to see, the truth you never say

But we keep running down this track

Three steps forward, Two steps back

 

It’s driving me insane, this life of endless pain

I’ve nothing left to lose; it’s time for you to choose

Then we keep dancing down this track

Two steps forward, One step back

 

 

Three steps forward, Two steps back

 

Two steps forward, One step back

 

Running forward,

 

Dancing back.

 

©Michael Young 2017

 

 

Garbage

Standard

On Thursdays, I usually put the garbage bins out at around 8 am because they’re never collected until Thursday afternoon.  Last night, Wednesday, I had the thought to put the bins out then… so I did.

This morning, at 7 am, I was still in bed when I heard the Garbage truck collecting our bin.  Good thing I listened to that thought last night!

Synchronicity.

Running Blind

Standard

Here’s another piece of verse I wrote called Running Blind which relates to my escape from the job I hated

 

I was running when I thought I was walking

Thought I was walking but it seems I was falling

I was dying when I thought I was living

Thought I was living but it seems I was lying

 

 

Trying to be heard through the chaos

Of voices never listening

Hearing vacant words of confusion

From the hearts never learning

Swept forward by time to somewhere

Not sure how to get there

The drone of routine and safety

That still leads to nowhere

 

 

I was breathing when I thought I was laughing

Thought I was laughing but it seems I was screaming

I was crying when I thought I was singing

Thought I was singing when it seems I was breaking

 

 

When I fell I came down so hard

Could see no way ahead

I just knew I could not go back

To the way that it had been

It’s so clear the cracks were showing

My pain had been denied

So now I know I could not see

The writing on the wall

 

 

I was stumbling when I thought I was dancing

Thought I was dancing but it seems I’m the fool

I was caged there when I thought I was moving

Thought I was moving now I see I had died

 

 

I was running when I thought I was walking

Thought I was walking but it seems that I fell

I was lying when I thought I was living

Thought I was living but I’m still running blind.

 

 

©MICHAEL YOUNG 2017

Calming Rain

Standard

CALMING RAIN is a vision I had as I woke one morning…

 

I awoke this morning to the calming sound of summer rain and its comforting smell wafting through my windows.  I lay on my bed, still not fully conscious, not yet prepared to open my eyes.  I drifted back in time; 40 years and hundreds of kilometres away to school holidays with my grandparents in the sleepy country village of Krambach.

Sometimes we would have days of continual rain.  Not a bad thing at all because it just produced a deeply relaxed atmosphere and a peaceful harbour away from the storms of school and home.

I can feel myself sitting on the back veranda in one of the round chairs of woven yellow and white plastic with spindly black metal legs.  To my left is the curtained off room that was created for grandpa with his single bed, cluttered dresser and small windows that were installed when they enclosed the entire area many years before.  In the area to my right is the big freezer where some of the spoils of the once-a-month shopping trip to Taree were stored, next to the door that leads through to the kitchen, originally the back door of the house.  Grandma’s antique, pedal powered Singer sewing machine is also over there and still in working order.

In front of me the new back door, home-made from sturdy planks of wood, sits wide open giving me a view of beautiful Krambach Mountain in the distance, slightly obscured by the rain.  I hear the harsh sound of a crow in the massive gum tree at the northwest corner of the block and magpies warble in the younger trees next door to the south.

I’m sitting here reading a book, not much else to do on rainy days but read, eat and sleep.  Only two stations on the old black and white TV in the lounge room and neither are on air 24 hours yet.  Coronation Street, Days Of Our Lives, Peyton Place, The Young And The Restless, the daily local News are the highlights; topped off by The Black and White Minstrel Show on weekends.

Of course, these days of endless rain have their disadvantages too.  Going to the toilet is a major challenge as it is a white wooden “out-house” way down the backyard.  Inside it, on the concrete floor, is a big black metal can covered by a plastic seat and the “can man” comes weekly to swap it for an empty one.  So, the epic adventure begins with dressing for the journey in rubber boots, a yellow vinyl raincoat and a matching rain hat or even an umbrella.  Then I take the first step out through the back door onto the small balcony.  On a clear day this balcony provides a commanding view of the backyard and the land beyond.

Below it are the vegetable gardens that provide every vegetable and herb that my Grandmother needs to keep the family fed: iceberg lettuce, apple cucumbers, radishes, carrots, corn, beetroot, potatoes, onions, cauliflower, cabbage, brussels sprouts, pumpkin, and squash.  Along one fence grow beans and peas that we eat straight off the vines and the tomato bushes that have the most unforgettable smell when they are watered.

The garden is dotted with orange, lemon, apple, plum, apricot, pear and peach trees.  Grandma’s peach jam and peach pies are unbeatable and unforgettable.  Grape vines, passionfruit vines and strawberries also grow there providing the fresh ingredients for her grape jam, strawberry jam and magnificent tomato and passionfruit jam.  Beside the grape vines grows the mulberry tree, a favourite target for passing birds when it’s in fruit and the source of another variety of exquisite homemade jam and pies.

At the back of the garden, just behind the out-house, is the chook pen constructed of corrugated iron, wood and wire.  Some of the perches are old wrought iron bed heads and the straw lined laying boxes provide a seemingly endless supply of fresh golden-yolk eggs for breakfasts and the wide variety of addictive desserts and cakes grandma makes.

Beyond the chook pen is the magnificent 180 degree view of the fields and Krambach Mountain.

It’s a Doctor Who book I’m reading.  One of the “Target” novelisations of the many lost episodes from the 1960”s… Doctor Who And The Crusaders or Doctor Who And The Zarbi.  These simply written but engaging books were the key for me overcoming my fear of reading due to my dyslexia and making me the avid and addicted reader I am today, just as those soap shows made me the TV addict I am today.

I would spend hours on these rainy days escaping into the images and characters the words created, seeing it all as if I was actually there.  Providing me the same feeling of “all is right with the world” that I’m feeling until the raucous sound of a distant car alarm and the ringing of my mobile phone drag me unceremoniously back to reality, back to a rainy morning in Werribee, 2017.

This afternoon I sat out the back on the deck, under our pergola listening to the constant soft fall of the calming rain and read a few pages of each of those books, both published back in 1973.

Doctor Who And The Crusaders had a beautiful beginning:

“As swiftly and as silently as a shadow, Doctor Who’s Space and Time ship, the Tardis, appeared on a succession of planets each as different as the pebbles on a beach, stayed a while and then vanished, as mysteriously as it had come.  And whatever alien world it was that received him and his fellow travellers, and however well or badly they were treated, the Doctor always set things to rights, put down injustice, encouraged dignity, fair treatment and respect.”

How beautifully put by David Whitaker.

It was also interesting how, in Doctor Who And The Zarbi, writer Bill Strutton refers to him as Doctor Who instead of The Doctor.  Then at the back of the book it lists places that have not existed for decades as the addresses to send away to purchase copies for:

£1.50 plus Postage and Packing Rate: UK: 45p for the first book, 20p for  the second and 14p for each additional book ordered to a maximum charge of £1.63.  BFPO and EIRE: 45pfor the first book, 20p for the second book, 14p per copy for the next 7 books thereafter 8p per book.  OVERSEAS:  75p for the first book and21p per copy for each additional book.”

Well that was overly complicated!  Thankfully we have Amazon online these days!

Last thing I did tonight was watch the latest episode of The Young And The Restless direct from the US then fall back to sleep listening to the rain.

The endless circle of time keeps turning.

The more things change, the more they stay the same.

  

 © MICHAEL YOUNG 2016.

Krambach 4

 

Calming 1