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ALEXANDER STAMP
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[The End of Dreams]
Author: [Alexander Stamp]
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval
system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying,
recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I'd like to acknowledge the artist responsible for the imagery present
in this text, my mother, which I believe should enhance the reader's
experience. I would also like to thank the team at my self-publishing
company for their support and guidance in publishing my first book,
it is no mean feat to turn a simple collection of works into something
tangible.
DEDICATION
I dedicate this book to my parents, who have always been extremely
supportive of my many and varied interests. They have taught me the
value of words, and I will always be grateful for that.
FOREWORD
This poetry book is divided into three sections, divided by common
themes. Any similarities to real or imagined characters, people or
places are completely coincidental; it should be noted the poetry is
relatively adult in nature.
PERSONAL
A STRANGE PARADISE
An expedition to the wild coast,
Where earth, sea, sky and all mediums of Mother Nature meet,
Where the pounding surf mixes the hill rocks like an enthusiastic
tumble dryer.
It is a primeval place, with towering cliffs greater than mans creations,
Yet still it is subject to the all-powerful master of time,
Those great rocks will eventually become sand for the tourists of some
unimaginable future.
I look up and up and up some more to the very top of the dark
behemoth,
Where hardy inexhaustible life still clings,
I move closer, feeling the rough beauty of the quarry face.
Above me looms one of the smaller terraces, its steep surface
seeming like a giants step.
What will the people of the future think of this scene?
Will they be primitive and see them as a wondrous creation of their
God or
Will they be so advanced that such a majestic scene as this does not
garner a mote of their
attention?
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BAY OF PASSION
Sun streams down upon the shifting sands
Seemingly solid in my lined hands.
My ugly feet light up my brain
With heat-related pain.
Solid stone tents the bay against the sky
With its burning sun high.
Cool waters roar below;
The surf is my implacable, merciless foe.
I launch myself in after my friends,
My body soon wracked with twists and bends.
The hypnotic power of the waves
Makes us all slaves.
Except maybe the woman beside me,
Burnished hair waving towards the sea.
We have only had these few luscious seconds together
But forget you? Never.
Give me back my heart I try to say,
But my voice is too fey.
My command is to travel,
And it makes my mind unravel
At this cruel turn of fate
Which makes my heart fluctuate to hate.
The waves wash my body clear of dirt,
But ever remains the hurt.
She is different from other ladies
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15
MADNESS
Have you
Ever had a
Moment when your perfect
Picture of reality smeared by
Slyly.
Normal
Or at least
I thought I was close
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Come slipstream
with us and you'll see it is the cream
Of life. A fine balance of joy
and terror; You'll put down the soy.
19
GREEN FIELDS
In a gentle wispy grassed valley
Lies a house.
A house, home to the mariner clan.
Separated from the wild oceans
They turn their hand to the growth
Of new life, verdant and flourishing.
But among the young the siren sea
Holds strong, bathing their dreams.
And all are watched by silent sentinels.
Tall and endless in number, evoking
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HOPE/CHANGE
Sunlight streams down from the skies
While her cooling body attracts the flies
Hungry for the dark flesh of forgotten tribes
Crushed for the interest of corporate bribes
The boys in blue
Sworn to uphold their duty to me and you
Poisoning and beating the unwashed rastas
Autonomous slaves to hidden masters
The fall of a united European dream
Whilst hydrocarbons poison our backyard stream
Financial ruin poisoning the hope of generations
Whilst lies are told to the people and their nations.
Carbon dioxide
and Dihydrogen monoxide
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FIREFLIES
Life seems to be
Running out of control
Ahead one cannot see
And it takes a vital toll
A mad broken earth
That only makes sense when
Blind drunk in your berth
There exists no past or future tense
A biological locomotive blindly crashing
Headlong into another
Dreams, hopes, rationality smashing
Is all that can be seen brother
This is called progress
Aiding all the teeming multitudes of mankind
But I must confess
It leaves me mentally behind
I yearn for a happy tranquility
But I will never have this
It is beyond my ability
Something in my soul is amiss
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MIND WEAPONRY
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30
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It will pierce
Your trembling lizard brain, gradually turning to stew.
What will it bring?
An end to corporate power.
The glorious purpose you have been
seeking all your desperate life. The lean
power of private enterprise seen
Melded with government like an intricate bower.
The last cry of the West, Deus Vult you must sing.
Last? I jest
I meant endless.
The information age leveraged onto
The corrupt parasite classes, a bullet through
Their gaping maws. Who are they? Who?
Lawyers and bureaucrats. The forever friendless.
Now we will be ruled by the best.
We will be the engine of the world.
Resources streaming
Down from the endless stars.
Propelling our ever sustainable bazaars,
Closing the dreadful mining scars.
The sunlight is beaming,
As our starships are giant hurled.
Will you join us?
Will you end your dreamless sleep?
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AUSTRALIA
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SANDSTONE CASTLES
Study down under
Is a rort.
These sandstone castle are mere Ponzi schemes.
Who would have thought?
That gender studies degree you bought
Won't save you in bankruptcy court.
We push internationals through,
Never examining our quality of education.
Kaching Kaching.
We're blinded by monetary temptation.
Ring them up, charge the compulsory donation.
Hurry up, get to your graduation.
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Studying commerce?
You'll get a job for sure.
Oh wait, we were jesting.
That was just a glistening lure
To the naive and railroad followers. No definite cure.
Your future is not secure.
So when people ask that blind question,
about my future. My answer is vapour.
Why? Why do I challenge the matrix?
Because all the prestige is like this paper
Thin and cheap, and what I've learnt in this caper?
That I'm no slick, no Don Draper.
DONATIONS
A strong wind blows the dying leaves
Across the concreted path, while my heart gently heaves
In light endorphinal expectation.
A good deed done and its accompanying gratification.
The red lettered Christian tiethers
Are pleased to see us, their donation grabbing beavers.
I jest.
Their motives are good hearted, the very best.
That cannot necessarily be said of the other men
A faint stench of resume building leaks out from their ambitions, a little
mouldy distraction
from the charitable action.
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40
41
CRY HAVOC
China
The greatest
Thief of our hard
Grasped engineering thought
Gone. Gone.
Never
Coming back.
Cities flaring like
Mushrooms, on the back of
Theft.
Our
Blue collars
Gasping in the dirt
of poverty. Red iron ores
Remain.
We are
Shipping out
Our wealth and shipping
In fifth column invaders
Quickly.
Oh so
Quickly fruits
Of the enlightenment
Turn to sick rotten dust
Putrid.
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Know well
That the lone bird,
lone eagle, steals
From us to but it only
Asks.
For our
Money. You can
Return money at the tap
Of a computer key. But our red
Land?
Only
With self same
Dripping, pulsing blood.
Don't let it slip away. Not
Ever.
UP THE STUDENTS
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