Sunday, 4 September 2016

My 80s Days

This poem is about Jimmy's youth and what he experienced. As you can see, it's quite varied, like Jimmy is. He spends a lot of time remembering the past, to write clearly about it. He urges new writers to try poetry and develop their skills.

My 80s Days

When Jimmy was a kid in the early 80s, he used to take the piss out of glue sniffers. Hey you, you bastard! They used to chase him and his mate. Running in zig zags, never catching us.
Back further, the old stone house opposite Locking Gate Rise at Waterhead. We smashed the stones out of the walls. On the day it collapsed, I wasn't there. Wasn't me! I was watching Grizzly Adams. We heard the roar as it fell. My mum saw the dust cloud go past our window.
Soon after, new houses were built. I used chalk to write on the wall: Glen is gay! This lad wanted to beat me up but never caught me. He threw a big white pebble at me. It missed.
Years later, I remember the alternative girls. One had a house with Siouxsie posters on the walls. She looked the same. Stunning. Another gal ran barefoot. With blond hair, she played New Model Army over the CB. What did she do with the rest of her life?
The 80s. I remember.

Copyright Jimmy Boom Semtex 2016


Jimmy Boom Semtex is into many things. Writing is one. His varied work includes poetry, prose and stories on a variety of topics. Erotica like his Fire Extinguisher Man series, poetry on current world events, horror stories and more besides. Jimmy loves getting tattooed, listening to alternative music, drinking beer and living a simple but fulfilling life. Check his Facebook page out. He's working on new erotic stories and a poetry collection. His writing career is diverse and so are the authors/poets/writers he’s collaborated with like Filipina poetess Shy Lhen Esposo and Indian Saurabh Pant. Jimmy Boom Semtex is a pen name of Nick Armbrister.

Thursday, 1 September 2016

Through Open Hangar Doors Jimmy Boom Semtex and Shy Lhen Esposo

Wow Times
Falling between the lines.
For what reason?
Sunshine and existence.
Star power is energising us.
All the way across the galaxy.
We're star children whether we like it or not.
Created by Mother Nature.
Possessing intelligence and energy.
Now no longer physical but luminous.
Our light is out there amongst the darkness.
Light energy contrasting with dark energy.
A black hole stole our bodies and our craft.
It may keep them for we have evolved.
Sounding melodic when I'm sad,
tremendous aura of jealous, odd,
akin to the path for the unwanted one.
A world where all promises are done.
Thoughtful wonders and wanders,
mending all the broken feathers,
sowing its own chaos faults,
dragging a self out of fools.
No strings attached no relationship,
no nothing but we're friends
with benefits but no feelings.
Boundless commitment, imposing.

Tuesday, 30 August 2016

Syrup Evermore Nick Armbrister

Andrew stopped the tank facing one group allowing Joyce to cut them down with 7.62mm gunfire in short well aimed bursts that bowled them over like nine pins. The other group of guards fired directly from behind the tank when their colleagues were cut down, Gerald slowly turned the heavy turret 180 degrees. He aimed at the group of ten men with the co-axial machine gun and fired one long burst of a hundred rounds, cutting them down and silencing their puny fire, permanently. Andrew slowly drove to the doorway leading into the prison as the turret rotated to face forward – one single high explosive shell made short work of the two inch toughened steel door. The smoke and debris cleared, Joyce and Andrew dismounted their positions and left the tank taking large .45 calibre pistols with them and plenty of ammo clips. Gerald stayed in the turret on the guns, controlling the area so the army wouldn’t interfere with the operation.
Together with pistols in hand, eyes darting through the thinning smoke and broken door, they entered running like deranged madmen. Three English army guards tried to stop them, one tried to physically bar their way and the other two attempted to raise machine pistols – Andrew and Joyce shot all of them in the face using full clips of ammo, reloading and advancing. A long corridor lead ahead into the maze of passageways and cells, they knew the way where Gant was from a geo locator he had implanted in his left molar tooth. It was decided to cause major chaos and release the rest of the inmates, if possible. For this both carried small magnetic detonators to blow the locks of the cells. Coming up to the first cells they put the plan into practise – Andrew placed a single mag det on each door lock with a 30 second delay to allow time to get clear. Cells were on either side of the corridor so Andrew zigzagged up the corridor with Joyce covering him. When the end of the corridor came up and branched off to the right and left, they too branched left, swapping roles as the dets went off in short sharp cracks smashing the locks.

Off To Mars

Off To Mars
All creative people are to live on Mars.
Imagine how cool it would be.
The aero/space program would be fucking awesome.

Designing spaceships to get there,
rockets like the nuclear powered engine,
space planes for going to the surface,
habitats to live in,
terraforming to make a breathable atmosphere and more.

When it's all sorted, then we write, sing, paint, sculpt.
Totally fucking awesome.
I'd also fly on Mars.
Gliders in the low grav sky...

Dominions of Corrosion

Jimmy Boom Semtex

Saturday, 27 August 2016

Hot Day

Hot Day
It was a hot day in the Nevada desert.
Slowly in the distance, a dot trailing smoke came closer.
Minutes passed.
Above a faint jet engine sounded, no more than a whisper.
The sun was at its highest, burning mercilessly down.

An omen of coming events?

The dot was now a vehicle, an old yellow school bus.
Bars covered the windows.
Hands poked out of the gaps, as if asking for solace.
Rumbling along at twenty miles per hour, the bus eventually stopped.
Level ground arced out miles around it, leaving the vehicle naked.
Rusty hinges creaked and the front and rear doors slowly opened.
Nothing happened for a few seconds.
Then three dozen hardened criminals sensed freedom and left in a riot of arms and legs.
Some ran almost falling, others staggered unable to grasp that they were ‘free.’

Up above the jet engine was louder now, diving down upon its target.
With sudden ferocity the F-20 Tigershark opened fire with twin 20MM cannons.

TAT - ATAT - TATA - TAT! roared the guns.

Shells kicked up sand, bounced off rocks and exploded across the bus.
In a hiss one tyre burst, the bus leaned drunkenly over.
A small fire started inside.
Several men were sprawled on the ground, red blood soaking in.
Other prisoners now knew what was happening:


They ran for their lives as the jet curved round to re-attack.
It dropped a cluster bomb at a group of fifteen prisoners.

POP - POP - POP - POP! went the small bomblets when the case opened.

Most were killed outright, sliced and diced by anti personnel bombs.
One or two had arms and legs blown off, they moaned for their mothers.

A small hill gave cover for four men.
Rolling down range, the fighter came in.
The pilot selected rockets.

WHOOSH - WHOOSH - WHOOSH  WHOOSH! screamed the 80MM explosive rockets.

Like the cluster bomb, they were area weapons and the complete hill was blanketed.
Nothing survived the wicked explosions except drifting smoke.

Another gun run hit three men running over the open desert, cutting them down.
Two more men stood their ground and told the F-20 pilot to fuck off.
The pilot saw their raised fingers.
His remaining cluster bomb soon sorted them out.
Now it was time for his ‘dumb’ bombs.
Three tumbled free, aimed by computer, and hit the yellow bus.

BOOM - BOOM - BOOM! spoke the 750lb bombs.

A cacophony of sound and violence tore the smouldering machine apart.
Six men who had doubled back and hid inside or under it were blown to Hell.
With only a few cannon shells left of air to ground ordnance, the pilot spotted a lone figure.
A dive, a burst, a kill and it was over. Too easy!

Climbing back to altitude, the Tighershark went in search of his only airborne target -
a Boeing 747 full of 500 murderers.
Like the old school bus, it was remotely controlled with no crew.
Two Sidewinder missiles would take care of this beast and his underwing drop tanks were still half full.
Happily the merc pilot grinned. This line of work was fun and paid well.

And it got rid of scum.

Saturday, 20 August 2016

Ian and Abby Adult Erotic Short Stories By Nick Armbrister

Ian Gets a Treat

Ian dated the youngest of four Catholic sisters in a small English town where nothing much happened since the hold up of the chip shop two boring years before. He'd dated Abby for two years and fucked her even longer. They got on well enough and were in love, saving up to marry one day just like some of Abs older siblings. How nice it would be day, dreamed the young girl, to be married and happy.
As she made love to Ian he had other ideas - how to fuck Abby's other sisters, each and every one. He would love corrupting these nice quiet Catholic gals!  Ian made love to Abs in the back of his old works van that he used a runabout. Bare chested his upper body glistening with sweat. Red fingernail marks ran down and across his skin where Abs had scratched him while he pumped her missionary style as fast and quickly as his body allowed. She squealed and moaned like a gal possessed.
Abby lied down on an old dustsheet in the van, her nice shapely legs where open paving the way to paradise for the young couple. Her top was up, allowing Ian to suck her titties in-between love biting her on the neck and French kissing her with passion and sensuality. His big ten-inch cock slid smoothly like a well oil piston into Abs’ lush wet pussy, a show of wanderlust in every way.