Wednesday 30 April 2014

jimmy semtex new poem lol

Serial Bizarrists

There were two gay English chavs living in France.                                                                       
One was called Bill, the other Kev.                                                                                            
They liked to fuck about in a mad way.                                                                                          
For example, Kev loved being bitten by mosquitoes.                                                           
He got such a thrill from picking the bites.                                                                                      
The blood ran red in rivulets down his back.                                                                 
Then he wore a designer white shirt.                                                                                     
 It was a hideous look.                                                                                            
       
Bloody stains all over the expensive fabric.                                                                                
When he took Bill for a meal, people gawped in horror.                                                                    
Not just at Kev and his bitten body with ruined shirt.
                                                       
They stared at Bill and the way he walked.                                                                           
Or hopped. He only had one leg, the other was a stump.                                              
Ending below the knee.                                                                                                
Indoors, Kev was a stump sucker.                                                                                         
He sucked Bill's stump so erotically.                                                                                          
 Then Bill stump fucked Kev up his hairy English arse with his limb.                              
Lots of KY Gel helped gain traction.                                                                                         
It went in and out in a nice smooth homo-erotic movement.                                            
Kev was the real man, Bill was the bitch.                                                                                
So girly with his red hair, waxed chest and slim body.                                                
Together, they were the serial bizarrists.                                                                       
Keep an eye out for them in a gay bar near you.

Tuesday 29 April 2014

Times of Nonchalance By Jimmy Boom Semtex link and poem

Times of Nonchalance By Jimmy Boom Semtex

Early Morning
Early one morning I couldn't sleep.                                                                                           
No matter what I did.                                  ...                                                                             
I went online on my computer and joined a pen pal site.                                                                
It seemed ok.                                                                                                                                
After a few days I saw a lovely Filipino lady.                                                                               
Butter wouldn't melt I typed on her pic.                                                                                       
At first she ignored me but I won her over.                                                                                       
We got closer and closer.                                                                                                             
Her wondrous eyes and jet black hair did something to me.                                                        
She was so natural and real.                                                                                                              
I fancied her so much.                                                                                                            
Events moved fast.                                                                                                                       
Now we're engaged after 3 amazing weeks in the Philippines.                                                 
One day Carole will be my wife.                                                                                                  
Imagine if I had slept that night.   

CHEATED.

CHEATED


Go to a field to see the circle with its spiralling arc
and graceful shapes all cast upon the corn.
Aren’t they mystical, such an unexplained phenomena?
Do you think it’s a mystery or an elaborate hoax?
See for yourself, flattened corn in a perfect circle
twenty yards across.
Can you feel the energy coming from the earth?
They’re like UFOs, ghosts and aliens.
We need something to believe in, in our material world,
something mystical and magical, so we aren’t cheated
by life.



Monday 28 April 2014

Evenly Erotic: Short Erotic Stories By Nick Armbrister extract

Evenly Erotic: Short Erotic Stories

By Nick Armbrister


out now on amazon and other sites



He did enjoy it, watching Ali’s nice tits bounce up and down when she moved on his dick, in time while he moved his hips matching her. How long had it been since Pil had had sex? Too long. That didn’t matter now, he enjoyed the sensual act. Ali feels nice, her cunt is so wet. Was she watching me while I slept, planning to do this, waiting until I awoke? Thinking of making love to me, making her pussy wet? I bet she was!
Leaning back and supporting herself on her hands, Ali rode her new lover and former friend. Nice steady moves, breathing in through her nose and out of her mouth. Her good sexual rhythm felt nice. She gasped now and again when her orgasm was starting. Not intense but slow burning. An orgasm made by Pil’s cock inside her and her own actions, using his cock as a pivot. It felt bloody good! She closed her eyes and concentrated on explicit triple X imagery. Now I’ve finally got you Pil, inside my pussy after too many years. Just think, we could have fucked so long ago.
Pil groaned, fixing his eyes upon the lovely flawless feminine body before him. Ali’s tribal tattoos above her tits stood out like a diamond on black velvet, a touching image. She took being a Goth to a mega trendy level and made love the same way, all or nothing. His large body moved and shuddered in ecstasy. He was glad she didn’t care or say anything to upset him due to his size. I know Ali is too adult for that.
Ali sensed he would soon come. She speeded up, moving to lean forward and bring her face close to his. Kissing him, she felt him respond in a clash of tongues. Cheekily she nipped his tongue and yelped in glee; she was a bit of a Devil at times! Now her orgasm started. She screamed.
Hearing Ali scream after just biting his tongue, which surprised him, Pil stopped holding back from spunking up and shot his load up her beautifully shaven fanny. He joined in shouting and screaming, pounding away on the comfy sofa. It was much better than a bed!
“Oh Pil, I’ve come, you made me come. Thank you so much,” Ali said, in between kisses.

“Christ Ali, I don’t believe we did that, then. Making love. You know, I wanted you the first time I saw you hanging out with Neo, so long ago. Must be fifteen years ago,” he answered, grinning.

Saturday 26 April 2014

False Tits .

False Tits

You really think you’re something, in your red Ferrari 12 plate black top convertible, don’t you? I see you driving up the road where I live, in my deprived crap town. What do you want up here? Are you buying or renting a house on the cul-de-sac or just showing off your Italian car? Park it up here and it’ll be ashes by the morning. Do you own the car or rent it? You don’t drive fast, keeping it under thirty. What did you drive before? A push bike?
I did a double take, am I still living in fucking Essex mate? This ain’t Loughton High Street love. It’s a road in shithole, our deprived town. I see your dyed blond hair severely tied back, the stern look on you face giving nowt away.
Are you a street escort and looking for a secluded pad for your customers? My mate will have a session with you; he’s into that kind of stuff. Not my cup of tea, thank you very much. Are you charging Essex prices, a ton fifty a pop?
Of course, it’s fuck all to do with me. I just see you out of my window and do this poem about you. If all it seems is true, you’re tits will be plastic, your lips Botox, your arse toned from the gym where other plastic women go and your credit cards will be real. Paid for by daddy.

Is your old man a gangster or legit? Or do you work for charity and donate half your millionaire cash to a good cause? And not have a bad bone in your body? We’ll see how long you last in shithole. You see, we’re old timers here. You’re the new gal, all false tits and blond hair and a red car. An out of towner...

Southern Song

Southern Song 

I’m one of the boys. I’m one of them who live in my southern English town of Witches’ Elbow.
We just love it in our quaint little town by the sea, we chill out on the beach on the long summer nights, drinking warm beer and making love on the sand dunes knowing these moments will last forever.
I’m originally from the north and moved to Witches’ Elbow coz I got a job in the harbour unloading the fishing boats three years ago.
Its steady work and I’ve got my mates down there that I share a beer with down in the town in the many pubs and clubs.
We often argue and fight, you see I’m not a southern pussy but a northern monkey who likes his beer and a good rook when I’m challenged and the other guy won’t back down.
There’s one brothel in town called Anne’s Armpit, we go there once a month to get laid, we love the gals coz we get a discount and new gals are coming all the time from Eastern Europe. They cum slowly with me coz I’m a real man.
My town has a tattooist called Ernie’s place he does the best bit of ink on the south coast and no one comes close. He did my dragon on my arm and “WOW” on my arse when I’d had too many bears, my mates paid for that after a drunken bet.
When I drop my jeans it’s a real party piece, the gals love it, they ask what’s on the front? I say come here and I’ll show you.
Often we go up to the forest on the hill just above town to walk through the trees on a Sunday afternoon. We go and smoke some marijuana to chill and to relax after a hard week on the docks.
Local cops don’t like it coz it’s an illegal drug but I say fuck the cops coz I don’t do no crime, I’m a hard working bloke who just wants some fun and to be left alone.
On a Wednesday night I like to go to the Ragged Bear pub to see a live band, who cares if they’re any good? I just like the vibe and live music and strong beer.
One night in the pub I saw a group of men from the local car factory, they was arguing and the mood was down. I asked what’s up, they replied their factory will shut and they’ll be on the dole unemployed.
Bang, two hundred jobs down the drain. I guess no one wants to buy their cars anymore.
Myself, I’m happy working unloading fishing boats and taking the fish to the market, a hard but rewarding job even though I start at 5am before the sun is up.
I can go home and have a sleep and then go to the pub for a beer to ease my aching body after a hard days graft.
Witches’ Elbow has a long pier jutting out into the sea, half a mile long full of arcades with slot machines and space invaders, local teenagers hang out there acting hard, new couples in love walk the length and stare out to sea lost in each others world.
I like to drink at the Pier End Bar right at the end of the pier taking in the sound of the sea and dreaming of what if?
Once a month there is a Goth/heavy metal night at the small club down by the coast road, I like to go coz the music reminds of my time back north before I moved down to start my new life.
I still go back north to see my folks and my old mates. I never did have a gal there not anyone to love, maybe that’s why I moved and got a new life.
I like the history of my southern town from an old castle built during the Napoleonic wars armed with old cannons protecting the harbour to being bombed by Nazi hit and run warplanes in the last war.
Their ain’t no war now just the raucous of the weekend when the boys hit the town. We chase the women and eat their pussy and fight amongst one another after ten pints of strong warm beer.
We argue who was the witch of this small town? My mate says it’s his mother especially when she catches him in bed with his first cousin! Just wait till they both find out about me and her, won’t that be funny!

Life goes on in the small southern English town of Witches’ Elbow, I never will move back north. Yeah I miss Manchester but I just love this small seaside town. 

Friday 25 April 2014

Shoki: The Story of Sensei Pete Ratcliff By Nick Armbrister out now on amazon

Nick: What other Martial Arts do you do and what are they called? Other than just karate. You mentioned Ju Jitsu.
Sensei Pete: I do Ju Jitsu, train in Kobudo which is weapon training, train in Thai Boxing, Kung Fu I’m interested in.
Nick: Have you done belts in those equal to black belt or?
Sensei Pete: No, mainly in just Karate. I just train in them.
Nick: Right. You say you’re interested in Thai Boxing. What have you done in that?
Sensei Pete: I’ve trained in Thai Boxing for a few years, I’ve instructed in Thai Boxing under Mike Duffy at Knuckle’s Thai Boxing Club.
Nick: Where Woz goes?
Sensei Pete: Yes.
Nick: Cool. Right, well that’s answered the other question which is what other Martial Art club types have you attended. That is obviously Thai Boxing and the other ones.
Sensei Pete: Muay Thai.
Nick: Do you see yourself teaching any other type of Martial Art to take over from Karate or will Karate always be the main Martial Art you will teach?
Sensei Pete: Karate always will be.
Interview 14/03/2013. Sensei Derek also contributed.
Nick: What is the role of pressure points in Karate?
Sensei Pete: You’ll have to explain yourself.
Nick: What do you do with them in Karate?
Sensei Pete: Well, the role of pressure points is to take someone down.
Nick: Say in a defensive way.
Sensei Pete: In a defensive way it would be better than just cracking them in the face or anywhere else. You use the pressure points to take them down. There’s other pressure points where it can cause more damage.
Nick: How many pressure points are there in total?
Sensei Pete: Off top of my head I couldn’t tell you.
Nick: But how many do you use in Karate defensively?
Sensei Pete: I use twenty or twenty five.
Nick: So on an opponent, you’d see them in front of you, and you’d know the pressure points where you can strike them?

Sensei Pete: Yes.

hell yea lol

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DNVgBO26d5w

Thursday 24 April 2014

JUNIPER’S DAUGHTER - A HOLIDAY HORROR

JUNIPER’S DAUGHTER - A HOLIDAY HORROR
   Dan won a holiday in a competition he had entered three months ago. It was a break for two in Central Norway. As he was single, he took his mate called Lee with him. Both lads had been single for some time and welcomed a break from grimy Ashton.
   They were stood on a medium size mountain overlooking a glacier in a two mile wide valley. It was a stunning sight. “Quite something isn’t it?” Dan said, shielding his gaze from the midday sun. The glacier seemed to glow blue in the light. It was sunlight reacting with air bubbles within the ice.
   “Yes mate. You can see forever. It’s beautiful,” Lee commented, nodding in agreement.
   “Come on, let’s climb the rest of the mountain,” Dan indicated, pointing to the heights.
   “Okay if you want to. We’ll have to be careful,” the other agreed. It was potentially very dangerous, with jagged rocks on the icy mountain side.
   Both men turned and slowly ascended the two thousand foot high granite mountain. It towered over the one they were already on. On the way up, Lee thought of what Dan had done the year before. It was a nasty thought of a nasty event. He kept quiet, not alerting his mate to any trouble.
   Half an hour later both climbers reached the top. It had been an easy climb, avoiding the perilous rocks. Dan stood near the edge, at the summit. A pile of rocks indicated the highest point of 2,046 feet. He was about to say how nice the view of the valley was when Lee acted out his revenge. Anger burned inside his evil twisted heart, he thought of his wife who was now pregnant and living in France. She had slept with Dan and fled the country back to her parents.
   “I know full well what you did with my wife, Dan. For that, you must die!” Lee whispered, breaking Dan’s reverie of the valley.
   “What? What the fuck are you talking about?” Dan retorted, his eyes on his friend.
   “You fucked my wife and got her pregnant. Then she left England and fled to France, leaving me,” Lee angrily explained. He took a step towards Dan.
   “How... how the hell did you find out?” Lee gasped, his secret found out. He was seized by panic and looked around at the cliff edge. It was very close.
   “That’s right Dan, I’ve known all along. I saw you both together fucking, your cock going into the slag’s pussy. She was loving it, you pounding her cunt. And now you must pay the price.”
   “She seduced me. It wasn’t my fault. She started it, blame her!” Worry filled Dan’s entire body. He tried to speak but couldn’t.
   “Maybe so but she’s not here, she’s in France. You are and it’s time to die, you twat!” In one simple action, Lee pushed Dan off the top of the mountain. It was a long way down. Dan screamed once and fell out of sight.
   “Game over Danny-boy. You thought I never knew. I bided my time till now. Now that you’re dead, my revenge is complete. They’ll say it’s a simple climbing accident and I’ll get away with it. You swine!”
   Down below, Dan thudded onto the rocks, dead. Every bone in his body was broken.
***
   Step back in time. What would you have done? Murder your best friend or let it all go and forgive him? The ex wife was a cow and look at the times Dan and Lee were having now, in lovely Norway. Time reverses. Back on the mountain top, above a blue glacier, two men take in the moment. After ten minutes, one spoke: “This place is beautiful. Look at it, this is perfect.”
   The other replied, “Yes, nothing is equal to the majesty of the mountains.”
   A cloudless powder blue sky arced overhead and black ravens flew cawing past. One of the two men, Lee, commented. “You did me a favour, last year.”
   “I know. I’m sorry but I had to do it Lee. I do regret it, making love to your wife,” replied Dan. His expression was like the stony ground that he gazed down upon.
   Lee thought for a minute. Should he confess his evil thoughts? Yes. Best this is sorted out, now, while they were alone. Anything could happen. “I was going to push you off the top and kill you, right now.”
   “What? You were what?” Dan gasped. The enormity of what his friend said hit home. I could be dead in the valley, at this instant, if Lee had pushed me off the edge. Why did he tell me, not do it? Does he feel guilty? Dan was full of anxiety, worry and another emotion he couldn’t place.
   “Yes, I was. I’d be a murderer then and carry the mark of Cain. I was so close to doing it Dan and I stopped. A split second before I was going to do it,” Lee whispered. He became morose and distant. Up above, ravens circled and chattered to one another. An omen?
   “I don’t know what to say, I don’t.” Dan gasped, his heart beating in his chest. He began to sweat and wiped his brow. He looked away from his cunning friend and at the valley. It was a peaceful scene.
   “Don’t say anything, forget it.”
   “No, I won’t be silent! I did you a favour Lee. The wife who took your cash is back in France, out of your life. Now it’s like the old days. We can go to the pub, see a live band and go on holiday. How can anything be better than this? Look at it,” Dan angrily shouted.
   “I was going to kill you, now I’m not. Don’t you see? I saw the error of my ways. I should have seen sense before I married the money grabbing bitch. I didn’t. You did me a favour, even if you did it like a cunt. I’m free of the gold digging bitch. You hurt my pride, that’s why I was going to murder you. My wounded pride, silly I know.” Lee had never been this honest in his life, not even to the cops when he had stolen a car when he was fifteen. He got off on that as there was no evidence. This was different, this was almost murder. What was he thinking? Almost killing his friend and now admitting it. Was he mad? Had he done the right thing? Slowly, the tension left his body and he knew he had. One of the ravens flew off, into the valley.
   Dan looked incredulous. The realization that he could have been dead, two thousand feet below was a strong one. It bounced around his head like a rubber ball. Dead, pushed by my friend, he admits it, all because I fucked his bitch of a wife. I had to get rid of her somehow! I couldn’t kill her, fucking her was the next best option! Dan kept his eye on his friend. Silence descended while both men collected their thoughts.
   “Okay. I’m sorry on sleeping with your wife and for hurting your pride, I apologize. From the bottom of my heart, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. Look, forget what happened. Let me buy you a beer in the tavern in the valley,” Dan finally said. He felt relieved at his apology. Would it be accepted? Would he be unharmed?
   Silence and the valley became magnified, like they were the only things on earth. Lee looked at Dan.
   Dan was going to comment again, he wanted this problem to end, in this remote place that belonged to God and nature. Why had it surfaced here, on the mountain? Was it a cleansing experience by forces both men couldn’t understand nor comprehend? Was it God at work? Or just coincidence? Away from busy England, thoughts from the past year came to the surface like air trapped underwater, because it was the right time. There was only one raven overhead. It flew in a circle, cawing to itself.
   “Yes, I accept your apology. Screw it, a beer sounds good. No, let’s have ten beers. Forget my ex wife, she won’t ruin our friendship. Good riddance to bad blood,” Lee said, smiling. A line had been crossed, for the better. He had accepted Dan’s apology and it looked like Dan forgave Lee.
   “On what you said about what you were going to do to me, forget that too. I forgive you; you saw common sense before it was too late. That was your wife making you act, not you. Let’s go to the tavern. We both need a drink.” Dan also forgave. The matter was at an end. The two men descended the mountain; both had been on a journey and had changed inside. One had lost his guilt and the other his anger; both had forgiven.
   Up above, the single raven descended to look for his mate. A clear blue sky remained and the peace of the valley was unbroken by an act of death. High above, almost out of sight, sun glinted off a silver object. It was a flying disc and inside was a witch called Juniper’s Daughter. She had achieved a positive result, changing both men’s intent, so evil wasn’t committed. The glinting object shone one more time and vanished. They never saw it. Two men were now at peace. The tavern beckoned...

***

Wednesday 23 April 2014

THE POETRY, PROSE AND QUOTES OF JMS AND OTHER WRITERS Edited by Jimmy Boom Semtex

out on amazon


THE POETRY, PROSE AND QUOTES OF JMS AND OTHER WRITERS



Edited by Jimmy Boom Semtex

I've travelled the world twice over,                                                                                                                                                                                              
Met the famous; saints and sinners.                                                                                          
Poets and artists, Kings and Queens.                                                                                                                      
Old stars and hopeful beginners.                                                                                                                                           
I've been where no one's been before.                                                                                                            
Learned secrets from writers and cooks.                                                                                                                    
All with one library ticket.                                                                                                                                       
To the wonderful world of books.                                                                                                                                                

Janice James

Tuesday 22 April 2014

my juniper's daughter frontier town book...

http://www.lulu.com/shop/nick-armbrister/junipers-daughter-frontier-town/ebook/product-18921309.html

Menace

Menace

What is fame? Is it you all know my name off TV,
yes I’m a star but in all the wrong ways.
Stealing cars and robbing an offy, it was all so easy and fun.
Have you seen this man? Don’t approach him,
he is dangerous and carries a weapon. Now where next?
Already on Crime Watch, in the papers,
he is notorious and a menace. Fame at what cost?
No photos with his favourite pop star,
no doing something for charity, this man is real hardcore,
a menace and a rebel. Lock him up
and punish him for his bad ways!


Sunday 20 April 2014

JUNIPER

JUNIPER

   The three great tribes were at war, many hundreds of people had perished in the huge conflict. It wasn’t clear who would win. It could easily end up with only three men remaining, each a warrior of the warring tribes. After that, there would be no one left. Juniper had let the war go on long enough, now she had to act. If not, she would be guilty of letting the slaughter get out of hand. The tribal warriors had killed and been killed enough times, their lesson had been learnt. It was time to stop the killing. She picked the strongest tribe to be the fulcrum of the event.

   Juniper was always earthbound, doing her roles of healer, witch and warrior woman. She was divinely worshipped as a Mother Goddess of fertility and a dozen other things. Her battle skills were equal to her life giving skills; she needed to fight to defeat her stubborn opponents when her magic wouldn’t work. Skilled in arcane arts, she was a spell weaver and magician of supreme power. Her hands could give life and take it away. Her crystals were her magical key and her bows and arrows were her life taker. A weapon she crafted herself and used with deadly efficiency. Dressed in animal skins, Juniper was an athletic figure of intelligence and emotions. She understood herself, her world and her subject. There was nothing she didn’t know. Experience taught her everything and knowledge was her key in winning her battles against the darkness. Dark energy balanced out the light side and goodness, like the day replacing the night. Such was Stone Age life in what would become Europe many aeons later.

   She could travel by foot, silently and stealthily, to surprise her enemies and bring them to heel. Or she was able to travel instantly from one place to another by using her magic power channelled through her crystal wand. This was a skill she used sparingly, early humans were very superstitious and their fear of the witch could overcome their desire to be led. Moving from place to place, the witch did her job. When the war broke out, this threatened to undo her previous efforts at keeping the peace and healing. She had to act now.

***

   Overlooking the flat plain on two sides, the low hills gave whoever held them command of the area. They were occupied by the stronger tribe called the White Spears. Their enemies were living uneasily side by side on the grasslands below, often fighting one another or attempting to take the high ground. Many warriors were killed in these forays. The coming battle would decide the issue of who kept the hills and also the low ground; there was a danger the two opposing tribes would be wiped out by the stronger enemy. Could Juniper stop this? She crept up the hill, keeping low to blend into the metre tall wild grass. Her bow and arrow were ready to be used in anger. With her senses keyed up, she was ready for anything; this was her time. Up ahead she saw camp fires and heard voices, several warriors were on guard and would be armed. She slowly advanced.

   In the White Spear camp a warrior named Nian held his spear to his chest. His weapon shone in the firelight. He hadn’t killed a man yet but he had been involved in several skirmishes with the tribes on the flatlands. It was a matter of time before he got his first kill and became a seasoned warrior veteran, one of the men. Then he could claim a wife and build his own dwelling for his family. He itched for war and to kill an enemy, he felt it in his veins; they ran hot with a lust for action that often overwhelmed him. Nian wanted to go down the hill alone and wipe his enemies out all by himself. His warrior elders warned him not to do this, he would be cast out of the tribe and be an enemy then. There were ways of doing things. Just then, he saw movement in the grass, past the flames of the dying fire. He instinctively knew something or someone was there. Maybe an enemy or a wild beast. He judged the distance and threw his white spear into the grass where he saw movement. His sleek two metre spear arced out and into the grass. A scream of pain was Nian’s reward. He got up and ran to the grass, shouting to his brethren to join him, that there was an enemy in their midst.


   Juniper had fucked up; she moved too close to the edge of the camp and was spotted. The spear caught her in her thigh. It was a bad wound and bled profusely. She knew she was beaten before her battle had begun and this changed everything. Suddenly there were figures standing before her, towering over the grass, shouting and pointing. Before she passed out, she felt them roughly lifting her and taking her to their camp. Mercifully she felt no more pain. Juniper never even got a single arrow off.

Saturday 19 April 2014

some q and a's i did on a recent poem book anthology

Social Network names / websites:
Twitter: No
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/groups/inkwords/
Google+: https://plus.google.com/u/0/117258678412520354365/posts?partnerid=gplp0
LinkedIn: No
Pinterest: No
GoodReads: http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/2814902.Nick_Armbrister
Amazon Author Page: http://www.amazon.co.uk/-/e/B003NPHFBQ and http://www.amazon.co.uk/s/ref=la_B003NPHFBQ_B003NPHFBQ_sr?rh=i%3Abooks&field-author=Nick+Armbrister&sort=relevance&ie=UTF8&qid=1394401365

Blurb about you:
Nick likes writing, doing open mic, getting tattooed, loves music like goth, metal, 80s and girl singers. He likes aviation, history, weapons and is anti war. Nick likes travelling, experiencing other cultures and living a simple life.



Names of some of the books that you have written / been involved in along with their websites, of those that you want us to mention about:
Nick has done many books. Examples are his Juniper's Daughter series of novels about a witch who has a flying saucer. She fights the Devil and his evil ways. Nick has put his aircraft themed poems in a collection of aircraft poetry, Aeroplane Related Poems. Other collections include two volumes of Wow! Tattoo My Butt books of varied works. Nick's tattooed backside graces the covers. Nick has released both real books and ebooks. Check them out on good book websites/shops. Nick has worked with other poets and a book of anti war poems with Andy N is the most recent, Europa – in the dark valley between the world wars. New work will be out in future under his real name and his pen name Jimmy Boom Semtex.


What country do you primarily publish or reside in?
England, from April 2014, The Philippines.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Please answer at least 5 questions, but the more that you answer the better. It will help us with marketing you along with this book. Feel free to add questions if you wish.

First of all, can you tell us about your background as a writer?
Published in the 'small press' poetry scene from late 1996 to now, 2014. Also appearing in varied collections and anthologies, both hard copy, ebook and online. DJ Tyrer and his varied magazines gave Nick an excellent outlet for over a decade. Nick worked with a goth band and American publisher. Left them due to personal differences and to further his career, which Nick did. Started doing open mic appearances in 2009 and has headlined at Guitar and Verse at Gulliver's in Manchester in 2013. Has helped new writers by giving advice, useful publishing contacts and support. Nick writes for the pure joy of it, not for financial gain. His interests partly inspire his work too.


Has being a writer (or poet) been your dream job?
It's not a job, it's a pure joy to write. But yes, it would be.



What human rights or social activism issue(s) are you most passioante about and why?
Nick hates racism, ignorance, oppression and needless wars that happen each year. He also likes women's equality and many of his heroines are women. Freedom of speech is a great thing and he uses this a lot in his work. As should all writers. Be inspired people.


Why do you write? What is your inspiration?
My own life experiences and my views on many topics. I have to write or I'm not happy. Writing and being creative lifts my moods and I create and help to change the world by telling stories of varied people. It's always wonderful to write and positive and enjoyable.



Can you describe what your submitted poem or story was about?
My poems are about women in conflict throughout the world. These true stories need to be told. My submissions are She Defeated Death which is about a woman who was shot to death by Nazis in WW2. A shot down RAF flier saw her actually shot. He described the incident in his memoirs. I had to write about her. My Manchester Lass is about based upon true events. A young Manchester woman, Linda, murdered in Auschwitz. I saw some of her possessions on the Antiques Roadshow. Her's was a shocking story. Nedā is about an Iranian lady named Āghā-Soltān (Nedā). She was murdered by Abbās Kārgar Jāvid, member of the Basij militia. Her death was caught on camera and the whole world knew of Nedā. Her name became a cry for freedom. Brutal Not Comfort is about 'Comfort Women' forcibly taken by Japanese soldiers in WW2 and forcibly made to act as prostitutes. They were taken from The Philippines, South Korea and other nations. This topic still causes problems at the highest levels in South Korea with Japan. Eclipsing Karin’s Fracture is about a Karin Ulbricht, an East German student who dared to demonstrate against the Communist regime in Leipzig just before the Berlin Wall fell in late 1989. Things could of been very different that night.

                   

 





Do you have any advice for any other writers or poets wanting to get into the industry?
It's not an industry but a movement. Be yourself, honest with yourself, know your capabilities, work hard, be open to constructive critique, be nice to people, as you may need their help one day. Be prepared to write for long hours, do your research on any topic you cover, don't chase publishing deals or cash and above all, have fun. And network and hook up with other writers.


Which poem or short story that you have written is it that you are most passionate about? Can you explain why?
My anti war work which is opposite my early poems on the joy of war. I've come full circle and changed my views as I grew up and became a better writer. And I'm happy knowing I can change the world with my work, making it a better place.


Outside of your own work, who would be your favourite writer and/or poet? Why is that?
Liz Hand author, Katie Haigh, Andy N, Gemma Lees, all poets. Also Sven Hassel, James Herbert, Tracy Reed and singers like Anneke van Giersbergen, my musical heroine.


Do human rights or social activism issues influence your writing? If so, how so?
Yes they do and on them I must speak out in my views and work. Write and speak out, use a pen name if you must for your own protection and privacy. For example, see my featured poems in this book.


Do you have a career outside of your writing?
Yes I do. I've worked in varied jobs like warehouse, fork lift truck driving, chemical production, bakery work and more. And I'll do more jobs when I emigrate like making shoes.


Do you have any other hobbies or interests that help to influence your stories or poetry?
My love of aircraft inspires my poems on flight for example. My own life experiences also help, as does talking to people and listening to their stories. My other interests also contribute like tattoos, music and more. I attend writing workshops too.


What kind of writing or genre do you primarily work in as an author or poet?
Many like free verse, prose, in verse, sometimes rhyming. Most subjects.


What is your most memorable moment as a writer or poet?
Meeting my creative heroine, Annie van Giersbergen, who was lead singer in The Gathering, now solo. She's great and inspires me no end and does great songs. Attending various writing workshops, inspiring a live audience and working with other writers is very rewarding too.



Are there any particular challenges that you face in your writing? How do you overcome them?
Sometimes a lack of time when I work fulltime. Or not having a notepad, mobile phone, computer or pen and paper and having sudden poem words in my head, so I can write it before I forget it.


Do you have any future projects that you wish to talk about?
Check my new poem book out with Andy N, on lulu.com and other sites to follow. It's anti war and called Europa – in the dark valley between the world wars. We'll change the world with this book, for the better.


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Friday 18 April 2014

FUTILITY

Futility 

   This is a narrative of events and some fiction, I saw an incident and it resonated in my head, one thought came to me. Only a country’s armed forces should be allowed guns and knives, in no way should such weapons be allowed on the streets. What brought on this view? I saw a man who had been shot and who was dying, I heard his wife scream for help, I saw a car speed away, I heard two bangs all thrown together in my shocked mind in a cacophony of evil deeds that will be with me forever. I’m confused though, why the bangs after the car went? I hope I don’t get flashbacks. I must help educate people on this issue of murder by firearm or knife, how unacceptable it is. Also this can tie in with the loss of Sophie Lancaster two summers ago, a lovely gothic lady who was killed for being alternative defending her boyfriend. The words SOPHIE tell it all – STAMP OUT PREJEDICE HATRED INTOLERANCE EVERYWHERE. Now weapon use on our streets can be added to this cause and any other evil act done by people for whatever reason with illegal lethal weapons. Through my writing I can help make a difference and help people realise that if you aim and fire a loaded gun at a person you will kill them and be on a murder rap; it’s not a water pistol full of water, you’ve got a 9mm bullet and will end a life, period. I was walking back from the pub after a boring night out, early coz my heart wasn’t in it. I was not very drunk and could walk straight rather than staggering down the road.
   I feel the last part of my innocence went away from me on that late summer evening, call it my 911 to be over dramatic but it’s just that. A hysterical wife, whose husband was dying not a yard from me affected me quite a lot and I have to live with her screams. If only I could have helped and done more. If only… but life doesn’t work like that, “if” is just that, one of the many variations that could happen but didn’t happen. Do I feel any better living with her screams or seeing her husband dying on the floor, knowing two men have been caught less than thirty-six hours later for the hideous crime? My answer has to be yes and I want the bastards to burn in hell for leaving a wife a widow and her two kids fatherless. Some things should not be seen or happen at all, this was one event I got caught up in by fate. I ask fate why I was picked on that dark night to be part of this wicked awful real life drama. I don’t think I’ll never know but I accept my role in it by fate and that alone, I did my best. I’d do it again and I’d like to think anyone else would too, your duty as a good person and all that. If this is what coppers and ambulance people see in their jobs, they can keep their jobs coz I never want to do that job and experience that, even if it involves saving people and helping them. That’s enough, what goes with it entails things above what I can try to deal with. How do they deal with it? The medics were very calm that Friday night, they were trained to do a most difficult and dangerous job. I was asked on the phone is it safe to send the medics? Yes I replied, not knowing where the gunman was, still around? We could all be the next targets; I could for being there, for being a witness.
   Days later after that awful weekend that changed my life forever, totally overshadowing my own personal problems with the woman I was involved with and having no job, I felt the make up of things had changed in many ways inside me, that I hardly understand. I do know my own problems are nothing compared to the problems people have like losing their husband. I vowed myself to be a better person and not to cause undue trouble in life. Will I be able to stay true to this new vocation I set myself or is it because I’m in shock at seeing a murder? My father says the trauma will pass and the edge will go. He was a copper back in the day, real old skool. You come to Oldham and kick off, you’ll get a real fuckin’ hammerin.’ Not like today, all forms and paperwork and no tough and ruff ‘em police. How would my father deal with the men who shot dead a defenceless husband? I can’t answer that.
   I know that I’ve not been sleeping in the aftermath of the attack, at night bad images kept me awake – haunting me? Her screams piercing the still night air. The shot man moving after a few minutes, though he was out of it, his eyes closed unaware of what was happening, I hope. I’m glad I saw no blood flowing onto the floor, no bullet hole deep into his body, brains splattered on the wall or actually saw him shot by the shooter to fall down mortally wounded. How would I be after witnessing that awful little list of evil? What if that pistol was turned on to me? Terror belongs to the night stopping my sleep in the night hours, I sleep from 6am to 2pm like I did the night shift but I do no job, no I suffer the trauma of events from the night a few days ago. I’m going to write this story to say no more guns and also knives on our streets, even though this is a war. I saw a casualty of war Friday night; his family suffer the collateral damage. I see the flash backs, in no way as bad as their loss. The only people who should be allowed these powerful terrible weapons should be the military, that bit is clear to me. Is it possible to remove every weapon from our streets? What do you think?
   I know all about guns, I’ve seen the films to know which end to shoot. I know that there are different types of handguns like revolvers that take six bullets in a revolving chamber; these weapons date back to the days of the cowboys. Then there are the pistols with a magazine in the handle, a more modern design with more bullets dishing out more death. The modern guns take up to fourteen bullets in two rows of seven in their boxy magazines in the handle. Some even fire on fully automatic just like the larger machine pistols (and these can spit out over a thousand nine millimetre bullets a minute). Truly wicked inventions very well designed and with one purpose in mind, to kill and maim. Mankind certainly made an invention to please the Devil, this time with easy death and tragic traumatic after affects lasting a lifetime for witnesses and family members.
   Another shooting in a different part of my town, a few weeks before this event I witnessed, used one of the most deadly and over designed machine pistols ever invented – the Mac-10. This can fire 1,200 bullets a minute but the mag only holds thirty. I saw a picture in the paper with coloured markers indicating where the small bullets had fallen around a man. I counted many markers. The rest of the shots would have hit him, I imagine killing him instantly. Both events maybe linked with the usual suspect words thrown in, drugs, gangs, tit for tat killing. Even if both murders are linked, I say enough is enough. Yes, drugs are bad and need to be eradicated by the authorities in whatever way they can, from the poppy fields of Afghanistan or the jungles of Columbia to the streets of our towns and cities. Remove the guns and knives, break up the gangs, stop young people joining gangs which give them a sense of belonging, an alternative family, a feeling of power and respect between members and other gangs and lastly, gives them access to the weapons of war, guns and knives of ferocious power.
   I imagine the guy I saw immediately after he was shot didn’t suffer much but I can’t be sure, only the medical staff, people there before I was on scene and of course God, can be sure. With two men in the cop shop being questioned, that is a good result but the event should never have happened, just like each murder and attack should never have gone down ending lives and tearing families apart. Enough is enough in this vicious war. To me it looks like everyone has a story and knows someone who has been a victim of violence in every built up area in the country.

   I talked to my forklift truck instructor who was a marine for twenty-five years, he said put the event at the back of my mind don’t keep thinking about it. He’s right. I told my artist friend when I saw her, wearing her lovely green dress and green eyeliner, a real English lady. She was shocked when I told her and how I’m trying to move on after this awful event. I hope time sorts it out. The marine explained the need to look to the future but how such incidents can come back months in the future. It all depends on the individual. I hope I’m over it and that is that. I’d help someone again. I’m not selfish. I’d put my own safety aside and enter danger to try to help. I know my own danger and flashbacks will be the cost of such a foray by myself. What would my witch friend Juniper’s Daughter do? Let’s find out… 

Thursday 17 April 2014

new anti war book out now

Europa – in the dark valley
between the world wars
Out of the total darkness came a light brighter than infinite suns...
Poetry on women (and men) in conflict
...
Nick Armbrister
And
Andy N

Bare Bones
In the flower bed, all the bodies cry for release. As the wall tumbles, history's old secrets are laid bare. Truth is lost in the yellow of autumn leaves. Where are you now? Brown autumn leaves descend as my family decays to dust. There's no justice for the guilty, just armed protection in South America. Innocents are persecuted for breathing.


OUT NOW

Kahlia Akasha Jet Strike By Jimmy Boom Semtex

A secret mission to Burma to destroy their secret weapon projects and stop a future war. The risks are off the scale. Will the daring flight crew make it back alive? Over mirror smooth black Pacific waters under an arcing dark sky full of a billion stars, my stealth warplane ghosts towards her targets on her mission of war. She is a wraith of non existence with the looks of a Goddess, doing her work to stop the devil. Soon she will be over her target. Let the fun begin... KAHLIA AKASHA returns...

Kahlia Akasha Jet Strike

By Jimmy Boom Semtex
http://www.lulu.com/shop/jimmy-boom-semtex/kahlia-akasha-jet-strike/ebook/product-21583821.html

Wednesday 16 April 2014

coincidence or what?? read on...

a prophetic coincidence or what??

from my book
                 Juniper’s Daughter:
                    The Final War,
           A novel by Nick Armbrister


One major example where the witch changed humankinds’ destiny was averting WW3 in the winter of 2009. Georgia and the Ukraine were in NATO, new member states under the protective security umbrella. Russia had attacked Georgia in summer 08 and defeated the tiny nation, occupied its land under dubious reasons and caused general trouble. Loss of four warplanes was worth the long-term strategic goal – Russian troops on Georgian soil at two separate areas before the nation joined NATO. Leaders planned and waited, Georgia supported the Allies (USA and England) in Iraq with two thousand troops on peacekeeping duties. NATO membership was the next logical step, US/NATO troops were based at two Georgian bases and US Navy ships docked and used the major seaport as a base. Over the water, Russian Black Sea fleet warships eyeballed the US Navy. Action came sooner than later, an “incident” led to the battle cruiser Peter the Great engaging the USS Ronald Reagan aircraft carrier with cruise missiles and rocket powered torpedoes, sinking it. In return the escorting Aegis class cruiser sank “Peter the Great” and two escorting destroyers. An uneasy pause followed and then Russian planes hit Georgian and US/NATO military bases and other targets in Georgia. What forces survived the attack, in return attacked; Ukraine refused surviving Russian warships docking rights at the leased base at Sevastopol. Russia threatened Ukraine, a NATO member. Ukraine sank every remaining Russian vessel and occupied the crew barracks, arresting all Russian military personnel on land. Russia hit Ukrainian targets; US/NATO hit Russia at selective points, then a pause to talk. Nuclear war was a possibility when the talks broke down, missiles were armed and several were launched – a total of 6 by NATO and 4 by Russia. Then, nothing! They never reached their targets, rumours spread like wildfire of UFOs, lights in the sky and ghostly apparitions had something to do with the disappearance of the nuclear missiles. An uneasy peace descended, remaining for decades after; did anyone know what really happened? Where the missiles went? Something strange had happened, when the remainder were ordered to launch, all remained in their silos. Was it computer problems? Why had manual overrides fail? No human knew but a witch called Juniper’s Daughter did. She was too late to stop the English/French nuclear war but she won the big one. The Devil won the later round in 2013, she in 2010. If it was her Mother Juniper if would have been a different matter, the Devil would be kicked in the balls every fucking time but that wasn’t the case.