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Author welcome
Member Since May 30, 2010 (last seen 4 years ago)
Hometown Camberwell, Australia
Born Kenneth Walter Simpson on August 4, 1932
Age 85 years
Gender Male
Relationship Status Single
Career/Occupation Writing,
My Likes Growing vegies
My Dislikes Politicians, hypocrites and gangsters
Favorite Author I can't differentiate between William Faulkner, Don DeLillo
Favorite Book/Poem Too many good books
My Motto is Never give up
My Favorite Quote Give unto others . . .
Above all else, I love The mystery of existence
 I have been writing for 40 years & have read 6670 poems here
 I support this site as a Free member and have 56 points
 I am a Coral Reviewer with 529 Comments
  My Review Quality is 98.60 % (based on 286 votes)
  My Profile has been viewed 5205 times and I have 1 Fans
It all began inauspiciously for me when thoughts dissolved before they were resolved sensationally with the joys of toys and Christmas trees, merry-go-rounds and castles in the sand. Urgently needing, continually beseeching, helpless and dependent, adapting by reacting, yet somehow learning, through life's early stages. Controlled and dominated by dutiful parents and carers, then by teachers, mentally grooming, regurgitating parrot-like words, with monotonous regularity. Rivalries emerged with the need to succeed, to gain some advantage, an incentive or bribe, when competing for prizes, promotion and status, zealously discriminating between vanity and jealousy. Learning was lots of fun when playing games but lost its appeal when discipline dictated facts to be memorized, conceptualized and classified, deified then ossified. Cowboys and Indians, bows and arrows, comic collections, fairy tales to enchant, new worlds to explore, sporting events and holidays of course. Textbooks and tedium, the agonies of algebra, chopped up sentences, indigestible and tasteless, history's bare bones, revived in a mortuary, embalmed and glamorized, then buried and fossilized. School for me was an unpleasant necessity, a key to the future which I failed to recognize, so distant and remote, unable to lure me, confined in my mind, where the cinema's novelty allowed me to escape from tedious conformity into a world of fantasy. As the lighting dimmed and the music swelled, the curtains parted to reveal the magical screen, coming to life to engage and delight. Giggling at Disney, hissing the villains, cheering our heroes, in miraculous melodramas, with sweets to savour, all adding flavor. Participating vicariously in each flickering scene until the final moments dissolved with the credits, and the playing of the anthem. Sex was a dirty word scrawled on lavatory walls with adolescence shared with my tittering peers, who initiated me obscenely, with leers and jeers, indelicate references, to the erect male organ, female genitalia and the sordid sin of self abuse. Emotionally vulnerable, introverted and shy, alone somnambulist searching for a dream. Alone in a crowd, an unwanted interloper, vainly seeking reassurance, fearing notoriety, unwilling to lead or adapt, yet somehow undaunted, because that was how it was and had to be. Legally leaving school but without any prospects, mechanically checking and ticking countless columns of figures. I was subsequently fired and subsequently hired, to take stock and tally, but was sacked soon after, to prematurely retire. Romantic visions as an army officer enticed me, but were prematurely aborted after a stint with the CMF, to get a taste of military life, where i lost my appetite when on duty in the mess, spilling soup over a sergeant, missing targets on the range while avoiding numerous parades. Finally an opportunity arose, to revisit he past and return to school, as an art student where i specialized as a painter, free from false illusions, apart from an unrequited for someone I adored. I qualified eventually and potentially as a temporary art teacher and despatched by locomotive to the countryside, amidst sheep, some cattle and irrigated paddocks. Initially I lived in a hotel, moving to rented rooms, finally a primitive weatherboard shack on a turkey farm, with no hot water, fridge or inside loo - or even TV back then. Nevertheless it suited me, shooting rabbits in paddocks on cheerless Sundays, and playing tennis on grass. Discipline prevailed in those authoritarian days, with corporal punishment the accepted teaching aid, to stimulate and intimidate, but I had to adapt. Eventually I resigned to gain the painting experience I needed to qualify for teacher training and permanency. I sailed to England, courtesy of my father, on a cargo vessel, via Suez to Hull, thence to London, to lodge at Streatham. I painted the required pictures, toured the countryside, visited Florence before sailing home again. After teacher training I was eventually promoted, but in a sense demoted with my classification redundant. Indications of weakness by inexperienced teachers were intuitively sensed and ruthlessly exploited by disaffected students, in guerrilla warfare with teacher casualties, worn down in a campaign some could never hope to win. A poor demented colleague jumped to his death, and he was not the only one, with other ways of dying. Some who survived, creative and inspirational, avoided the coercion and threats utilized by most of us in order to survive. I was in limbo land, on a road going nowhere, lacking motivation, affected by stress. My life at an impasse, fatuous a futile, I simply gave up. Deemed unfit to continue I was soon superannuated. Elated to be free I drifted purposelessly, dabbling at this and that, inside the dimness of my mind, where some hope survived,scribbling a few words, as my depression intensified. Emerging from the gloom after my parents died, descending from my roundabout I began ti reinvent my fractured life. Again revisiting the past and flying via Dubai to a vastly different London, with a conducted tour of Europe on the agenda: from France to Belgium, via the dykes of Holland with my passport stolen In Amsterdam, forcing a detour by autobahn to the Australian consulate in Frankfurt where I obtained a replacement. Returning by train to Prague and rejoining the tour, desperately tired ; suffering from severe bronchitis. Unable to continue. Flying from Vienna to London to hopefully recuperate before the flight home, via Dubai and Singapore. As a result of tests bowel cancer was diagnosed, and expertly removed by key-hole surgery, with a week to convalesce n a diet of crushed ice. Discharged, then six months of chemotherapy, rehab and normalcy, supported and encouraged by friends and family. Unpleasantness and tragedy followed sequentially. Bemused by falsy allegations, outraged and mortified, to finally be vindicated. Then my two business partners - personal friends - were abruptly arrested, charged with fraud and subsequently imprisoned, with all my assets confiscated. Misfortunes continued when another 'friend' whom I felt obliged to help with a dubious loan - then a worthless lease - which she induced me to purchase, so blatantly, deliberately and fraudulently, that left me dumbfounded, deluded and disillusioned, by her duplicity. Slowed by deviations, detours and miscalculations, losing the way, navigating blindly, with little sense of direction, I accumulated knowledge as i approached a destination, resigned but gratified, hoping to arrive as scheduled. Now is next to nothingness and doesn't exist. Life is unpredictable and nothing is fixed. The present is an enigma - a meaningless abstraction - in an unstable world where hope is the future, experienced from the past, in the search for fulfilment, while there's sand in the glass.

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