The Marketing Machine Begins to Roll

Trying an experiment – spent a small amount of dough on boosting my Facebook page. Just to see how it goes and whether its worth it.

I have updated the description a bit as well:

Trapped. In a world where everything is measured and control pervades every area of life, four people begin to break down. Instead they break through the walls of deceit and propaganda and into a world of revolution. Each, in their way, vow to overthrow the established order. They embark on a journey against the forces arraigned against them, forces of state and self doubt. Ultimately their paths converge on a dangerous road and the discovery of an ancient secret.

“An exploration of revolution, rebellion the consideration (or lack of it) about what comes next. A look at the real methods that modern society is kept divided and compliant – and a way out of it.”

Will endeavour to expand my author website a bit as well soon.

But must remember to find some time to write as well :-)

The Tip of the Flame

By Scott Bailey © 2015

 

The glint in the dark
From the deep of the cave
The the thirst that draws
The primitive out

Out from the dark
Out from the safe
Into the harsh
Changes of life

Leaping from age to age
The fire that burns inside
Connecting us over time
To the fires that have passed

Every ancestor who held it
Was a winner in their life
Success upon success
And you are the tip of that peak

 

Ages

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Generation XYZ.”

Found this old one that fits into this prompt – thought I’d give it some air.

By Scott Bailey © 2001

In a crumbling house we gathered,
sat around the ancient fire.
Logs burnt slow in the hearth,
warmed our expectant hearts.
Firelight flickered in the darkening eve,
We gathered around the elders.
sat in large and comfy chairs.
Red light upon our faces.
We heard of times gone by,
and smelt the burning wood.
The shadows held safe the past,
we gathered them in our hearts.
We looked back upon times gone,
held hands and were content.
Drinking from the cup of seers,
our fears eased, to sleep we went.

Upon the train I sat,
late for work again.
Another day another dollar,
Tomorrow the same again.
But that’s the base on which I build,
The foundation for my fun.
Work hard, get paid.
Play fast, get laid.
Tomorrow is another day.
So head down, concentrate.
Don’t stop, can’t be late.
Avoid, the crunch.
Let’s do brunch.
Work hard, make a dime!
Night time, spend a dime.
Money opens up the door.
More, more, more, more!

Future goals.
Way ahead.
Sights set far.
Future goals.
Sacrifice.
For future goals.
Save.
Energy.
Spend nothing now.
For future goals.
Look ahead.
Way ahead.
Suffer now.
For future goals.
Work.
Don’t play.
Rest later.
Not today.
Save it all.
For future goals.
For future goals.
Sell your souls.
Don’t look back.
Only ahead.
Don’t think today.
Think ahead.
See the prize.
Of future goals.
Don’t listen to,
the bell that tolls.
For future goals.

Feather Crown

By Scott Bailey © 2006

 

Shake!
Awake!
Shake!
Awake!
The sun.
Is up!
Rise up!
Rise up!
Open eyes!
Beneath
Blue skies.
Cast off
Sleep’s reins.
See!
The plains.
No sleep!
Breath deep!
Sun warms.
No storms.
Stretch arms.
Take arms.
Run!
In the sun!
Take bow!
Go!
Take spear!
Disappear!
When
Wind blows.
Lift nose.
And scent
why they sent
for you.
They come!
They run!
See!
The birds.
Speak.
No words.
Watch
them lead.
They
will feed.
Feel
the land.
Trust
your hand.
See
grass sway.
They come
this way.
Feel
the ground.
Hear
the sound.
Thunderous sound.
All around.
A mound
of meat.
Trust
your feet.
Spear
and bow.
Blood
will flow.
With
one voice.
We
rejoice!
And the buffalo pass,
to greener grass.