K. Morris's Blog, page 826

Autumn Leaves by Charles Dickens

Yesterday evening, lying in bed, browsing Youtube on my Ipad I came across Charles Dicken’s poem, Autumn Leaves on Youtube. I must confess to not having been aware that in addition to his novels, short stories and travel writings Dickens had, in addition written poetry. This one is well worth a listen. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5ESlzcQqEFY

The Cleaner

I sit watching you making my surfaces gleam, my efficient cleaning machine. What do you think as you clean, my hard working cleaning machine? Do you see

a snob? A man to lazy to clean his own flat, with a good job? Do you see me as free, reading with a book upon my knee? Would you like to trade places with

me, To sit in comfort, while I toil with a book upon your knee? Tell me, my equal what do you think of me?

Beth

There was a young lady called Beth, who maintained an unhealthy interest in death. When she finally did die, she cried my oh my, now I am truly bereft!

Clare

There was a young lady called Clare who liked to dance on the stair. One day she did slip, and fractured her hip, so now she dances on chairs.

Forthcoming Book Promotion

I hope to be in a position to give away my story, Samantha free for 5 days. I published Samantha using Kindle Select which allows titles registered with the programme to be provided, free of charge for a period of 5 days every 90 days. I originally provided Samantha free in early March so, by my reckoning I should be able to do likewise in June. Please watch this space.

Samantha tells the story of a young girl forced into prostitution in the English city of Liverpool. Can Sam escape her life of sex slavery or will she end her days in the murky waters of Liverpool’s Albert Docks.

The Bliss of Solitude

I have just been sitting on my sofa listening to the rain falling. It is a soothing sound and provides a welcome change from the noise of the television which signified the presence of my mum and her partner. It goes without saying that it was wonderful to have my mum stay with me for a week. We ate out often and had a wonderful time including a visit to an historic palace. However the sound of the television and the presence of my mum and her partner made it difficult for me to concentrate on my writing. I require solitude and the absence of external distractions such as music while writing and this has been largely lacking for the past week. My two bed room flat is spacious but it is amazing how sound travels. The answer is obvious. I need to win the lottery, buy a large house in the country and retire to my study in the west wing when guests are present and I need to write. I don’t play the lottery so this may be a little difficult so, dear readers please send donations, however large to K Morris, PO box 252, the Bahamas! I can hear pens scratching already as you all rush to right out cheques for significant sums. I’m off now to check out mantions in England’s green and pleasant land. Kevin

The High Class Escort

I saw a young lady with jewels in her hair, her skin was like porcelain, her face it was ffair. The nymph she did speak to me,

“My good sir with my charms I will delight you, I’ll soothe all your cares”.

To the lady I made answer,

“Oh maiden fair your face is bewitching and  the light it doth dance on the jewels in your hair. But lady, most pretty my soul cries out beware, in your arms man will find nought but sorrow and care”.

The lady gaily made answer

“My good sir in my embrace you will find relief from both sorrow and care”.

I gazed at the young lady, at the jewels in her hair and at length I made answer

“Oh maiden fair, in your arms bliss, tis  fleeting there is no solace there”.

The nympth, she did attempt to win me with accents sweet and fair

“Gaze on my beauty, at the jewels in my hair, my charms can release thee from blackest despair”.

“Oh lady, lust is a powerful thing, it temporarily soothes almost any sting, but lady tomorrow the sting tis still there, so I must decline you and the jewels in your hair”.

 

Park After Rain

The sky is dark, the rain drenched park stretches away. I stand the land bleak speaks, a feeling of desolation creeps into my soul, the whole is dank and grey. Nature is all around, the muted sound of birds is heard, the sky is louring and grey.

The wind blows, trees sway, the dark park stretches threateningly away.

Freedom of Expression

On 19 May I published a poem entitled “Her Mother’s Daughter” (see http://newauthoronline.com/2013/05/19/her-mothers-daughter/). In the poem I address how a mother oblivious to the fact that her young daughter is engaged in sex work would react if she discovered her involvement in prostitution.   My poem provoked the following response from a lady engaged in sex work

“This is fucking horrible. This entire project is vile. What the fuck are you even doing creating a whole project about sex workers as a non-sex worker based on shitty stereotypes, asinine paternalistic bullshit and inane drivel? As a sex worker myself, this is gross. For the sake of humanity, please stop. You are propagating stereotypes and lies about us and this causes us DIRECT HARM. STOP STEREOTYPING SEX WORKERS. Stop speaking for us. We can speak for ourselves.”

It goes without saying that sex workers can (and do) speak for themselves and that they have every right to do so. However I am extremely concerned regarding the implied view that anyone who is not a sex worker does not have the right to express a view on the issues pertaining to prostitution. If we follow this reasoning to it’s logical conclusion then only black people should speak about matters pertainig to blacks, only white people on issues relating to whites etc. This way of proceeding would stifle literary and, indeed artistic expression and would lead to a debased cultural landscape in which writers and society more generally is frightened of expressing an opinion as it might, just possibly offend some one or other. As someone who is blind I dislike the stereotypes which some misguided individuals hold concerning visually impaired people. However I have no wish to prevent the expression of opinion. If I disagree with views being voiced I can (and will) challenge those views, not by calling for their suppression but by arguing against them as any believer in freedom should do.

As regards the substance of the above quoted criticisms, the commentor makes no attempt to express a contrary perspective. Rather she indulges in that age old trick of shooting the messenger rather than attempting to engage him in debate.

In point of fact I accept the right of sex workers to sell sex and the right of clients to purchase services provided that both parties are of legal age and coercion in the form of threat or violence is absent from the exchange. However that is not at all the same thing as accepting that prostitution has no harmful effects on those engaged in it. Ultimately in a free society individuals have the right to make choices which may harm them (that is an important right which should be respected), however that is not the same thing as saying that one has no right to express concerns regarding said choices. In a democracy free and open debate is essential.

Who Killed Cock Robin (humour)

Below is my rewrite of the traditional English nursery rhyme, “Who Killed Cock Robin” which is written firmly with my tongue in my cheek. I did say (only yesterday) that I wouldn’t be blogging during the visit of my mum and her partner, however as they are currently ensconced watching television I think that I may safely allow myself a few minutes for blogging!

 

Who Killed Cock Robin Rewrite

 

“So, constable who killed cock robin?”

 

“Well sir Jack Sparow claims to have done it with his bow and arrow”.

 

“Do we have any independent witnesses to the murder because we wouldn’t want some clever defence lawyer to claim we beat a confession out of Jack Sparow?”

 

 

“Well sir Guy the fly claims to have seen Cock Robin Die with his little eye”.

 

“But Guy the fly was seen by Mike the pike buzzing around the picknick tables, near the lake and that is miles from where Cock Robin died so Guy can’t possibly

have seen him die”.

 

“Well sir Bob the dog says that he saw Matt the cat viciously  assault Cock Robin and leave him dying in the long grass by the bird table”.

 

“But Matt the cat was observed chasing Nat the rat by Len the Hen at the time when Cock Robin was murdered. It can’t be Matt. Besides Bob hates Matt the

cat ever since he stole his owner’s hat.”

 

“OK sir I’ve just received a tip-off from Blair the bear who swares that he saw Clare the hare strangle cock robin with her hair. I’m off to interview Blair

the bear”.

 

“OK constable you go right there and interview Blair the bear”.