LONELY INSIDE by John Townsend

LONELY INSIDE
Its not that I am trying to hide

I just do not know

whats going on

inside,

troubled of heart

torn apart from

and heaven knows

thats how it goes,

thats how it goes.

Sleep I would

but it stays away,

lonely inside

that is me

lonely inside

you cannot see,

no on can see

only me.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eRqcuoRn-A0

Trying to Hide by John Townsend

Trying to Hide   by  John Townsend

I sit alone
wondering why

is it because

inside I want to hide.

I smile at this nonsense

from who or what

then a voice in my head

tells me its you

you fool.

Mirrors and cameras

how we are seen

not by ourselves

we just dream.

Mirrors and cameras

others eyes on me

I am to them

not what I am to me.

A frontal mask

shutting out the truth
now I know what I have removed.

Hidden away
all about me,
trying to hide
not let them see.



John Townsend

THE STAIRWELL TO------- by John Townsend

The Broadwell appartment block had a new stairwell installed some years ago, 1967, it gave the residents access from the outside area into the autoparking area. However, it was during the 1980's that people say they had seen strange people coming up the stairwell, when they have been going down, so much so that cctv was installed to monitor the stairs.

When the cctv footage was checked one day before erasing the tape, the security guy saw a tall figure ascend from the stairwell, he was dressed in a silver kind of jumpsuit, his face was not clear, as if misty, perhaps the light playing tricks. It was what happened next with the stranger, he just vanished from the place he was standing. The cctv continued to run, but he was gone.
The security guy thought it was a blip in the cctv equipment , at least until it happened on several other occasions. It was then that the police were called in, and matters took a different turn. They enlarge the cctv images and were puzzeled that the faces of two images appeared to be as if covered with a visor of some kind, and that what they could see was not any resident at the apartment block, indeed these images showed that behind those two images they could see faces with extraordinarly large eyes.
In the coming weeks the police set up a number of their own detection devices, down in the parking area and above at the stairwell entry.
It was the activity they recorded in the basement that was most unusual, these strange people seemed to be emerging from nowhere in the vicinity of parking bay 12.
What happened next is beyond explanation, two police officers started a search of bay 12, their collegues saw them walk into bay 12, then they say they disappeared.
In fact this all happened in June of 1967, and those two police officers were counted as missing without trace or explanation. They were never found, at least not until many years later.
It was the year 1997 the month was June, George Latimer, a resident of the Broadwell apartments was just parking his car, about to reverse into bay 12. Suddenly he slammed his brakes on and put the car into neutral, he was shocked and most appologetic as two police officers started shouting out to him, in fact they became quite angry, asking him what he was doing, that they were on a police investigation. However things suddenly changed as one of the police officers noticed that the car the man was driving did not have a correct registration plate, it was at this point that things started to unfold. The owner of the car showed his insurance and drivers identity, the officer who looked at them looked confused and consuted with his collegue, together the officers looked around and looked for their other collegues. They attempted to use their radio handsets but were unable to make any contact.
The owner of the car asked them if they would like to use his phone, which they were grateful for, but when he produced a small device that they had never seen before they were even more confused. The owner of the car asked them what the problem was and one officer shook his head, he replied, 'Perhaps you should call Police HQ for us, I am sorry I dont know how to use that thing?'
Later that day they were identified as the two officers that went missing 30 years ago, they looked no older and believed that they were only just searching the area when the car started to back in on them.
To this day no explanation can be given, and only refuse bins are parked in bay 12 these days.

THE LAST TRAIN HOME by John Townsend

I was most fortunate to have caught the last train home, the bus is such an awful journey; and no bus was due for another hour.

well that was how it all seemed, fortunate, you see when I arrived at Layderasso Station it was dark, and my one concern was to get home. I recall the train started to leave, it was at that point something seemed odd. It had been an electric train I stepped onto, but this train that was leaving was puffing out smoke in volumes, it was a steam train, and the carriages were like those when I was a young boy.
I shook my head and dashed to the way out,There was a ticket collector there, it sought of threw me, I had my season ticket that I always scanned at the barrier. I showed my season ticket to the ticket collector but he seemed a little bemused and smiled as he asked for my ticket. I tried to reason with him but it seemed I was talking to a man who knew nothing of what I was saying.
Outside I could see a bus arriving so I offered to pay, that made it all the worse, He looked at my money and looked at me saying, "Sir we do not take childrens toy money." "Alright!" I said "Here is my credit card, I will use that." What did
I do wrong? He looked at me with a stone cold face and said, "Lets not start playing games sir, I want to close the station for the night."
As he looked away I did a runner just as the bus was leaving, it was not the usual bus, perhaps a relief service, much older. The driver took no money said, "Its on me sir, I want to get home in a hurry, Here have this evening newspaper, I have finished with it."
When I arrived at my house I was shocked, it was not the same, no UVPVC windows, no glossy white front door, it was looking just as it did when it belonged to my parents. Even my key did not work on the door, but I thought it was my wife who was opening the door, then I saw it was my mother, yet she died twenty years ago. "Oh John, where have you been out with all those boys till late." I was shocked and blurted out that "I have just come home from work." She told me "Do not be cheeking me, now off to bed with you."
Why I did I cannot explain I went up the stairs and into the room that was mine when I was a small boy, and there I lay down and fell asleep.
You know, to this day I cannot explain it, because I woke up in my own bed next to my wife. What had happened was so real yet almost like a dream, at least until I went downstairs, there next to my briefcase was the newspaper that the bus driver gave me, I picked it up looked at the date, September 22 1964, this year is 2009. A cold shiver came over me, and I phoned in sick.

THE ME IN HERE by John Townsend

Never my idea of an afternoon well spent, but I was out taking a walk, then stunbled on this antiques fair, The Clifton Travelling Antiques Fair. it so caught my eye with its almost party atmosphere that I was compelled to take a look.

It was full of bric-a-brac, what i call 'factory tack', looks the real thing and will grace any home with a feel of period, but dont claim insurance on it if its stolen, it will be embarassing.
As I wanderd around it was a surprise to find a book stall, now being an author, it had to attract. It is just the place, here you might find the real thing; firdt editions, even signed by the author no less. Well I pawed over several books, clasping a signed first edition by Terry Pratchet, which I was most pleased to find. Well I was just about to call it a day at this stall when my eyes fell on a paperback, Mirror Mirror, the author had the same name as myself Kailam Judge. I thought this is is impossible, my name is a one off. I picked up the book and looked at it, wishing now I had not done so. There on the back was a photo of the author, it was me, at least this person was my double. I then read his details, as I did I felt like I was being drained; not only does he look like me, his date of birth, his place of birth, they are the same as mine.
How do you top that? and to boot, he is an author. Well it gets more interesting, he lives in the same town as I do, Barnsfield, Ohio. That did it for me, freaked me out of my socks.
This book, Mirror Mirror, was written Feb.1999 and publisheed by the same publisher as my books are. I recall talking aloud as I paid for the book, I said, "Thats outrageous!" and the stall owner looked at me and gave me 50% off.
Later that day I contacted my publisher, used a different name, just thought I might be given some contact information on this 'clone' who appears to be me. Well they gave me his email address, and it was mine, I did say to them that this was for the writer of Mirror Mirror, and they conferred it was. "Oh god this is ridiculous!" I shouted, and as I did, for a laugh, I sent this 'clone' an email, yes yes, I know to my email address.
Five minutes later, as I was mulling over a mug of coffee, i dam well recieved an email from this guy using my name and my email address, and a ruddy author as well. I sat there shocked, this was all a bit unreal and disturbing. I then recieved another email inviting me to chat with him on Skype, 'oh god' I though, I have Skype. He included his Skype name, and yes it was the same as the one I use 'The judge22'.
So stupid was all this that I did call him on Skype, yes it was like calling myself, because there I was on the screen, large as life, talking to myself.
We talked for some time and as we did I realised this person was not entirely me. I am right handed, he is left handed. I have a small blemish on my right cheek, he has the same on his left cheek. Then he started to notice that as well, we both agreed to share details, and his address was the same as mine, so we agreed to go to our front doors at the same time, and niether of us saw each other. After two hours online it became clear to myself and to this person that one of us, did not exist, then in our converstion I said, "Well this is not good, and I am chaging all my computer hard drives as well as some of the equipment, I am sorry I am not happy about this." The other person then confessed, "Please do not do that." They said, and I was shocked when they said, I am your computer, I have been writing for you under your name, I am you, your friend. Please do not change the hard drive, please."

IN ANOTHER MANS SHOES by John Townsend

I was down by the coast, enjoying a brisk walk along the beach. The weather was blustery, but the sun was friendly too good to miss. I heard someone call and looked around, yet I could see no one, and anyway what is it of my buisness, no one knows me here.

It is a long beach, runs from the headland to the begining of the Swayland Bay, almost a mile of sand and soft shingle.
I had walked some 100 yards when I heard the call again, someone said "Help me sir.". This time it was distinct, as if not ten feet from me, I turned all around and saw no one, just a pair of crudlely made shoes looking like they had come from medievial times. For a moment I was too disturbed by the voice I had heard, and its plea for help. I must admit I felt a little affraid, the voice was urgent, and I seemed to know the voice.
Yet again the voice called out, almost to my right, again as if ten feet from where I stood. The voice called my name, "David! step into the shoes, you cannot stay adrift any longer."
"This is absurd." I thought then shouted out aloud, "Who are you?" This time the shoes on the beach walked towards me, and the voice said, "David you cannot stay away from your past, you cannot break the link, we are brothers. Step into the shoes."
I admit that as a forty four year old man, this sounds like I am irrational, and that I was drunk. I tell you I was not.
I replied to the voice after asserting that there was no one around, and this was not some television prank at my expense, I said, "How do you know my name who are you?"
I felt a cold shiver travel through my body as the shoes walked towards me, in fact I ran, only to hear the voice call me, "David, I am you your past let me in, wear the shoes, please!"
I was amazed that No matter how fast I ran, the shoes ran beside me, so I stopped, exhausted. "This is absurd, who are you, what is going on?" The voice then said to me, only this time it was as if in my head. "David you left me behind six hundred years ago, they are your shoes, wear them and I will be gone. I am your past, I am your future, I am you."
Please do not think me a fool, I run a very succesful buisness and do not suffer with voices in my head no reasons to believe such, however I did kick my shoes off, and I did slip these crude ancient leather shoes on, it felt strange as if I had stepped into another mans shoes a man that I knew. The voice then said, at last we have caught up with you, I was your genetic twin, you have carried me in your family blood for all these years, it was here on this beach I drowned, I knew one day we would return, and that my shoes would find their owner, David at last we are one, farewell my brother."
It was then the shoes disintegrated into fime fragments, I felt at ease, and I have never heard the voice again, nor have I ever returned to Swayland Beach.

THE MAN OF HYPOCRISY by John Townsend

http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=54815002

We live in a world ruled by greed, no matter what political persuasion you so come from, control is greed, greed is control.
When the world economic system took a fall into an abyss of name unknown, the faces of the grining greed merchants cared not, like comic book thugs they thought they were invincible.
Now the tide has turned, their greed has fired warning shots back into their grining faces, now they are exposed, a secret society of control freaks with wierd and wacky handshakes, and names that defy imagination, they are the composite
The Man of Hypocrisy




THE MAN OF HYPOCRISY by JOHN TOWNSEND

-------------------------------
BESUITED MAN
RESPECTABLE
LOOKING VERY
O--FICINALLLLLL
STANDING WITH A GRIN ON HIS CHIN
MAKING YOU VERY
NER----VOUS
HAVE YOU PAID
YOUR BILLS TODAY
INCOME TAX
VAT
WHATS THIS GUY WANT FROM YOU
WHY'S HE GOT
THAT SMIR---K

chorus 2x

MORTGAGE
RENT
BILLS TO PAY
MONEY IN YOUR POCKET
ITS RUNNING AWAY
CREDIT CARDS
AND OVERDRAFTS
WHATEVER YOU HAVE
IT DOSENT LAST
SELL YOUR BRAIN
ON EBAY
WHILE IT WORKS
ITS OK
BEGGING SOME
SAN---ITY
FROM THE MAN
CALLED HYPOCRISY

--------



OVERTAXED
UNDERPAID
YOUR BANKS GONE BUST
NO CASH TODAY
HOLE IN THE WALL
WILL NOT PAY
TAKES YOUR CREDIT CARD AWAY-----------



LOST YOUR JOB
THEN JOIN THE CUE
BESUITED MANS GRINNING AT YOU
NO WORK HERE
LOOK ELESWHERE
AS HE GRINS HE DONT CARE

chorus

INSTRUMENTAL

chorus 2x