other book 2009-11 stories published 2021
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B09969GRV8
Sunday, 18 July 2021
Thursday, 15 July 2021
Of Equal Importance: Tarac Ridge Poems
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B099FLNT37
Of Equal Importance: Tarac Ridge Poems
It was like a film script but real. 2 planes 2 pilots 2 crashes... We went to the crash area at Tarac Ridge on February 8-10 2018. This was the 76th anniversary of it. We went to the P-40 on Feb 9 and the Ki-27 on the 10th. The crashes are over a kilometer up altitude wise. We had to hike many hours through the forest/jungle and mountain to the area. We camped at the lower campsite. There is an easier site at the top of the mountain near Kurosawa’s Nate which is less than a hundred feet below the area. Because we never camped there we had to ascend the final hour to the summit each day.
For Stone and Kurosawa. In death you are both equal. RIP.
Sunday, 4 July 2021
GRIM TOWN OF NO HOPE
GRIM TOWN OF NO HOPE
“Come on you little beggars! Move the coal. I’m not paying you for nothing. Now move!” shouted the old man, with real anger in his voice. He was thirty years old but looked twice that.
A group of scallywags, barely into their teens, glared at the old man with defiant resentful eyes. None of them dared answer back or to call the man a name. He would beat them to an inch of their petty puny worthless working class lives. Grumbling amongst themselves, with aching muscles, they moved the coal sacks.
“I’ll beat you with my bare hands if you drop a single piece of coal! Get a move on!” screamed the man, still angry. Was he always like that?
From lower down the sloping cobbled street, a group of people heard the shouts. They looked up the road and saw the lads, along with their master. He was a ruthless bastard. He didn’t care what the spectators or his lads thought of him.
The eight lads all had down cast eyes; they hated their boss and their job of moving coal. Yet they were aware that six years on their ages would have meant war time service. The prospect of fighting the Nazis or Japs was worse than the job they did. This labouring job made them strong, gave them defiance and pain tolerance from the hard work and beatings. A wartime death held no glory for them. They just got on with it.
He, their master or “The Bastard” as they called him behind his back, was unfit for war duty. An early TB infection from the 1920s nearly killed him. He was still a strong man and a tough guy. No one had ever broken him and he took whatever life threw at him, on the nose. He was a real man. His working class clothes were the uniform of his generation – cloth cap, worn out white shirt, black jacket and trousers and hob nailed boots. His lads were smaller mirror images of him, an unbroken path from generation to generation. It was men like these that allowed us to win the war.
Air raid alerts had once been a problem. Nazi bombers had appeared regularly in the day. This meant leaving the valuable coal where you stood and legging it for cover; be it a shelter or a ditch. Quite a lot of coal went missing by the time they returned, when the all clear sounded. Now the war was over, the lads spent twelve hours a day moving coal sacks from open ground on Glodwick Lows to the depot. All by hand. It made them tough, bitter, angry, resentful and like their master. Real men. As hard as old Victorian terrace houses and cobbled streets. As hard as England.
Many of the lads had lost family members in the war. Some of them were the sole bread winners, busting their guts for a measly six pence a day, on the coal run. Digging it up, filling the sacks, carrying it to the depot. Day in and day out. When they were older, they would each be a hard drinker just like Him, their boss. “The Bastard.” Till then, they silently cursed and got on with their work.
Till one day, an official government photographer took their picture. They weren’t happy! “The Bastard” didn’t care one way or another and the lads got a two minute rest break. He captured them for posterity in an old acetate photograph. Then the shouts came again, “Come on you little bastards! Move the coal. I’m not paying you to stand there!”
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Thursday, 17 June 2021
my writing bios
Hi, my name is Nick Armbrister. I'm from Manchester, England. I've been writing since April 1996 and published since Nov 96. Very much part of the late 90s 'small press' writing scene, published in mags, 'zines, anthologies and later in the 00s, online and in my own books. I've worked for an American publisher before . Self published a hundred plus books under Nick Armbrister and my pen name Jimmy Boom Semtex. I do alternative poetry and adult erotica plus aviation work. My variety of work is huge. I've written with a wide variety of poets/authors. Love to be creative, like hiking and high ground and also love tattoos and aeroplanes. My books are on the usual sites with my Jimmy Boom Semtex books.
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Jimmy Boom Semtex is into many things. Writing is one. His varied work includes poetry, prose and stories on a variety of topics. Erotica like his Fire Extinguisher Man series, poetry on current world events, horror stories and more besides. Jimmy loves getting tattooed, listening to alternative music, drinking beer and living a simple but fulfilling life. Check his blogs out. He's working on new erotic stories and a poetry collection. His writing career is diverse and so are the authors/poets/writers he’s collaborated with. My books are on the usual sites though my Jimmy Boom Semtex books are banned on Apple/iBooks/iTunes due to adult erotic content. Get those in rival sites like Amazon.
Tuesday, 15 June 2021
revisiting my New Dawn 2971 Nick Armbrister and other authors/poets/writers
revisiting my New Dawn 2971 Nick Armbrister and other authors/poets/writers
One/Two (by Mule and
Nick)
The war against extreme Muslims
what did we have when we was growing up
the Cold War
and the probs in Northern Ireland
Nothing changes
Just the year and enemy changes
I'd rather have Neo Soviet Russia
and Red China as enemies
Tho dangerous we know their capabilities
Little is unknown unlike this new war
Opportunity
She sleeps at different
shifts
Twice a day without fail
Each time with a different
lover
Her boyfriend called her
His thing is up
Oh my, that sounds so rude!
The pilot upped and flew off
So she got a new one
One from an oil rig
He was a real man
Then there was the gangster
Skilled with words and style
She must choose wisely
It was an important choice
Who to take to bed twice a day
And they had to be flush
With full wallets
None of this ATM crap
Cash only or no joy
She was a wise lady
And enjoyed her fun
Why not call round?
She’s open for business
Then tell your friends
And call round again
I’m up there at weekend…
Bogozoid!
I had a wee wee!
The bog smelt
of stale piss
This reminded
me
Of stale pussy!
Dog awful smell
Why I will
NEVER ever
Lick a dirty
one
But being
pissed
I wanted squid
And popped a
tin
And had a feast
Or half…
…for there was
only two
With one spine
And one beak
Not four big
ones!
Jammed in a tin
With big fat
bodies
Attached to
horrible tentacles
Yet then there
were no beaks…
I sulked all
damn day…
She on the
island
Has a jar of
beaks for me
I wish she
would hurry here…
And bring me a
real live squid too
For I want
calamari squid rings
A whole damn
dish
All to myself!
Sunday, 13 June 2021
got my NICK ARMBRISTER/JIMMY BOOM SEMTEX books on new publisher SWEEK now
got my NICK ARMBRISTER/JIMMY BOOM SEMTEX books on new publisher SWEEK now
sample links-
Sunday, 6 June 2021
Soldier Wannabes
Soldier
Wannabes
The
old feeling comes back when the new beasting is delivered
My
boss banging on about a single issue that was noticed
Picked
up by the quality team You gave the soldier
the wrong info
And
thus you will get another beasting so you learn again
Don’t
return to your old ways consider this a warning
We
will monitor you and act if needed on your job role
You
were fine before so what happened on this?
My
boss goes on and on knowing he’s in my head
That
I wanna quit and never ever go back
Hey
maybe I will and fuck this crap off for good
Go
and be a NASA astronaut for the 24 Moon Shots
I
can do better than your small job and little company
I
can reach for the stars and touch them in a rocket ship
None
of you will make it to space but I will very soon
My
res-let is on the way to you and I will far far away
Bye
bye small people in the little company of nobodies
Private
security never was my thing you army wannabes
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