More bite sized oysters of fun with an occasional pearl of wisdom.

This is mainly a five part idiosyncratic reflection on the life of Jesus of Nazareth; someone whom many people with little time for religion still find attractive. It is mostly from a talk I gave in 1988 while visiting a church in Pennsylvania. Please make allowance for this context in what I have written. I am not trying to proselytise. I believe that, whatever path we follow, the important thing is to come to a point where we live, not to gain God's approval, but to respond to his** love. For me, that love is embodied in Jesus. * Ecce Homo (John 19:5) - the Latin words with which Pontius Pilate, the Roman Governor, presented the scourged Jesus to his accusers before sending him to be crucified. ** When I speak of God as 'he' I am not assigning a gender; but I am not willing to tie language up in knots in order to be politically correct. Feminists beware! (but really I approve of what you stand for.)

True humorous poem anecdotes from the family funeral and wedding trade. If you like any please consider giving it a vote. It would be a great encouragement.

At seventeen I wanted to write poetry, at thirty-two I had to write it and at seventy-three I was startled to write it. These poems, serious and humorous, that I am posting are the result. If you like one, please consider giving it a vote, by clicking on the 'star' below the poem. It would be a great encouragement to a new boy on the block!

This is intended as a further collection, in no particular order, of the short poems that I have liked. Their truth is in their beauty, if not always in their sense or sentiment. For those who dip into it, I am hoping with this personal anthology to convey something of the pleasure poetry has for so long given me. Like all anthologies, it is best for sampling from time to time rather than reading exhaustively.

Local chimp makes it big as French chef

Poems written by me for everyone. Comment idea for a mention. Number 546 in poetry. Number 395 in poetry. Number 961 in poetry. Number 862 in poetry. Number 455 in poetry. Number 485 in poetry. Number 508 in poetry. Number 279 in poetry. Number 411 in poetry. Number 247 in poetry. Number 427 in poetry. Number 543 in poetry. Number 593 in poetry. Number 295 in poetry Number 516 in poetry. Number 837 in poetry. Number 643 in poetry. Number 815 in poetry. Number 725 in poetry. Number 231 in poetry.

Dozens of scary stories. All of them six words.

He ran into her at street theater. She was a force of nature, not a casual first time hire. She brought the house down with her performance, literally pulled the audience to their feet in standing ovation. Her performance was too real, unnerving, deeply unsettling to him. He spent all his energy keeping up with her. At the end of the play, she snatched her earnings from the director's hands and ran away, leaving a trail of questions behind her, the most burning one in his mind was: Would he ever see her again? ____________________ This ongoing novel imagines a world that our younger generations inherit after a series of successive presidencies in the same vein as the current model. There is no need for erecting walls, as the biggest divide created by humanity - that of social class - takes care of a post modern segregation. The poor are literally marginalized into slum-like townships and tend to be of color. The names of these townships would be enough to tell you their story. The rich, well, remain happily oblivious in the big American cities. In this world find a mysterious girl whose identity must be hidden or she would be hunted down and a young street actor who falls for her intrigue. Discover how they survive, born into a society not prepared to give them a chance. For them, the dystopia came without an apocalypse. Copyrighted 2018 _________________________________________________ Updates every 5-6 days. Currently on hiatus for revisions. Most impressive rank: #87 in dystopia/dystopian #90 in future (17/09/18) ________________________________________________________ Cover credits: Thanks are due to the amazing New Zealand artist Shane Rebenschied who allowed me to use one of his illustrations on his portfolio at http://blot.com. I used basic photoshopping to add some shades and used the awesome text effects from http://picturetopeople.com

This novella is available for sale on Amazon. To keep it forever, go buy it now! It's only 99 cents, and there is bonus material at the back you won't get on here. Abigail had a secret. I knew it soon after meeting her. She was different than other girls, and not just because she actually showed some interest in me. She was really different. I loved it. I loved her. But Abigail had a secret. Damian told me so, the first time I met him. I wasn't sure whether to believe him or not. He wasn't trustworthy. He wasn't nice. He was a terrifying figure, the embodiment of fear. But he was right. She had a secret. I'm sorry I keep repeating it. It's still hard to believe. How could somebody so gentle, nice, and loving be so... scary? That's the only word I knew to describe her after it all ended. Everything about her being was scary. Abigail was my life, I told myself. She was my everything. She left me with nothing. If she was my life, does that make this suicide? Email the author at davidkummer7@gmail.com **To see an interview about this novella, go here: http://buttonholed.blogspot.com/p/blog-page_14.html **