The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

By Stanley Collymore



There was that first rush of heady excitement tempered

periodically by the contemplative reflection on what

the consequences could be but which was always

recklessly brushed aside by the energizing

dangers inherent in our joint and at

times irresponsible actions.

But lust camouflaged

as love does tend

to act that

way.



Forty three years on the folly of it all speaks eloquently

for itself; but that aside we’ve both survived the

inferno of deep-seated passions, personal

conflicts and even the mirthful

remembrances of those early halcyon days, seemingly

so at the time, that sensibly were always destined

to end the way they have done; completely

avoidable if we’d only stopped for a

moment and seriously thought

about what we were doing.



But real life isn’t about regrets or what might have been,

or conveniently whingeing about misfortunes: real or

imaginary. Nor realistically is it about revenge or

getting even for those reverses sustained in our

life, since to do so would effectively mean

allowing someone else, consciously or

even unknowingly so, to dictate the

tempo as well as determine the

agenda of our life. I haven’t

or will I ever permit that

to happen to me!



The experience however gained from our ill-fated

relationship together has been invaluable none

the less in helping me to positively determine

who and what I actually wanted to be and

ultimately became. And without malice

or any trace of bitterness I’ll raise a

glass of Mount Gay Rum: Barbados and the

world’s oldest and finest, specifically to

January 24, 1968 and the Top of the

World Ballroom in Stafford,

Central England with the toast:

“I looked danger in the eye,

refused to blink and won

the day. I survived!



© Stanley V. Collymore

24 January 2011.





Footnote:

The road to hell is often paved with good intentions, and not least among them is unthinkingly falling in love and impropitiously following that up with marriage.



This poem was inspired by the escapades of Doreen, Dora, Hazel, Agnes, Dot, Margaret and the rest of the members of this close-knit, serial adulterous, Top of the World aficionado, female gang, circa 1968 plus.

By Stanley Collymore



You entered my life unexpectedly; it wasn’t a

momentous occasion or as I recall even an

occurrence that I particularly welcomed

or was likewise pleased about, but it

happened all the same; I tolerated

it, didn’t initially attribute too

much significance to it all

and that was that. At least

that’s how I saw things

and what I honestly

did think at the

time.



But even though from the outset you knew exactly

how I felt about this new development that had

inauspiciously thrown us together you did

nothing to change my opinion about

what had occurred or sought to

impress me in anyway and

simply carried on being

yourself, creating in

the interim a state

of equilibrium where

eventually I was

the one who

changed.



And I’m exceedingly glad I did; for you’ve turned

out not only to be one of the most remarkable

persons I’ve ever met, or could have hoped

to, but also someone who has artlessly

and rather endearingly become for

me, quite thankfully I must

also confess, absolutely

indispensible to

my life!



© Stanley V. Collymore

29 September 2013.



Footnote:

One of the principal ways one can truly value their own life is through the significance that they attach to the lives of others. This poem is accordingly dedicated to Carolyn Audrey Tippin of Rugeley, Staffordshire.

By Stanley Collymore



I love you not only because you’re beautiful,

intelligent, kind and a truly fantastic person

in every conceivable way there is but also

because I’m inherently an utterly

selfish individual especially

where love is concerned and this action of

mine is the apogee of that particular situation;

therefore bearing that in mind I simply wanted you

for myself, significantly well aware, all things

considered, that I’m completely unworthy

of you. Nevertheless, I sincerely hope

that you can both forgive and

overlook this one major

flaw in my otherwise

perfect character?



© Stanley V. Collymore

30 September 2013.





Footnote:

All’s fair in love and war; and isn’t loving the most intense, personal and emotional form of human warfare there is?

By Stanley Collymore



You’re a liar and a cheat! But interestingly enough

from the very onset of our relationship and

despite your full awareness and total

acceptance of how profoundly

opposed I am to such behaviour you’ve

never sought to hide your personal conduct

from me, or ever attempted to portray it

in ways that would either ameliorate

what you’re doing far less justify

why you’ve wilfully chosen

to act in such a manner.



And that’s rather strange and somewhat difficult

for me to comprehend; for liars and cheats are

by their own nature intuitively highly secretive

in the way that they usually go about their

normal business and if forced, however

temporarily so, to deviate from this

to operate in the public arena are

invariably quite mendacious

in their performances

to say the least.



So I thank you for your continuous openness with

me, and must confess that in marked contrast

to many of the so-called upright citizens

and alleged law-abiding individuals

that I know or hear about you’re

undoubtedly, I guess, one of

the most straightforward

and honest persons

that there is.



© Stanley V. Collymore

26 September 2013.

By Stanley Collymore



I have a name so use it; for it symbolizes who and

what I am and not the adornment of someone

whom you deem to be and evidently see as

nothing more than a superfluous nonentity

in your pathetically sick and perverse

scheme of things based entirely

on gender issues and racism.



Like yours my fundamental needs in

order to survive in this life are exactly

the same, but ultimately one day

Death, the great leveller, will

I know dispassionately pull

the plug on my life as

it will on yours.



What then when this elaborate charade that

you meticulously contrive to reassuringly

prove to yourself that you’re superior to

and consequently better than everyone

like me in every conceivable way

inevitably ends, and unless your

dead body is then cremated it

likewise, like mine, most certainly will

predictably putrefy, stink to high heavens and

become an instinctive source of sustenance

for hordes of marauding worms that in

life, firmly ensconced as you are in

your delusional world of intentional

unreality, you don’t even bother

to sensibly factor into your

stupid equation of what’s

worthy and what isn’t!



© Stanley V. Collymore

27 September 2013.

By Stanley Collymore



What do I care about love and why logically should I?

For why would I want to willingly subvert my most

intimate thoughts and emotions to the personal

scrutiny or whim of someone else? I’m an

individual, and a thinking one, for God’s

sake! Not some human android

inescapably programmed into

unthinkingly reacting in ways

completely contrary to my

best interests or else forced to

behave in the prescribed manner

that others who I either don’t know,

will in all probability never meet;

whose opinions I don’t share and

consequently mean nothing to

me arrogantly determine are

appropriate life strategies

that unquestioningly I

should adopt?



For to allow this pervasive brainwashing to subvert and

even consciously take over the entire running of my life

would not only be contrary to the individuality I’ve

assiduously cultivated and fostered throughout it

but would also, I feel, unequivocally negate

everything that is human in me. So please

let me be for I’m not you nor do I

aspire to being anyone else but

me; and all I ask is to be left

alone to make my own

choices in life and,

you’ve guessed it,

to likewise be

unmistakably

me!



© Stanley V. Collymore

26 September 2013.

By Stanley Collymore



I have just experienced the most unexpected and

exhilarating experience I could ever have

imaged or hoped for while being on

holiday of all things; too

considerable for words and rightly so. I met

you: previously a complete stranger to

me but in the ensuing hours we were

together the transition of you from

stranger to some very special to

me wasn’t only dramatic but

was also in this remarkable

process significantly life-

changing as well.

For having reciprocally empathized with you

so instantaneously and to such an extent,

in ways that strangers rarely do, I

happily became aware on this

most incredible of Sundays –

30 January 2011 – that I

was possibly falling

in love with you.



© Stanley V. Collymore

30 January 2011.

By Stanley Collymore



Is it really possible for a year to have started off as

badly as this one and, more to the point, should

it have done? Had anyone said to me prior to

its onset that this is how it would be I would

have upbraided them for being paranoid.

Yet everything I do regardless of the

meticulous care I expend and the

scrupulous precautions I take to

avoid foreseeable and even improbable

problems which may occur, I always end

up having to confront one calamitous

situation after another; why so? I

wish I knew, for at least I could

then realistically hope to

convince the morons

involved, as I’ve

done with myself,

that I’m not

going mad!



© Stanley V. Collymore

22 January 2011.





Footnote:



This poem was first written on the 22nd January 2011 but unaltered is now being employed as a caustic but justifiable indictment of the invasive, comprehensively incompetent but none the less intentionally perniciously vindictive, highly questionable practices, and the venal activities of EDF and Scottish Power, but even more infamously the acutely malevolent actions of Steve Hayfield, Customer Services Director at EDF and James B. Paterson, UK Marketing Manager at Scottish Power; inappropriate conduct that in September 2013 is most regrettably now ably assisted by Sarah Phelps ensconced in the Customer Service department of Southern Electric. Activities, I must declare, that are analogous to those of some old criminal gang; close-knit and profoundly incestuous.

By Stanley Collymore



A bright sunny day; 11.42 in the morning. In the square opposite

the Ahla Centre and fronting the lengthy promenade a small

crowd consisting mainly of young people seemingly

content, as any group of people could be, mill

around, while on both roads that run along

the perimeter of this oasis of tranquillity ongoing

traffic: some heading townwards others just as

decidedly away from the city centre add

their lulling contribution to that of the

neighbouring Mediterranean Sea,

creating among themselves a

cacophony of sounds that

rather surprisingly aren’t

discordant to the ear.



I sit quietly and observe not just the

panoramic view but also, and just as importantly,

the quite interesting diversity of life portrayed within its

boundaries, and I think constantly of you. This is your country;

the place where you were born, nurtured and obviously belong. I am

the stranger; but when I’m with you those otherwise glaringly cultured

differences instantaneously melt away into a compellingly strong

bond of physical and emotional chemistry between us, which

absolutely convinces me that I’m falling in love with

you; and that’s a truly wonderful feeling to have.



© Stanley V. Collymore

29 January 2011.





Footnote:

Love is often an unsurprising and even an uninvited guest at many a social engagement but as it usually poses no premeditated problems for the host concerned or those it specifically chooses to concentrate its attention on is almost invariably given a warm and even at times an effusive welcome.

By Stanley Collymore



I needed a loan rather quickly and initially didn’t

know where to turn, so in the interim I decided

to rob a bank, as they’ve loads of money to

burn. Unfortunately though, I was soon

apprehended shopped by an inquisitive

neighbour you see, who accidentally

discovered what I’d done and

exultantly told the police. In court

I willingly pleaded guilty and

sincerely apologized for my

crime but even though I’d

returned all the money

that I stole, the bank

still insisted that I

did jail time. The judge agreed and I got 15 years, a

darn sight more than most murderers; and quite

honestly, if you were to ask me, a hell of a

long time to ponder over the folly of what

I did, namely that rather than robbing

bank depositors, in the ham-fisted

manner I had, I should have

curried favour with those in

the City of London and

become an immune

bankster instead!



© Stanley V. Collymore

17 September 2013.





Footnote:

Many a true word, the old English saying overtly reminds us, is often spoken in jest and this allegorical poem I’ve written is bang on in that respect. You see, the principal flaw in the oft-repeated and lying mantra that banks and other major, corporate financial institutions are too big, important and vital to the economic well-being of everyone to ever let them fail naturally is that the inferred well-being, that is fundamentally venal in character, and that those who’re dishonestly and exuberantly beating this particular drum of self-interest are really concerned about, is none other than their very own.

By Stanley Collymore



It wasn’t supposed to happen; a routine, by all accounts

given the circumstances, quite ordinary day for me as

I sat on a bus increasingly being crammed on route

with passengers heading for a day’s outing at

a popular southern English seaside resort;

while for my part it was business as

usual as I was on my way to

another journalistic

assignment.



Then on one of its scheduled stops you boarded the bus

accompanied by a young lad approximately 10 years

old and who as the bus continued its journey

concomitant with the telltale evidence of

emotional bonding and obvious signs

of unassuming motherly love and

tactile though not in the least

overbearing physical protection

within the ambit of that mass of

human souls standing around the

both of you I realistically

concluded that you

were his mother.



Fortuitously as the bus continued its journey

recurrently it seemed acting as an ongoing

repository for yet more people coming

on board at each stop that it made

this onwards thrust of human

beings inextricably swept

you and your son to a

vantage location where

you were both now

standing next

to me.



Secretly, I’d watched you from the moment you boarded

the bus and was deeply impressed by everything about

you that I observed; now I acted much more boldly

and was delightfully heartened by the fact that

as you became intentionally sensitive to this

you equally displayed reassuring signs of

a reciprocal interest in me, evoking an

enjoyably mutual chemistry which

even in the public surroundings

of that overcrowded bus was

astonishingly perceptible

between the two of us. The die had been

cast; our souls had become one with

expectations enlivened, while a

new vista smilingly beckoned

us both with the thrilling

prospect of falling in

love at first sight!



© Stanley V. Collymore

5 September 2013.

By Stanley Collymore



Some people obviously prefer and even go as far

as moulding their individual life around the

prospect of leg-ups, others like me,

however, express our stated

preferences through

leg-overs; different strategies for sure

but with the same unmistakable

destination and intentional

end result in mind!



© Stanley V. Collymore

5 October 2002.