Identity Verified Thinker in Arts / Literature / Contemporary
Sean Urquhart
Sean Urquhart
I am an experienced writer who has worked across a variety of mediums including: screenplay, script editing, prose, poetry,and novelization. I am particularly interested in psychogeography and the scope it gives both academics and creative writers to effectively trade elements of their fields.
 

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Aug. 24, 2012 3:15 am
Wise to the fading youth White suited funeral shroud And a closing door's worth of possibilities Poor show, sport.  Read More
Aug. 24, 2012 3:13 am
Trinkets for memories, Various cognitive therapies, No more rounds of drinks down at the bar Time for retrenchment. The measure of your success Is a night of drunken passion And four days of self loathing Followed by the self same inward looking Laddish crap The light dies, The hair thins The middle thickens As the plot does too.  Read More
Aug. 23, 2012 3:32 pm
The pain, Physical and otherwise, Never dulled for very long Suicide thought about But can never be capitulated to As that defeats what little fight there is left The pain, mentally draining, always tugging at the centre from the peripheries And then the lingering opiated silences As death waits in the ante room  Read More
Aug. 13, 2012 5:00 pm
So it all comes down to the dollar in your pocket. Or at least in healthcare terms. I lay on a gurney, neck held fast in a surgical collar, remembering the soft burr of Arnold Brown's Scottish-Jewish anecdotes. That was in another hospital on another island. The jocks next to me with drink-related complaints and loud exhortations to party on jarred as the concussion and aftershock of the street...  Read More
Aug. 13, 2012 8:54 am
No one leaves untroubled, No one leaves unencumbered, No one leaves intact, We all lose something, In the Green Man's song. Everyone has a season, Everyone has a some opportunity However meagre, Although watching the events of 18 years ago In Kigali It is hard to see anything of the human there. I once knew a woman from Kigali, She shamed me, She made me realise That my bleating ...  Read More
Aug. 11, 2012 7:50 pm
The ground was unspectacular, the view flat and uninspiring. The horizon offered little in the way of a vista. Bogs. The car followed a similar course, a regular 50mph, driven with disinterested care. The passenger was drawn to the area for a seemingly arbitrary reason. His eyes sought out signs of life, as he chewed gum and hummed a tuneless rendering of some pop slurry. The radio drowned out...  Read More
Aug. 5, 2012 9:40 am
The ground swallowed him up. The concrete poem of the city. In the bushes, shelter was meagre, but cover was sufficient. He had literally gone to ground. I heard Joyce in the rumble of thunder, Pound, Pound, Pound in the deadening wind, Brodsky stalked the silence As sleep came thieving these moments of inspiration. He awoke to empty pockets. Time. The newsstand howled prose and success....  Read More
Aug. 5, 2012 7:53 am
Sing me a song of Summer, Sweet, A sweet-smelling girl Sing me a song of disappointment Just long enough to break the spell A sweet singer In the bowels of hell. Hoodwinked, A sweet singer wishing for heaven, An old stager looking for hope, In the face of the new crowd, Waiting in the wings, With the young pretender to the dormant throne. Singing a song of Summer, Summer reigned...  Read More
Aug. 3, 2012 5:47 am
Homeland Security Six footers with buzz-cuts And the gimlet eyes of the paranoid And lost They directed me towards the second strand Put me in with the drug mules, illegals and the terminally lost: My kind of people, The margins Always hugging the margins Despite all my best efforts The questioning was one-way, Rhetorical. Pretty much like the politics that backs it up Homeland...  Read More
Aug. 3, 2012 5:38 am
The shake of the head "no work here, buddy" The long welfare line And the disdain of the far-right establishment Who always masquerade as purely free marketeers, Bullshit. I saw the faces of the so-called winners And the so-called losers Both sobriquets absolute polar misnomers Small town talk in the biggest of Big Apples They killed debate And the free press Those 60s supposed...  Read More
Aug. 2, 2012 7:50 am
The bench was hard, wooden The body was rigid, shuddering In a thin jacket On a Fall morning in November His whole the sum of failing parts His mind awash with survival He'd been here before Although on a different continent As a different sort of traveler He overheard the words of sympathy and reminded himself of the failure of words Right before he babbled his last dignified...  Read More
Aug. 2, 2012 7:39 am
On the northern reaches, Looking for traces of a humanity I saw the population thin out And felt mild panic As city gave way to arable factory And empty space I always feared the rural With its heavy pollen count Mono-cultural backwaters Country miles from hospital, bar and shop Bovine eyes gaze in stupor Fit for the slaughter And then I remember my roots And the summers of ill...  Read More
Aug. 1, 2012 4:49 pm
And he talked And we listened And he poured drinks And we listened And he contemplated our demise And I fled Hell-hounds on my trail Head full of narcotic overflow And I shrieked at passers-by And no one listened Thank all the Gods And none  Read More
Aug. 1, 2012 8:51 am
I slept on the hard ground, Punishing the very self, Hoping for deliverance, For someone else. The streets looked plastic, Contrived, In my ersatz vision, Of a sort of America. The streets gave nothing away, And everywhere I was a stranger, An alien. I had landed on the surface of some far distant planet, Or so it appeared. The rearview mirror offers Only a distorted purview The...  Read More
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