anth
www.myspace.com/ephemerealmsMood: nostalgic
Posted at 4:07 AM Jul 3, 2008 view more
anth
- preston, UK
- Last Login: 10/16/2009
-
1066752|27|11111|http://c3.ac-images.myspacecdn.com/images02/20/m_e08ff491b61f4611851cd87a18341cae.jpg
Music Player
Interests
General
......FB.init("c8c0e19d98a0b7ace50e3199bb567a37");......Anthony Pritchard on FacebookMy Poetry
MY BOOK ON BARNES & NOBLE ..my book at amazon uk..Music
dodheimsgard.
aborym.
godspeed you black emperor.
burzum.
emperor.
thorns.
isis.
neurosis.
bal sagoth.
axis of perdition.
wumpscut.
explosions in the sky.
radiohead.
boards of canada.
Mono.
satyricon.
a silver mt zion.
sigur ros.
Movies
der himmel uber berlin
(wings of desire)
me and you and everyone we know
corpse bride
mirrormask
sylvia
waking life
neverending story
return to oz
labyrinth
schindlers list
requiem for a dream
spirited away
kill bill volume 2
the dreamers
city of god
alice in wonderland collaterol
closer
clockwork orange
warriors
pinnochio
bladerunner
Television
Books
un lun dun. china meiville sylvia plath collection
stone ponies-wendy l walmsley
Solar Tapestry -Jay Jii
Embrace -my first book
Ephemerealms -Anthony Pritchard
Heroes
poetry rock god
**she was part of my dream of course, but then again...***
lady beth.
poetic godess and best friendness
my two lil sisters vicky n rebecca
marble
rebecca, my angel, the most beautiful, kindhearted strongest person there is
amy-
remedios varo-
a spanish surrealist painter,
her work reminds me
of the places i see in dreams
cara, for her poetic journals and way at looking at things and her ambitious unique personality but mostly her caraishness
rose, best friendage
Details
- Status: In a Relationship
- Here for: Friends
- Orientation: Straight
- Zodiac Sign: Cancer
- Smoke / Drink: No / No
Networking
-
ephemerealms by anthony pritchard available in all book stores including waterstones, preston
Latest Blog Entries
- Oct 18, 2008 12:13 AM review of ’ Dreaming Inside Of Streetlights’ in Up the staircase magazine.
- Sep 14, 2008 11:08 PM two new books! out now
Blurbs
About me:
DarkPoetry Profile
..
Visit my storefront to learn more>
my storefront at lulu
My Darkpoetry Page
..
Dont become a poet like I did.
by Anthony Pritchard
Don’t become a poet like I did.
The clouds like carousal angels impaled
Not so merry going round
not so gently down the stream
Into no good night
No future to be scryed
in that pale blue cauldron attended by no witch
Just those clouds like swans floating inverted
Necks tucked in, ashamed perhaps
With hooks in their backs like umbrellas
In a fairground game only children play
Séance hands resting on the glass
Waiting for the unexpected to happen
In a game only adults play
Like the low immune system of god
Held together by faith
A mosaic you only see in churches
Would be out of place
When ours are graffiti on the walls
The world turns so slowly you don't notice
The horses leaving the carousal
With childhood on their saddles
Realisation is a nowhere near death experience with a
second chance you never take
Like all your life reflected across a windsheld as you go
through it A tape measure let go snapping back
That once moment when you took the easy route in the city
you were born
When the horse came round on the carousal
And the child had been taken
When you didn't tell her how you felt
And watched her walk into the rain
With your coat on
There are things you don’t notice
Because most things blend in
Like a child asking for a colouring book
In a busy station
And the mother shouting in an absent expression
A young boy standing there like a balloon floating away
And the girl who can never find the man that could compare
to her imagination
Almost as if she needed to be lonely in order to keep that
imagination alive And no one realises except that guy sitting alone
in the café
Looking out through the rain, not hearing the conversations
Not seeing the crowds
Just the two raindrops making their way down the glass
And the girl with tears under an umbrella
Sitting alone, everything a blur
Leaving a tip on the table, and a poem on the chair
A picture in the spilled salt and a sigh in the air
Distant in thought as a bag caught in wind
Absorbing the mute details
His presence hardly there
But if you can look
Deep into the oceans of his eyes
Seeming calm but raging like a Dylan Thomas poem
colours through his stained glass eyes
Only seen from the inside
Or in a slowly read book on a train far from home
Like a scarf dropped in the snow
Belonging to a girl you’ll never know
People like that
Seeming unreal, not meant for this world
Regarded alone
Are poets that never meet
And write of their longing as if no such thing as the other
could exist Though pass each other on the street
Their shadows kiss
Feeling burdened by their deepened awareness
Of fleeting moments no one else seems to capture
As if they were holding them in their palms
And had to be still, a small sense of rapture
That the colour might rub off
And blend in with everything else
So they let go,
Put their hands in their pockets and hoods over their heads
As if becoming a shadow
Walking into a crowd all wearing the same coat
Like the two rain drops in the glass trickling down
parallel
Stay still as the others become harder, looking like the
glass might break It may aswell,
He would sit there still, wearing his coat
Lost in thought
As if affixed to the same constant tintinnabulation of rain
And tyres slashing though neon reflections
Walking out into
The rain trickling down his glass face
Almost as if it might shatter into as many fragments
Walking through it
Like beaded curtained doorways
Brushed aside
And disappearing
In a small cardboard theatre
On the sidewalk
No one but a child is watching until the end
The puppeteer realises and improvises the script becomes
Punch and Juliet
The girl with the umbrella fighting with it
Like Alice with the stubborn flamingo purposely limp
Coming inside and finding the poem on the chair
About her
all watercolour neon streets
and lamplights bleeding lost expressionism on black pavements
the lost art of forgetting all that you know and remembering
everything at once as vivid as the first time you saw those things
and this is how she appears inside her canvassed world
as a winter princess with raven hair
describing each and every raindrop
Falling from the hood of her world
like hieroglyphs only she could translate
it would mean a lot to me
if you were to copy n paste my book image in your fave books section just put < before a href= . a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Ephemerealms-Anthony-Pritchard/dp/1411625501/sr=1-31/qid=1158440335/ref=sr_1_31/026-2110993-7661237?ie=UTF8&s=books">Ephemerealms -Anthony Pritchard
I never really felt the rain before that night I watched you walk away.... and I've never known beauty that hasn't been from tragedy, if I'm beautiful its only because of my past. I've had to appreciate what subtle glimpses of light still appear sometimes in the aftermath. I can only see the dreamlike quality of this world though these shatteredglass eyes. I would have it no other way. I'm waiting for something that has the ephemeral beauty of a transient moment. The intensity of a last kiss and the rapture of electric butterflies when she breathes across the miles. I'm waiting for the world to end like it means it. The stars to shine like they still believe in romance and the solitude of nights in unfamiliar places just to prove resilience. I'm waiting for something better than the empty promises of the clouds and more enchanting than the fictional girl with the hot teacup eyes, and wonderland hysterics of alice
..
My new book: Ephemerealms is out now at amazon uk, amazon.com, wh smith, in waterstones in preston , and via store order in all bookshops ..
my storefront at lulu
My Darkpoetry Page
..
Dont become a poet like I did.
by Anthony Pritchard
Don’t become a poet like I did.
The clouds like carousal angels impaled
Not so merry going round
not so gently down the stream
Into no good night
No future to be scryed
in that pale blue cauldron attended by no witch
Just those clouds like swans floating inverted
Necks tucked in, ashamed perhaps
With hooks in their backs like umbrellas
In a fairground game only children play
Séance hands resting on the glass
Waiting for the unexpected to happen
In a game only adults play
Like the low immune system of god
Held together by faith
A mosaic you only see in churches
Would be out of place
When ours are graffiti on the walls
The world turns so slowly you don't notice
The horses leaving the carousal
With childhood on their saddles
Realisation is a nowhere near death experience with a
second chance you never take
Like all your life reflected across a windsheld as you go
through it A tape measure let go snapping back
That once moment when you took the easy route in the city
you were born
When the horse came round on the carousal
And the child had been taken
When you didn't tell her how you felt
And watched her walk into the rain
With your coat on
There are things you don’t notice
Because most things blend in
Like a child asking for a colouring book
In a busy station
And the mother shouting in an absent expression
A young boy standing there like a balloon floating away
And the girl who can never find the man that could compare
to her imagination
Almost as if she needed to be lonely in order to keep that
imagination alive And no one realises except that guy sitting alone
in the café
Looking out through the rain, not hearing the conversations
Not seeing the crowds
Just the two raindrops making their way down the glass
And the girl with tears under an umbrella
Sitting alone, everything a blur
Leaving a tip on the table, and a poem on the chair
A picture in the spilled salt and a sigh in the air
Distant in thought as a bag caught in wind
Absorbing the mute details
His presence hardly there
But if you can look
Deep into the oceans of his eyes
Seeming calm but raging like a Dylan Thomas poem
colours through his stained glass eyes
Only seen from the inside
Or in a slowly read book on a train far from home
Like a scarf dropped in the snow
Belonging to a girl you’ll never know
People like that
Seeming unreal, not meant for this world
Regarded alone
Are poets that never meet
And write of their longing as if no such thing as the other
could exist Though pass each other on the street
Their shadows kiss
Feeling burdened by their deepened awareness
Of fleeting moments no one else seems to capture
As if they were holding them in their palms
And had to be still, a small sense of rapture
That the colour might rub off
And blend in with everything else
So they let go,
Put their hands in their pockets and hoods over their heads
As if becoming a shadow
Walking into a crowd all wearing the same coat
Like the two rain drops in the glass trickling down
parallel
Stay still as the others become harder, looking like the
glass might break It may aswell,
He would sit there still, wearing his coat
Lost in thought
As if affixed to the same constant tintinnabulation of rain
And tyres slashing though neon reflections
Walking out into
The rain trickling down his glass face
Almost as if it might shatter into as many fragments
Walking through it
Like beaded curtained doorways
Brushed aside
And disappearing
In a small cardboard theatre
On the sidewalk
No one but a child is watching until the end
The puppeteer realises and improvises the script becomes
Punch and Juliet
The girl with the umbrella fighting with it
Like Alice with the stubborn flamingo purposely limp
Coming inside and finding the poem on the chair
About her
all watercolour neon streets
and lamplights bleeding lost expressionism on black pavements
the lost art of forgetting all that you know and remembering
everything at once as vivid as the first time you saw those things
and this is how she appears inside her canvassed world
as a winter princess with raven hair
describing each and every raindrop
Falling from the hood of her world
like hieroglyphs only she could translate
it would mean a lot to me
if you were to copy n paste my book image in your fave books section just put < before a href= . a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/Ephemerealms-Anthony-Pritchard/dp/1411625501/sr=1-31/qid=1158440335/ref=sr_1_31/026-2110993-7661237?ie=UTF8&s=books">Ephemerealms -Anthony Pritchard
I never really felt the rain before that night I watched you walk away.... and I've never known beauty that hasn't been from tragedy, if I'm beautiful its only because of my past. I've had to appreciate what subtle glimpses of light still appear sometimes in the aftermath. I can only see the dreamlike quality of this world though these shatteredglass eyes. I would have it no other way. I'm waiting for something that has the ephemeral beauty of a transient moment. The intensity of a last kiss and the rapture of electric butterflies when she breathes across the miles. I'm waiting for the world to end like it means it. The stars to shine like they still believe in romance and the solitude of nights in unfamiliar places just to prove resilience. I'm waiting for something better than the empty promises of the clouds and more enchanting than the fictional girl with the hot teacup eyes, and wonderland hysterics of alice
..
My new book: Ephemerealms is out now at amazon uk, amazon.com, wh smith, in waterstones in preston , and via store order in all bookshops ..
Who I'd like to meet:
..Friend Space (Top 19)
-
rebeccarose
rebecca moorby
-
Rosie
-
Penny wears Minnie Mous…
-
purr_verse
-
Jon
Jon Lyndon
-
Buzz Off, Sweetheart.
Amy Buresh
-
BOARDS OF CANADA
-
Thorns [Official]
-
I'm a martyr panting fo…
-
DHG (Dødheimsgard)
-
Jon
Jon Beinart
-
Bethany
-
SuperEmz;; [300+]
-
The Mighty Boosh
-
Hayden
-
VeraBlue
bazil zerinsky
-
I LIKE TRAINS
-
wendy
wendy wamsley
-
The Strand
Comments
Jul 22 2009 2:29 PM
Cameron Lange is a poet from Los Angeles,California. The first poet that 10K Poets published as an individual. His work is raw & stunning. If you can help support poetry publishing by purchasing a copy, that would be great. If you can't b/c times are tough - it's understood - if you can pass the word on about Cameron Lange & his new book: "Chaotic Rhythm", that would help. Many Thanks!
Mar 16 2009 7:06 PM
Nov 16 2008 8:02 PM
Nov 14 2008 2:23 PM
several years too late perhaps, I finally have in my possession a copy of Ephemerealms.
it only just arrived so the magic of your writing awaits me :) x
Oct 7 2008 3:27 PM
i hope everythings ok.
get in touch soon.
missing you lots.
xxx
Sep 8 2008 5:41 PM
Maybe someone will send me the cosmic keys to my creations and times, so I can unlock the door to the heavens!
Maybe not. But a man can dream...oh he can dream...
Shame about Kvohst leaving Dødheimsgard too - At The Gates did a reunion tour thing everywhere but where i can see them play too...stupid bands...i'll consign myself to seeing Opeth and Meshuggah instead.
Hope you're having a wonderful day!
P.S. Rebecca is very prettay :)
Aug 30 2008 4:14 AM
Aug 29 2008 11:24 AM
Aug 27 2008 8:21 AM
Aug 18 2008 10:20 PM
Aug 14 2008 3:25 AM
Aug 8 2008 4:54 PM
Aug 7 2008 10:23 AM
how the hell are you? :P
it's been so long.
xxxx
Jul 31 2008 10:45 AM
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Hey mate, join my band. Let's do some gigs...
Jul 30 2008 4:13 AM
This comment was sent by your friend via the Heroes app.
To block this app and all communications from it, click Here.
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jon Lyndon wants you to become a member of their guild in Heroes, a game of might, magic, and glory on MySpace.
Start out as a unknown adventurer and rise to become a legendary Hero!
Join jon Lyndon 's Guild!
Pick up a sword & join my Guild...
Jul 20 2008 2:35 PM
i'm about to start saving money to go to america and i'm going to start looking for my dad before i go. wish me luck..
it's really good to hear from you :) how are things ? i've been dying to catch up on all your new poetry but somehow never make it to the internet cafe with enough time. i spoke to kim recently.. you and kim and rose should all come to brighton so we can hang out on the beach. it'll be the best time ever in the land :)
give me a ring if you get the chance. i miss talking to you.
love.
xxxxx
Jun 21 2008 10:16 AM
Yeah i'm just an aspiring writer working as a carer. :o)
I had a look at some of your poetry though. It's very inspiring.
Jun 17 2008 6:52 PM
Jun 3 2008 6:00 AM
Hey anth, I just bought you as my PET!
Click here to find out how much I think you're WORTH!
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This comment was sent by your friend via the Own Your Friends! application. To block comments sent via Apps.
click here.
Jun 2 2008 10:14 PM
I'm gonna be a mommy.
=]
May 9 2008 6:02 AM
Sundown Lounge is a laid back (and often explicit, you bet your ass...) weekly podzine of music, spoken word, progressive politics, weird science, and occasional vignettes from the west coast open mic scene, etc. Physically, I'm in rapidly gentrifying downtown Los Angeles, but metaphysically, my toes are in the sand and the sun is ablaze with deep hues, and a few poets and musicians and scientists have dropped by my beach house to hang out and jam, as the surf whispers nearby...The Open Mic Stage accepts spoken word and music files for play.
: Hear "A True Liberator" on Friday's PodCast :
Apr 23 2008 5:17 PM
it's like this, if you listen, Tone Def Jams & 10K Poets will blow your mind away. " A True Liberator" is mixed, old skool poerty vs. bad ass beats. come get a ear shot of this one. go as a friend. and always come back. peace!
listen here: -:A True Liberartor - 10K Poets VS. Tone Def Jams-
btw, if your a poet and are thinking of mixing your poems to beat, definetly hit Tone Def Jams up.
Mar 23 2008 5:34 AM
www. upthestaircase. org
Up the Staircase has been launched!
We are featuring writers such as
Sophia Argyris, Tatevik Kurshudyan,
Red Shuttleworth, Frank Reardon,
Amanda Joy and more!
Mar 19 2008 7:31 PM
gingerbread cookies baking
Mar 18 2008 9:18 PM