Author: Matthew Roys

Winter Night

~ Matthew Roys ~ Leave a comment

It is a winter’s night

cold is thick in the air

and my covers do nothing to protect me

from the icy fingers that claw

across my skin.

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The wind howls outside

rattling the doors

sending a ghostly draft

through the house like the malign

breath of a sleeping god.

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I shiver and bury myself

deeper into the confines

of my cotton prison

seeking the warmth

that my soul has lost.

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Had the world always been so cold

or has the heat faded

alongside my life

or maybe all is still warm

and I am simply dead.

This is the last poem I have from uni that I feel is remotely worth sharing. It was written during a bout of depression and could do with being more subtle I think. I wanted to capture the bleakness of how the world can feel when the darkness is washing over you mind and soul. Those times where you lay in bed on a cold night and contemplate the world.

City Gods.

~ Matthew Roys ~ 2 Comments

margaret-bourke-white-05

Steely eyes gaze over clustered concrete flowers

A god of man-made nature looking down upon creation

Always alone except for now

As he stands humbled beneath the female form.

Hello

Sat high, higher than beast, God or man

Fearless and majestic, an eagle in her own right

The phallic power beneath her

And the eternal memories of humanity held loosely in her hands.

    Can anyone hear me?

Primal winds whip past as though in flight

But neither woman nor eagle stirs

Both ignore the signs of life

And focus only on the unreal.

     Love you all 

Oh but to fly through the smog-cloaked sky

Dodging mountains and buildings with equal contempt

To soar up to Heaven on winds of change

But man has chained them down, always as forever.

This was a poem I wrote in my poetry lecture back at uni. It was nothing but a warm up task where we were each given a random picture as a prompt to write about. I was given this captivating photograph of the photographer Margaret Bourke-White.

The language might be a bit pompous. Any English based subject feels like you need to mention Freud and phallic themes at least once every day. As such I started to use those sorts of language and themes more to meet my tutor’s standards. I found it all a bit bullshit really. I write fantasy and my poetry was simple. It was either dark expressions of dark emotions or happy musings on my lovely dog. This was an attempt to be more academic. I actually quite like it.

Tell me what you think.

Minas Tirith is the kind of creative thinking that we need.

~ Matthew Roys ~ Leave a comment

Some of you may have already seen the crowd-funding campaign set up buy a group of ambitious architects to construct a habitable replica of Peter Jackson’s representation of the city of Minas Tirith from J.R.R. Tolkien’s masterpiece, The Lord of the Rings. If you haven’t heard anything about it yet then check out their page here: www.indiegogo.com/projects/realise-minas-tirith. Continue reading →

Death’s Shadow – First Chapter

~ Matthew Roys ~ 3 Comments

Here is the first chapter of my newest novel. It is fully written but I have had no luck with agents. Let me know what you think and if you’d like to read more.

Chapter 1

Scotland. A land of ancient myths where mountains vie with dark forests while snow and cold winds dominate the rugged landscape. In modern times though, the warriors have faded into the history books and the wilderness has succumb to the advances of civilisation. Where once foreigners had sought to avoid the harsh land, now they flocked there as tourists.

Deep within Abernethy Forest in the Scottish Highlands was an example of this tourist trade. It was a large wooden building known as Aife’s Lodge that had once been a private house but had since been converted into a hotel. It was the kind of place where people went to escape society completely.

The moon was high in a black veiled sky. It was just before midnight on New Year’s Eve and the few guests of Aife’s Lodge had forgone seclusion and gathered together in the main hall to celebrate. It was the biggest room in the building. A stone fireplace dominated one wall while numerous stuffed animals showcased the Scottish fauna. The dozen guests mingled awkwardly in groups of two or three, the conversations gradually becoming less passive as the alcohol flowed. Continue reading →

Perfection

~ Matthew Roys ~ Leave a comment

“Magnificent,” announced the king’s assistant. “The detail, the colour, the emotion! It is simply wondrous.”

From the darkness nearby, Ellion Demerre, a scrawny, unkempt man with dark hair and dark clothes, approached the painting that had drawn the other man’s praise. It showed a woman of great beauty, naked on a backdrop of a midnight field. There wasn’t a brushstroke out of place.

“It is still not right,” sneered Demerre critically. “The symmetry is all wrong, the skin varies in shades, the hair has odd numbers of strands and freckles never match. It is infuriating.” Continue reading →

Whispers on the Wind

~ Matthew Roys ~ Leave a comment

Rain made a rhythmic pitter-pattering against the window, filling the room with the sound of a thousand tiny drums. Flames burned softly in the fireplace, spreading warmth and light into every corner.

Thomas and his sister May were seated on a thick rug, looking up at their father who sat in a large armchair. Their mother sat beside the fire on the only other seat. Their father’s voice carried above the rain as he read from a weathered old book. The children listened, completely enraptured with his words while even their mother leaned in closer as her hands worked a sewing needle.

“…And so the valiant knight defeated the demon and soaked the trees in its blood. Its body was killed but the knight had no means to destroy its spirit. Shapeless, the demon took to wandering the forest, seeking what it had lost. The knight warned the locals not to heed any voices they may hear upon the wind and so the demon was unable to tempt any but the naughtiest of children.” Continue reading →

Electronic Dreams of Man

~ Matthew Roys ~ Leave a comment

A scorching wind blew through the streets. The air still crackled faintly, like far off popcorn, while everything shimmered hypnotically in the heat. A sickly smell hung over the buildings. It was quiet. Birds sang and leaves rustled, but they only highlighted the void that had filled the world.

A man shambled along the side-walk with the aid of a walking stick. He had ruffled white hair and moved with a pronounced limp. Old Grouch was what he was called by most. It had been too long since he had heard someone call him by his real name. He had no family or friends, and his bitterness left a sour impression on any who knew him.

He was a relic of the past, of a different world altogether. He had been for years. Society had always moved quicker than he had cared for. Even as a child he had hated what others loved. Popular music was noisy drivel without soul, yet everyone else ate it up ravenously. Phones removed people from communities rather than bringing them closer together. Machines cost people their jobs and made everyone lazy and incompetent. He just did not understand people’s divine fascination with technology. Continue reading →

Points of View

~ Matthew Roys ~ Leave a comment

Two points of view from opposite sides of the same event.

POV1
It was raining. It lashed down in great torrents, whipping the faces of me and the men around me as we stood and waited. We were all sodden to the bone and could feel our strength seeping away with every second we stood idly by. To either side of me were lines of grim faced soldiers all awaiting our commanders signal to attack.

Then, as suddenly as it had started, the rain stopped. Through the clearing haze we got our first sight of the enemy troops. Misshaped figures faced us down a hundred yard opposite us. They looked to us like mutants, bulges and tormented postures looking dominant among their ranks. Shadowy shapes reminiscent of men hung back in the distance. The damned mist likely hid their main force, keeping us guessing at how innumerable their force truly was.

Only an old wishing well and several low growing rose bushes separated us from them and those objects would provide us with no safety from our monstrous foes. It had once been a shine to our god of luck so we were all adamant not to let anyone defile its sacred grounds. Continue reading →

The Sinning Saint

~ Matthew Roys ~ Leave a comment

England, London, Thames House (MI5 Headquarters), High-security detention wing.

A cold, white walled room built from sturdy blocks of stone. Sat around a heavy wooden table were three men. Two were in suits and sat at one side while the third wore simple street clothes and sat opposite them. His hands and feet were in chains.

“This is agent Ryan Smith and agent Thomas Hawke interviewing David Black, serial killer,” stated one of the suited men after pressing a button upon a recorder at the end of the table. He turned a cold glare upon the man opposite him.

“Looks like we finally caught you. Its took eleven years for you to make a mistake but your rampage is now at its end.”

His companion continued , running a hand through his short blonde hair. “Now that we’ve got you here, how about you answer some of our questions. We’ve been dying to ask them for over a decade now.” Continue reading →

Humans are the Machines of Nature – Is Free Will real or an Illusion of a Predetermined Mind?

~ Matthew Roys ~ Leave a comment

I have just been listening to the latest episode of Brady Haran and CGP Grey’s popular podcast Hello Internet (42) and the topic of accurately replicating the human brain to be used by robots came up. Grey goes on to explain that human free will does not exist and that everything we do in life is determined exactly the same way as anything processed by a computer would . There are a series of inputs and outputs that direct our choices leaving us with as much freedom in our decision making as a computer with a complex algorithm.  Continue reading →