Vince Stephen

Medium: Writing

Born: Swindon, 1981

Education: Not Specified

Updated: 30 August 2006

The following works are original writings by Vince Stephen.

"A Letter to Yossarian"

Dear Yossarian,

It's you and me Yossarian, it's you and me again. Not a thing is sensible, i need advice my friend. My town built a new hospital, but I can't hide inside. My granddad was interned up there last time he nearly died. I could see the point in staying there, each time a nurse walked by. But when I try to get a bed in there the medics won't comply. Just like you, I fall in love on average once a week. And I'm still trying to laugh, although I find it hard to speak. I find it harder still to listen, there's no activity more bleak. But I've kept out of every uniform, avoided every clique. I've been meaning to write for days now, since some time late last week. I thought I saw you one night on my way back home you see. I rounded the corner of my street at some time after three. I'd twisted my left ankle swaying nauseatedly. I thought I saw a naked man, up sitting in a tree.

But just then I retched up my guts over by the wall. When I looked back to find you there was no one there at all.

It's been you and me for years now, whenever nothing makes much sense. Whenever someone at a party makes a claim which makes me tense. When I find myself at work, sleeping quietly in the gents. I straighten up, invoke you, the improvement is immense. But back outside the cubicle the world is still the same. Nothing much has changed since back when you were flying planes. You've done more than you could know, made sure I'm never lonely. But i sit here every day now, just wishing you could phone me. I wish you would call me up and point out the absurdities, in a way that made them funny, otherwise I think they'll murder me.

I think you must be dead Yossarian, i can't feel your presence anymore. I dream about Hiroshima, Abu Ghraib and Nately's whore. And men in pretty offices still sacrifice the willing. While Milo moves his shares around and quietly makes a killing. You must be dead Yossarian, I just can't feel you anymore. Milo's still alive though and the world is still at war.

"Tenby"

We walked down to the coast
Where the boats were moored,
Sitting in sand,
Their sails round their ankles.
You used to go sailing
Didn't you dear?
Before I first met you,
Each week for years.
Me, I got stuck
On the lea shore once
And, ankle deep in sludge,
Decided I'd had enough.

You wished that I'd read a book
Recommended by you.
I jumped from stone to stone
By an obelisk rock.
You thought for some reason
About "Possession"
You explained the themes
And you outlined the plot.
On a hillside street
A little while later
I found a copy of Faust
In a ramshackle shop.