Plundering the Romance Novel by Ionia Martin

from the wonderfully witty mind of Ionia Martin

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Plundering cover

If you should feel so inclined to purchase

Description: A silly, satirical romp into the land of romance novels and pirate adventures, full of romance clichés and humour. This book is a short novella, just over 10k words.

Have you ever wondered what goes on in the minds and hearts of romance novel heroes and heroines? No? Good, because this book won’t be helpful with that at all.

If romance clichés drive you mad and you like Monty Python style humour, this may be the perfect book for you.

From the twisted mind of a sometimes writer and lifelong reader, you are certain to have less brain cells than you started with after reading this book.

Captain Stormy is the typical romance hero/villain archetype. He follows the Romance Hero Handbook to the letter, but he is about to figure out that nothing in his guidebook is going to prepare him…

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Beat

In trying to find my own voice
I have howled like Ginsberg,
Tried to wash away the dust of the road
With cheap wine like Kerouac,
While listening to the bluesman wail,
Like Burrows, I dined on a naked lunch,
Of stupefying drugs,
As the cockroaches of Kafka,
Scurried through my addled mind,
Through a stream of distorted consciousness
And altered realities,
I drifted from town to town,
Vagrant and vagabond,
Like Cassidy, I have operated in the shadows
Of criminal activity in my youth
And sat in prison alone with my thoughts,
And after taking this life long journey,
Trying to find my voice,
I am beat

I am rhythm and rhyme,
I am the whispering wind,
I am the violent hurricane,
I am the summer breeze,
I am beat,

T J Therien

“That Guy”

I wish I was “that guy”, you know “that guy”
Yes, I see you swoon and I hear you sigh
It’s torture to watch, it’s tearing me apart
He makes you laugh; he’s so witty and smart
I just want to crawl up in a ball and die

From a distance I admire and espy
Whenever he’s around you fly sky high
Your love echoes in each beat of your heart
I wish I was “that guy”

I can see it in that look in your eye
When he holds your hand, or touches your thigh
You just can’t wait for the loving to start
Yes I’m jealous; I’m an envious old fart
Do you really need to still ask me why
I wish I was “that guy”

T J Therien

Rebel’s Requiem

Take down that disgusting dirty stained rag
There’s no place for the Confederate Flag
A Standard born of Racism and Hate
And ideals past their best-before date
The history of The Bloodstained Banner
That flew high in front of Master’s Manor
It’s been used as a symbol for the Klan
Dyed crimson with the blood of the Black Man
Plantation cotton made The Stars and Bars
To this very day we still bear the scars
The thread used to sew this flag of battle
Tied one man to another as chattel
It signifies the right to have a slave
It’s time to put this pennant in its grave
Let no songs be sung, rejoice and mourn not
The Civil War is over, the fight has been fought
It’s time now for healing, or all was for naught
It’s time to put the past in the past and in its place
It’s time for you Rednecks to join the Human Race

T J Therien

Rumour Has It

I just thought you ought to know
Just as sure as the wind will blow
Just as the ball is sure to drop
And that bubble is bound to pop
All those baubles are just for show

Sitting over a cup of Joe
The dawn of idea begins to glow
Seen from valley and mountain top
I just thought

Unsatisfied with the status quo
Salmon swim against the river’s flow
Their secret is they never stop
Counter current they skip and hop
Their progress is steady and slow
I just thought

T J Therien

A Small Excert From “Scrolls of Sion: Broken Bloodlines”

The child, as young as she was, had an awareness that far exceeded her years. The Royal Daughter made those in her presence uncomfortable with her level of understanding, even her teachers shifted beneath her gaze. The child’s maturity was most unnatural.

Ffiona stood no higher than her mother’s hip and her white hair was spun shoulder length. She wore the miniature vestments of a Priestess of the Great Spider. She stood as silent and unmoving as a statue at Rianon’s side and took in all that she saw and heard. Her mother would quiz her later. Her mother always quizzed her later. She knew she must pay particular attention when affairs of state were being conducted.

Elan, Elan of the thousand ears, that’s what they call him. Something about cutting the ears off his enemies. What a horrible thing to do. It accomplishes nothing but earn the disgust of both friend and foe, the child thought as she remembered her preparations for this meeting.

T J Therien

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https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/554991