Mark Cantrell, Author

For an eclectic mix of science fiction,
fantasy and a touch of horror...


"Language is a virus from outer space."

William S Burroughs

So where does a journalist-turned-author go to sound off? Well, here's a pretty good start. This is where I hurl my missives out into the polluted meme-pool of human existence, hopefully to make a few ripples, if not an outright splash...

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NEWS: UK's First Indie Lit-Fest Seeks Sponsors

Posted by Mark Cantrell on July 18, 2015 at 4:40 PM Comments comments (0)

Hey, buddy, spare a dime for a red-hot Indie-fest next year?

THE organisers of a new West Yorkshire Indie literature festival have appealed for donations to help cover the costs of the event.


Follow This Publishing, ...

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BLOG: Time's Running Out To Avoid Dystopia

Posted by Mark Cantrell on July 18, 2015 at 1:20 PM Comments comments (0)

Frankie Boyle and the sell-by date dystopia

The point of dystopia is to challenge the now, writes MarkCantrell, but after years waiting for his novel Citizen Zero's now-time to arrive, along comes this...

THIS was quite a startling hea...

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POEM: Time Waits For No Mortality

Posted by Mark Cantrell on June 21, 2015 at 8:20 AM Comments comments (0)

Ocean Of Time

By Mark Cantrell


In the crushing depths,

Slow-motion plunge

Into the dark unknown,

The pressure squeezes,

Bones, and muscles, lungs

And brain; perception freezing

In the drowning force.

Below, waiting,

The Abyss,

Shadow mouth open,

Ready to swallow

This sun-...

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POEM: Don't Spill It!

Posted by Mark Cantrell on June 13, 2015 at 9:05 AM Comments comments (0)

The Cup Of It

By Mark Cantrell

Half full you say?


That cup is empty,

For I have supped deep

Of the bitter brew of life,

Down to the very


Until nothing but the froth

And suds still cling to that cup’s

Rim and sides.

I might lick them, you may say,

Taste but one lingering afterthought

Of living’s liquor,

Before the suds congeal and d...

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POEM: Colourful Yorkshire

Posted by Mark Cantrell on May 31, 2015 at 8:45 AM Comments comments (0)

White Rose Folk

By Mark Cantrell


 Yorkshire's rose is white;

White on blue,

That's the flag.

But Yorkshire folk

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PROSE: Words Make Telepathy

Posted by Mark Cantrell on May 24, 2015 at 12:30 PM Comments comments (0)

Synapses of the Soul

By Mark Cantrell

HERE in the cold night, when the world is quiet and the distractions of the day are hidden in shadow, the writer sits to think.


He has nothing now to divert him from the words, but th...

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POEM: Grave Attraction

Posted by Mark Cantrell on May 17, 2015 at 5:50 AM Comments comments (0)


By Mark Cantrell

A graveyard

Is such a depressing,

Delusive place.

All that space

Wasted on the dead.

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BLOG: Saved By The #VEDay70

Posted by Mark Cantrell on May 9, 2015 at 4:25 PM Comments comments (0)

 Without VE Day, I might not be here

My father, Peter Cantrell, was in the army when VE Day – Victory in Europe – took place.


That was 70 years ago, and with the country currently celebrating the anniversary, I thoug...

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NEWS: WWF Warns Of Deforestation

Posted by Mark Cantrell on May 3, 2015 at 6:20 PM Comments comments (0)

Can't see the wood…

Where have all the forests gone?


THE Earth's forests are being destroyed by a pernicious parasite – us.


If we don't curb our rapacious appetites then more than 230 million hectares of forest will disappear by 2050. That's not good news for the creatures that dwell in forest habitats; it's not that good for us ...

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BLOG: Don't Tell Porkies, It's National Honesty Day

Posted by Mark Cantrell on April 30, 2015 at 4:15 PM Comments comments (0)

 Would I lie to you?

APPARENTLY it's National Honesty Day – no, I've never heard of it either – so I guess it was in the spirit of truthfulness that a PR firm sent me their top ten list of porkies high street es...

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NEWS: Don't Get Scalded On The Artwork

Posted by Mark Cantrell on April 25, 2015 at 7:10 PM Comments comments (0)

'Glass' sculpture makes observers part of its shadow play

GLASS can be a stunning material, but when two artists wanted to create a sculpture that observers could interact with, becoming part of the display, the material was simply too unwieldy to sculpt and shape on such a scale.


That's especially true if your artwork i...

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POEM: Age Has No Meaning

Posted by Mark Cantrell on April 19, 2015 at 8:40 AM Comments comments (0)

Age Less

By Mark Cantrell


Old... old, you say?

You call me old,


Young sperm,

Still wet behind the flagellum,

Bathed still in the

Seminal fluid of a rise to blinking

Vapid, consciousness?

I shall tell you, tender shoot,

I am not old,

But ancient,

So ancient indeed that beyond

Time and measure

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