Foray into self publishing

Status

great-news

Great news everybody!

There’s a real life self-published book available now.

This collection is a journey through a day; the space, faces and traces of the day as it whirls through to night. Each written from different times in my life, gathered into a measurable meander through here and now. Characters introduced are real, the feelings are honest and the end result is a succinct insight into many of the journeys each of us take from being a sleep to being awake.

Morning Tongue: A day in the grotty life is a celebration of that nagging voice in the back of one’s mind shouting that there must be more to it all than this. This book will bring warm senses of rhythm to your bosom, sanity to your crazy, and so on. The poems in this book are not available on the blog, although a few have been aired here for reflective purposes.

Published in hard copy and available to all good readers for £5.99 from the machinery of Blurb (yes, sucking the romance out of creativity, self-publishing is a route, much like previous great writers, along which I am tentatively toe-tipping)!

How do I get mine?

You may wish to get hold of one of these Softcover page-turners and can do so by contacting me directly. It will cost the same £5.99 but this price includes delivery (instead of adding the bonkers £6.99 delivery charge that blurb charge).

Rather modernly, there is also a digital version through amazon, which turns in at a much more reasonable £2.99 ($3.91) drastically improving your poem/penny return…

Join me on this journey and help share the stupendous clarity and touching-bared-soulfulness of Morning Tongue, A Day in the grotty life.

 

 

For wanting to share in this laconic exploration in the poetry of south London, I Thank You. All reviews, comments, insights, responses will be gratefully read through and filtered carefully.

Collected Poems

Status

Hello everybody!

In pursuit of the authorship dream, I am ready once again to leave the comfort of blogposting and create a real ‘thing’. To wit, three previously promoted pamphlets are now purchasable – for an incredible price – in one handy tome!

Alack, alay, the pictures present in previous incarnations of these three: August Stock, The Journey and Politics Poems, have been sacrificed in an attempt to consolidate any value in my writings. This Collected Poems does however give the reader (such as y’self), access to a broad spectrum of my work, in one portable edition. Brilliant!

The previous productions have now been deleted from Amazon and thank you for those select few who bought into my phrasings and helped support the ascent of Adam…

To sum up

This positively tuneful selection of available-nowhere-else poems from this English Hart (ahem, me!), also serves as a precursor to the impending announcement of a real-life book. More soon come.

Another 1

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Text: Adam Bujons, image (c) http://www.shutterstock.com/th/video/clip-7402507-stock-footage-white-feathers-spurt-alpha-fast-flying-animation-with-transparent-back-as-transition.html

143

Lying, cheating
thieving swines’.
Stole my life –
then broke my mind!

Caught my soul
and watched it shatter
Loaned my love for life,
to batter!

First they broke me!
Then they raped me:
Doubled back
and swiped my money!

My friend butchers –
beggars all!
Stole my brightness
killed my soul.

Those dawns you dance for
where loves eye might see,
leaves nothing to cry for,
still loving you greatly

Which Way Hombre?

Inkling, twinklings,
choices to make.
Answers for everything
voices to shake.

Ideas and pictures
which flash through the mind
Easing out friction,
taking up time

Either /or /only
never both ways!
But neither exposes,
and only one pays!

Pancho Villa

Pancho Villa

Gamble

Pytas had a teacher; Gamble.
I can teach you all
she said.
Pytas willing took her lessons,
drank Gamble’s words:
They filled his mind.
Gamble was a living teacher –
straight and broad
but barely kind.

Followed Gamble where she beckoned –
stepped in steps,
where Gamble trod.
Day and night a thirsty student
heard Gamble preach
and thought and wrote.
Always learning – ever ready –
Gamble witnessed Pytas grow.

Gamble lectured all on life
and living which was new
she knew,
to her protégé whose spongy head
would hold his breath
and wait, listening,
for the next from Gambles
knowledged breadth.

You have shown me!
Pytas cried.
Day 1000 since they started
No more a student dead in steps.
No more to hear
from this to write.
Gamble lost her faithful study
Pytas, losing time,
took flight.

What They’ll Do If You Don’t

Spadunk
La funk
Sits well on a monk
That you’re best to let run
with the bunk
In his trunk

Sit tight: don’t you worry
truly – no need to hurry
the world and its flurry
can wait.

Be poised and on cue:
Neither overtly undue
nor unseemly subdued
to the date

Poor eyes
fill with why’s?
and are quick to despise
even those that rely
on the wise
with their lies

So easily let down
the unreasonably drowned
who are spotted around
this home town

The swiftly forgotten
who dumbly sit – rotting
we’re due to stop dropping
alone

Be seen
to be clean
open house given free
set your mind to be seen
and to glean
what they mean.