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.

Autumn 2016

Apparently it’s autumn in Otham
Though nobody’s told the sun
A parched carpet of crunchy leaves
Adding the “Shh” to our school run

Crunchy leaves

June

We’re finally at the end of the crazy-June! Leaving us still with 2 months of silly season (English summer) to go… Where that will take us who can possibly know?!

June Oh June

With your bitch, full, blue moon.
You run on in pieces
in drips so drab
and break up the fun
that we waited to have.
You tyrannous slut
of a month
– Cat June!

Bringing the promise of sun and fun
to dash them and crush us –
you run on and run.
So you’ll guess I’m not pleased with you;
guess we’re not growing
to love your foul days of rain,
while you hide the suns glowing!

Oh June.
Oh my.
What have you become
now so late and wet
were you once called the sun?
I cry for you, baby
and the tears sting my cheeks!
I cry everyday
through your long blasted weeks.

Beck sun

This is an updated post from 2012…

Musical Dawn

When that Black thatch
with them Blue eyes
shook the old cat
out of White lies:
Swiftly all the noise
of morning broke.

And this Grey crowd
full of Red heads
caught great Pink clouds
‘cross their cold beds…
And it dawned on!

Then tears soaked each side
and washed all colours clean
bleaching each bright with pride
– shining through what they mean:
Only the Gold sun left reflections
on this gory scene.

Grey Air

Clouds announce their entrance
as they camouflage the sun.
Though I know that they are many,
their appearance is as one…

A coldly breeze envelopes me
then follows certain rain:
This does not cast a cloud o’er me –
I’ll know the sun again.

Tribute

The sky she sits on
I cannot reach
I climb as high as I am able
She catches my eye and restarts her tease!

Part 20 (Easy Written)

Here comes a short series of poems with a faster tempo than my usual writing. I was inspired back in the 90’s by a great tune called Born Slippy, from the group Underworld.

Since starting, I have developed these pieces from first trying to imitate the lyrical rollarcoastery of the tune, although I have no music in my head when writing / reading them, I have attempted to amplify a beat through the words.

The series of 10 works is called Played at a different speed and initially they were just numbered Part 20, 21 and so on, however I then started titling each and over the next 10 posts you can enjoy the full ensemble. [although this obviously sounds pretentious, it is done in fun – as most of my work – even the bleak shit – so you take it as seriously as you want… they’re your eyes.]

Little bounty captive
waiting
low fired sword
sharp from debating
and alternative hating –
Blue and Red alternating.
As the criers
and those flyers,
crying –
flying,
catch the midday sun
and hold the falling sun,
this burning sun.
Morning sun.
This is our sun!
And it’s in print
for all the readers and writers –
all the bleeders,
all the watchers
seeing.
Calm sun –
calm,
calm sun…
Cry light
head bleeders,
while they’re fleeing.
Sun bomb sun –
calm, calm sun –
as they’re running.

Tomorrow: Part 21