At the time of writing, this collection is available in the US, coming to the UK soon hopefully!
To celebrate and promote the e-launch of our anthology , Imran Siddiq, a glorious, creative type of fella, created this wonderful little gem.
Be sure to go to Amazon from 29th July 2013 to buy your copy of this astonishing anthology and raise some money to help change the housing situation in the UK.
Charles Bukowski – Poet on The Edge (Photo credit: waltarrrrr)
Slouching Towards Nirvana is a brilliant collection of poetry. Through a series of loosely constructed vignettes, in the form of free verse, Bukowski reveals his inner self, his philosophies and his sideways looking humour.
The first three quarters of the book are captivating, perhaps his prose becomes a little self-conscious in the final quarter but not enough to deserve less than five stars.
There is a terrific sense of freedom in the way Bukowski uses words – and it’s clear story-telling is more important to him than complex language structures or restrictive rules. His wordplay can often be mischievous and many of the poems end with a neat twist – I smiled a lot when reading this book.
Yes, it’s due for release, and includes two poems from yours truly . . .
The big week is here! Keep your eyes peeled for the big e-launch. Once we are live we will update and (with a little technical help) you will be able to order the book direct to your e-reader from this site, so that Shelter gets every penny.
A world of thanks to the team who made this book happen.
They wore donkey jackets
With an orange reflector
Strip across their shoulders
And they weren’t called ‘refuse collectors’
They were ‘Bin Men’
And they marched up and down
The streets and the alleyways
Of every town
Hauling those metal bins
Onto their broad backs
Tipping all our rubbish
Onto lorries; piles of black sacks
They slammed the bin down
Back onto our yard
They weren’t afraid to smile
A wink and a nod was a calling card
Everything has changed since then
It seems no one can be trusted
And all those old metal bins
Have fallen apart and rusted
English: International Tidyman logo. Vectorised version of File:International tidyman.jpg. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Adored by the hordes
But mainly a girl thing
Chocolate Fondue Fountain
Makes a party swing
Inside concrete walls
Locked into factory culture
Waiting for that siren sound
When people turn into vultures
A hunger for adventure
Slides under the skin
A wild weekend is waiting
So many ways it can begin
Girls pour out glasses
Of white wine spritzer
Pull on their glam dresses
Listen to some seventies disco
A confirmed case of night fever
To be treated by some good, wholesome sin
Another glass of spritzer is poured
Then it’s time for the fondue fountain
What a way to start the night!
Dipping marshmallows into chocolate goo
The fountain sits on the kitchen table
Girls giggle as they guzzle that sugary glue
The evening may lead to heartbreak
Or down lost love’s dead ends
But with liquid chocolate in their veins
Nothing can stop them
No Swimming In Fountain of Chocolate (Photo credit: Lance McCord)
A vase of dead flowers
Is cleared away in haste
A man in a dark suit arrives
Wearing black gloves, holding a briefcase
First impressions create
Shadows on the living room wall
Every day, hopes and fears
Come bursting from bubbles
‘We’ve reached a satisfactory conclusion’
Says the man, trying to disguise his greed
There’s no escaping the notion
Dirty money follows dirty deeds
night shadow (Photo credit: King Dumb)
Someone who likes to gamble
Might close their eyes
Imagine themselves on a jet
The shark is known to display
A brutal kind of strength
Its power is legendary
Yet sometimes, its prey
In a heart-shopping show
Of foolhardy bravery
Lures the shark into murky waters . . .
Physical characteristics of a general shark (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
New born Royal baby meets his father, the Prince
Eyeballs lock together in aristo-grimace
Little chap hangs on to a wobbly nipple
The Prince stifles a giggle
A short while later
The Duchess is out flat
It’s been such a long day
Childbirth is such a terrible strain
Royal beauty needs her sleep
The Prince rocks his baby boy; that’s sweet!
From the nether regions, an aroma arrives
Nappy needs changing. Snakes alive!
The Prince summons up Royal reserves
His eyes water and his nostrils burn
He pulls a nappy from the day bag
Holding his nose, he’s about to gag
If only he’d stayed with his helicopter
That would have been a much better option
Still, it can’t be so arduous
He wishes himself Good luck!
The Prince pulls away the nappy straps
Good Lord! What a smelly little chap!
He retreats and leaves the battlefield
Housekeeper steps in, baby gets cleaned
The Prince pours himself a stiff drink
Try again tomorrow he thinks
Never give in, never admit defeat
I’m a Royal, we are the elite
Prince William walking around the crowd (Photo credit: lancea)
Chauffeur-driven in the Royal Perambulator
The Royal Baby’s never far from mater
With a teddy, hand-made from the finest silk
Regally, the Royal Baby gurgles for milk
People of the land wave their flags and cheer
The Royal Baby cries elegant tears
With a silver-plated piggy bank gifted by pater
And a bursting bank account, ready for later
With a maid to service the Royal stool
And an en suite swimming pool
The Royal Baby will be well cared for
Might even grow up to join the Air Force
A baby gro emblazoned with the Royal mark
Rows of garages for visiting push chairs to park
The Royal Baby even owns a yacht
And a servant to wipe away the Royal snot
The Royal Baby bangs the table with a silver spoon
Royal admirers look on and swoon
The cotton buds used to clean Royal Baby’s ears
Are handmade by artisans in Tangiers
The Royal Baby will grow up to be
A valuable addition to the Family
Waving from balconies, clapping at the boat race
With someone on hand to squeeze out their toothpaste
English: Pram (baby transport) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Looking though a veil
Seeing into the future
All eyes on this procession
Walking into sunshine
Hundreds of sparkling diamonds
Delivering their glitter
Pieces of confetti float
In a moving mosaic
Shimmering in a random dance
Each one holds a wish
If eyes could speak
They’d sing with joy
some love in a mosaic (Photo credit: marie-ll)
