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Author: Charles Harvey
Publisher: Wes Writers and Publishers
ISBN:
Category : Poetry
Languages : en
Pages : 143
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Book Description
Some readers want comfortable cozy poetry, the kind you read with a cat on your lap. However, 3 AM will snap you out of your comfort zone much like the poet Allen Ginsberg did with his iconic poem "Howl." Robert Frost said, "Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words." The poetry in 3 AM was birthed in the witching hours between midnight and dawn. I hope these poems send you flying around the room again and again and landing in a different perspective. Excerpts: The Man in The Moon 1 Who's up at 2 am? The midnight oil has long burned out Sleep and sex roll restless On the worn mattress. Dreams escape the open eyes Shadows rattle the door Three o'clock is the witching hour Red ashes float from the patio Eyes across the courtyard catch you breathing. You look away only to look again. You know the lonely mattress would enjoy the company And your lilac-scented air could use some funk. But the night won't last a lifetime, so You slip back into your room and wonder, What if there is a man in the moon? A Good Dog The neighbor beats his dog at 3am and he don't stop I hear her tail beating the wall and he don't stop She gnaws on his bone and he don't stop All night long she whines and he don't stop Her collar and chain drags the floor and he don't stop She begs at the table and he don't stop She rolls over and plays dead and he don't stop She fetches his slippers and he don't stop She trees his birds and he don't stop She has his puppies and he don't stop All in the wee hours I hear bitch bitch bitch and he don't stop. Get 3AM Now!
Author: Charles Harvey
Publisher: Wes Writers and Publishers
ISBN:
Category : Poetry
Languages : en
Pages : 143
Get Book Here
Book Description
Some readers want comfortable cozy poetry, the kind you read with a cat on your lap. However, 3 AM will snap you out of your comfort zone much like the poet Allen Ginsberg did with his iconic poem "Howl." Robert Frost said, "Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words." The poetry in 3 AM was birthed in the witching hours between midnight and dawn. I hope these poems send you flying around the room again and again and landing in a different perspective. Excerpts: The Man in The Moon 1 Who's up at 2 am? The midnight oil has long burned out Sleep and sex roll restless On the worn mattress. Dreams escape the open eyes Shadows rattle the door Three o'clock is the witching hour Red ashes float from the patio Eyes across the courtyard catch you breathing. You look away only to look again. You know the lonely mattress would enjoy the company And your lilac-scented air could use some funk. But the night won't last a lifetime, so You slip back into your room and wonder, What if there is a man in the moon? A Good Dog The neighbor beats his dog at 3am and he don't stop I hear her tail beating the wall and he don't stop She gnaws on his bone and he don't stop All night long she whines and he don't stop Her collar and chain drags the floor and he don't stop She begs at the table and he don't stop She rolls over and plays dead and he don't stop She fetches his slippers and he don't stop She trees his birds and he don't stop She has his puppies and he don't stop All in the wee hours I hear bitch bitch bitch and he don't stop. Get 3AM Now!
Author: Charles Harvey
Publisher: Wes Writers and Publishers via PublishDrive
ISBN:
Category : Poetry
Languages : en
Pages : 104
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Book Description
What are these poems about? That's a common question one asks of the poet. I think they are about the truth, unvarnished and raw. The praises speak for themselves. Why all of this bark stuff? What does a dog do when he wants your attention? He barks. What does a dog do when he senses danger? He growls. What does a dog do when he wants his belly rubbed and his ears stroked? He whines and snuggles close to you. In Bark Too you will experience the dog in all of his ways. Some of his words will make you back off and some will make you go to your refrigerator, pull out the cucumber, and...well we want go there. Breeze through the sample and take a chance. Woof! These aren't "gay" poems. These poems are about huMANity.
Author: Charles Harvey
Publisher: Wes Writers and Publishers via PublishDrive
ISBN:
Category : Fiction
Languages : en
Pages : 49
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Book Description
With hard work and good luck, David "Big Nose" Calloway navigates Houston's Jim Crow era and civil rights achievements to become a member of the once segregated Walnut Grove Country Club. There, he meets Jonathan Knapp a fellow businessman. Jonathan tries hard to befriend David. However, David remains aloof and distant. Will Jonathan's anger at being rejected send him on a quest for revenge and expose a secret both men share? Excerpt: The leg was good luck to David. It kept him out of the army during WWII. Army Doctor smiled at the big black shirtless boy thick as a chifferobe. Then he smiled at David's bulging crotch. "That nigger is packing a sack of walnuts there!" David stood with his pants around his ankles. The doctor nodded at his left leg big as a phone post. However, the doctor's smile vanished, when he looked below David's right knee at what looked like a gnarled piece of hickory. Still, the Old southerner steeped in a belief that Negroes were workhorses, made David walk and jump. He squeezed the good leg with his hand, massaged the good strong calf and then the weak one. He measured the leg from crotch to ankle, wrote down the numbers on a chart, and studied the chart marked with other men's numbers. He sized up David's withered leg next to a scrawny white boy's good leg and told himself he didn't see much of a difference. Get it Now!
Author: Charles Harvey
Publisher: Wes Writers and Publishers
ISBN:
Category : Fiction
Languages : en
Pages : 92
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Book Description
Prepare to dive into a world of enigmatic intrigue, where the lines between reality and absurdity blur, and where truth is stranger than fiction. If you've ever questioned who's really in control—the government or the citizens—this book is your thought-provoking journey. In these pages, you'll encounter a cast of unforgettable characters, each with a story as unique as their names: Mabel Sanger, who ran out of time; Gusta, who died from the generosity of others; and Thomas Jefferson Roosevelt, desperate to send an unusual clock to a Senator. As you navigate this surreal landscape, you'll find yourself pondering the ultimate showdown between Civillains and Psyclopians, a conflict that will challenge your understanding of power, identity, and society itself. In a narrative that seamlessly blends the ordinary with the extraordinary, you'll uncover tales that will have you scratching your head and wondering if the author might have been on to something. Imagination is a powerful force, and within these pages, it's unleashed to its fullest potential. Can you decipher the hidden truths that lie beneath the surface of these bizarre stories? Join us on a mind-bending journey where the unexpected becomes the norm, and where every page holds the potential to make you question the world as you know it. Are you ready to explore a world where imagination knows no bounds and the quest for understanding never truly ends? If you are a fan of George Orwell, you will love this book. Excerpt: As Mabel Marie bounced through the smoky doors of the LaSalle Building, a cicada landed in the uppermost region of her tall hair. And when I say tall hair, I mean Texas-sized hair with blond locks where the bees get lightheaded flying in and around the hive. A mute in a tattered coat and missing his fingers on his right hand, except his middle finger, pointed and sputtered at her head. He sprinkled Mabel Marie's blue suit coat with spittle. She reciprocated with a rude gesture. His face turned purple, and he stabbed at her furiously with his one finger. "You too, buddy," Mabel Marie said as she continued down New Hampshire Avenue. She dug in her handbag found a wad of Kleenex and dabbed her sleeve. She looked around as she crossed Constitution Avenue. The man stared at her. Mabel Marie kept on down the street. She wondered whether the Director was somehow mixed up in this nuttiness. He was the kind of man who would stoop as low as a Texas rattlesnake, Mabel Marie thought. Excerpt: As Mabel Marie bounced through the smoky doors of the LaSalle Building, a cicada landed in the uppermost region of her tall hair. And when I say tall hair, I mean Texas-sized hair with blond locks where the bees get lightheaded flying in and around the hive. A mute in a tattered coat and missing his fingers on his right hand, except his middle finger, pointed and sputtered at her head. He sprinkled Mabel Marie's blue suit coat with spittle. She reciprocated with a rude gesture. His face turned purple, and he stabbed at her furiously with his one finger. "You too, buddy," Mabel Marie said as she continued down New Hampshire Avenue. She dug in her handbag and found a wad of Kleenex and dabbed her sleeve. She looked around as she crossed Constitution. The man stared at her. Mabel Marie kept on down the street. She wondered whether the Director was somehow mixed up in this nuttiness. He was the kind of man who would stoop as low as a Texas rattlesnake, Mabel Marie thought.
Author: Charles Harvey
Publisher: Wes Writers and Publishers
ISBN:
Category : Fiction
Languages : en
Pages : 36
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Book Description
Embark on an extraordinary voyage to Astroworld with Promise as your spirited guide. In this collection of tales, you'll witness the fascinating tapestry of humor and heartache woven into her epic journey towards a place of true happiness. These stories are just a glimpse of the incredible adventures awaiting you in "Promises Letters from the Road to Astroworld" and the enchanting novel "The Road to Astroworld." Prepare to be captivated by a world where laughter and tears dance in harmony, beckoning you to explore the full tapestry of Promise's extraordinary expedition.
Author: Charles Harvey
Publisher: Wes Writers and Publishers
ISBN:
Category : Poetry
Languages : en
Pages : 127
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Book Description
From the Book That noise beat on my ears. A mad saxophone player filled the room with his insanity. My eyes got all crossed trying to keep up with the digital readout running across the clock's face like a flow of red water. I couldn't stand it anymore. That's when I noticed them. From the author: These poems and prose are meant to be a testimony to our honesty as humans. The poems might seem personal, but what is personal is also universal. I invite you to dive in and see my truth and find your story in the poems and stories. Rough Cuts seesaws between poignancy and humor. An elephant, the duckbill platypus, a plague of cicadas, as well as lust and longing rest between these electronic sheets. You'll laugh one minute and the next go, "hmm." 6 9 The world has secrets Behind secrets and Puppets ruled by puppets You think the game is sixty-nine But you're a dog, Dawg Chasing his rainbow tail. Round and round you go Until you wake too late. The catch is twenty-two Three strikes and you're out. # Happy My manhood rots in the garden of cabbage leaves. Where children once grew yellow fat drips and splatters my thighs. My hips are big as money bags and heavy with gold I am suffering. I am happy. # The poem Apocalypse from this book recently appeared on the blog site NEWVERSENEWS.
Author: Charles Harvey
Publisher: Wes Writers and Publishers via PublishDrive
ISBN:
Category : Fiction
Languages : en
Pages : 42
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Book Description
In this fictionalized account, Money Mississippi, notorious for the brutal murder of Emmett Till has had a one hundred and eighty-degree turn from its old ways. A mile from the infamous Bryant’s Grocery and Meat Market sits a big shiny blue Walmart along an avenue populated with fast food restaurants and a Starbucks. Young black men with pants sagging walk along the broad sidewalks holding their girlfriend’s hands. No one bats an eye if the girl is blue-eyed and blond. At times a pickup truck bearing confederate flag license plates will rev its engine, but the young seem unfazed. A prosperous black population lives along the banks of the Tallahatchie River. Their ranks culled from nearby military installations and new industry. Still, taboos exist, and people remember the old Money Mississippi. Jill a thirty-year-old white woman and Alvin, a seventeen-year-old black kid are having an affair. The relationship is as much about rebelling as it is about love. Jill enjoys rubbing her KKK grandfather’s nose in the tryst. Alvin like most young men has one thing on his mind. But he too is on a mission to resist his Grandfather’s teachings rooted in the old ways of Money. He sees Jill as a sexual conquest and to prove his grandfather wrong about white women and “light skin women.” However, Jill and Alvin are on opposite sides of the track. While Alvin comes from the more prosperous River Hill Estates, Jill lives in a housing project alongside a swampy tributary of the Tallahatchie River. Her only future is Walmart and the pills she takes for PTSD brought on by a traumatic incident that happened when she was in the army. Alvin goes off to college and leaves Jill pregnant with his child. He returns four years later with his bride-to-be and plans to take his child. What happens on his return will make you wonder if the spirit of Emmett lurks in the murky waters of the Tallahatchie. Excerpt: As Alvin walked along the river, he felt himself wise for a boy. In that brief summer escaping from murderous Chicago, he had been fed a healthy diet of grandfatherly advice on everything from blues to women. And it was the subject of women that had intrigued Alvin the most. He let the John Lee Hooker, BB King, Charles Johnson, Lead Belly, Muddy Waters, and Son House albums gather dust while he studied the white girls of Money. He had dated white girls in Chicago an act that got him in trouble with a local street gang in his Southside neighborhood. It had taken his book smarts along with his good looks to wow those northern girls. When he got off the bus at the depot in Money and looked around at the willows blowing in the breeze, he felt oddly at ease and imagined those willows as the arms and legs of girls bending and yielding to his enchanting northern accent and street edge. He would allow them to cast their spell first of course. His grandfather had said that was the gentlemanly thing to do. He loved the spells of white girls--the eyes that changed from blue to green from amber to black at the whim of the sun or even a cloudy sky.
Author: K. Woodward
Publisher:
ISBN: 9781533179210
Category :
Languages : en
Pages : 40
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Book Description
A collection of poetry centred around love and heartbreak. Capturing and detailing all the emotions one goes through when entering the roller coater of love. Touching and tapping in to others emotions, this will make you question what love is and whether it's worth all the pain.
Author: Charles Harvey
Publisher: Wes Writers and Publishers via PublishDrive
ISBN:
Category : Poetry
Languages : en
Pages : 48
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Book Description
Introduction to Americana Poems can be reflective or reactionary. In a reflective mood, the poet comments on past events. His or her voice may be calm, wistful, and longing. They are preservers of the moment. When poets put on their reactionary mantle, they are more vocal and want to move themselves and others to action In this small collection, Harvey has both the reflective voice and the force of the reactionary. Viewing the Vietnam War, race relations, and the cultural renaissance of the 1960’s and 1970’s through the prism of a child’s eye shaped Harvey’s views and points of view. The poets Allen Ginsburg, Amiri Baraka, Langston Hughes, and Ai shaped his voice. Excerpt: New York! Herds of humanity Graze on street corner slop and ride in the bellies Of silver worms beneath city gutters Street people are ragged and unfashionably stinky. Everyone else is fashionably ragged. “Andy” sells me a beaded sweater off an old lady’s dead shoulders. A roguish Puerto Rican painter copies A Robert Colescott painting as his own black creation. Got all dressed up to go to the theatre in Harlem. Got there stinky and hot--Harlem, Who bombed it? Noise all night long in Brooklyn. No ugly people live in New York Everyone is Cafe' au lait. Tall boy with five inch hair Sits wide legged on the sub in baggy trousers. His throat is stiff with defiance, But his dark Eyes linger in mine for a moment. Everything is for sale in New York Even a hug from daddy long legs.
Author: Charles Harvey
Publisher: Wes Writers and Publishers
ISBN:
Category : Fiction
Languages : en
Pages : 139
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Book Description
In 'The Road to Astroworld,' a haunting narrative unfolds through a series of letters sent by Promise Goodday, a woman confined to a mental institution for a tragic act. Addressed to her childhood friend, Lakeisha Ann, these letters unveil a harrowing twenty-year journey within the confines of Rust Hills, a place marred by drugs, questionable therapies, and unspeakable abuse, including the torment from an individual she cryptically refers to as 'Big Fingers.' These poignant missives serve as a searing, yet occasionally darkly humorous chronicle of Promise's life at Rust Hills. As readers delve into her correspondence, they must ponder whether escape and redemption are attainable in the end. And, nestled within the recesses of Promise's heart, lies the enigmatic Astroworld—Is it a tangible escape or a whimsical dreamland guiding her on 'The Road to Astroworld'? Excerpt: Dear LaKeisha Ann: I think Big Fingers is a woman, or at least has had woman hands transplanted at the ends of his bull shouldered arms. I mean his fingers know my snatch better than my own fingers. They don't fumble. My Charlie the pussy Doctor, fumbled and was very clinical with me. But this man gets to the heart of the matter as he strokes me. And in my moaning I forget about the purple wounds on my ass that he has inflicted. Love, Promise Dear LaKeisha Ann: Lord, lord, if I were a beast, I would rip Big Fingers's heart out and eat it. You would think this man was on a period the way he swells and bellows toward the end of the month. He sent another girl to the infirmary. He beat Collette because she forgot how to spell her name. She wrote "'Let'" on her medicine sign-out sheet. She didn't really forget how to spell her name, but you know how it is to be seventeen. You wake up one morning and decide that you want a new name. Big Fingers told her to write "Collette Smith" on the form. She insisted on 'Let.' His blistering coaxial cable did not make her change her mind. If she dies, I hope death does not rob her of her spirit. I will buy her a tombstone and have "LET" chiseled into its granite face. Love, Promise PS. What's new with you? Dear LaKeisha Ann: we had a bad storm here yesterday. The rain battered the windows like a shower of fists--mens' fists. I screamed at the men. Girl, I screamed at them and cursed their Mamas. They started up the bus to drown out my screams. But, baby, I out-screamed their buses. finally they sent in Big Mama to point her finger at me. I came close to biting her finger off at the root, and sucking her until all that was left of her was bitter and dry. But I didn't bite Big Mama. the rain, I woke up in shackles. I think Big Fingers shackles us girls just so he can get a chance to touch our pussies. When you come out here, I'm going to introduce you to Big Fingers in case you're in the market for a husband. kiss them grandbabies. Love, Promise
