Umlungu

The White Scum That Floats in the Surf

Fiction & Literature, Poetry
Cover of the book Umlungu by D. L. Forbes, BookBaby
View on Amazon View on AbeBooks View on Kobo View on B.Depository View on eBay View on Walmart
Author: D. L. Forbes ISBN: 9781543932805
Publisher: BookBaby Publication: June 1, 2018
Imprint: BookBaby Language: English
Author: D. L. Forbes
ISBN: 9781543932805
Publisher: BookBaby
Publication: June 1, 2018
Imprint: BookBaby
Language: English

Someone told me – myself, I think. Yes, my self, for whom else would I take any notice? "Your poems," I said to me, "many are pretty much self-obsessed, aren't they; all about the very special, unique, joys and tribulations – though mostly tribulations, of being you. Not too much 'Every Day' humanity going on in your writing, is there?" "Yes, you may be right," I told me, "but 'Every Day Poems' they most certainly are, for this is one's life when one happens to live as a neurotic, anti-social, extrovert, introverted invert who writes poems in private, personal diary-form over many decades, and then decides to slap some of them together in poetry-book-form. Not much getting away from the self in a diary, is there? Not too much chat about politics and social reform either, particularly with so much intrusive self-yakking going on all the time. "I wish I could say, I am ready at last to step up and out, volunteer and do good altruistic works for humankind, but that would be a sham, because quite frankly deep in my heart of hearts I don't give a rat's arse." "Yes, no," I replied, "I think you are right." I took myself out for coffee, and we sat in the window of the café watching the other people's world go by: disinterested, ironic, separate and melancholic, but also taking in everything around us, amused and appalled, playing our game of stripping the people to the bare bone and beyond. "There now," I suggested after a time, "don't you feel better, having unburdened and faced up to your-me-me-me self?" "No, I cannot say I do," I confirmed, "but I think I will leave you now and return to my solitary room . . . I would like to be alone." "Yes, okay . . . me, too." So there I am, you see – we do have a few good times together, me and I; and life not entirely angst ridden . . . though life in general is, for all people that on earth do dwell.

View on Amazon View on AbeBooks View on Kobo View on B.Depository View on eBay View on Walmart

Someone told me – myself, I think. Yes, my self, for whom else would I take any notice? "Your poems," I said to me, "many are pretty much self-obsessed, aren't they; all about the very special, unique, joys and tribulations – though mostly tribulations, of being you. Not too much 'Every Day' humanity going on in your writing, is there?" "Yes, you may be right," I told me, "but 'Every Day Poems' they most certainly are, for this is one's life when one happens to live as a neurotic, anti-social, extrovert, introverted invert who writes poems in private, personal diary-form over many decades, and then decides to slap some of them together in poetry-book-form. Not much getting away from the self in a diary, is there? Not too much chat about politics and social reform either, particularly with so much intrusive self-yakking going on all the time. "I wish I could say, I am ready at last to step up and out, volunteer and do good altruistic works for humankind, but that would be a sham, because quite frankly deep in my heart of hearts I don't give a rat's arse." "Yes, no," I replied, "I think you are right." I took myself out for coffee, and we sat in the window of the café watching the other people's world go by: disinterested, ironic, separate and melancholic, but also taking in everything around us, amused and appalled, playing our game of stripping the people to the bare bone and beyond. "There now," I suggested after a time, "don't you feel better, having unburdened and faced up to your-me-me-me self?" "No, I cannot say I do," I confirmed, "but I think I will leave you now and return to my solitary room . . . I would like to be alone." "Yes, okay . . . me, too." So there I am, you see – we do have a few good times together, me and I; and life not entirely angst ridden . . . though life in general is, for all people that on earth do dwell.

More books from BookBaby

Cover of the book Be The Best Wedding MC by D. L. Forbes
Cover of the book Crohn's Disease by D. L. Forbes
Cover of the book Our Universe by D. L. Forbes
Cover of the book Under the Milky Way by D. L. Forbes
Cover of the book An Artist For President by D. L. Forbes
Cover of the book Crowns and Kingdoms by D. L. Forbes
Cover of the book Times of Refreshing by D. L. Forbes
Cover of the book Smelling the Roses: Memoir of an Irish Philosopher by D. L. Forbes
Cover of the book Lunacy by D. L. Forbes
Cover of the book My Little Alien by D. L. Forbes
Cover of the book The Black Ice Brigade by D. L. Forbes
Cover of the book The Players Code by D. L. Forbes
Cover of the book Destiny's Moment of Forever by D. L. Forbes
Cover of the book People are the Name of the Game by D. L. Forbes
Cover of the book Clouse And A Mouse by D. L. Forbes
We use our own "cookies" and third party cookies to improve services and to see statistical information. By using this website, you agree to our Privacy Policy