My new self-published book "The Music We Are" is now
available through paypal. Poet and literary activist, E. Ethelbert Miller, who's also director of Howard
University's African American Resource Center, wrote
a blurb for this collection. Here's what he had to say:
The poems that embrace family in [this] new book are
the ones you want to take out on a date. King's dad
is visible in a few and you read these poems and applaud
black fathers...King is a poet of the heart which means
there are a lot of references to kissing in this book.
Too many? Count the wet lips.
If you're looking for form you can also wear King's book.
You'll find a ghazal, a haiku or two.
I like King's urban ear. I like when older black folks
turn and say "... these young folks are too fresh for
they own yolk." If Alan keeps writing he will be a King
for many days. He will be a poet with a good future.
Listen: the wind is pouring wine!
Please visit The Music We Are to read what others are
saying about this collection, and then order your copy.
Or order by clicking on the BUY NOW paypal button below.
I also self-published my book "Transfer." Please
check my artist page Bus Pass to see what people
are saying about this collection.
Poet Tim Seibles, the author of four books--"Body Moves,"
"Hurdy Gurdy," "Hammerlock," and "Buffalo Head Solos"--
wrote a blurb for my book. Here's what he had to say:
Talk about global warming, people should be worrying
about Alan King's new chapbook, TRANSFER. Desire moves
through these pages like a heat wave. Reading these
poems took me back to those old "house parties" we had
back in Philly: brothas and sistas down in the basement
dancin', sweatin', sizzlin' for that sweet connection,
but steady tryin' to look cool. Seriously, you feel this
book like the first really hot day after a long, long
winter. There's a lot of poetry in the world, but not
much of it crunks like TRANSFER.
Transfer is available through paypal's safe and secure
method of transaction. So purchase a copy by clicking
the "BUY NOW" button below.
About me: Alan King's fiction and poems have appeared in the Arabesques Review,
Warpland, The Amistad, and Fingernails Across the Chalkboard: Poetry
and Prose on HIV/AIDS, among others. A Cave Canem fellow and Vona
Alum, his work was also part of Anacostia Exposed, a collaborative
exhibit with Irish photographer Mervyn Smyth that showcases the life
and energy of Anacostia.
Alan has written articles for NewAmericaMedia.org, Prince George's
County Gazette, East of the River, District Chronicles, and
Washingtonpost.com. He is the author of his chapbooks "Transfer"
and "The Music We Are" – also the title of his manuscript.
The Boulevard wakes
like a child – rubbing its eyes,
stretching to greet first light
with the roar of a yawn
but you’re wide-awake with
the other silhouettes inside
a darkened theatre
all around you – the loud
rustling of cellophane wrappers,
air sweetened by cookie dough
candy and gummy bears
the devoted few willing to
sacrifice extra sleep for the sake
of a five dollar movie before noon
most folks stretched out –
legs over the empty seats
in front – faces lit up
by the bright screen
some, like you – alone,
but far from pathetic, far from
the whiny suggestions of friends
preferring something else
Prime Directive
On borrowed time rhymes, gassed
by the Silver Screen, they act
like they monkey-ass can heal back
like Wolverine
********************-MF Doom, "Vaudeville Villain"
No surprise when D'Angelo's
lying in the hall outside the cafeteria –
tilting his head up to stop blood
running from his nose
dust clinging to his long-sleeve
shirt with the Starship Enterprise
arrowhead insignia
We knew it would eventually
come to this; that pain,
for some, is the best lesson
mouth off to someone bigger
than you, and you get hurt
was what we told him, and
that his boyish frame was no match
for Craig, who- at 6' 5" in high school –
we nicknamed "Kreeg"
and who we were sure could
withstand the Vulcan neck-pinch
D'Angelo was dying to try
it always worked for Spock, so
he hadn't figured on being jacked up
and punched in the face
didn't think he'd be lying
there – dazed, waiting
on the Starship, mumbling: Captain's Log. Stardate
Supplemental. Severely injured.
Get me back to Starbase.
The Glow
A planet from another galaxy asked our Sun,
"Where does your light shine?" The Sun answered,
"Where there is no shadow."
********************-Weusi Baraka
Leroy Green found it
after beating Sho'nuff
Shogun of Harlem
and his jheri-curl posse
of street thugs
not knowing what I was
good at, I wanted to be
an X-Man, throwing explosive
playing cards and blowing
stuff up like Gambit
or teleporting from one
spot to the next, disappearing
into shadows like Nightcrawler
in his shiny blue fur
with just his eyes glowing
I didn't know determination
to tap into that "mystical energy"
would come much later
whenever I opened a book
all I knew then, was that
I wanted to be iridescent –
round housing villains
without the thought
of rescuing Vanity
I neglected to congratulate you on being an official staff writer! Mistah D Brown passed the news my way. Many blessings as this new beginning WILL open beautiful doors in life and lead to enlightening/reflective journal entries...With love, ~C
Sorry for being out of contact, went on hols then came back home to nuff madness, opened your package to see your collection, read the stuff and DAMN!!! You kept your skills quiet man! Lovin the work, esp. the first poem, made me and my lady laugh hard! You a damn good poet Mr King...
