Bøker av Charles Harvey

This book provides a remarkably revealing picture of your total personality, by going beyond the simple twelve Sun signs and combining them with the twelve Moon signs. Sun Sign, Moon Sign gives you a deeper insight into your own-and your friends' and family's-true personality, and leaves you truly astounded at just how accurate astrology can be!Contents:Find your Sun and Moon signs instantly with the easy-to-use tables.* Learn the characteristics of each of the 144 Sun-Moon combinations.* How the different Sun-Moon personalities behave in love, and their greatest strengths and weaknesses.* Discover the personality secrets of your friends and family.* Analysis of the Sun-Moon personalities of famous people.

Dive into 'A Foursome plus Poems', where the lines between pleasure and peril blur in a tantalizing dance. This collection isn't just stories. The poetry included takes an unapologetic plunge into the depths of gay fantasy, dripping with eroticism and shadowed by the macabre. These narratives are a feast for the senses, where the ordinary morphs into comedic darkness. Every crunch of a crab whispers untold stories of passion. Where was that banana before it wound up in the pudding? Are cucumbers just for salad? As you traverse these pages, expect to be both charmed and unsettled, your fantasies entwined with a thread of darkness. You'll find yourself ensnared in their allure. Each story in this collection is a foray into the depths of fantasy, where the mundane becomes steamy, and every page turns with anticipation. Excerpt: Banana PuddingI peered through the window after the doorbell gonged and wondered why my gentleman caller was wearing a yellow raincoat. The sky was brilliantly blue, and the sun shined so hard the flowers in my neighbor's yard looked like plastic pinwheels. Reluctantly, I opened the door."I hadn't heard the weatherman say anything about rain today. I said looking him up and down."He stood tall but bent a little at the waist. He looked at me through dark eyes that appeared like bruises in the middle of his smooth face. He hesitated as if contemplating running away. A blue bandana with the words "Chiquita Rocks" fit tight on his head. I smiled a smile that matched the sun and the yellow suit. My visitor relaxed, stamped his black boot on the welcome mat, and hopped across the threshold on one foot."This ain't no raincoat. It's a yellow summer coat. I like yellow.""I see you do. It's a great color for a warm day.""It's a great color period. You should see my friends hanging out at the grocers all green acting like young boys. They didn't believe the tree. The tree said we wouldn't be green long. The tree didn't lie. I'm a man already." Originally Published in 2012 Revised December 2023. Poetry added

In this riveting fictional story, Money, Mississippi, notorious for its dark past, has undergone a profound transformation. Where once Bryant's Grocery and Meat Market bore witness to a brutal murder, now stands a gleaming Walmart, flanked by bustling fast-food restaurants and a Starbucks. The streets are alive with the vibrant diversity of young couples, where skin color is no longer a barrier to love. Jill and Alvin, their worlds apart in more ways than one, are entangled in a passionate affair that defies conventions. For Jill, it's a rebellion against her own family's history, an opportunity to defy her KKK heritage. Alvin, driven by youthful desires and a mission to challenge his grandfather's prejudices, sees Jill as a way to prove that love transcends color lines. But their love is complicated by the stark differences in their backgrounds. Alvin hails from the prosperous River Hill Estates, while Jill resides in a housing project alongside the murky tributary of the Tallahatchie River. Her future is limited to Walmart and the PTSD medication stemming from her traumatic military past. When Alvin departs for college, leaving Jill pregnant, he returns four years later with a bride-to-be, igniting a powder keg of emotions. The town's newfound harmony is put to the test, and as secrets resurface, it raises questions about whether the spirit of Emmett Till still lingers in the enigmatic waters of the Tallahatchie. 'Into the Water' is a captivating exploration of love, rebellion, and redemption against the backdrop of a town's remarkable transformation, where the past refuses to remain submerged.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.

Dive into "The Last Supper," a collection of poems that boldly traverse the boundaries between the Sacred and the Profane, offering a unique perspective at the forbidden crossroads where they meet. In these verses, there is no room for the easily offended or those who merely skim the surface; you must be willing to explore the nuanced shades of gray. Author [Harvey] makes no apologies for the absence of roses and limericks; this is a collection for mature readers. These poems are not suitable for children, little old ladies, or Church Mothers, yet the church itself weaves through these verses, a powerful presence. Within the lines, you may detect echoes of the 80s, a time when Ronald Reagan's legacy continued to shape the world. The corporate world remains a realm where greed is king, and the haunting presence of AIDS steals away the young and vibrant. Among these poems, the title piece, "The Last Supper," encapsulates the poignant recollection of a young man's final moments, as he softly utters, "A sip of water please / A little string beans / Wait now, you're rushing me." As you embark on this poetic journey, remember not to rush through these verses. Take your time and allow the words to resonate, for within "The Last Supper," you will uncover a unique tapestry of human experiences, emotions, and a glimpse into the enduring spirit of an era.

Ebenezer Jenkins' Christmas in Chicago Dive into the soul-stirring and humorously sharp retelling of the timeless classic, 'A Christmas Carol, ' through a unique and satirical lens. Narrated by the vibrant, jive-talking duo, Madd and Dog2020, this version is bound to captivate even those indifferent to the Christmas spirit. Meet Ebenezer Jenkins, a miserly entrepreneur who uniquely runs Glad Wrappings Funeral Home cum Barbecue Joint. Here, the irony is as rich as the barbecue, where you might find yourself savoring your uncle's famous ribs in a posthumous feast.Ebenezer Jenkins, a staunch Christmas despiser and averse to any form of charity, finds himself in cahoots with an unlikely partner: a crafty midget known as the "Serial Nutcracker." This pint-sized accomplice is notorious for his attempts to physically assail men, aiming to separate them from their wallets. However, limited by his stature, he can only wreak havoc to a certain extent, inadvertently earning a notorious reputation while inflicting amusing discomfort on his targets. This twisted tale of quirky characters and dark humor presents a fresh, uproarious take on a beloved holiday story, ensuring laughter and reflections on the true essence of the festive season. Excerpt: Christmas Eve snow, lacy like Victoria's Secret panties caressed Ebenezer's window. Folks carrying Christmas hams and bags of yams tripped and stumbled along the broken sidewalks. Some carried toys from China bought lovingly from Wall of the Mart. A few got full from cheap vodka and fruit punch and commenced to singing Christmas carols. They mixed up the Christmas songs with bits of old-time Gospel melodies.Swing low silent jingle bellsAs Mary weeps all ye faithful comeA rumpa dump rump. A rumpa dump come.Oh Come ye to precious lordTaking my hand to JerusalemA rumpa dump rump. A rumpa dump come!"Dead cats," Ebenezer yelled at the carolers outside. They went away. But there was a thump and loud yowl at his window. When he peeked out, he stared straight into the dead eyes of a dead Persian stuck to the ice on his window. Original Title: Christmas in Linken Park Chicago

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, PromisePS. 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

Dive into the pages of "Roommates and Other Stories," a captivating collection of stories that explore the rich tapestry of African-American LGBT experiences. Through a series of narratives, this book delves into the lives of characters who navigate the complexities of love, humor, and the challenges unique to their journeys.Set against the backdrop of everyday life, two roommates find themselves entwined in a relationship that tests the boundaries of friendship and love. Their story is just the beginning. Each tale in this collection brings to life the diverse ways men in love behave, think, and feel, offering a window into moments both steamy and tender.From laughter-filled encounters to the heartache of deep emotional connections, "Roommates and Other Stories" traverses the spectrum of human emotion. The stories are as varied as they are engaging, presenting a range of experiences that speak to the soul of anyone who has ever loved or longed for connection.This book is more than a collection of stories; it's a journey through the many facets of love and life. It's about the struggles, the joys, and the unspoken bonds that connect us all. "Roommates and Other Stories" is a testament to the power of storytelling in capturing the essence of the human heart.An Excerpt:"I speak the truth about me also.""Yeah like when you walk into my room late at night just wearing a towel.""I have the decency to put on something. I got up to get a drink of water. I heard your music playing and asked if you wanted a drink. I'm not like you darting through the house butt naked or standing on the patio in the wee hours of the morning butt naked smoking that stuff, or greeting your visitors at the door butt naked, or cooking butt naked. Some hot grease is going to pop you down there and make you wish you had worn an apron.""You sure know all the times I'm naked. I think you got a cam in here.""I have no such thing.""I know when you naked too.""I beg your pardon?""Like when you tip into my room late at night and stand there watching me breathe.""Nigga, please. You must be dreaming.""I made you say "nigga." You got a little bit of street dog in you.""I am a Christian and a proper young man.""When you take your clothes off to clean my room and lay on my bed right in the middle of my funk--is that proper?""I do no such thing."Rev. 2024Originally "Roommates," "Roommates Spicy Gay Reads," and other titles. Includes new poetry section.

Discover the captivating world of Urban Tales, where the pulse of city life beats through the pages. These tales are a reflection of the humanity that surrounds us, a celebration of our humor, our loves, our desires, and our secret rendezvous. Only in our urban landscapes could you learn tipping over on the down-low becomes an art form. In these stories, you'll journey through both the long and the short, the gritty and the heart-touching. Characters come alive through their elegant voices and raw urban tongues, a vibrant fusion of culture and emotion. Brace yourself for the raw truth that might stir discomfort or even bring a tear to your eye, but one thing is for certain - it will never bore you. Urban Tales are an exploration of the human experience, where laughter and love exist alongside the poignant and profound, leaving you with thoughts that linger long after the last page is turned.

Catnip Gray is no ordinary house cat. At first glance, you might be fooled. He sleeps late, stays up all night tomcatting, eats birds, and seems to care less about his human's shenanigans. However, unlike most cats, Catnip has a taste for Slim-Fast and runs a detective agency. He also has a soft spot for beautiful female cats in distress. In this first novella, we meet him and learn a lot about him and the Grays who own him. He doesn't spare his astute observations about their lifestyle. However, he's more concerned with Tabitha Davenport, a gorgeous "dame" loaded with sardines, who seems only to want him to gather evidence against her cheating husband. More meets the eye in this twisting little puzzler as Catnip uncovers deceit and lies. There's murder, mayhem, and treachery in the world of cats, mice, and birds. Excerpt: Electra and I had swooned under the influence of the intoxicating air. After Fred's closed, we were a frisky pair hopping over trash cans, leaping up on fences, peering into windows, and laughing at human's silly attempts at lovemaking. We'd scream insults through the glass. "Really dude, more hair on your butt would drive her wild...Bite her ear you fool! Stop talking. More yowling ...You call that thing a tail?"We scampered off when a naked bear-looking man threw a house slipper at us. As we approached Tuna Boulevard, Electra suddenly darted out and an old sixty-seven Falcon sped up and sent her tumbling into a rosebush. It wrenched my heart watching my lover in death's bittersweet clutches as the rose's thorns pierced her flesh and teased me with their red petals and seductive scents. Roses were me and Electra's favorite flower to paw and nibble. I vowed to avenge Electra's death one day. So as I stood at the edge of Tuna Boulevard, I got my eyes out for a yellow Falcon. Been watching for it for a year--waiting for my chance. I had all of my parakeets lined up in a row. The Falcon has a vinyl top. A crow told me he and his flock love splattering that top with a potent brand of bird poo. "It's old and soft as dog guts," the crow cawed. My plan called for me to sink my claws deep into that vinyl top and cause a lot of havoc. I put one paw forward and stepped into the gutter when my ears picked up the whine of an old V8 motor. It sounded like a monkey with his tail caught in a meat grinder screaming a long, painful, "Eeeeeeee!" The guys at the Rat Trap Mechanic Shop said the noise meant loose belts, but the Falcon's fool owner likened the disquietude to a scream of death. He experienced many moments of perverse joy as he struck fear into the hearts of dogs, cats, and a few humans as he raced the falcon toward their poor souls. That Falcon had to be stopped. This is the book for those who love cats and enjoy humor and mystery.

Some readers find comfort in poetry that feels as easy as a cat on the lap. But some poems rocket you out of your comfort zone. They have the audacity to get in your face and shake your rump up. Robert Frost said, "Poetry is when an emotion has found its thought and the thought has found words.The poems in 3 AM were birthed at that hour, or in the witching hours between midnight and dawn. I hope these poems lift you from the pages or pixels on your screen and send your heart flying around the room.Excerpts: The Man in The MoonWho's up at 2 am?The midnight oil has long burned outSleep and sex roll restlessOn the worn mattress.Dreams escape the open eyesShadows rattle the doorThree o'clock is the witching hourRed ashes float from the patioEyes across the courtyard catch you breathing.You look away only to look again.You know the lonely mattress would enjoy the companyAnd your lilac-scented air could use some funk.But the night won't last a lifetime, soYou slip back into your room and wonder, What if there is a man in the moon?A Good DogThe neighbor beats his dog at 3amand he don't stopI hear her tail beating the wall and he don't stopShe gnaws on his bone and he don't stopAll night long she whines and he don't stopHer collar and chain drags the floor and he don't stopShe begs at the table and he don't stopShe rolls over and plays dead and he don't stopShe fetches his slippers and he don't stopShe trees his birds and he don't stopShe has his puppies and he don't stopAll in the wee hours I hear bitch bitch bitch and he don't stop.LOVE DOCTORThat Doctor ain't got no licenseHe practice love on the bootleg sideAint got no licenseSteals hearts just to get to the assWhen he done got throughYou say, Lord my name Skinny RooLove you so hard you change your nameYou can't sit down for daysYou dance all around the moon Singing Al Green tunesLove and happiness Three days later you touch your cold phoneLook up in the mirror and your heart be goneYou call them digits that doctor wrote downAin't no such number in town.That doctor aint got no licenseLord that doctor aint got licenseThere you go trippin out to the graveyardLooking for some kind of heart to fill upThe hole in your breastLord, Lord. That doctor aint had no license at allYou got your 45 just in caseYou run into that no-license son of a bitchLove and happiness make you do wrongAll night long.Take a walk on the wild side. Three-AM is the best time to be naked with your thoughts and dreams. Read more!

Joe wanted another job, but he changed his mind instead.Joe Ecks: X Band's Rock and Roll Guitarist. Though a musical genius, he's tortured and miserable under the demands of the industry. Dogged by psychosomatic ailments, Joe erupts in violent outbursts. Ultimately (on page 2), Joe breaks down, and a new personality emerges. Joe now thinks of himself as Mike Smith: Harvard Grad. Mike Smith is the opposite of Joe Ecks in nearly every way; he's no musical genius, and he can't play guitar, but he loves being a rock star. 'Xylene X Band' is the story of how the New Joe learns to live Joe's life, and, to a certain degree, how Joe's life adapts to his new personality. But to truly live Joe's life, New Joe must develop the skills, and they will be severely tested by the upcoming 'Xylene' tour. New Joe is no Old Joe, and X Band desperately needs Old Joe to return.Or do they?

This book concentrates on Morris's social and political acheivements as well as his artistic talents.

This textbook builds knowledge progressively and sympathetically, from first principles to advanced topics. An ideal handbook for the undergraduate, postgraduate and professional historian embarking on a dissertation or historical research.