My Wonderful Life

I am 49 years of age ,single and extremely handsome, "My nose is getting bigger".
I am a Builder/ Carpenter to trade . And a part time writer by night .
I am working on a couple of novels at the moment called "The Art Of Working Without Working", But I am still working on that. The other is called, “This Chair Is Only A Chair, So Why Is There A Hole In My Socks?” I know this is rather  long winded, but so is my hallway

I was born in the Gorbals, Old Rutherglen Road, Glasgow. And so any outstanding bills should be sent to that address.

My mother was Scottish and my father was Polish ,thus ,I am Pottish.

I love all forms of art and literature. I have taken of lately to classical music as I feel it relaxes me and inspires some of my writing.
I love to design and build .with my own hands. I also love to paint and
sculpt, “whenever I find the time“.

All in all, it is not too bad a life.
I love collecting James Bond and Marvel memorabilia. I have a huge collection. The back bedroom is like a toy shop. But it is my toy shop that I dreamt of having as a
child, “ My dream come true”.

Born in ,“The Gorbals Glasgow” in 1959 and moving to, “Barmulloch, Glasgow“ at the age of four.
I was the middle sibling of five children. My teenage years were influence mainly around the gang culture, inescapable but predominant in the significance of urban survival at the time. Although never a member of the gangs of Glasgow I was often caught up in their conflicts and learned at an early age how to take care of myself.

The Gangs Of Glasgow

Adrenalin flows through snake skin shoes
As the razor sparks from baton blows
The beast within the heart to choose
This way of life he walks and knows

Our games to win and talk tomorrow
And walk within the elite with honour
To bear our scars without the sorrow
For our blood will win where badges cower

This blood that spills from every wound
Will generate a new beginning
They will fear our names when homeward bound
With their faces slashed and stinging

We will send a message where justice lye's
The poor are within our shielded layer
They fear not under our watchful eyes
And chant our names when we are there

The glint of razor and tempered edge
Will leave you open like gutted fish
Then watch your faces drain with age
As your insides spill over your pish

Prologue

Now scars have faded to indentations
I’m none the wiser for my failings
The world still turns and wolfs do prowl
But all has changed on gang lands soil

The gun replaces the weapon of choice
Where drugs have silenced honoured voice
And friendships beware the Golden Fleece
Now greed infests where loyalty ceased

Once we bled in this no mean city
Warriors of choice we asked no pity
We fought and loved to live with passion
And picked which day to be our last one

Now all is silent with most you gone
And memories fade but linger on
In legends tails that sons admire
That night as one we lit the fire

© Robert Anderson 2008


Hating my violent surroundings I would escape into another word with the help of an old 72in bakelite record on a highly polished and much cherished radiogram. The record title was, “The Life And Times Of Lloyd George” later to be recorded by Ennio Morricone as, “Chi Mai”
This to me was a thing of beauty where I could close my eyes and fly with one hundred wild geese over the African planes or catapult myself to the horrors of the trenches on the Somme. I was hooked on classical music and the arts by the age of 14 and winning competitions for my school at various venues that cropped up in and around the schools fraternity.

I was asked to write down what writer has been an inspiration to me and I can only answer honestly and say none. My thoughts on, art, poetry and the inspiration behind them come from the very edges of human life and the darkness of death seen from a child through to adulthood on it‘s raw and apocalyptic course. I have a never ending story to tell as I have seen it in a world surrounding me. My poetry and articles reflect around the scope of my universe, capturing love, life and death through frosted eyes. I feel and cry every word as I see it through my eyes and mind.

If I was to pick some favourite poets and poems It would have to be William Sydney Graham, “To Alexandra Graham, To My wife At Midnight”, Dylan Thomas, ”Do not go Gentle Into That Goodnight ,After The Funeral”, Keith Douglas, “The Marvel, The Hand” and Ivor Gurney, ”To His Love, The Hoe Scrapes Earth” These poets dating from 1890 to 1967 with their insight to life, intrigues me.

Now painters that have inspired me are many but if I were to pick my favourite then I would not hesitate to tell you, it has to be Salvador Dali, with his straight lines and angry skies, he had a vision of the future and a realism for today, with that, he has expressed so painstakingly in his work.

I love all sorts of music and theatre, “Film and dance” and too many to list as this would only bore you as it goes across the full spectrum of the board. I find myself going back to David Leans “A Brief Encounter” with the dialogue of Noel Coward and dark, smoked filled cinematography captures the mind of the poet.

I am reading a Terry Pratchett novel at the moment called ,“The colour Of Money”. Again, Terry Pratchett captures my hunger for success in the literary world and enlightens me with his dry humour
and professionalism with a eccentricity for detail.

Up to date I have written around 140 poems, various articles and novel excerpts for future Ideas on other projects. Also seven art pieces that are being exhibited online at Artistic Pursuit and the Sattchie Galleries in London. With all this I have also completed the manuscript, design and artwork on what will be the cover of my first book, ” No Reflection‘s“.