Book review by Laura Prime

Review by Laura Prime on Amazon.


Paul Scott-Bates has written this I believe (I don't know), from the heart. When one writes about depression or reads about it, its always different but essentially always boils down to the same feelings, fights, images, tears, angers and twilights.

I myself as an owner of a 'Black Dog' and a 'Black Wall' found this book to be compelling, not at first because it started to make me think of lots of things I thought I had dealt with or 'seen off'. I was going to give it up because it upset me, but I carried on and found myself in each poem as I read. I went back to some poems and thought, how on earth can that person writing that know how I feel.?. I dissected it and annotated it and tried to make it mean other things, but it didn't. It was what it was .

I have many favourite pieces in this book,some that will help me on my path in my dark times,some i will note in my journal, so I know there is someone who really has felt those feelings I have.

This author has gone to the depths of grinding hate and despair and written it down I find this amazing and very very brave, some of the pieces are guttural and use profanities but that is all part of this Novel of poetry.

I do believe that the Author has suffered and I am sorry for his suffering but I see him on an up through writing massive well done.

I urge everyone to read this book even if you haven't suffered from depression, it will give you an incredible insight of what a sufferer feels;

Thank you Paul Scott-Bates for this opening of poetry that makes others feel its OK to let others know how you feel

5* from me and I look forward to more of your journey.

Book review by KappaCino Book Club

Taken from KappaCino Book Club

Hitting the Black Wall is a book that I never thought I would end up reviewing, mainly because it is a poetry book. Poetry is one of those things that people will love or loathe. And having known a few poets in my time, the torture that comes from writing poetry is something that can’t be imagined. There is a saying/story about poets spending all morning decided if a comma should be placed at the end of a sentence, then to spend all afternoon agonizing whether it should be removed.

The book

Hitting the Black Wall, like any poetry book, is an insight into the soul and the mindset of the writer. This book is dark. The author has said it himself, “This book isn’t wildflowers and butterflies”. All the poetry in Hitting the Black Wall is written by Paul Scott-Bates, a poet who has been expressing himself on the internet for a few years now on his blog. This is his first published book with a collection of over 50 original poems. And like I said, they are dark. They are uncomfortable thoughts that stir in the back of the mind that have been expressed by Paul thought words.

Thoughts on the poems

Right from the outset, you are smacked in the face with the darkness that this book contains. There is no breaking us in gently! The first poem, Gone, crashes into your mind with images of cold steel and emotional detachment from the beginning. But as we move through the book, we are presented with poems that show lost loves, lost lives, and the voids that come and go from this emotional rollercoaster that we call life. At times we are plunged into deep darkness and forced to confront emotions that we might not be used to seeing in ourselves. Other times, we are shown humor in the darkness. And some are filled with complete compassion for another human being.

Thoughts on the Author

They say that poetry, or any writing, is a window into the soul. Paul appears to have used his poetry as a safe way to deal with his demons over the years. The poems are not a reflection of true events but are clearly a way for him to express himself in a safe way. I don’t know John and I’ve never had the pleasure of speaking to him, so I can only speculate what has gone on in his mind or his life. I don’t like doing that, mainly because I would feel like I’m profiling him. But what I will say is this- John, like everyone else on this planet, has dealt with love, loss and everything in-between, that’s called life. Even if the dark moments, the emotional inspiration for these poems, only lasted a minute, he has done a bloody good job of grabbing them and shaking them out for the sake of his art.

Overall

As I said at the beginning of this review, this is a dark book. But it is wonderful to read. Too often these days we see poetry that is filled with sunshine and rainbows. If you are looking for those things, go read a different book. This is a disturbing read which makes it closer to art in my opinion. “Art should comfort the disturbed and disturb the comfortable”. I don’t know who said that, but in this case it is very true. The collection that you will find in these pages will reach into your head and your heart, give them a rattle, and exercise those demons inside of you.

Book Review by Ralphs Life

Taken from Ralphs Life 

Occasionally Ralph strays from the musical path and dabbles in other arts related forms and on this occasion it's Hitting The Black Wall, a book of poetry by respected Louder Than War writer and fellow music blogger extraodinaire (under the nom-de-plume of Hiapop) Paul Scott-Bates.

Originally a Burnley Lad, he's now based in Lancashire's Rossendale Valley where he enjoys 'The Good Life' with his family. 

This book though examines quite the opposite, delving at times almost painfully into the frailties of man's existence. There's longing, suffering and death alongside love, regret and malice. 


Is this book of poems by Paul Scott-Bates retrospective? 
Probably. 

Cathartic? 
Hopefully. 

Enjoyable? 
Uncomfortably. 

Unmissable? 
Definitely.

Book review by Babi A Fi

Taken from Babi A Fi.

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Non-Fiction, 2016. Some really evocative writing here; a few of the angrier pieces in particular felt like it could be an outpouring of my own experiences with depression. These poems, interspersed with lighter moments (e.g. Drink) and poetry which conjures up an entire story in a few carefully chosen words, make this collection well worth checking out. 

Book review by Louder Than War

Taken from Louder Than War, article by Dave Jennings.

Louder Than War contributor and Hiapop Blog writer Paul Scott-Bates makes his written print debut with a striking collection of poetry. Paul hails from Burnley Lancashire and was an early devotee of Glam and New Romantics and dreamed of forming a band of his. However, inability to play an instrument was something of a stumbling block and he turned his lyrical adventures into the poetry we see here.

Paul has recorded the ups and downs of life over the last thirty years or so and this leads to a varied and challenging collection of poems that take no prisoners. There is a fearless examination of themes which may prove uncomfortable reading but certainly attest to the power of the written word. The fact that the words are laid out unaccompanied by music adds to their impact and possibly encourages the reader to delve deeper than if they were part of a song.

Book review by Helen McCookerybook

Taken from the Helen McCookerybook blogspot.

Paul Scott Bates hails from Rossendale in Lancashire, blogs under the name Greenfield Cygnus and can also be found writing articles for Louderthanwar, amongst other publications.

Hitting the Black Wall is a collection of 65 poems that are a surprisingly dark offering from a happily-married father of four and grandfather of one; but then these things do not preclude a person from hitting a black wall, do they?

They circle around death, isolation and self-destruction: the first poem, Gone, is about a shooting from the perspective of a murderer (terribly apt at the time of writing). The poetry  in this volume describes a fight against demons, with the bittersweet success/failure of a completed suicide of a friend reminding us just how fragile is our hold on sanity and hope.

Some, for instance Janine, Silensore and You Left Me Standing In The Rain, are crying out to be made into songs. The most complex, Josephine, is the darkest and most powerful: reflections on a car crash centred on the deceased passenger who didn’t wear her seat belt.Josephine sums up the collection, which will appeal to fans of Scandi-noir looking to savour a cloudy weekend exploring the darker realms of the soul.

Hitting The Black Wall - Book Launch

I am delighted to be able to confirm that Hitting The Black Wall will be launched at the stunning Whitaker Museum in Rawtenstall Lancashire on Thursday 21 July 2016 at 7pm.

The Whitaker (previously Rossendale Museum & Art Gallery) is set in a beautiful park at the centre of the Rossendale Valley, Lancashire, UK. The museum displays include interesting local history, painting, and  Victorian natural history collections. There is also a very active contemporary art gallery with changing exhibitions. The main galleries have been newly refurbished by The Whitaker Group, who have exciting plans for the future of the gallery, the collection, and the park.

There will be the opportunity meet the author and buy the book, or place an order for a copy, and each one will be personally signed.  

Alternatively, the book can be pre-ordered here.

We look forward to seeing you and introducing you to the world of hiapoetry.

Admission is FREE and tickets are NOT required.

News - Hitting The Black Wall

As you all know, my first poetry book Hitting The Black Wall will be published at the end of July. It's been an ambition for almost thirty years so as you can imagine I'm absolutely thrilled.

Some of the subjects are hard-hitting - it isn't wild flowers and butterflies, but it is all my own hard work. Some of the poetry can be seen here -http://hiapoetry.blogspot.co.uk/

I'm currently arranging a launch night where I'll invite local press etc... to try and get as much interest as I can. I know it isn't going to be a huge international best seller, but I also don't want it to flop!

I hope to sell the book at the launch, but need to buy those up front for the event. Money is tight for us all and I simply can't afford to buy them now so I had an idea........

Many of you expressed interest in buying a copy so I've decided to have a pre-sale ordering method. You can order now, and your copy will be posted at the end of July/early August. By ordering now I can hopefully raise enough to buy copies for the launch.

The book will cost £5.99 with £1.99 for postage and packing to the UK (I'll post overseas but will obviously need to check the cost). If you want a copy you can visit https://www.paypal.me/hiapoetry where you can pay now and book your copy (Ha! Ha! - 'book' your copy!)

By the way, I don't receive all the £5.99! A lot of the price is down to design, publishing and production so it isn't going to make me a millionaire!

Please, please, please support me, it means a lot.

Here is the link again - https://www.paypal.me/hiapoetry

Thank you

x

96

Justice for the 96

Victory against the contemptable pricks

 who for 27 years denied the blame

 and treated those people one and the same

 as though second class citizens led their friends to the slaughter

 lost Dad, lost Mum, lost brother, lost daughter

Peace at last for the ones that died

and punishment surely for the ones that lied

 the Press, the Government, the ones in charge

 the lying bastards not now at large

 now Rest In Peace sport lovers all

 Justice is done, Justice for all 

Rose Douce

 

Ma Rose douce

Mon cherie

Avez-vous voulu m'embrasser ?

Est-ce que avez-vous voulu que je partît ?

 

Votre endroit

Votre maison

Je n'ai pas voulu dire pour laisser mon coeur

là où je devrais seulement laisser mon argent

 

Vous me prenez

Vous me baisez

Vous me laissez

pour se decomposer

 

Tandis que je paye :

Vous serez toujours la mienne

Vos pensées sont les miennes

Votre corps est le mien

Votre âme est la mienne

 

Et quand je suis allé :

Mes sentiments demeurent

Mon amour se développe plus fort

Mon coeur bat plus rapidement

pour ma belle putain

Sweet Rose

 

My sweet Rose

Mon cherie

Did you want to kiss me?

Did you want me to leave?

 

Your place

Your home

I didn’t mean to leave my heart

where I should only leave my money

 

You take me

You fuck me

You leave me

to decompose

 

Whilst I pay:

You’ll always be mine

Your thoughts are mine

Your body is mine

Your soul is mine

 

And when I’m gone:

My feelings remain

My love grows stronger

My heart beats faster

for my beautiful whore

 

 

 

My Love

Every day I look at your face

And realise I long for no other place

Than here

With you

Joanna

 

Every day I long to touch your skin

A feeling I can’t stop, from deep within

For you

My love

Joanna

 

We’ve shared so much, our loves, our sorrow

I can’t imagine a life tomorrow

Without you

My friend

Joanna

 

And when we wake and the sun brightly shines

I want me to be yours, and you to be mine

Forever

My life

Joanna

 

 

Lament

I couldn’t always be there,
and, you wouldn’t come here.
I always wanted you close,
you always wanted me near,
and the feelings I put deep inside of you,
and the switch that I flicked that rekindled past youth,
and I was the boy that I’d never been,
and I was the man with new purpose, new meaning,
and after being so high this is the fall that I feared,
and when we talk on the phone I can hear your tears,
and the soul that’s been taken out of my heart,
and the heart has been ripped away from my soul,
and the dream that I dreamt of a brand new start
has been shattered again as a final recall,
and the tablets I bought and safely keep
are all the pills that I need to take -
and the feeling of unknowing, of what to do now,
is the feeling of knowing I would never wake,
and it’s not through depression,
and, it’s not lack of self worth.
It’s knowing how happy one person can be,
and knowing that happy I can’t always be,
and having tasted Nirvana, Utopia, Heaven,
and knowing such happiness can’t go on forever,
and feeling I’m starting to bring you down
is something I cannot entertain, ever,
and, these Soulmates need to return to good friends,
and our ‘ships in the night’ - that really must end,
and a love story written without false pretence
is a love story shared but destined to end.

Castrated

Is time to tell the nation

  about my ‘castration’,

  and the one who held me back?

Or, maybe I should halt this attack?

But, I think the time is right

The time is right to write

  of how I was halted

  the true me assaulted

Not able to be who I was

  or, who I wanted to be

Thinking it was love

Then plodding

  along

  aimlessly

  for what seemed a lifetime

What seemed a lifetime

  resulting in depression

  at the merest suggestion

And, being dragged further down

Down

Thinking I would never get out

  however much I’d scream and shout

  “Let me out!”

  “Pull me out! “

  “Drag me out! “

  of this bottomless pit

The drugs did work

Sometimes I still peer over the precipice

  but I don’t fall anymore

Now I have someone I adore

  and she adores me.

 

 

Headache (The Pain Of Your Kiss)

My head is aching, my

   mind is brewing, I’m

   sure there’s something I

   should be doing, to

   ease your conscience baby -

   clear  your mind,

   but I’m far too busy clearing mine.

 

My head is aching, my

   body’s dying, I’m

   sure there’s someone I

   can hear crying, for

   someone to hold on to -

   for all time,

   but I’m too engrossed making my life prime.

 

My head is aching, my

   brain is hurting, I

   can almost sense the

   final curtain, now

   that life has fulfilled

   my every wish,

 

   I could die only feeling the pain of your kiss.

Hymn

Kiss, these lips, of a man who has long passed his prime.

Caress, and re-juvenate, remind him of the time,

   his eyes met yours, and in love he fell long and deep.

 

Re-kindle, the lost love, which for so long has remained asleep.

Josephine

Josephine, I liked how you sent me flowers,

   because, girls don’t usually send those gifts.

The vase is still there, the flowers have now wilted,

   they’re my sole material memory of you.

I’m unshaven for fifteen days or thereabouts.

My hair is matting, my armpits they reek.

I haven’t moved from this chair for what seems a lifetime.

I haven’t watched the TV to which I’m always attached.

Josephine, you cannot realise my remorse –

I didn’t mean to drive all that fast.

Seatbelt unfastened, you flew through the windscreen –

 

I watched, gawping, silent, as your young life shot past.

9 Days After 19

The sun may shine, but in my world – rain.

The world may turn, but to a halt mine strains.

The flowers may bloom, to me they wilt.

I live in ruins, where a city is built.

 

The world may laugh, I do but cry.

People bubble with life, I could die.

Some find a partner to love, I’m left to lone.

They will stand high whilst I’m down below.

 

The dejection I feel, the desolation I gain.

I could spew to the thought of the life to my name.

My body feels tired, my head empty of thought.

What power on Earth these feelings could have brought?

 

My life it feels spent, though I’m still in my teens.

The ‘time of my life’, I know not what it means.

Rain keeps on falling in the view from my room.

An end to my life could never come too soon.

 

You may scorn at my words, find humour in me.

But to me, this is real, no humour I see.

The world brought me up, and, is dragging me down.

In a ‘sink or swim’ case then I know I would drown.

 

The isolation I have, incomprehension my name.

Day after day the sadness remains the same.

My feeble body must rest as I down to lie.

 

And, if I should sleep, then I hope I will die.