Hi! Would You Like to Wordplay With me?

Come join us on this odyssey and become a verbal wit taker.

Hello, my friends, E Lloyd Kelly is the name, a Jamaicanadian author, poet, and songwriter of sorts. I became a published author in 2012 when I published my first book. A short haphazard novel called "Spaces, My Space, Your Space, and the Public Space" 

Of course, that never do too well, no surprise there, however, over the years that followed since. I've gone on to publish ten others, many of them are doing very well even now. But I had to come to grips with the fact that I'm not very good at marketing my work. I also had to face the sobering reality that I'm not that young anymore, doesn't want to leave this many books behind me when I'm gone, tucked away under gravestones amongst the countless many that are already there. 

I'd much rather give it away to whoever will bother to read it. 

So, here I am, starting this new venture to tell my stories on these pages so that anyone who cares to, may read them. Hence, expect to find weekly posts here which may consist of: Excerpts from original drafts of books, excerpts from published works, poems, and original song lyrics among them. 

That being said, I think the perfect place to start is with an excerpt from one of my published novels. Like I've always done, I usually insert a bit from one of the projects that I'm currently working on, into the previous one at the time of publishing, just as a teaser. Therefore, today we're going to give you an excerpt from my latest novel called Casting Shadow on the Tattoo Trail, which is available on Amazon/Kindle. 

Note, wordplay is the order of the day here. Each story is told with poetic flair, and snippets of Jamaican Patois inserted here and there throughout, as may be found fitting. Yeah man, yes, a Jamaica yaad mi cum fram. Oh! Sorry, I meant to say, I’m from Jamaica –okay?

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Here's today's excerpt. 

Team players were the games of the day oh, you've all been played now I’d say -my friends, like so. Losing out on the winning dice throw. Such a shame though. The good times had run their course. For the good livers, of course. Things were getting from bad to worse as they were to be seeing things by way of the empty purse. The stuffy chest panting rancid air they no longer wanted was even worse for wares. They were to be heard increasingly complaining and cursing the clerks at the Days Inn... 

"Where". 

Those who were shirking work there at the clubhouse evenings, and even worse than that thing, one two three times out and in?  Yes. I'm leaving, on a jet... But first, let's finish the reading. Like, yes. They were complaining at the posh gathering places near Stevens, nurse, was what they named him. The jet setters were getting upset and staying sweatier than wet. Somewhere under the collar there near to the upper neck tier. Where? There, somewhere under the cloth of some sort of chest gear. 

Meanwhile, everyday joey types of fellowshipping people slight, slipped one-handed onto the slowly weeping knives of the knights and were just on the verge of a breakthrough from under the cellar sellers’ plight. As seen through dry yeye pickney dem. With those bratty children picking a fight with me, and you too –my friend. As I’m here trying to find the right way to say and do the things to do? It’s like. They were getting closer to being the sellers of cellphones to call her down-home, perhaps, and to give one of these things to her to give it to you, on the swaps. Which never came through as the said seller fellow would have preferred it to do. 

As soon as he reaches out his anxious fingers to grab a supporting role of the dice upon his dinner, bibblinngg! came the ringing sin ting, no, not the telephone sort. But, something like that wart. It was the fork dropping out of his finger gripping… Rinnnngg! Oh cloth. There it goes again. I wonder why it’s so bent on falling when... you know, not when but from. From the thing holding him in. The darned thing just slips out of his grasping grips just like that shilling there, and this. Some new crisis or another dice lick just happened to pop up out of the blue lagoon abyss, bladder, again. Just like this one-sided pain. Even. 

Which was to slap the harshest of set-backing spells upon you and him to go sell to the rest of them. Perhaps. Or to the next Bydened bidding newcomer coming in, in kind, to unpack. Instead of the ringing thing you and he'd wanted him to bring, or to them send it in. Those who as it turned out, could scarcely find a pocketing dime to talk about. Or, even to spend on thyme shout “yes!” hallelujah! Well, I guess. I'll give that much to y’all. The people wanted answers, so that was what they got her. Whether or not it was a workable one -sir. It was, in fact, a hamster. Look at it, there, isn't it cute? 

"I swear! Yes, yes it is -my yute man pickney, dear". 

But to be fair. To many, it seemed feasible, like, what they had promised to give him and you, in spite, so. The plan was set in motion to go. It was designed so that all of the world's population, growth. Could come together and go out. To go work towards a common feathery goal-ly golden feathered plan, yes mi beloved breda man. That one was preferred oh, over any other one, so. Reasonable enough. No? Well, go. The leaders and elders of each nation-notion stood tough-tough. Ruff enough. Standing up on the easiest sellers selling the plan from the rough, land “ding” on your hand. 

They formed alliances with everyone that they could get their handles on. Like, them and you to hitch a ride on us and get on through, in comfort. The political class wasn't going through the cast, nor were they ever going to be found left out of the acting ax man with his one-act to perform. Not even these two men with two axes to send off the arm to you. So they too went and signed a packed queue like this. 

"Ewww"! 

Regularly they were to meet up to plan the reconstruction. For a while, things went well enough, yes mi Chyle. Now. Nuh mek mi haffi cuss. Enough of that style. Stop before you're overly spoiled. Okay. What can I say? But there was another plan hidden somewhere in the pan anyway. Known by one and allowed via some suss to the rest of his clan and such. But now, the clan is down to one, because of the mashallah that was brought on.

The rest of the goners from that corner are all gone now, in the minds of those few left in command somehow, so they thought. But in fact, there was a crack in the sack box. Because. There are many still left locked up under the sander. Somewhere in a far corner of the Kingsland ore. I think they're those who were calmer than this one door ring one here or. The two of them to make up the walking pair. Somebody knew the new sounding gear, from a long-time down-home. Even. Knew that these few could be made liable to become reliable, and so they were made able to understand the fable, like. How to take command from the other men, yes man. 

That was the real reasoned out plan to let them live on among a few of the other men and this one. Those were never to be among the goners in the van farmer. This they had decided upon. In the concluding minds of a select few of the stormer kinds. Yes, the bull bucket kicking ram farming kinds had also signed in. But for the most part, those were no threat to start, that’s why I’m in. Hence the plan to save for them the bounce-back day when...

Those people were drugged and laid away, starting with little children -okay? Children who were stolen away from the field of play. Whilst their parents worried and pined away. “Bring back our children home,” they say. But, how did they come to fall upon such bad luck? With the made-up thing from the doctors’ cup? Perhaps, take a sup, drink, drink. Drink it up. 

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Here I am, talk king nonsense that may, or may not begin to make cents, or even a few dollars, but if you haul her at me from behind de white collar wash 2 a shine fence, with a doll or, even two to go and tell the L out of your b... no, just tell them two links me up and go tell someone else a boat #dis poem. Which is a nonsense poem, that could bee quite something for another day. Hey, one more thing b 4 I've got 2 say good buy and go on to my, oh, mine. Don't leave me a loan here two cry, b sure you book market and come back a gain, quickly. Bring a friend to share hits after hits with them, ten queue. 

Let's get mediocre and done. With you.