Bryan Stanley Johnson
Biography of Bryan Stanley Johnson
Bryan Stanley Johnson (5 February 1933 – 13 November 1973) was an English experimental novelist, poet, literary critic, producer of television programmes and filmmaker.
Born into a working class family, Johnson was evacuated from London during World War II and left school at sixteen to work variously as an accounting clerk, bank junior and clerk at Standard Oil Company. However, he taught himself Latin in the evenings, attended a year's pre-university course at Birkbeck College and, with this preparation, managed to pass the university entrance exam for King's College London.
Bryan Stanley Johnson Poems
Conditions Of Living
Living a whole life has three conditions: absorbing work which demands and brings fulfilment, a group of friends with whom to excahnge minds, and a full love to be lost in all the time.
My son finds occupation in almost nothing, in everything: my soapy penitential toothpaste, his mother's loosened hair
Where Is The Sprinkler Stop Valve?
Urinating in a urinal I try at first directly to jet down a fruitfly then see random sprinkling
He smashed his hand in opening a door for her, and less pain than embarrassment shrieked through him.
The decorously informative church Guide to Sex suggested that any urge could well be controlled by playing tennis: and the game provided also "many
The Short Fear
My awkward grossness grows: I go down, through I maintain my self in the conviction that I have as much to say as others
In The Ember Days Of My Last Free Summer
In the ember days of my last free summer, here I lie, outside myself, watching the gross body eating a poor curry: satisfied at what I have done, scared of what
I have no children: But tonight a poem came in which a small child,
Blaney's Last Directions
It is usual for people in this country (out of pretended respect but rather from an impertinent curiosity)
Evening: Barents Sea
The trawl of unquiet mind drops astern Great lucid streamers bar the sky ahead (bifurcated banners at a tourney)
The Thames At Mortlake
if only for ten minutes after the mass feeding of schoolchildren after the careful inanity of the staff
Nine Stages Towards Knowing
Why do we lie ’Why do we lie,’ she questioned, her warm eyes on the grey Autumn wind and its coursing,
For A Girl In A Book
Kim, composite of all my loves, less real than most, more real than all; of my making, all the good and some of the bad, yet of yourself;
Walking, snow falling, it is possible to focus at various distances in turn on separate flakes, sharply engage the attention at several spatial points:
Evening: Barents Sea
The trawl of unquiet mind drops astern
Great lucid streamers bar the sky ahead
(bifurcated banners at a tourney)
light alchemizes the brass on the bridge
into sallow gold
now the short northern
autumn day closes quickly