Old Spice is Nice

KAPOW!

2012-02-02T00:29:00.004-05:00

I was recently published in a monthly 'zine run by my college called KAPOW! Named respectively for the writing group on campus.

Blooper Reel

2012-01-30T10:45:00.003-05:00

The editing process forces one to make hard choice. Some poems, though you feel fond of them, just don't fit, transition or sound right within the collection. These are the outtakes from Night Poems. *queue laugh track*

18:02

Christmas lights

Alone and distant.

Their screams and yells

Have faded into thoughts.

Snowflake memories

Too dark to see.

03:09

Bottles to bottles;

Breasts to more breasts.

Learning to speak,

Regretting your words.

Crawling away,

Forgetting to walk.

Crying for everything,

Crying for something.

Soft food to hard food

And back to soft food.

The cycle’s as ugly as

It’s less than beautiful.

04:48

My wallet and my mind

are drained. The weekend’s

hit its end. And so have I.

Sleep is rushing in.

I feel the current

Pulling me.

I can’t resist,

Don’t feel the need.

It’s comfortable and

Beautiful like death.

01:27

I’ve left my consciousness in pieces

A little here, a little here,

Stashed in mothballs,

Jammed underneath the bed

Between a floorboard

With my tell-tale heart.

You see cobwebs in the attic,

I see neurons clinging to a surface

That I left behind.

03:25

Some of us are dying.

Right now.

You might know a few.

You might know more.

You might not care.

It might brush off.

But never stay off.

Feel your pulse.

It’s ticking down.

Your heart’s a clock

With broken hands.

05:31

Selective cataracts blur visions

In my memory. Fog sifts, distorts

Refusing to blank out completely

Mistakes that I have made.

I think it almost would be worth forgetting

And repeating just to feel my conscience clear

Itself as if a taped confession recorded

Over with smooth jazz.

Burning Man

2012-01-27T09:53:00.002-05:00

Ionce heard a burning picture

Leftan imprint in the sky.

Somethingless than smoke signals

Butmore than vague-shaped clouds.

Energyis transferred not destroyed

I’dlike to think and somewhere

You’restill crying

I’mnot laughing.

Hopefully the Craziest Thing You've Read Today

2012-01-25T00:25:00.001-05:00

Heathcliff

Heathcliff had a list. It wasn’t for groceries or school supplies. The paper wasn’t college ruled. In fact, the dimensions and texture provedquite mind boggling. It looked burnt. How and why Heathcliff wrote on it or saw anything he put down was a prevalentobservation. Rumors started it wasjoke-shop parchment used to cheat on tests. But he never had it out during tests and a teacher couldn’t easily misssomething so easily distinguishable.

The real reason for the paper was far more fantastic thanany perceived. Heathcliff was practicing an ancient form of sorcery. Being on the smart and quiet side he hadnever quite fit in. This led others topick on him. Sorcery seemed to thus haveall the answers. He could get hisrevenge clandestinely with seemingly no chance of retribution. You might bethinking of old movies where magic comes back with equal force on theconjurer. Heathcliff was much too smartfor this. The negative energy was instead channeled to a generator and soldback as clean power to the local electrical cooperative. His parents got a tax deduction and everyonewas happy; except his enemies that is.

Josh Bautista woke up one morning to find his head twotimes smaller than normal. At first he was elated, thinking a new workout andmuscle supplements had finally paid off. Any illusions, however, were broken as it continued gettingsmaller. His girlfriend Millie literallygasped and fainted as she saw him walking to his locker that day, thinking himbeheaded. It was seemingly a large priceto pay for questioning Heathcliff’s argument in Social Studies. How dare he deny my claim the world ismetaphorically flat!

By all accounts, Josh had had it relatively easy. Rob Mullins was debating in speech class whenfor seemingly no reason he took down green curtains from the window, garbed himself andpretended to be Robin Hood. The principal was called in immediately but Robrefused to back down. He insistedPrincipal was short for Prince John and demanded his lands back. When pressuredfurther he ran out the door into a nearby forest shouting for his merry men. Heathcliff finally achieved his revenge forlosing the third-grade Spelling Bee. No one will remember accordion had two “c’s”!

Somewhere between shrunken heads and English folkloreHeathcliff realized sorcery could benefit himself in the same ways it harmedJosh and Rob. He wrote his name on theparchment underneath the others with the intention of becoming a shrimp; agraceful creature he had long admired. Unfortunately, for Heathcliff that particular marine animal was on theschool lunch menu and he became an exceptionally large cocktail.

And Now a Knock Knock Joke!

2012-01-24T21:04:00.001-05:00

Knock knock.

Who's there?

A rapist.

A rapist who?

A rapist who went through a traumatic childhood and needs to exert control to feel empowered.

... I'm calling the police.

Forever Still

2012-01-22T20:06:00.002-05:00

I’d hold that minute

With my lips forever

Still and wishing how

Our hands weren’t

Tied to other hands;

Black and skeletal

While ticking down

And showing no remorse.

If only time would slow

As hearts sped up;

Kisses lasting for as long

As memories sustaining us

Between them.

Gnome More War

2012-01-21T22:10:00.000-05:00

It was a Sunday morning and far from curious. Some were mowing lawns, others reading papers; the normal malaise. No one suspected anymore than sunshine and even at that very pleasant sunshine. Mr. Plant was complaining loudly on the davenport about the stock market in lieu of other things to yell over. His wife ignored him as she looked at invoices regarding a pilates business she was starting. Neither knew much of the other's affairs. Mrs. Plant assumed Mr. Plant spent his day working over new advertising strategies for companies teetering on the edge of collapse. Mr. Plant assumed Mrs. Plant was fighting a pointless battle for fitness; everybody ends up fat, he thought, why fight it? In a strange coincidence, however, so unlike the day we now find them, Mr. and Mrs. Plant could not have been more different from each other's expectations.

Mr. Gregory Joseph Zinfandel Plant could not have cared less about the stock market. He was a devout liberal with a cover. It seemed the perfect allusion; a middle-aged, stodgy, boring conservative business man. In truth, he wanted to slap his more ignorant peers. They were so against helping anyone but themselves with tax dollars. But he couldn't let on he differed in the slightest. No one suspected him of illicit activities involving the liberation of garden gnomes; not his wife, not the neighbors, not even the government.

Mrs. Regina Georgia Lays-Potato Chips Plant was the opposite as well of what she seemed. Pilates disgusted her. Quite often she mumbled over the hippie shit she endured to further her cause. Does this dress make my butt look big? Is my wasteline smaller than before? Isn't the Prius soo ecological? Mrs. Plant found her self hearing on a daily basis. She wanted to shout that their asses always looked big; their wastelines were equators and the Prius couldn't make it through a windy day. But she held back. Her real life was a crusade against garden gnomes. For years he had worked behind the scenes, imprisoning the filthy creatures into plastic and selling them at maximum profit.

Yet, both were similar in one respect; neither could have contemplated the hoard of heavily armed gnomes soon marching past their kitchen window. Mr. Plant was outraged less at the occurrence than at the timing. This was not what he had in mind. Weapons were given with instructions to overthrow the authorities covertly. Mrs. Plant had assumed them all in plastic; her life's work nearing completion.

"I've got to, um, go," said Mr. Plant, getting up off the sofa and quickly to the door. She ran after him. The outside air was rich with the smell of gunpowder. Indeed, it appeared cannonballs had smashed the roofs of several unsuspecting neighbors.

"How did the despicable vermin manage to break their plastic encasement?" Mrs. Plant thought loudly to herself. The words were not missed by Mr. Plant, who had long suspected agents watching him.

"YOU!"

"What's the matter hunny?"

"You are responsible for the enslavement of millions!"

"Oh, please. These pests running about? It's a good thing we were taking care of them or else we would never have a moment's piece; always running around, organizing gardens against the owner's wills and what not."

"They are prideful creatures respecting beauty and the proper order! I've worked years to liberate them!"

"YOU! You're responsible for the counter insurgency!?"

The gnomes had stopped marching and were now watching with interest. Their greatest supporter and their greatest rival stood before them.

"Carry away the wench!" said one, "and crown the king!"

A few last shots were fired before the gnomes converged on Mrs. Plant. They tied her up as Mr. Plant said little of it. He waited for the crown before giving his first orders. It was a lovely gold with jewels embedded along the topmost prongs.

"My first order as King is a pardon," he said.

The gnomes laughed derisively. Mr. Plant had obviously misunderstood something.

"King is a ceremonial position. You have no power. The wench will live the rest of her soon-to-be agonizing life in the dungeons!"

"The wench is my wife!"

"Then you can join her!"

"Fine!"

"Too late. She's already taken her cyanide capsule.""

"What!?"

Mrs. Plant was dead and Mr. Plant seeing his lifework a conspiracy and farce took off his crown. His neighborhood was burning; the fires spreading to God knows how many others. What had he unleashed?

"Please, stop all this! We're sorry we hurt you!"

"Apology accepted, but, unfortunately, it's our turn to be sorry."

Negotiation was useless. Mr. Plant had one option; the same as Mrs. Plant's. He bit down on a capsule and transcended to the oneness of the universe he used to think he felt while doing acid.

Night Poems in Paperback (Today!)

2012-01-19T19:00:00.000-05:00

So, great news on the book front. You can get it in paperback right now! It will still be a few before it's up on Amazon BUT Createspace has it here! If you get it you can always mail it to me and I can sign it too :-) Just shoot me an email and I'll send you my address.

Also, on AMAZON! YEAH!

2012-01-19T17:39:00.003-05:00

Much <3 to the most magnificent Marion.

Also this lovely moonflower.

I don't think anyone's ever left a book a better review.

Unmasking the night from gloaming to dawn, Ben Ditmars' "Night Poems" shimmer and shine like sky diamonds in the black velvety heavens. From silvery moonlight references to a magical firefly's elusive glimmer, each and every poem illuminates the mind's dark corners and startle in their beauty and lucidity.

I thoroughly enjoyed each of the 29 short poems, titled with a time. One of my favorite poems is "02:20:

"a night so dead
the lights are off
playing footsie with the moon somewhere
beneath the clouds.

dim paths will unwind themselves as
street signs stretch and yawn."

If you like heartfelt, sincere, vibrant poetry, then you'll love these gems by Mr. Ditmars. I highly recommend "Night Poems". I can't wait to read more of his awesome poetry.

Night Poems

2012-01-18T10:33:00.000-05:00

So, the chapbook of poetry is on Kindle and soon to paperback! I decided to go with the file name I initially tagged it with as a title. You can always read more about it in the Bücher tab as well as check out my other works. But on another note a sincere thank you to my loyal commentators. You keep me writing and I love you. Hugs all around.

Also, Fern wrote a truly wonderful poem for me on her blog, Feigning Fern. You should check it out. Or else. I'll take the hug back. Just joshing I wouldn't do that. It won't be as tight though. Okay, I can't promise that either. But check out her site.

Perspectives on the Fate of Jodie Hicks

2012-01-17T18:42:00.000-05:00

"I saw him take a hammer and a box of nails. No one ever saw him again."

"My brother said he was going to find Jodie Hicks. He had just had his heart broken for the umpteenth time."

"Don't judge me too harshly, but I dated him for a few months. It didn't work out. We weren't right for each other. It was no reason for him to walk into the woods and never come back."

"They say he built some type of fortress for the broken hearted."

"I don't think it's a fortress. He just wanted to get away for a while and other people started showing up. You know how things go viral."

"The truth is no one's seen any evidence Jodie built a damn thing. The boy couldn't hammer a nail to save his life."

"Don't listen to the naysayers. I was out hunting deer one day and I saw it! A giant fortress if I ever saw one. People fawning all over Jodie."

"It's rumored the police found a body that looked a lot like him. They couldn't confirm the identity but the sanest of us feel it settles the outlandish stories that keep cropping up."

"The body was Ricky Smith's. It says so right in the police report and his own mother identified him. Jodie Hicks is alive!"

"Helicopters didn't find anything but I'm still on the fence. It's nice to think he found some comfort and all those crazy people looking for him did too."

"It might be a cult. I don't know. Jodie was always more of a follower than a leader."

"The girl that did it to him? That's up for debate. Some say it was Martha Higgins, I say it was Cindy Lucas. Cindy had a bad habit of using up men and leaving them dry. She would say it was Martha though and Martha would say it's Cindy. It's how these things tend to go."

"They were all over each other. I never saw him leave Martha's side. You'd think they were attached at the lips or something."

"If he loved Martha so much why did he go to prom with Cindy?"

"She didn't show up; they never went. I think it was the embarrassment that drove him to it as much as the broken heart."

"If you want truth, forget romantic ideas of forts in the woods. His neighbors said they heard a gunshot after he walked off. Wishful thinking is the only thing keeping him alive."

"I still hear his voice when I go walking. I guess you never get over losing a child. Still, I don't think I could bear knowing for sure. It's better to imagine him away seeing the same sunrise in the morning, being around those other lost souls that truly understand his pain."

Funeral Soup

2012-01-14T16:03:00.000-05:00

My grandma had a recipe;

If you’ve heard of wedding soup,

Well, this was something different.

She made it when someone kicked the bucket.

I knew when relatives were gone,

As 5AM brought garlic wafting

To my room. It wasn’t pleasant

And I guess that was the point.

Funeral soup was meant she said

To make us thankful. We joked

We’d rather have the coffin

Than the soup. I never realized

How much I appreciated the

Gesture until the day grandma

Herself took ill and died.

It’s impossible to say how

Sad I was that she was gone.

But I knew precisely what

She would have done.

I found an old pot of hers

Under the sink and went to work

With garlic and whatever I could find.

A half-hour past before I tasted it.

Something in the soup was missing.

I leaned closer and a tear fell in.

It tasted like it always had.

Repost from the Raving Moonbat: A Comic I Drew

2012-01-12T07:11:00.000-05:00

This is a post from my other more political blog Raving Moonbat. Enjoy!

The Fall

2012-01-10T17:02:00.001-05:00

I grew up in a place without trees. There was no grass. Yards were concrete and we dreamed offlowers. Sometimes my brother and Iwould draw them with chalk. It wasn’tthe same. We had only ever seen pictureson the TV; they were vibrant, beautiful and far away. I sometimes touched the pixelated petals,imagining them soft, fragrant, in a vase or garden I could touch.

Seasons never came. In the same way we dreamed of flowers we dreamed of snow or autumnleaves. A long time ago children madesnow angels, leapt into piles of fresh foliage. There was a oneness with nature in the old films.

I will never forget the day that it was almost autumn. My brother and I had finished downloadingeducation for the day into our cerebral processors when it happened. A leaf blew into the yard, just visible outour window. We rushed to see itcloser. Another fell and thenanother. It was a beautifulspectacle. I raced my brother out thedoor.

Like children from another century piles of dark browncrinkled leaves lay before us. I ran with all the speed I could gather andjumped.

Strangely, it was not the sensation I imagined. I coughed as black dust stung my eyes. My clothes lit up with the tiniest embers. The sky was black and growing blacker. From the distance a factory of immenseproportions loomed. Our leaves weren’tleaves but paper burnt and littered on the ground.

Two Poems, One Man

2012-01-07T04:37:00.003-05:00

Ice-Skate

swift electrons

do your dance around

the protons on the floor;

share your charge,

become as one.

somehow, two, three places

at a time– impossible but true.

so like me and you.

fireflies gather,

mate in moonbeams

from the starry sky.

millions, trillions, gazillions–

though it isn’t counted as a numeral

we need it with quintillion too;

so like me and you.

fingers, pulses shake or beat

depending on the rhythm in the air,

the chill or closeness that we feel.

one last melody might leave them blue;

so like me and you.

Down the Drain

We all go down the drain;

It’s just how long we’re circling

In filth before the fatal dive

Down leaky pipes to hell;

Rivers, lakes and oceans of vast

Nothing but more sewage.

Sickened fish; marred life,

Deformed, intoxicated

Greet us as the demons we created;

Neglected, tortured, molded

Into being less than nature,

More than us.

Repost from the Raving Moonbat: Word Verification Fail

2012-01-06T04:49:00.002-05:00

This is a post from my other more political blog Raving Moonbat. Enjoy!

Satan for a Girl

2012-01-03T03:40:00.002-05:00

He sold his soul to Satan for a girl.

But Satan never owned her soul;

Perhaps her body from the way she looked.

God does beautiful; he can't do that

Lips, tits, hips- the way, her hair swung back;

Seduction's always been the Devil's work?

But the love-sick, scrawny, no-chance-on-earth-but-maybe-hell

Prepubescent adolescent was willing to try anything to have his way.

A soul meant nothing, he was horny. It was obvious who came

Out ahead if he bartered it way. The Devil was a sucker.

Ha ha ha the teen laughed as he sacrificed rabbits, cats, squirrels,

Whatever roadkill or vermin he could get his well-lotioned hands on

In a pentagram drawn on the floor with black candles burning incense -

It smelled so terrible the Prince of Darkness had to like it.

Flames coalesced to form a figure in the darkness and dim light.

Embers smouldered into arms, shoulders, face, hair and breasts?

Much to his chagrin the Devil was a woman like in a movie he had seen,

Was it the remake or original? It didn't matter. He was screwed.

But not in a good way like he wanted with that D-cup hottie.

"I know what you want," she, the devil, said with fire.

The teenager could only stare. He wasn't thinking of her.

Satan was suddenly the only thing he'd ever desired.

"I want you," he found himself saying in a strange moment of courage,

And even stranger moment of speaking to a woman.

"Come with me if you've forgotten the other girl."

"What other girl?" He asked quite truthfully and

Took her hand. It burned as if a branding.

But the teenager could care less; he would have his sex.

And nothing else mattered.

Choose My Book Title!

2012-01-01T23:03:00.001-05:00

Hello loves, I was thinking of a way I could involve everyone in a fun post for the New Year. It hit while writing night poems for my new book. Since, I have no real title I thought I'd write some ideas down here and let you, the beautiful, sexy reader choose one or give your own. Here's what's going through my head.

Bat Ben and the Joker aka Writer's Block

Writings from a Hopper Nighthawk

Nocturnal Admissions

When It's Dark

Moonbeam Baby

Star Tissue in a Battered Sky

A Pen and a Streetlight

Gecko Stops the Cricket Chirp

The Box

2011-12-30T01:48:00.002-05:00

I play in the box

When reality fails expectations

And I need lift to outer space.

I play in the box

To remind myself that growing old

Takes being young.

I play in the box;

I hide away and be myself

Through crayons and glue.

A New Series?

2011-12-29T05:25:00.000-05:00

The Old Man and the Alien

An old man seeking companionship and an alien learning what it is to be human.

This is their story.

Old Man: It isn't just about conquering this planet and that planet. There's a lot more to existence than blasting down lifeforms with your ray gun.

Alien: Like what?

Old Man: Like sunsets, love and all that junk.

Alien: I have a collection of sunsets.

Old Man: In your memory?

Alien: No, I stole them. [Silence.] What's love though?

Old Man: Love's a lot of things to a lot of people.

Alien: I have complications processing your vague platitudes.

Old Man: All right, all right. Don't have to go thinking you're smarter than me.

Alien: But I am. My IQ exceeds your own by far more than the distance I've traveled.

Old Man: Then why are you here?

Alien: Because...

Old Man: Knowledge clearly isn't everything?

Alien: Yes. And I'm terrible empty as vast as it may be.

Old Man: That's right. So shut up and listen for a change. Love can't be quantified; it can't be learned, absorbed or rationalized by any of the little doodads on your spaceship.

Alien: They're called gravitational distortion regulators.

Old Man: Whatever. The point is humans have a connection to one another beyond logic.

Alien: Is that why there's war?

Old Man: Hell no, there's war because one person wants some shit another has. We'll cover that next time. Love is between a man and a woman, or if you're my grandson a man and a man.

Alien: It's not always for procreation?

Old Man: Have you seen all them ankle biters trolling around out there? You think we need more?

Alien: But would it not be logical to simply expand into another solar system?

Old Man: We don't have the money for that.

Alien: Yes, I find that curious as well. My species worked together for the common good of expanding into space.

Old Man: Yeah and that's why you aren't human.

Alien: I don't understand.

Old Man: I don't expect you to.

Alien: Does it tie into love?

Old Man: No, it ties into war. People don't like to share if they can help it. Which I guess, ties into love too.

Alien: How?

Old Man: Well love is pretty selfish. You want one person and they want you. Ideally.

Alien: Wow. I read nothing in the database explaining this.

Old Man: That's your first mistake. Go out and live!

Alien: Are you suggesting I copulate with an earth female?

Old Man: Slow down, tiger. Try polite conversation first.

Alien: Which would be?

Old Man: Damn, I've got so much to learn you, boy...

to be continued...

The Legend of Joe Briggs

2011-12-28T00:01:00.000-05:00

My shot at a folk tale.

*****

Joe Briggs walked out of the polling place. It was clear he wouldn’t be gone long fromthe look of him. He was positivelyfuming; maybe even a little drunk. Thevolunteer had told him in no uncertain terms his identification was out of dateand unusable. When he asked how much anew ID would be the worker had told him $40-50 easy. Joe mumbled something about poll tax but thevolunteer was adamant. State orders hadcome down with strict requirements to prevent fraud. Joe asked what fraud there’d ever been. She wasn’t amused. The volunteer threatened to call the police;Joe threatened worse.

The rest had happened so fast no one was exactly surewhat went down. The poll worker was out cold with a black eyeon the table and Joe was speeding off in his pick-up truck. In a few minutes the police arrived,surrounded the building and began questioning people. The volunteer told them Joe’s name but theother people present gave no clue as to where he might have gone.

Things quickly escalated as the police wanted to examine the voting apparatus. They claimed it may have been tampered within the chaos. Everyone knew it was bunkand an obvious power grab.

People surrounded the voting machines. A cop fired his weapon in the air. Several flinched but all managed to holdtheir ground. A tense situation onlybecame tenser as Joe pulled up outside with reinforcements. His truck bed was full of good ole boys withautomatic weapons. The police had a fewhandguns between them at best.

An officer considered calling in the SWAT but in a scenereminiscent of the old West, Joe Briggs kicked down the door and shot the radioclean out of his hand. The rest of theofficers didn’t take long to surrender after the fact. They were outnumbered, outgunned and scaredshitless from the looks of ‘em.

All the authorities could do was watch as Joe leteveryone inside to vote. He still madesure no one cheated but he was fair about it. At the end of the night he even let the cops cast their vote, providedthey didn’t report anything.

Books

2011-12-27T03:49:00.001-05:00

Books are my friends

they won’t run away,

stop loving me. I hold them

and they don’t complain.

we spend hours talking,

traveling our worlds–

they take me through theirs

and I, through mine.

It’s unconventional but…

I proposed to ink and paper

with a paper ring and she wrote yes.

And Now The Night Before Christmas!

2011-12-24T23:09:00.001-05:00

'Twasthe night before Christmas, when all through the net

Not a blogger was stirring, not even Zeba;

The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,

In hopes that Punk Chopsticks soonwould be there;

Annie and Marion were nestled snug in their beds,

While visions of rhyme schemes dancedin their heads;

And Shreya in her 'kerchief, and Jack in his cap,

Had just settled their blogs for a long winter's nap,

When out by the laptop there arose such a clatter,

Wander sprang from his bed to seewhat was the matter.

Away to the computer he flew like a sprite,

Tore open the browser and keyed up the site.

The moon background on the breast of the digital snow

Gave the lustre of mid-day to icons below,

When, what to his wandering eyesshould appear,

But a brand new post about eight tiny reindeer

With a Chinese-Malaysian typist, so lively and quick,

He knew in a moment it must be PunkChopsticks.

To My Baby Niece, Isabella

2011-12-24T03:33:00.001-05:00

You are young, so young

that failure seems impossible.

I pray you always find it is.

Some of us won’t make our dreams

Come true. I know you will.

You’re free to cry.

You’re free to think and be.

You’re more than me.

You’re you.

What Does Your Blog Say About You?

2011-12-23T05:23:00.000-05:00

May I present the alphabet poem prompt. I don't know if anyone will follow my lead with this, but I think it would be an interesting reflection on our selves if we created an alphabet poem on what our blogs say about who we are. So, I'll give it the first go.

Nitwitty
Impeccable, incredible
Craftsman of the
Esoteric.

Omnipotent
Lover of the
Droll.

Supercalifragilisticex
Pialiocious
Ice cream lover
Cracked out on
Entertaining self.

My Bad Luck with Fortune Cookies

2011-12-22T05:44:00.001-05:00

Maybe I should stop opening these cookies but being the masochist I am, here's yet another installment. Once again, the others at my table got encouraging words and I got this:

People forget how fast you did a job-but they remember how well you did it.

It would appear the cookie gods have a problem with my work ethic. Not everyone can devote their time to making stale rocks, I guess. Maybe if you spent a little more time crafting your confections they would taste a lot better. But, no, I'm doing my job fast and not cranking out five-hundred boxes a minute.

Another Book Poem

2011-12-21T00:53:00.002-05:00

00:50

Night is:

The sun below horizon after dusk;

Dwarf star replaced by rock;

Sleep time for the passive,

Adventure for the daring.

Darkness in the eyes;

A white light in the soul

Guiding us through wind and rain.

Kindle

2011-12-19T05:17:00.000-05:00

Does anyone have a Kindle? If so, you have a brand new way to read the Spice! That's right. Nice Old Spice is now available for subscription on your Amazon Kindle. Unfortunately, it's $0.99 a month. They wouldn't let me make it free. But, if you want to try out something new, look no further! Also, there's still my novel if you haven't read it. Wink, wink. It's in paperback too. Double wink wink (that's four whole winks, c'mon).

Unemployment Rate Hits 100%

2011-12-18T18:40:00.002-05:00

No one is quite sure how it happened. It may have been the result of a double diprecession turned depression; it may have been banks continuing to investheavily in Europe. Either way, itappears one-hundred percent of Americans are now unemployed. The super-rich are even out of jobs, asnearly every company has failed or is in the process of bankruptcy. Farmers have stopped harvesting; governmentemployees have been suspended indefinitely. Even this reporter is freelancing this story, hoping desperately forbuyers in a hopeless market. Basicutilities across the board have become imperiled as well. Power and water facilities have no one to runthem, and no money to operate. Storeslong since looted, city-dwellers are taking to growing their own food fromseeds in the parking lots and abandoned buildings most have holed up in. The President of the United States, long thelast individual receiving a salary, recently resigned as his cabinet had monthsbefore. He is now currently residing ina dumpster outside the Capitol Building. His cardboard sign says THE END IS NEAR. And he may just be right.

Pepto-Bismol

2011-12-16T04:27:00.000-05:00

Over the course of the week I've gotten several Facebook ads from Pepto-Bismol mentioning by birthday These are just a few:

"You have a birthday coming up. And no one knows better than Pepto how things can get out of hand."

"Hey, you don't have to have Pepto handy at your birthday gala. You also don't have to have snacks. Or drinks. Or fun."

"Happy birthday. If you had a Like button we'd Like you. But you don't. So instead, a friendly reminder: if you overdo it, Pepto's got you covered."

Happy Birthday to Me

2011-12-15T22:58:00.002-05:00

My birthday's in about an hour. I could be celebrating but I wrote this poem instead:

*****

I feel my head aching

and I see gray hairs;

brain matter seeps

through roots and

takes away my color.

I was once bright red

but now am faded to

the contrast of the wind.

When did I become a

wispy cloud of storms

with no mobility that I control?

The earth pulls me along,

shaping me to forms

those below can only guess.

I could be bitter but I’m tasteless

and your tongue is numb.

Pebbles in the Lake

2011-12-14T19:53:00.000-05:00

Pebbles in the lake are

Children of boulders

Sinking to the sand and

Seeing hazy sunlight

Through the surface.

Segmented beams

Become a glow at night

For those embedded,

Unable to escape.

We dream in stasis

As the fish swim by

And divers brush their hands;

Bring warmth in long,

Forgotten crevices.

An Open Letter to Ben Ditmars from Death

2011-12-13T00:48:00.001-05:00

Hey, I bet you think I'm losing my touch? No chance! I've killed two-hundred kittens in the last hour. Thank Satan for Red Bull! I don't give up, I don't take no prisoners! Okay, okay, if I have something really important to do I might take a few. You know like when a rerun of Seinfeld happens to be on. I just love that Kramer guy. Hey, he wasn't racist then! He wasn't dammit! Don't tell me what to like! The point is, you made me look like a chump Ben. People are going to start jumping off buildings for fun now, just to mock me. What!? They already do? There's no way that's a sport! I suppose they leap out of airplanes too for the thrill of it? Mother-fuckers! I've obviously got a lot of fear left to strike into the hearts of the human population. Oh, wait. Fox News has me covered. Their viewers fear me ALL the time; from immigrants, leftists and all sorts of dark-skinned people. Honestly they don't even have to be a race apart from whites; they just need to spend an hour at a tanning bed and Hannity will devote a show to taking their rights away. All right, I should wrap this up. I guess I won't kill you, Ben. For now.

The Deal with Death

2011-12-12T01:02:00.001-05:00

Death drew its scythe,

Slashed the air,

Absorbed the warmth,

But Tim refused to budge.

Not yet, hesaid.

Then when?Death drawled.

When…white flowers grow

On trees in earlySpring

And there’s theslightest chill,

But still the sun,warming just enough

Yet not too much.And I am old;

Stretched too faracross my years,

Feeling thin whileat the same time wide.

Knowing that myblood and words live on

Though Icannot. I’ll be ready then.

Death laughed, smiling through

The empty void within its cloak.

Deal, it said, you’ll be ready then

And I’ll be there.

Tim shook the bony hand

As Death diminished.

He left his bed in tears

Of joy, walking home to see

His family; healthy, whole,

With years and years ahead of him.

Graduations, great-great grandchildren,

Weddings, kisses in the rain were his.

Rolling in the autumn leaves gave way

To making snow angels, putting up the

Christmas tree. But spring was just around

The corner and Tim knew it.

White flowers grew

On trees as he felt the slightest chill,

But still the sun, warming just enough

Yet not too much. And he was old;

Stretched too far across his years,

Feeling thin while at the same time wide.

It’s time, hethought. But where is death?

The hooded specter was nowhere to be seen.

Tim shrugged and started walking toward

The woods. He never noticed he had left

His body far behind.

Ben Stone from Knocked Up

2011-12-10T02:22:00.001-05:00

‎"Love? The most beautiful, shiny, warmy thing in the world? You can't accept pure love? You can't accept Debbie? She's chosen to give you her life. She's picked you as her life partner! But you play fantasy baseball because you can't accept her love? I could accept it, man. And Debbie's amazing, man. She's cool and she's funny and she smells good and she's nice and her hair always looks different. She's too good for you, man. You're disgusting. You know, you're an urchin. And she busts your balls 'cause you're a little bitch. You're a filthy bitch! And I'd bust your balls. Debbie wants to give her life to you, and Allison doesn't want to do that with me. And it makes me sad all day."*

*Hopefully this full quote will show up on Google now.

My Bad Luck with Fortune Cookies

2011-12-09T13:02:00.000-05:00

I'm a glutton for punishment so I went out with my dad for Chinese food. We got clever though. This time we switched cookies, hoping to trick fate and give me an encouraging fortune. It was one step ahead of us. My dad got ended up with:

No need to worry, you will always have everything that you need.

I bet you're wondering what I got. Remember that scene in Jumanji when the boy tried cheating and the boardgame made him grow a tail? Yeah, kind of like that.

Self-respect is the root of discipline.

Yes, yes, I know what you're thinking. "I respect Ben, he's so cool." But don't! Buddha will come on you like a golden statue. I don't have self-respect and I will never be Kung-fu Panda. Also, something about discipline.

Butterfly Poem Inspired by Shreya

2011-12-08T00:18:00.001-05:00

I was reading a post on Shreya's blog Carté Blanche about her photography and thought of some lines for a poem. Thank you for the inspiration, Shreya! Everyone be sure and check out her blog,

The butterfly will make you wait to spread its wings

Because it knows your time is worth it.

You see it fly away but it keeps watching,

Hoping that you’ll do the same.

That human’s wingscould touch the sky!

If only they stopped looking at the ground...

If the World were an Insurance Company...

2011-12-07T19:16:00.001-05:00

“Poison controlwill now transfer you to the drain cleaner department. Please listen to the musicwhile your party is reached. I’m hooked on a feeling, I’m high on believing! You used Liquid Plumber, correct? Transferring you to the Liquid Plumberdepartment. Please listen to the musicwhile your party is reached. I close myeyes only for a moment and the moment’s gone! Dust in the wind! Before we give any more advice, we’retransferring you to claims. Please listento the music while your party is reached. Karma karma karma karma karmachameleon, you come and go, you come and go! Your claim number is 109998. Transferring you back to the Liquid Plumber department. Please listen to the music while your partyis reached. Are you going to Scarborough Fair? Parsley,sage, rosemary and thyme. Remember me toone who lives there, she was once a true love of mine. Sorry, it turns out your claim did not gothrough. Are you still there? The nerve of these dying people, I swear!”

Parental Info on DirecTV

2011-12-06T03:52:00.001-05:00

DirecTV offers info on practically every show for parents. I do mean, just about every show. Not only that but they have family discussion questions for the very worst of them. You know the ones kids should not be near at all, let alone with sane parents? Well, these are a few of the best.

Beavis andButt-Head

All right, Billy, we're going to watch Beavis and Butt-Head and then we're having an intellectual discussion on its relevance to society. Think really hard on the issues it presents. Did you just laugh when I said hard? God dammit, Billy!

Families can talk about role models. Do you expect tofind positive role models in the shows you watch? Which ones exist? Whataspects of their behavior impress you? Do you think their characteristics aretransferrable to the real world? Teens: Why do you think this show has beenremade? Does it offer any positive content for viewers? Is its comedy stylesimilar to any other show you watch? Do you find it funny? Are you familiarwith the MTV shows that are highlighted in Beavis and Butt-head? If not, areyou more inclined to watch them after seeing the clips here? How doesintermingling shows like this serve as advertising? Do you think that factoredinto the plans for this series?

MANswers
Daddy really likes this show. We're going to figure out why.

Families can talk about what it means to treat otherpeople with respect. Does this show treat its subjects respectfully? Does itmatter whether subjects are willingly participating in the issues and eventsthe show covers (dwarf tossing, for example)? What messages does the show sendabout sex, alcohol, and other hot-button issues? Do you think producers hopeteens will watch? Why or why not?

1,000 Ways to Die

Fictitious representations of death aren't teaching you anything. We laugh at real people's problems in this family. Even if they don't always live through it.

Families can talk about the pros and cons of featuringaccidents and/or deaths on a reality show. Is it ever OK to treat these eventsas a source of entertainment? Does it make a difference if the stories arepresented within the context of educating viewers? Families can also talkdiscuss how death and dying are treated in mainstream American culture. Did youknow that some cultures incorporate death as a major part of life? How doesthis show treat its subjects?

The RealHousewives of Atlanta

Jessica, with any luck this will be your life someday. Jessica? JESSICA!? Put down that book on the LSAT!!

Families can talk about the appeal of watching showsabout wealthy, elite members of society. Why do you think the Real Housewivesfranchise is so successful? What kinds of messages do these shows send aboutpeople who have money? Do you think people really want to be like them? Whatwould be the hardest part about living like these people? The easiest? Familiescan also discuss some of the featured on the show. Some of them talk abouttheir troubled pasts. How do you think that impacts the way they live theirlives?

Also, on a final note, they had this to say about Spongebob Squarepants:

‎"Parents need to know that this cartoon includes violent, dark satirical humor that will confuse kids who can't separate fantasy and reality."

Yes Spongebob is violent and dark and a mockery of sponges everywhere. He will corrupt your mind as he washes your dishes. Beware!

Why the Young Feel Old

2011-12-05T19:04:00.001-05:00

It isn't that we’ve wore our bones,

Fast paced our hearts to cardiac arrest.

There’s something subtler at work

Resting deep within our corneas;

A jaded iris of self-doubt

Disconnected from the optic nerve.

We see but we don’t care;

We laugh at hope and all things pure;

Innocence and love and dreams yet still

It hurts to meet the ones whose cynicism

Lie ahead for them like rattlesnakes that warn

When pride is greater than the odds.

Eve v. God

2011-12-04T00:31:00.000-05:00

Eve sued God today in federal court for damages citedunder the Americans with Disabilities Act. “Iwas a diabetic,” she said in a recent press release. “I couldn’t just turn down an apple with myblood sugar the way it was.”

The defense counters Eve was not an American citizen atthe time of the incident and therefore not entitled to the act’sprotection. Her lawyers responded shewas the mother of all Americancitizens. The defense paused for thoughtat having heard this and proceeded to scratch their heads at a loss for words.

“Her and Adam’s eviction,” Eve’s lawyer stated, “wasunwarranted, unethical and illegal. Would God have kicked a paraplegic out of Eden for taking a crutch?”

In further developments, the serpent is getting in on theaction. He also claims himself as avictim; of defamation from God. He recently was quoted saying he had onlyprescribed Eve necessary medicine for her continued well-being. “God has blighted my good name andreputation,” he told reporters.

Could this develop into a class-action? Analysts are saying it might. Stayed tuned to Channel 3 news for thelatest!

Disorderly Love

2011-12-03T05:14:00.001-05:00

Love isn't orderly.

It bleeds; it stains

In memories pinned up

On refrigerator doors.

Drawings and report cards

Stacked with letters, doodads

On an otherwise dull surface.

We sacrifice aesthetics

And our own reflection

In the glossy chrome.

Breadcrumbs

2011-12-01T23:27:00.001-05:00

Our bickering left breadcrumbs

That the other couples pecked

But couldn’t share.

Lightning struck a tree

And blocked the road;

I thought of you.

I counted snowflakes as they melted

On the ground in puddles

Like familiar tears.

Headlights only show more cloud in fog;

Truth we’re forced to live with.

Samizdat

2011-11-29T19:58:00.001-05:00

I recently had my poem Fuck-up accepted in the online journal Samizdat. You should go check it out with the other poems, fiction and such in the journal. It's a great site. You can also find the link, along with all my publication information under the tab Babycakes.

Speaking of tabs, pages and what not. I've added links to some of my favorite bloggers under In ewiger Liebe. But, there's more! I wrote a little something about each blog. I think that's more fun than merely giving links out.

Once & Was

2011-11-28T14:53:00.000-05:00

I was once told I had abright future

Before they launched me on arocket toward the sun.

I could once recite thenumbers one through ten in perfect Spanish

But now I could not tell youone through four without a song.

I marvel and the once andwas; the child and the optimist.

Some change the world withhigh ideals but most survive.

The Chat

2011-11-27T04:32:00.001-05:00

I think this might be my first story told with all dialogue. I managed most before, but not quite.

*****

“She only fucks the people she hates.”

“Didn’t she fuck you? Why would she fuck someone she has no interest in?”

“I didn’t say she wasn’t interested. It’s how she gets back at people. I think that gives her more pleasure thanorgasm.”

“Revenge is a dish best served hot and sweaty.”

“Exactly.”

“Was it like a one-night-stand then?”

“No, we dated for six months.”

“That I can’t understand. Six months!? That’s pretty elaborate for revenge on herpart.”

“You can do a lot more damage when you’re close tosomeone.”

“So, she tortured you for six months and you stayed withher?”

“No, she was peaceful for the first four. It’s how she led me on. I hadn’t seen it coming.”

“What did she do?”

“She started sleeping around. She didn’t keep it a secret either. Well, she did to an extent but she wanted meto find her out.”

“How’d she manage that?”

“I found clothes that weren’t hers; shirts, pants, evenunderwear. It wasn’t just lying on mybed, but simple enough to see in the hamper or stuffed in a closet.”

“You must have flipped.”

“You know, I didn’t. I understood relationships weren’t perfect and held out hope we couldstill work things out.”

“That was mature of you.”

“To an extent, I guess. More naïve it turned out. Itwasn’t long before I caught her at it. Icame home after work and she was cock-deep, moaning with some other guy.”

“Fuck. And thiswas after four months? Can’t believe youstayed another two.”

“I can’t either. But I did. I really tried to winher over; took her to concerts, restaurants, everything I could think of.”

“Nothing got better?”

“Only worse. Icaught her with more men. She didn’teven make excuses.”

“Were you two still sleeping together?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I knew it was dangerous with all the other guys she was with, but justlike with the concerts I thought I could satisfy her working harder.”

“That’s terrible. I really feel for you. Whatfinally made you break it off?”

“The day I finally realized how absurd it was. I was online researching vacation packages,thinking we could use a nice getaway to smooth things over when it hit me. Nothing in the relationship was worth savingand I deserved better.”

“How’d she take that?”

“I never figured out. I just packed up and left.”

“I bet that hurt her.”

“I bet it didn’t. She never loved me. I doubt shecan love anyone.”

“So you aren’t coming to the wedding?”

“What wedding? Don’t tell me someone’s falling for her game again.”

“As a matter-of-fact I am. And you’re right about everything. She was in a bad place but she’s better now.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I don’t think you know the realization she had when youleft. It might not seem like it butsubconsciously she was reaching out.”

“Really now?”

“She didn’t come from the best background. She wanted you to be jealous. It was how her mom had always done thingsgrowing up.”

“And she opened up to you about all this?”

“No, I confronted her. I kicked the guy’s ass and almost hit her too. Luckily, I stopped myself before things gotout of hand.”

“It sure doesn’t sound like she had a realization when Ileft.”

“I think she did. Otherwise, she would have never told me the things she did. I’d never seen a girl cry so much, look sohelpless.”

“I wish I could pity her; I really do.”

“She didn’t expect you to and neither do I. I just want you to see how far she’s come andtry taking the first step toward forgiveness. It would mean a lot to her if you two could end up friends someday. You walking out, ultimately, did a great dealfor her.”

“So, I guess I’d be an usher or something at thiswedding… if I went?”

“Best man if you want it.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Well, it looks like we won’t have one then. She’s determined it’s you or nothing.”

“I guess I’ll have to then.”

“Great. Thanks fordoing this.”

“I’m still hurt and a little angry but I’m glad she movedon and found a way to be happy; maybe there’s hope for me too.”

“There’s always bridesmaids.”

Race to Erase

2011-11-26T01:01:00.001-05:00

Joy ran off fifteen pounds,

It wasn’t good enough.

Her washboard, six-pack

Went down to perfect hips

And chiseled legs.

It wasn’t good enough.

She thought of nothing but her health,

Shed pounds in her relationships.

It wasn’t good enough.

Blood ran through the body

To the heart; diastolic near impeccable.

It wasn’t good enough.

She stopped studying; figured

That a brain of seven pounds

Just weighed her down.

It wasn’t good enough.

Others saw her flawless bod

And gaped but couldn’t for the

Life of them recall her name

Or who she was. And neither could she.

It wasn’t good enough.

My Bad Luck with Fortune Cookies

2011-11-25T01:36:00.001-05:00

Fortune cookies come in all shapes and sizes. Okay, so almost always the same size and shape. But the fortunes can be drastically different. Most people I know will crack one open and leave with an optimistic feeling. Others, like me are not so lucky. For reasons I cannot quite explain my fortunes are most always terribly condescending or just plain insulting. This leads me to a new segment titled My Bad Luck with Fortune Cookies.

Not all closed eye is sleeping, nor open eye is seeing.

On the surface, perhaps not bad. But think what it's saying about me, the paying customer. I'm apparently not very perceptive to Mr. I-write-cookies-for-a-living.

Cultivation to the mind is as necessary as food to the body.

Well, they could have said bluntly I'm a fat idiot but instead chose the next best thing. I'm eating too much, and in doing so contributing to Mr. Cookie's business. But that isn't good enough. I need to cultivate my mind. I suppose that means cooking my own meals and writing my own fortunes. Tough break, Mr. Cookie.

P.S. the lucky numbers sucked too.

Black Wednesday

2011-11-23T18:28:00.001-05:00

I hear about fun times

that people have and envy

not so much that I myself won’t have them

in a way; more, the belonging in their moment

I seem incapable of replicating.

Middle-child syndrome you might call it;

the perpetual third wheel, or often less

and more a spoke within the tire

to break down and stop the wagon–

if only that significant.

Jamie's Gate

2011-11-22T00:46:00.000-05:00

WARNING: EXPLICITCONTENT

*****

I tried to remember the crime I committed. I tried to recall why the cops were draggingme out of their cruiser and into a police station. Nothing came to me. I felt their fists hit my stomach; I smelledmy own fear.

“Teach you to camp, hippie!” One’s voice said.

“Let’s book him.”

“For what?”

“It doesn’t matter. Say he hit one of us.”

I wondered if I had. Anything seemed possible in the current situation.

“Time to strip this Nancy down. We can see if he’s really got some ballsunder that Vagina.”

I didn’t resist when they tore off my shirt andpants. It seemed all the more humorousto them.

“He’s got bigger grapes than I thought. Still small though.”

“Hey, Hank, get me the pepper spray. I have an idea.”

“You wouldn’t?” Hank said egging him on.

“Oh, I would, Ted. Hand it over.”

The immense pain I felt before was somehowamplified. Hank emptied the whole can ofpepper spray on my bare genitals. Therewas nothing I could do to stop him as it burned. I bit my tongue until it bled.

“That’s enough for now. He can cool his heels ‘til we think of something better.”

“Sounds good. Comewith me!”

I was dragged again; this time unable to walk. The cop showed no sympathy; kicking, hitting,kneeing my enflamed genitals.

We entered a bizarre looking jail. There were no cells. Inmates were free to move yet chose not to. They cowered, shaking violently around acentral pit. It wasn’t clear what wasinside; just that something was.

“What are they afraid of?”

“You’ll see soon enough. Or maybe, I can let you in right now.”

He lifted me up toward the pit. I thrust my feet against the air trying to gethim. I never got the chance. Before I realized what was happening I fell. My legs broke on impact and I couldn’t move.

I saw the faintest glow light up a body. It was a young woman; a beautiful one atthat. Perhaps she was a prisoner aswell.

“Excuse me,” I asked. It was a mistake. Her teethsnapped, sharper and longer than I could have previously believed. “Are you a werewolf?”

“Much worse.”

“A demon?”

“Don’t make me laugh.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

“I wish that were all.”

Her teeth were not what moved. Her entire face expanded, split in half. Screaming hands reached out. I felt my essencepulled away. Skin peeled off withmemories, emotions toward the young girl’s void.

I saw a story flash as I absorbed inside of Jamie. An even younger version of the young girl had gold necklaces andbracelets with a shovel. She was diggingfuriously; possessed with desire. Shewanted something more beneath the ground, the grave. It called to her. One more necklace, one more ring would helpher forget. And she could stop. But she could never stop. Jamie was beyond intervention.

Metal hit wood. Her hands pried open the coffin lid. But nothing was inside; merely satin and a headless pillow.

“I see you’ve found my coffin,” a cold voice said.

“Yours?”

“Oh, yes. I’mdead, undead to be exact.”

“It can’t be.”

“But it is. Joshua, Maurice, grab her. Wehave work to do.”

They lifted her from the grave. She seemed almost willing as she walked into aclearing with no headstones. A pentagramhad been drawn on the ground. Thevampires licked their lips hungrily. Jamie considered escape but barely turned before they pinned her down.

Remorseless penetration consumed her body. She bled from her mouth and anus. The cold, undead members were as hard asice. The only part of her they leftalone she feared for.

A hideously scarred creature approached and the rapestopped. It seemed like Jamie’s saviorperhaps. But she had hoped toosoon. Both hands held a massive, reddishhorn up to the moonlight. Chantingbegan. Pitch rose higher and higheruntil… the horn was slammed into Jamie’s previously untouched vagina. The creature lifted it again; the chantingrenewed and she felt the unbearable pain once more as it went further. It never stopped. The night was an eternity in hell; a hellthat rose inside of her.

I felt her pain, her anger and her rage. My hands reached out the void with countlessothers ready to consume. Our enemieswould join us. Our friends would joinus. Our families would join us with allothers in the way.

The Cheetoh Kiss

2011-11-21T01:26:00.001-05:00

She’s eating Cheetohs

And I like the crunch,

The rustle of the bag.

She smacks her lips.

I taste the cornstarch,

Extract on the phone.

Electronic breath breathes

Down...
...My...
...Neck...
Leaving me
Lovebite orange.

A Poem from the Book

2011-11-19T00:43:00.001-05:00

10:17 p.m.

The time of night

That doesn't feel like night.

There’s movement, though

It’s slowing down. The local

News is on with quiet banter

Now replacing stories and

Tomorrow’s forecast.

What a weekend!

Techno Mix

2011-11-18T00:10:00.001-05:00

As you can hear (if you haven't muted the volume) I've changed up the playlist again. I got bored with the old and brought in some new. Thought I'd explore techno music. I'm not quite familiar with it so I looked up some songs others people seemed fond of. I had a few bands in mind though i.e. DJ Sammy who performed one of my favorite songs, Heaven. Also, for no reason I threw in Smash Mouth and some Italo disco. So, I hope you take the time to enjoy and dare I say, dance it up?

Eye Floater

2011-11-17T01:14:00.001-05:00

At a young age the vitreous inside

Our eyes are perfectly transparent;

We see the world for what it is;

And not for what it isn’t.

Imperfections soon emerge with time

Branding shadows on our retinas

Showing us the past in worms

That crawl across closed lids

To feed off insecurities; the ugly

Memories we can’t forget, though

Tried in vain. The worm, the floater,

Always finds them.

Sweet congealed mess living in my head,

The spot on the carpet that won’t go away;

If only I could cry you out.

The Crime

2011-11-14T01:14:00.001-05:00

“Did you hear the news?” a mid-twenty something blondeman said, sitting next to a brunette woman roughly the same age.

“How could I not?”

“Did it surprise you?

“Of course it did.”

He held a paper in one hand and gently put it down on thetable. The brunette woman winced, butotherwise showed little emotion.

“How are you so calm over this? You dated him for Christsake.”

“You were his best friend for I don’t know how manyyears.”

“Well, people change I guess.”

“Apparently. TheJeff I knew would never–“ She trailed off. The reality of the situation appeared to hit her all at once.

“It’s okay, Beth. It’s nothing you did.”

“I know that, Todd! I’ve told myself that since the moment I heard.”

“But you don’t believe it.”

“No. There has tobe something I could have said that might have made the slightest difference.”

“There wasn’t.”

“But all those families…”

“BETH! Therewasn’t! Let it go.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You didn’t sleep with him.”

“Do you really think that gives you some magical insightinto the workings of his later deranged mind?”

“Something was there then; it had to have been. Maybe if I had just made him cum a littlebetter…”

“I’m sure he cummed spectacularly. At least that’s what he told me the nextday.”

“You dog!” Beth shrieked, throwing a pillow.

“Hey, women tell each other just as much.”

“Not that way.”

“What way is that?”

“You know,” Beth said, impersonating a male voice, “Itotally banged this girl last night. Shesquealed like a piggy.”

“He didn’t say it like that.”

“How did he say it? No, never mind, I don’t want to know.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. No. Yes. Fine, just tell me.”

“He said he slept with the most beautiful woman he hadever laid eyes on and he was truly happy for the first time in his life.”

“No way.”

“Yes way.”

“What did you say back?”

“I believe my exact words were ‘Dude… weak!’”

“That does sound like your teenage self and come to thinkof it your current self.”

“It was really corny.”

“And romantic.”

“But mostly… corny.”

“I don’t understand then, why he broke it off andleft. You’ve got to know more than whatyou’ve told me.”

“The last thing he said was he needed to get out of townto work some stuff out. I didn’t see himafter that; no one did. He vanished intothin air.”

“He didn’t call… or text?”

“Like I said… nothing.”

“Did they say what happened to him? I couldn’t finish reading the article.”

“It wasn’t pretty, Beth.”

“What do you mean?”

“You knew Jeff. Hewas always the determined sort. No onewas going to take him alive if he didn’t want them to.”

“You mean?”

“I’m really sorry. I had a hard time accepting too but it’s done. The Jeff we knew died long before thatnight.”

“I can’t believe that.”

“Why not? Nofriend of ours could possibly do such heinous things. He changed. Became another person.”

“I got a phone call from him,” Beth interjected, “a yearor so after he left. He hung up after afew seconds but I knew it was him.”

“Honestly, Beth that could have been any pervert!”

“It was him. Iknew.”

“And you didn’t report this to the police? You know what he did! What he was doing even then!”

“I agonized over it, believe me.”

“Obviously not enough. You never mentioned this.”

“I didn’t think you’d understand. I was kind of right in a way.”

“I’m not the unreasonable one! You aided and abetted a criminal!”

“Really? I had nosolid proof it was him. He didn’t say aword. Do you think the police would havedone anything but laugh?”

“No… I suppose not.”

“They’d probably think it was a long time coming. Little girl can’t get over her heartthrob whoran away and became…”

Todd put his arm around her shoulder. “Do you remember the police questioning us?”

“Yeah, they tried to get something, but they were fromthe same town. They knew everything wedid.”

“It’s a shame things didn’t work out differently. He deserved what he got, I won’t deny, butstill…”

“Are you sure? They shot him in cold blood. Hedidn’t have a chance to defend himself.”

“Beth, don’t start feeling sorry for him. It’ll only make things harder.”

“I suppose so. Iguess I’m still holding onto who he was before all this; that smart, bright guyI fell in love with.”

“It’s hard letting go. He was my best friend; always there for me no matter what.”

Todd picked himself up from the couch with a sigh,grabbing the newspaper. He kissed Bethon the head and walked slowly to the door before pausing.

“What is it, Todd?”

“I still can’t believe he was gay.”

The Raving Moonbat

2011-11-13T18:13:00.001-05:00

I've started a new political blog. It's called the Raving Moonbat and it's pretty... liberal. So, if you like that sort of thing and want more you should totally stop over man. We can talk about world peace and eat these brownies I made. I won't tell you what's in them though.

Caged

2011-11-11T19:54:00.001-05:00

The bear ate honey in the forest. Or what it thought was a forest. The limbs flickered and a blowing soundemitted from the floor.

“Don’t mind the noise,” a soothing voice said. “Get back to doing bear stuff.”

“What sort of bear stuff?” The bear replied.

“You know… fishing, hunting, playing with your friendPiglet?

“I’m sorry. That’snot me. I need to feel motivated. What’s my motivation?”

“You don’t need motivation; you’re already a bear!”

“You’re a human but I’m not expecting you to act like RoyRogers and Clint Eastwood. Howignorant!”

“Jeff,” the voice whispered. “Turn on the gas. It looks like another won’t cooperate.”

“Whatever you say, Bill.”

A green cloud began to fill the room. The bear merely continued staring at horizonit had figured out was two-way glass. Impending death had not changed its demeanor, but rather gave a curiousexpression in the place of fear.

“I surmise,” choked out the bear as its lungs began togive, “you’d like to know what you’ve done wrong in this experiment.”

“We don’t need advice from lesser mammals. If you were intelligent at all you’d be theone gassing us.”

“I’m going to tell you, regardless. The obvious explanation is you can’t play Godexpecting results in your favor; the less obvious being, bears willgenerally eat fish over honey in their environment.”

The room became completely obscured with gas. The bear did not use the situation to itsadvantage for escape, however. It merelylied down as if going to sleep, happy to have the hard part of its journey overwith.

“That one sure didn’t put up a fight.”

“You expected it to?”

“Well, yeah, wouldn’t you?”

“I’m human; my life means more.”

“But will your death in the end?”

“Really!? You’regetting pretty philosophical.”

“Let’s just bring in the next bear.”

Another bear walked out identical to the first inappearance. It was not clear where thecorpse of the other had gone.

“What do you say we let this one live for a while, maybeget it some fresh fish?”

“I’d say you’re losing your nerve.”

“Didn’t you hear what that other bear said?”

“No. You heard abear talking?”

“Yeah,” Bill said nervously. “Didn’t you?”

“I think you need a break…”

“No… please… I’m really all right!”

These were the last words Bill remembered speaking toJeff. He slowly opened his eyes insidethe bear pen that was no longer a bear pen. Bill was back in his college dorm room. The familiar swimsuit calendar hung on the wall with posters of his favorite bands. He ran up to his roommate, Zach, hehadn’t seen in nearly twenty-years. "Hey, man, want to go play some Frisbee in the quad?" Zach didn't respond. Bill noticed him flicker. A familiar blowingsound emitted from the floor.

Bill felt his lungs begin to seize. The room was filled with greenish haze. He ran with all his strength toward where hethought the two-way glass must have been. When he fell over, he crawled. Jeff was not ready to die. Herefused to accept it. The lights weredimming; he knew it had nothing to do with the electricity.

As he lay, finally immobilized, he saw the other bear, the dead bear, sitting where his friend had been mere moments before.

“Help me! Please! I can save you too!” Bill thought more than talked. He was barely capable of whispering.

“So naïve,” the bear said before vanishing and leaving Billto his fate.

Blogger Book Club (Better Late than Never)

2011-11-09T15:21:00.001-05:00

Sorry, I've put off this post so much. But the winner of the poll vote was Hocus Pocus by Kurt Vonnegut. I was thinking we could do a low-key kind of read and post whatever poems or thoughts we have as reading. It would fit better with everyone's schedules that way. But maybe, we could give a general indication before the post on the location we're writing about so as to not ruin anything with spoilers. Just a thought :)

Rainbow Baby

2011-11-07T21:06:00.000-05:00

That girl with the golden smile

Ain’t so pearly white;

I’ve seen her cry her silver tears,

Sacrifice ‘til black and blue.

Red blood shot eyes

And thoughts of grey

In ultra-violet spectrums,

We can’t see but know are there;

Indigo’s a myth that we hold onto.

I’ve seen the rainbow’s spectrum lie,

Or maybe it has always told the truth

And we’re too blind, too quick

To get the bigger picture.

Something in the arch is lost

In the horizon’s translation;

Blue trails off to meet
The hardened smile of a girl.

Night Poems

2011-11-06T01:21:00.002-04:00

So, I'm considering this new project. It might have and probably has been done in some way before but I think I can put my own unique spin on things. My goal is to write a book of poems written at night in different places, instances, etc. I'm of the opinion that everything is that much more interesting after the sun goes down and everyone's asleep. Let me know what you all think. If anyone wants me to send them some of what I'm working on, I'd love to do that too and get your opinions that way.

Super Villains for Issue 2

2011-11-05T00:02:00.000-04:00

Ohio's government passed legislation this past year to strip public employees of collective bargaining rights, the ability to strike and negotiate for safe staffing levels among other things. Signatures were gathered and a repeal, Issue 2, was placed on the ballot to be voted on this next Tuesday. Naturally, an influential demographic has stood strong against these efforts. I speak of course of super villains. They were kind enough recently to do a photo shoot.

The Dark Lord Sauron has long opposed collective bargaining and all forms of union labor. Imagine being in his situation, managing thousands of orcs, and have them start complaining about sulfur gas. HELLO, they're right next to a freaking volcano! Of course, there's sulfur gas. What can he do about it? Not much.

Voldemort has similar concerns. Sure, he looks happy in this photograph, but inside, he's crying. Voldemort, you see is among the much persecuted one-percent. He worked hard to get where he is, ruling over a psuedo-dictatorship, and persecuting filthy mudbloods. Under this new law however, half-breeds would have a say in their salaries. Imagine, what this would do to yet another fragile Dark Lord. His pockets would be emptied. He would no longer be able to purchase elaborate fountains displaying the muggle and house-elf's feebleness in relation to wizards.

Lastly, we have Ganon. Ganon is a Gerudo-born villain, seeking the Triforce and absolute power over Hyrule. But he has a problem. Public employees stand in his way. Firemen, police and others arrest his monsters in a constant assault. Without the ability to maintain safe staffing levels, however, they will quickly be overrun. And Ganon will recreate the world in his image, making Lon Lon Ranch into an efficient distopia.

A Love Story in 500 Words

2011-11-03T23:19:00.001-04:00

“I’ll just hurt you” said Max.

“And why is that?” Jesse replied, crossing her arms.

“I just know, all right?”

“No, I don’t think you do. It’s fear of commitment plain and simple.”

“I wish it only were…”

“What does that mean?”

“I’m bad news Jessie.”

“Like a robbery or tsunami?”

“Worse.”

“You presume to think a relationship with you is theequal to mass displacement and death on a scale to rival Haiti or New Orleans?”

“Of course. And nowyou see the gravity of the situation.”

“Your arrogance?”

“Precisely, among other things.”

“I’ve dated arrogant men before; men that really were. You just think you are.”

“Obviously those relationships didn’t work, so why wouldyou think this one has a shot?”

“Why do you say that? They worked. I parted pleasantlywith several, it was only circumstance, distance and the like.”

“Sure.”

“Stop minimalizing everything I say!”

“Can’t help it. I’man ass. Is that really the sort of manyou should keep chasing after?”

“I think there’s something deeper you’re not saying; someinner fear or insecurity.”

“Contrary to the female’s popular belief, men really aren’tthat deep. We tell it like it is unlesswe’re cheating.”

“Are you cheating then?”

“How would I do that? I’m not involved with anyone.”

“What about me?”

“Well, apart from your mental candyland, no.”

“That really hurts.”

“It doesn’t have to; find someone who’s right for you.”

“But that’s YOU! You’ve got to realize that by now!”

“I didn’t want to tell you this but… I have a dark past.”

“How dark?

“Deep space.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“I’ve killed and I’ll do it again!”

“Then kill me. Goahead. I have nothing to live for if youreject me.”

“But all I’ve done is reject you and if I’m not mistakenyou’re still kickin.’”

“Fine,” Jesse mumbled, making her way to a nearby drawer. She drew a large bread knife and held it toher throat.

“What are you doing?”

“If you don’t kiss me by the time I count to ten I’lldrench the carpet with my blood.”

“Honestly,” replied Max stepping toward her. Jesse held the knife closer. Blood trickled from a slight cut. “Put the knife back, already!”

“One!” she screamed.

“Don’t make me beg!”

“Two!”

“This won’t change anything!”

“Three!”

“I’d only be kissing you to save a life!”

“Four!”

“Jesse, okay, I’ll admit it; I feel something but it’svery deep and barely there.”

“Five!”

“Also, it’s impractical to act on!”

“Six!”

“Please, stop! I’llonly ruin you!”

“You’ll ruin me either way at this point, at least withone of them I’ll be alive! Seven!”

“This is insane! Take a breath and calm down!”

“Eight!”

“Jesus, Jessie!”

“Nine!”

“You win! I’llkiss you all night and for the rest of my life if I have to!”

“Good,” said Jesse, returning the knife to itsdrawer. Max strode over, grabbing heraround the waist. She smiled as theykissed; all night.

Supermarket Sweetie

2011-10-31T23:36:00.002-04:00

Because:

I can walk throughlonely aisles

Always finding whatI want in you.

Because:

Announcements interrupt

The music time totime;

Paging us away and

We must journeyback

To frozen foods wherewe will

Keep each otherwarm.

Because:

The canned goodswon’t outlast,

Nor plastic jugs oreven glass

The thing we have.

Word Verification

2011-10-30T15:22:00.001-04:00

I don't know about you but I've found the nonsense words on Word Verification for post comments interesting. Some of them almost seem as if they might make some profound sense. So, following an idea I've been thinking of a while I thought I'd write a poem using some. Be prepared. It's really effed up.

*****

The Mutwarthinned the herd

And made us purer. I feel my blood

Rejuvenated as the filth is gone.

My heart, however, feels the toll;

I feel it twersefor having had

So many friends now dead.

Ralloco groundthem into

Fertilizer; Scessisleeps

Beneath the pumpkin patch.

I still hear her screams at night;

She was a bliede,drenching the

Landscape in her blood; tearing me

Apart, perhaps a little more than her,

As I caress my Unsul;that void where

Life and love had lived with laughter.

But now will pine and mourn

For what I’ve done and can’t undo.

Witherspork: Part Six

2011-10-29T03:31:00.000-04:00

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five

Our bodies were twisted in a rune. I felt more than my own pain; agony wasamplified between Rommel, Amy the other Jeffs and I. Yah stared for what seemed like the longesttime before walking to a gap in the center. My essence left me. I became acog inside a larger sinister machine.

“It’s all over, brother,” I felt myself thinking, if onlypartially. “You’ve came an infinitelylong way, but I will persevere and all will be nothing.”

The ground was clearly gone. Stars shined vividly as I had never seenbefore.

“Orion, let’s teach dear Sitn a lesson he will not soonforget.”

A large sword spanning light years was drawn from dustand gas. It swung but never hit. Something stood between the Hunter and its prey. Taurus had gored a shieldless Orion, sendingBetelgeuse to supernova.

“More pluck than I thought!”

“The bull will always slay Orion, much as I will you.”

“Nonsense. I’vefound all the pieces you so thoroughly hid. Castor, Pollox, send Sitn back into the abyss!”

A part of the whole began to leave. The twins, two of the Jeffs emitted in eeriephosphorescence from Yah’s body. Taurusleapt at them but missed. Sitn was soonpulled by his shoulders away from sight. I tried to speak out, but no longer possessed a voice of my own.

Yah wasted no time. He raised his arms and all the universe seemed red.

“Brother, I would stop that if I were you,” a familiarvoice rang. Sitn had returned withHercules.

“I have no further time to waste on you! Draco, defeat them both!”

A starry dragon emerged; its tail, Thuban, swingingviciously. Hercules seemed ready for it,as he always had been. His arrow hitreducing the creature once more to inanimation;splayed still on its canvas.

“Give it up, Yah! The universe was never yours!”

“Of course it never was! That’s precisely why I’m getting rid of it!”

“But will any of that solve!?”

“If it won’t be mine, it won’t be yours– or anyone’s!”

I felt emptiness as another left. Amy had transformed to Lyra. Her music met the soundless void, calmingHercules and Taurus. They twinkledfaintly and grew dim.

Cygnus, Second Jeff, then obscured the galaxies withbrightness far above. Rommel soon becamea Scorpion not so different from the one we fought; perhaps the same. His stinger stretched the cosmos, strikinghard. It was over. Sitn, blinded, stung, immobilized had beendefeated by his brother.

“Victory! I seethe light contracting in your eyes and all around me. Embrace the red. You will see in your last glimmers of lifewhat I have planned.”

I was left, feeling Yah’s emotions. But, also– something else; the most curiousof feelings: control. It started as a tngle but soon envelopedme. I had always found a way, as Yah hadthrough me to defeat his brother. Andnow-

“What!? No, you’vebecome me! This can’t happen!”

“Aquila sees what you cannot! The eagles soars, omnipotent!”

Yah’s form began falling in on itself. Blackness, matter, time itself were pulledaway. I saw something I could not forgetand then forgot. I thought no more.

I was back on solid ground with the other Jeffs, Amy andRommel. We were still contorted in therune; but it was no longer significant. I sat up as they soon did. It wasa strange feeling, knowing they had felt something so similar yet different.

“I think I saw my destiny,” said Amy, “out there in space.”

“You remember then?” I asked.

“Of course, I do, it’s just– so much is blank.”

I grabbed her hand and she grabbed mine. We helped the others up, turned right andnever saw the scene again. It was thedesert once more, another century.

“Why are we here again?”

“Well,” began one of the twins, “We’ve got to go homenow, don’t we?”

“Yeah, but I thought–“

“We’d want to stay with you?”

“Well, yeah, kind of.”

“We thought about it, up there in that black-blue-like-sky-thing,but figured we’d just miss too many trains that needed robbed.”

“But, don’t be sad and all. We’ll see you plenty in your history books.”

I smiled having a hunch that’s exactly what I’d seesomeday. I walked with second Jeff, Amyand Rommel to a cactus that flickered into 1944. It was Rommel’s house just as we had leftit. But it didn’t seem right.

“Rommel,” I began, “you can’t go back, they’ll kill you!”

“No, I kill myself and that makes all the difference. Aufwiedersehen. Remember the battle and for god sakeforget the war.”

I reached out to grab his shoulder but felt my energyfading. The other Jeff, Amy and I jerkedback to 2007 into Amy’s dressing room. Iheard the faintest sound of gunshot in the distance. Rommel had ceased to be a man; he was oncemore a story and a legend.

“Amy, you don’t need to meet the same fate! Come with us!”

“I can’t escape my fate. If this has taught me anything it’s that. No, I’ll be just fine with the time I haveleft. How long is it again?”

“Four years,” I said.

“Ah, and how do I die? No, don’t tell me; it’s better not knowing. But, you, Jeff. They’ll remember me as you do through darktimes and happy times, the best times and worst…”

She began crying; we each took her hand. Amy Winehouse faded as Rommel and the twinshad. It left Second Jeff and I backwithin my own time. My energy haddwindled. It was the middle of Summer,July 23– far from when I set out.

“Jeff, I don’t think I can get you back. There’s not enough left in me.”

“I’ll be okay. There’s more to this time; more I can do and be than just the guy thatflew, you know?”

“I suppose so. I’llsee you around.”

We hugged and he floated out the door of my office,gravity having slowly brought him down to earth.

“Now what to do,” I thought, picking up a newspaper. A jolt struck my heart; it was the day Amydied. But it was also, somewhere a dayshe had lived and helped others to as well. Perhaps it was less dark than I thought…

Sigh. The lastthing I wanted to do was get back to work. The computer awaited me, as it had before so much began. I sat down in front of it. I had a new email; from Jeff Witherspork, akaYah. It was the same one as before, only…it marked read. I deleted it and emptiedthe trash folder.

Catharsis

2011-10-28T06:19:00.001-04:00

I'm of the opinion you can write until you feel better. Note, of the opinion. I'm not sure if it's true. I tried it tonight. It's nice to get the feelings out. As always, as grizzly as they get, I'll share them here, because you're all supportive and lovely like that.

*****

I’m fresh out of metaphor;

Eat my shit. Just let me be.

There’s nothing left and

It seems as if there never was.

Damn. Goddamn it all.

I’ll sin my heart out;

I’m in hell already.

A bullet to the brain

Can only bring me back.

What options do I have?

Listen to the endless drone of platitudes

Or drown myself in alcohol?

Fuck my heart and

Fuck my soul; already raped,

Torn, discarded, left to die.

I need a minute, month or decade,

Can’t be sure. Time will only scar;

A poor excuse for healing; yet all

That I look forward to.

Because I'm a Fuck-up

2011-10-25T01:08:00.002-04:00

The words aren’t right.

They never could be.

Because I’m a fuck-up.

It all seems insincere.

I try to back-track.

Can’t convey.

It’s all the truth;

It seems a lie.

Because I’m a fuck-up.

My laugh is hollow;

Echoes off your face,

Retracts, jams down my throat

To choke me as I gasp, you watch,

Considering your next move; to save,

Or let me die. Butyou know the latter

Has more solace in the end for me.

Because I’m a fuck-up.

The Vote!

2011-10-23T21:26:00.004-04:00

I've set up a poll to vote for our Blogger Book Club's book. I was thinking we could start in November and have a month to read. I added a book by Toni Morrison I didn't put in the original list with a description so I hope that's okay. No hard feelings? Really? I tried so hard! Just kidding. Have fun voting! The polls close Midnight on November 1. So the night of October 31st.

The Day Hope Died

2011-10-22T12:32:00.000-04:00

Note: I don't really like this poem, so I don't really expect you to either. If you could try and just not hate it though, I'd feel pretty good.

*****

July 27, 2003–

The day Hope died,

Left us with a quiet frown,

Trickles of slight tears

To know the end had come

Expectedly yet suddenly.

We were raised on Hope,

Singing, laughing as theworld

Began to take more than itreturned;

An empty ended hourglasswhere we

Could see the sand andalmost touch

But never quite as webelieved in Hope;

Somewhere now the dream’salive,

Unburied, still performingfor the ones

That need it most to takeanother step.

In Dedication to Mr. Roberts

2011-10-20T23:38:00.000-04:00

I first met the acquaintance of Mr. Percival Roberts on the dreariest of dreary April days. His long tailed coat was, as always, immaculate; far superior to rags which, I’m not ashamed to say, I wore to the occasion. The first words he and I would ever speak were not most pleasant. I was a famished, sickly, meager soul who saw a beacon shining through my misery. “Mr. Roberts,” I began, begging at his feet, “Might you help a poor man eat today?” His face showed immeasurable contempt. “Be gone, filth!” he spat, pushing me to the ground and going on his not-so-merry way. I never forgot the occasion. Nor would I remain as destitute. Through perseverance and a little luck, I fought my way to higher ranks. It came to be in time, my standing equaled Mr. Roberts even. Thus, when he passed away the local gazette asked if I might dedicate a word or two to the late, departed industrialist. I looked deep and gave them three: fuck that guy.

100 Word Prose Poem on My Dancing Friend

2011-10-17T14:08:00.001-04:00

He shows up once a year. To dance. He doesn’t talk. He doesn’t think. He moves. His body speaks the poignant words his lips can never manage. Passion manifests itself in snap and groove. Love is made; hearts are broke, each step by step. Sleepless nights and days in bed get told through his eyes; the angle of bent hips. Hair becomes the breeze; shoes an ancient rhythm as common as the birds that sing; he’s been doing it as long. A groove to come and go each Spring; immortal like the sky. Constant, fleeting, footwork past the February cold.*

*Yup. A Spring poem in Fall.

Coffee

2011-10-15T17:33:00.002-04:00

They put sugar in my coffee,

Unasked, unwantedly

And dulled the flavor.

Suddenly my tongue’s confused;

Having had one love and now another.

My buds are screaming to confess to bean,

This love affair with sugar cane.

I didn’t enjoy it; it was hell, I thought

Of you in ecstasy; I really did,

If only just a moment as I came

Saliva and embraced a mess

And residue so sweet to stick

Beyond my mouth.

Blogger Book Club Suggestions

2011-10-14T23:59:00.000-04:00

I've found some interesting books to suggest for our book club. If any one else knows a good one I'll add it to the list as well :-)

Maurice by E.M. Forster: A tale of homosexual love in early 20th century England, following Maurice Hall from his schooldays, through university and beyond.

Ham on Rye by Charles Bukowski: Written in Bukowski’s characteristically straightforward prose, the novel tells of his coming-of-age in Los Angeles during the Great Depression.

Hocus Pocus by Kurt Vonnegut: The major plot event concerns a prison break in a small New York village, located directly across from a prominent university. The protagonist's life revolves heavily around both the prison and the university, and the community that must accommodate both.The main character is Eugene Debs Hartke, a Vietnam War veteran and college professor, who realizes that he has killed exactly as many people as the number of women he has had sex with.

The Beautiful and Damned by F. Scott Fitzgerald: It tells the story of Anthony Patch (a 1920s socialite and presumptive heir to a tycoon's fortune), his relationship with his wife Gloria, his service in the army, and alcoholism.

Brazil by John Updike: Tristão Raposo, a nineteen –year-old black child of the Rio slums, spies Isabel Leme, an eighteen-year-old upper-class white girl, across the hot sands of Copacabana Beach, and presents her with a ring. Their flight into marriage takes them from urban banality to the farthest reaches of Brazil’s wild west, where magic still rules.

S by John Updike: The eponymous S. is Sarah Worth, Boston bred, upper-class WASP, and when we meet her in this epistolary narrative, she is on an airplane, writing to tell her doctor husband she is leaving him to join her guru on an Arizona religious commune. In a whimsical twist, Updike makes Sarah a Hawthornian counterpart to Roger in Roger's Version: one of her ancestors was a Prynne; her daughter's name is Pearl (Publishers Weekly).

Blogger Book Club

2011-10-11T01:27:00.002-04:00

Hey there. Still not asleep. Running an idea past everyone after that humdinger of a poem. Is anyone interested in a blogger book club? I was curious to see how many of my blogger friends I could get to read the same book together. Maybe we could all do some sort of writing post on it too, like a poem, story or just general thoughts.

Late-Night Riff

2011-10-11T01:03:00.001-04:00

I was thinking over how one

Makes another care. Not just glance,

Or nod but reallycare in some

Spiritually transcending way.

I realized the answer went

Beyond the store or simple

Marketing. A TV adfor soap

Will seldom bring epiphanies

That change a life’s direction.

Passion’s not a manufactured good

That you create and sell. It’s

Something that was always there

Beneath the surface.

The artist is a miner

For feelings and lost goals,

Dreams all but given up

But not forgotten.

From the safety of their chair

And the terror of their minds

They must battle cave-ins

Not so different from those

Poor souls who sacrifice their lungs

For meager wages.

Witherspork: Part Five

2011-10-10T03:35:00.000-04:00

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

None of us were clear which war we had arrived in, letalone which battle. There were tanks,shelling, sand and German troops, we recognized by the language,everywhere. It was complete confusionuntil I saw him. My old textbooks had come alive. Erwin Rommel, the desert fox stood in plainview.

“You can’t possibly think Rommel’s a Witherspork?” Thesecond Jeff asked.

“He was brilliant, outside the box. He never quite fit like the rest of us. Plus if we’re going to fight, who’s betterfor our side? Let’s go talk to him.”

The Field Marshal was discussing tactics withgenerals. It was something in Germanabout the Suez Canal and hard to make out. “Hallo,” I said as fifty guns were pointed at the Jeffs and Amy. “Sprechen Sie, English?”

“Ja, a little,” replied Rommel, motioning his men to backdown. “How did you get here?”

“We, um, walked,” I said. He seemed as if he were angry for a moment.

“Komisch, sehr komisch!” Rommel laughed.

“Herr Rommel, we need to talk in private. Sitn’s coming and we don’t have muchtime. We need your help.”

Strangely, he appeared to understand.

“Meet me at my house a year from now on October 14.”

“But,” began Amy, “isn’t that the date he–“ I stepped on her toe to stop her.

“We’ll see you there,” I said. We took a corner and were gone again.

“I know you said Sitn’s coming to destroy the universe,”said one of the twins, “but I still think we’re all on peyote.”

“Maybe that will change your mind,” I replied as starsstarted falling from the sky in broad daylight.

“It might a little.”

The first struck the ground knocking us off of ourfeet. Then the second; the third until Ilost count. We couldn’t get up or barelymove. “Amy,” I yelled, “SING SOMETHING!”

“Sing what!? I’mnot a bloody iPod!”

“I don’t know… Me and Mr. Jones!”

“I like You Know I’m No Good better!” said second Jeff.

“It doesn’t matter! We’re going to die here, for Christ sake!”

Amy started singing. The stars slowed and we could move. Even then, we had precious little time to seek cover. Fire still hit the ground and what hadalready fallen was changing. Some force immune to time was forming the ashand debris into rudimentary bodies with long swords of the same material.

“How are we going to avoid those!?” said second Jeff.

“I don’t think we can. We’ll have to face them. Like wedid with the giant scorpion.”

“The giant what!?” said Amy.

“Oh, that’s right, you weren’t there. A giant scorpion came after us in the desertabout a hundred years before we met you.”

“And you beat it!?”

“Yeah, which means we can handle this too.”

“That was one, dimwitted scorpion. There’s like a hundred of those stoneguys. We need some type of strategy.”

“Did you say strategy, mein Freund?” said Erwin Rommel approaching us.

“This is brilliant!”

“Yes. Now, wedon’t have too much time. I’ve only justescaped.”

“You escaped into this?”

“Yes, I was involved in a plot to overthrow theFuhrer. It looks I will pay the priceone way or another. But, das ist nichts. We need to defeat these enemies before theydefeat us. What resources are availableto us?”

“I can fly,” said second Jeff.

“Gut, whatelse?”

“I always find the way,” I said.

“Perplexing but useful. Anything else?”

“I sing,” said Amy.

“You sing great,” said second Jeff.

“Like Marlene Dietrich great?”

“She makes time stop.”

“So a little better than Dietrich. All right, we’re outnumbered, but I’ve facedworse odds. Amy, you need to sing likeyou never have before. The invisibleJeffs, yes I noticed you both there, will then go behind the lines and createsome confusion. The first Jeff will takeadvantage of this, run over and find some weapons. Lastly, the second Jeff will recover thoseweapons and defeat the enemy from the air.”

“You’re a genius!”

“Of course, I am the Desert Fox, after all.”

It went like clockwork. Amy sang the most hauntingly, beautiful rendition of Back to Black I hadever heard. Time stopped almostcompletely. Dragonflies flew stillaround us. The invisible Jeffs tooktheir queue and went unnoticed behind enemy lines that were ever so slowlymarching our way.

I realized it was my turn. I walked straight into a barrage of stonearrows; still falling and still deadly. As most always, I found my way around them. The invisible Jeffs were doing their job,starting fights amongst the stardust warriors. I slipped through unnoticed.

Some weapons had been dropped. I rounded them up as I saw second Jeffsoaring overhead. I threw him up a swordfrom my pile. He caught it quickly andbefore I knew exactly what was happening he began slicing his way through anenemy still consumed in chaos. It wasimpressive how fast they fell under Rommel’s daring strategy.

I ran back as to not get caught up in the slaughter. Second Jeff was clearly on a roll and mightnot have noticed me. I heard the twinsrunning back not far behind, evidently having thought the same thing.

“You missed the fun!” said Second Jeff, landing besideRommel, the twins, Amy and I.

“Well, we didn’t want our heads sliced off by accident,”I said.

“Bravo… bravo…” Another voice echoed. I thought it was Rommel at first but itsounded older; far older.

“Who is that!? Show yourself!” I shouted.

A figure walked out of the sunset as if it had only justappeared. I recognized it completely butcouldn’t understand.

“But, you told me… you died!”

“I said I gave my life, which I have, to returning andfinally gaining vengeance on my brother!”

“But, you’re– Sitn!?”

“Oh, no. I’mYah. And you’ve finally brought all thepieces together. My brother thought hecould stop me, scattering you through time. He even feebly attempted to destroy you with scorpions and falling stars. But I knew you would persevere and I would bethe one to kill you.”

I thought of running. That was as far as I could get, however. Grass shot out of the ground and bound me as it did the others. We were immobilized again and I – for thefirst time – had no paths open for me.

“Six keys; the wanderer; the flying man; the twoinvisibles; the singer and the general. You were all lost and out of place, but now you’re found. The fabric of the universe and all of myhumiliation will be gone. The sun willshine the way, but all it merely needs is death.”

“Don’t, please!” I screamed.

“We’re beyond bargaining. I’ve waited a long time; an infinitely long time.”

The setting sun burned me from the inside out. I felt pain as I had never felt as lightconsumed by body. My skin was boiling,my heart racing – but I couldn’t die.

Stay tuned for the thrilling conclusion!

In Paradise

2011-10-08T16:01:00.003-04:00

Stevie Wonder sees again

In paradise. And we see him.

The grass is greener on

Both this side and the other.

We can’t remember why

We hated, sought to bring

Each other down. It’s all

A faint and laughing memory;

Tickling, not festering the

Bottoms of our feet.

Our tears are tears of joy

And nothing less.

Too Late

2011-10-07T04:15:00.001-04:00

Up too late
to write this poem
or rhyme for you.

Up too late
to punctuate
my love for you
with hearts, colon
dash and asterisk.

Up too late
to see a solid shape
for what it is. It could
be you or me, or
merely nothing.

Up too late
to feel your touch
and know that I'm
not dreaming.

Up too late
to taste a taste
to smell perfume
and lose myself.

For Steve

2011-10-05T21:36:00.001-04:00

Steve Jobs, the former CEO of Apple died tonight after a battle with cancer. I wrote of it on Facebook "A man who had his hands in Pixar, Atari, Apple and every facet of innovation in pop culture, a college dropout who slept on floors and went on to change the world has died too young, too soon." I had really never stopped to think of the ways this one man had influenced my own and countless other lives. The movies, games I saw and played with family, growing up that were in large part a product of his work. A song on the go that picked me up when I was down. I wish I had took more time to appreciate the remarkable man behind so much inspiration. I don't know how many poems I've wrote after listening to an ipod, or later from itunes on my Android, but I know it's been a lot. And I know a man who fought adversity and poverty succumbed to a disease no one should ever have to suffer through. But I take solace in the fact he did the most anyone could ever dream of doing with the time that he had.

Heaven & Hell

2011-10-05T03:35:00.001-04:00

HE had two daughters;

one named Heaven

one named Hell.

The first was blonde

and full of light;

the second dark

and brooding.

Heaven swam through life,

her head up in the clouds;

hell more down to earth,

fixed within reality.

In truth Heaven was

the favored one.

Hell misunderstood,

impossible to reach.

But that was just her way,

the shut in intellectual

to contrast with her sister’s

beauty pageants.

They were different,

largely opposites

of light and dark,

both breeze and fire.

But as the years went by

Heaven saw herself in flames

as Hell was pulled in by the light.

Both had lived through different lives

yet were the same.

Ghost Thoughts

2011-10-02T16:44:00.003-04:00

A family recently moved into an old, long abandonedhouse. Using the latest in paranormaltechnology we have recorded the thoughts of the spirit that drove away thesenew inhabitants.

Ghost: Hello and welcome to my humble abode. Is there anything I can help you with?

Mother: This place sure is shabby. It’s going to need a lot of work.

Ghost: That’s a bit obtuse, don’t you think? I’ve done my best with it.

Daughter: I’m scared.

Mother: It willfeel just like home once we renovate.

Ghost: It alreadyfeels like home you shortsighted twit!

Mother: Do you want ice cream? I bought some groceries last time I was here.

Daughter: Okay.

Ghost: I’ll take a mint gelato.

Mother: Here you go, Karen.

Ghost: Why are you leaving? Hey, you forgot the gelato! If you take one more step I swear… we won’tbe BFF’s anymore!

Mother: Karen, go upstairs. I’m going to do some work on these walls.

Daughter: Okay.

Mother: Now, if I just hack through this part…

Ghost: Why are you hacking apart my house!?

Mother: Hey, something pushed me. It must be evil!

Ghost: Yeah, you break into my house, don’t get me mygelato, and I’m the evil one.

Mother: I’m a bit frightened now, but why not fondle someof these personal objects?

Ghost: Hey, that’s my blue ribbon for the second bestsquash! You’ll smudge it all up!

Mother: Oh my word, that ribbon was knocked right out ofmy hand!

Daughter: I might as well go exploring by myselfnow. That scary door surely can’t bedangerous! I’ll just open it a bit…

Ghost: Hello, nice seeing you here. I’ve got the loveliest hat to match your blouse. I’ll go and get it for you.

Daughter: It’s breathing down my neck!

Ghost: There’s just no pleasing the living!

Daughter: Mom, let’s get out of here!

Mother: We’ve put a lot of money in this place, but theminor inconveniences are simply too much! Leave your things and run with me!

Ghost: I was just kidding. We can still be BFF’s!

Witherspork: Part Four

2011-09-30T05:03:00.002-04:00

Part One - Part Two - Part Three

“We keep switching between times,” said the secondJeff. “We’ll never find anyone at thisrate!”

It was the Stone Age again. We had only just walked out of the BronzeAge, after the iron and enlightenment.

“Are you still sure we ain’t all dead?” said one of thetwins.

“I know it seems like the rapture, but it isn’t. Something’s diverting us. We’ve got to find a way to make time stand still. I can find our way, I always can but there’snothing stable.”

“Why not get a pretty girl to hum a tune?” said secondJeff. “Always made time stand still forme.”

“I don’t see how that could… Jeff two, you’re a genius!”

I hugged him.

“Don’t you see? That’s exactly what we need! But it can’t just be a pretty voice, it hasto be the most beautiful in all of history…”

“Who would that be, Gloria Gaynor?”

“No way,” said a twin, “its name has gotta be Jeff, likeours!”

“Unless time is being forced apart. The scorpion clearly wasn’t from thisuniverse.”

“So the next one might not even exist?”

“No, they do. Ifeel it. Each one of is fixed. There’s just subtle changes; a name, a place,a chromosome…”

“Well, if it is a woman, who would be and what wouldtheir name be?”

“Just follow me. If I get us there and I’m right, her voice should anchor us.”

“Whose voice?”

“Gentlemen and soon to be lady,” I said as we walkedthrough a haze into yet another year, “I give you the late, Amy Winehouse.”

“Amy, who?” asked three voices simultaneously.

“You don’t know of her?”

“Was she far outside my village?” the second Jeffasked. “I think I would have heard her.”

“She was way outside your village, across an ocean.”

“That’s preposterous. There are no oceans.”

I moved to say something but Amy was staring straight atus.

“Who in the bloody hell are you four? Where did you come from?”

“I’m Jeff Witherspork,” we all said.

“Curious,” she replied. “The name sounds familiar, though I’m sure I never heard it.”

“What year is it?” I asked.

“Now, I know this is some sort of prank. It’s 2007. Everyone knows that.”

“2007!?” The second Jeff said. “That’s three-hundred years ago!”

“You mean two-hundred years from now?” one of the twins spoke.

“Yes, yes, we’ve all been through a lot of differenttimes today. You saw cavemen for Christsake. Why is 2007 so shocking!?”

“It’s before… it all happens,” said the second Jeff.

Amy’s face could not have been more puzzled.

“Hold on,” a twin Jeff began, “are you trying to say youknow the future? What happens to us?”

“I don’t know. I’dnever heard of another Jeff Witherspork. I just know in a few years all of this is gone.”

“What happens to me?” Amy asked. “Do people still remember my music?”

“It’s complicated. We sang songs. There weren’t anyrecordings left.”

“What did you sing?”

“Oh, the most beautiful folk songs. We sang of golden hearts, pies in America andmy favorite was one they called Back to Black. I always wondered where it came from. It seemed to move us when we thought that nothing ever could again.”

“We only said goodbye with words…” sang Amy.

“I died a hundred times…” sang second Jeff.

Suddenly the ground seemedsteadier. The hazy surroundings wereclear again.

“Ms. Winehouse, I’ve gotsomething very important to tell you. Would you mind taking a walk with us?”

She nodded and followed usout the door. We took a corner and thebuilding was gone. Haze had returned butnot from any temporal disturbances. Shells were bursting over our heads making it impossible to hear.

“What the hell justhappened?” She yelled.

“We’ve switched timesagain. The next Jeff must be from the1940s.”

“Oh, that simplifieseverything,” Amy said sarcastically.

On Trial

2011-09-28T17:09:00.000-04:00

“She dared to show her throat

and got it slit,”

The lawyer for defense

solemnly remarked.

“The whore was asking

to be killed.

“My client was a

victim of seduction.

“Would you really take

the words of this dumb slut?”

The jury nodded

in agreement.

An older man,

the prosecutor, stood.

He looked into the jury

choosing his words carefully.

“The slut wasseven…”

He said and then sat down.

Five-Minute Poem

2011-09-27T10:47:00.003-04:00

I wanted to do an exercise seeing how much of a poem I could write in five minutes. Maybe we could all try it and get a theme going? ;-)

Light slow dances
with the ground.
Wind cuts in,
strikes fast
and dips.
Swing then waltz,
kissing grass blades
on their necks.
The earth is coy,
wants more before
a drought sets in.
But light and wind
have took their toll
leaving cracks through
what was whole.

Here & Now

2011-09-25T04:22:00.005-04:00

Here and now,
while gone and later.
Skin, strong bones
give way to dust.

Brave, bold eyes
soon hollow sockets
without gaze or
wonderment.

I feel my cartilage
retract. Hairline
pulling back
to skull.

The essence
and the body
now some marker
on an unkempt lawn.

Witherspork.... Teaser!

2011-09-23T14:19:00.001-04:00

“We keep switching times, we’ll never find anyone at this rate!”

"There’s just subtle changes; a name, a place, a chromosome…”

“Gentlemen and soon to be lady, I give you the late Amy Winehouse.”

Tune in tomorrow for a brand new episode!*

*Pending troubles with Microsoft Word there will have to be a few days delay.

I Know Where Home Is

2011-09-21T00:39:00.001-04:00

I know where home is

though I haven’t seen it

for some time.

I know where home is

and it’s waiting

out of reach.

I know where home is;

I imagine when I

close my eyes.

I know where home is

and I feel its essence

teasing me.

I know where home is

do you supposethere is

such a place,Toto?

I know where home is

it's not aplace you can

get to by aboat or a train

I know where home is,

beyond the moon,

beyond the rain.

I know where home is

it’s far,

far away.

I know where home is,

if only I could

take you there...

Small Time Bloggin'

2011-09-20T05:34:00.004-04:00

There's something quaint about a small blog, isn't there? One where you can interact with the author. I generally don't advertise my blog for that reason. The people that merely come across it are the best sort. So don't go tellin' no one.

Nice Old Spice can stay our little secret ;-)

The Wise

2011-09-17T06:55:00.002-04:00

The wise will realize

it isn’t what we’ve seen

or even done in life

that matters but rather

the feelings we’ve felt

and made in others.

Novel Revamp

2011-09-15T01:28:00.002-04:00

Hello once more my Spicers and Spicettes. I've been working on a Summer project that I just recently finished. I wanted to revamp a novel, Gnomes of Coyûl I put on Kindle last year. And revamp it I did: new cover, more appealing format, the works. The best part is, all of this greatness, is also available on paperback.

Do you own a Kindle? Then this your place!

Do you desire a more timeless paperback? Then click right here!

As always, if this post is lost in the ether of rantings, Witherspork, etc. you can find these same links underneath the Books tab above. Also, what book is complete without a Twitter feed? And a jolly good Facebook?

For Ron

2011-09-13T02:48:00.001-04:00

They strung him upfor being sick.

One took a cluband smashed his head.

The rest joined in

ripped limb from limb.

His family watched

now destitute

from paying bills

and bankruptcy.

I’d like to help

but feel afraid.

The crowd yells DIE

I whisper LIVE.

*****

Moderator: But congressman, are you saying that society should just let him die?
(Tea Party crowd screams YES!)

Three Poems

2011-09-12T05:23:00.003-04:00

I've wrote these poems over the past couple weeks but haven't posted them. They're more somber than normal. But don't be alarmed, I'm still very happy :-) See. I smiled.

Truth

The truth is that

You never liked me.

Oh, you said you did,

Pretended well enough.

But I could always tell

A liar when I saw one.

And that’s just what you are;

Not nice; not sparing of

My feelings. Justcold.

A bitch without remorse.

Marionette

There’s little consolation

when your hard work doesn’t pay,

and all that you put in stays put

in rigid forms, faint outlines

of desire; puppet shows

played with your heart

on strings. The puppet master

drunk and weaving, somewhere else

and crying out much like the wooden

figure he is holding.

A Legend

I was never legendary

though I tried to be

and failed. I wasat most

a sidekick, supporting actor

to a larger role I couldn’t fill.

I watched others do great deeds

and envied them. But I could not

supplant them. Danger fueled my heart

but froze my arms and legs.

Ten Years

2011-09-11T02:28:00.001-04:00

I had never thought I may I still shiver

of war until have gone but accept

the day to bed that there's hate

ten years ago in class that night beyond what

the towers more peaceful I can hope to

collapsed if I hadn't heal or reason

and fire known how with. If just to

rained. men could be. catch a wink.

Witherspork: Part Three

2011-09-10T23:59:00.000-04:00

Part One - Part Two

“So you really believe in the story now?” I asked Jeff.

“Well, up until yesterday I’d never known another JeffWitherspork. And up until yesterday noone had ever stopped me from flying when I wanted to. So, I don’t believe one-hundred percent –some of a story is bound to stretched out over the years –but I’m willing tostick around and find out some more.”

“Was there anything else you remember? Something that might lead us to the nextperson?”

“You pretty much heard the gist of it from that firstJeff. There were two brothers, who builtthe universe in competition. One blewthe other one away. But–“

“But what?”

“Come to think of it I did hear something else. Mom said, Yah left the secret with thetwins. I always thought it was just ametaphor ‘til now.”

“Twins… twins… was that it?”

“No. They werealso invisible.”

“Well that helps,” I said getting out my phone. “According to Google there’s about ahundred-million world-wide. And we don’teven know if they’re fraternal or identical.”

We kept walking along the highway, away from Jeff’stown. I didn’t have much money and we plannedto hitchhike to wherever was next.

“So where are we going?” Jeff asked.

“To another town, I imagine.”

“Another what?”

“Another town; like one other than your own.”

“What does that mean?”

“Are you messing with me?”

“No, not at all.”

“Have you ever left your town?”

“How would I do that?”

“Get on a bus, a plane… walk like we are now!”

“You’re crazy.”

“Well you came looking for me.”

“You act like you think you grew up in the only town onearth.”

“Well, of course I did. There weren’t many left after the war.”

I froze. “Whatwar?”

“Now you’re yanking my chain!”

“I’ve never heard about a war like that.”

“And I’ve never heard of any other town but mine. Let’s call it even.”

My mind was lost in questions. I stared at Jeff with my mouth half-open asif on the verge of saying something but thought better of it. He hadn’t seemed remotely curious as to whereI came from.

It started raining. I couldn’t get it out of my head that something wasn’t quite right.

“So did you come from the outskirts on the countryside,”he asked. “A few lucky ones managed toavoid most of the bombing, mom said.”

“I…”

My sentence stopped as the rain vanished. The road we were walking on seconds ago haddisappeared. We were standing on sand;just sand. Nothing was around us in anydirection except cacti.

“Jeff, does this seem odd to you?” I asked.

“Quite a bit, actually.”

Something struck me hard in the stomach. I still saw nothing as what felt like aninvisible fist uppercut my chin and knocked me over. The other Jeff was fighting a similarbattle. It appeared a boot was pressedon his face, though one clearly was not. He winced in horror. I tried tocrawl toward him before another’s invisible boot pressed against my chest.

“Now, what have we got here, Jeff?” A voice said.

“Looks like a couple of stragglers fell off the wagontrain.” Another replied.

Wagon train? Ithought. It couldn’t be another–

“Let’s get ‘em good and stripped down. God only knows where they’re hidin’ theirvaluables.”

“Don’t!” I shouted. “We need your help!”

This was apparently immensely funny to them. They laughed together for what must have beena solid five minutes before kicking me hard in the gut.

“Our help,sonny? Who do you think you are?”

“Jeff Witherspork.”

“No, it can’t be. Who’s your friend?”

“He’s Jeff Witherspork too. Now, who are you?”

“Brother, I think we’ve caught us a couple of demons,” hewhispered to his accomplice.

“We’re not demons. We’re both Jeff Witherspork.”

“That’s right impossible.”

“Why’s that?”

“’Cause we both happen to be brothers, twins in fact, andour mama named us both Jeff. And Ireckon you know what the last name is, or you wouldn’t be playin’ this game.”

“Jeff,” I yelled, “we found the twins! They’re invisible!”

The sun was beginning to set. The faintest outline grew visible. Two identical brothers were staring down atus translucently in shock.

“How much do you know about Yah and Sitn?” I askedcasually.

They didn’t run. It was a good sign.

“What devil talk are you blabbin’?”

“I know this sounds crazy, but I was sent to find you,and my friend. Long story short, the endof the universe is coming and we need to fight it. Are you in?”

“Well, I don’t know much about no universe, but keep ontalkin’ while I polish up my gun.”

It was a frightening experience explaining my story witha barrel pointed towards me and hands that might slip the trigger at anymoment. I wasn’t even entirely sure ifhe was listening.

“So, Sitn’s coming back and he’s pissed off ateverything,” I concluded.

“That is quite the mighty tale you just weaved. What did you think of it, Jeff?”

“I don’t know, brother. They could be fixin’ to collect on some bounty with us.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” he said now aiming his pistoldirectly at my face. His outline wasclearly visible in the gathering moonlight as was his gun.

“But,” he said as his brother’s hand clenched the triggertighter, “there’s got to be a reason, we’re, well, invisible and all.”

“You make a good point. You two live… for now.”

He holstered his gun and came over with his twin to helpboth of us up. I was just growing amazedat my luck when the ground began to tremble.

“What was that,” an invisible Jeff asked.

“Maybe it’s more of their devil work?” The other replied.

“No…” began the first, “No devil could make that.”

I thought he meant the small earthquake at first. In fact, I wished he had. Standing not two-hundred feet away from uswhat was what looked like a gigantic scorpion. Its claws towered over us, even at a distance. An immense stinger looked big enough to killus all in one go.

“What the hell do we do?” Jeff, my Jeff, asked.

“I’ve got a plan,” I said. “But it might sound nuts.”

“Look around you, man,” an invisible said, “We’re livin’nuts.”

“Okay, Jeff, you fly me over and drop me on its back.”

“He can fly?”

I ignored him. “You two are invisible so you’ll distract it. It won’t have any idea where you really are.”

“Why can’t we just run?”

“It’s too fast; we’ll never get away. Now, is everybody ready? Remember the plan? Good.”

Jeff grabbed me around the waist. If I hadn’t known better I would have thoughtwe were going dancing. He obviouslythought this too as he chuckled to himself.

In a few seconds a vacuum of air pushed us toward thesky. The other Jeffs below were shootingtheir pistols wildly. It didn’t hurt the scorpion in the leastbouncing off what must have been armor. But the twins succeeded in getting its attention and distracting it.

“This is wonderful,” I said as we flew closer; I for thefirst time. I had forgotten the giantscorpion for a moment before reality charged back.

“You do realize where we’re going,” Jeff repliedsardonically.

“Yeah…” I said. “Drop me right on the center.”

“You’ve got it. And it was really nice knowing you. Have fun.”

I hit hard on top of the scorpion’s back. The gunshots were still keeping itdistracted. But I had no real clue, howto bring the monster down. Where weregigantic scorpions most vulnerable? Their neck? Their eyes?

But I suddenly realized I knew all along in the same wayI knew where the other Jeff was running and always what door to walk into.

I grabbed a pocket knife out of my pocket of allplaces. I just barely remembered puttingit in there. Taking out the longestblade I walked gingerly up to the base of the massive head and plunged theblade inside. The scorpion thrashedaround for a moment or two, before falling. Dead. We’d done it.

It was in that triumphant moment I realized an importanttruth. Apart we were alone and scaredbut together we were powerful; perhaps just powerful enough.

Plumbing

2011-09-09T23:21:00.000-04:00

I poured summer down the drain,

The last of it; the end of it.

Sunrays splashed on flowerbeds,

Spiraling with fresh mowed grass

Into the vortex of another year.

I saw the faucet trickle out

A few fake spiders and a

Lit-up pumpkin. The cycle

Had begun again.

I thought of this poem whilst pouring some long flat, unfinished beer down the drain. It was Summer Ale from Sam Adams and likely the last I will have of it until next year, seeing as how it's seasonal. So, I got the idea of actually pouring summer down the drain from that. As you can read, I'm not very good at these poetry explanation things, but I thought I'd give it a try.

A Sonnet for Luna Lovegood

2011-09-07T03:23:00.002-04:00

I saw you readingsomething upside down

In yourcompartment, wand behind your ear;

Corks strung in anecklace led me to drown

Within your eyes,blond hair, a new frontier.

We saw thestrals flyingunlike others

Their shrill,strange yells so like our beating hearts

Sharing memoriesand pains together

As ones who hadtheir families ripped apart.

Fighting side byside in more than battle

We were friends, almostlovers in a way

But your world andsoul I could not rattle

And watched as youwore yellow on your wedding day.

You werebeautiful, a dirty blonde sun

Eclipsed by your new husband, what can’t be undone.

Trending Now

2011-09-06T01:02:00.000-04:00

@congress
@thewhitehouse

Hurry up, #stepitup

Feed the hungry;

Roof the homeless;

Empty your backpockets

And really help someone.

Gnomes, Gnomes, Gnomes by Whitney Taylor

2011-09-05T00:17:00.001-04:00

My friend Whitney, who blogs at Witty Whit's and is always a supportive and truly great wrote a wonderful fan poem for my novel Gnomes of Coyûl. I'd like to share it with you all here.

Benmade gnomes

Gnomesgnomes gnomes

HowI love them gnomes

Cute little men in beards, tall hats, and coats

Andwomen in their cute hats and dresses

Livingin the beauty of nature

Howsmall they are and size up to a tree

Thetrees stand like towering giants

Through the four seasons this is their home

Theyare quite like us you see

Theylove, fight, and dream

Gnomes gnomes gnomes

How I like how it soundson my tongue

Real as you imagine them to be

A Sonnet for Colin Creevey

2011-09-04T01:50:00.000-04:00

I've sat on this poem for a few days now, unsure if it's ready. It's the culmination of ideas I've had for a long time about how heroic Colin Creevey truly was throughout the Harry Potter books. His sheer, unrelenting loyalty to Harry, just struck me; from a little boy snapping pictures, standing up for him against much older wizards, to in the end dying for him, all the while persecuted with his brother Dennis under Voldemort's regime for being Muggle-born. Let me know what you think...

He gave it all for the man he adored,

and idolized for years in magic school.

Put down his camera, picked up the sword

to die outmatched by all but heart in duel.

Muggle-born, mudblood cast out his sixth year

coming back to fight pureblood mania

threatening his young brother, causing fear;

persistent, rampant xenophobia.

Petrified bysnake but never frightened,

always standing with the good and bravest,

those thought selfless, true and most enlightened;

he proved himself an equal to the rest.

If there is a God he must know above

that Colin Creevey lived and died for love.

Artemis & I

2011-09-03T01:49:00.001-04:00

I entered the following poem in a Greek Gods poetry contest. The particular goddess they wanted wrote about was Artemis so I gave it a shot.

Looking back I realize you were Artemis

Obsessed with wild animals, the hunt and moon.

A lonely river god could never tame

Or see past your disguise.

Actaeon had suffered for a glance as I,

Orion and the rest would fall,

Seeking to undo a fabled chastity

Beyond the limits of your love.

Your jealous wrath hadstruck me dumb

Cut out my tongue, reduceda

Once proud stream to tears

And dammed the flow.