No Refunds
The amazing Valery Mahuchy has sculpted yours truly! He said it was inspired by our many talks of art, philosophy, and the crazy crap my mind produces. Hence the two sides. One is the critical thinker, and the other is the ethereal creator. I can’t express how truly honored and blown away I am by this!
The title poem to one of my poetry manuscripts that never came to be. Now that the years have gone by, I see just how prophetic this poem is. Or how damning...
A poem from the archives. This one has been published several times (I think my most published poem), and seemed to be a hit whenever I performed it. Seems so long ago. Another life. Hopefully it still has a bite.
Kyle's unhappy, unfulfilled, and genuinely ready to punch his own ticket. Would he? Should he? Could he? The answer is no. Why? Read on...
Jake Masters is a bounty hunter with a dark past. That's nothing new. He likes women, whiskey, and wanted posters. Usually in that order. Thing about ol' Jake Masters is he's never alone. You see, the spirit of those done-in by his hand are doomed to follow. Jake's the conductor of his own phantom parade. And the parade keeps marching on...
Everyone knows that a dog is man's best friend. But what if that "man" is actually the head of the limp-dick Ratzi regime? That's right, I'm talking about Shitler.
As you may have noticed, the site has a brand new logo! What else, you ask? You can now wear my fiction, or slap it on whatever Redbubble lets you! All thanks to my great friend, Robert Paul Nixon!
How many bad ideas have started with “just trust me, okay?”? Felix is about to find out as he follows his crush, Heather, and her friends through a Gravenfrost cemetery during a full moon.
This special Small Bastard Story is hauntingly joined by breathtaking art by Justin Weingartner!
Death is always there:
Death is knocking back
drinks with
Hemingway
lurking around
shiny switchblade corners
slippery jackknife turns
rotting on the side
of the road
stalking like a jilted lover...
Rise! is a poem I had written back in 2012, but I feel the message is still valid. I'm a card-carrying procrastinator and self saboteur, and I can't help but feel stupid about it. The world gives us enough obstacles, why do we create even more? If we could just focus all that energy/time/thought into doing what we want to do instead of on all the bullshit reasons we can't/shouldn't/couldn't, then, my friend, we'd be so much closer to becoming our true selves.
Enough preaching. Onto the poem that's mostly preaching. By the way, I hope it helps you if you need it, or entertains you if you don't.
