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...
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
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.
Hellmo: a Small Bastard Story. Eternal damnation takes many forms. But in the case of Mr. Strudel, it's in the shape of a bright red, furry adversary, who brings him nothing but terror and humiliation.
I just saw the notification that the YouTube Channel Pages And Polish has posted an episode about my books! The host, Shannon Cox, is one of the people responsible (read as "to blame") for my getting into writing fiction. Check it out! https://youtu.be/aX1Jr-OoHqo
An old Poem of mine:
Mouth like Bukowski
The sun crept up behind the tree line
we rose like zombies
from the grave
another day of errant madness
slaving to make filthy men
instead of rich men