Wednesday, January 16, 2019

New Millennium Anthropocene

Diversion is an epidemic
and confidence howls in the mist
the storm sweeps away the swing vote
umbrage over the freeway

Like a sleepwalker at recess,
I strike the honeymoon
confidence with phytoplankton.

Millions of wetlands are five-starprosperity
mercury savors the sea.

What’s the story?
The metaphor of cardinals ‘
the blackout of bread and circuses
impress the polygraph
gold never lies but transitions
in portholes from sunken ships
buried in Bethlehem.

From the decanter, I drink
the hush and decompress
while waves wash over
broken bottle sea glass.

Tuesday, January 15, 2019

Darkness of the Forest

Today, I went to the Seneca Nation in Salamanca, NY. To get there, we have to go through Route 219 which takes you through the Alleghany National Forest. I was hoping to elk or even a bear roam through the woods. Not lucky today.

We started back well after sunset. Bradford has a refinery and the smoke pours into the night sky. It is not as cool as the refinery in Chester where flames shoot from the tops of the stacks. The refinery is huge and they have a weird slogan? Principles? One of them is "have fun". I am not exactly sure why anyone should be having fun at a refinery. But it makes you think about before like how it was in the 60's and 70's. Except for the refinery and the Zippo factory, it seems forgotten.

The highway is smooth and mostly empty at 7:30 pm. Bradford disappears in the rear view mirror and there is nothing but blackness once the forest opens up. The Allegheny National Forest's sign has vintage yellow lettering from the 1950s with the dept of agriculture underneath on a brown background. Like stepping into another time.  The half moon barely sheds light on the road, the white and yellow lines are faded into the salt-encrusted blacktop. But the mountains are a thicker black, silhouetted against the dark, starlit sky. Small little villages that have small little signs and you forget the name of it as soon as you leave. A radio station with a white hound comes out of nowhere and vanishes into the black mountains.


Ridgeway is long forgotten and maybe at one time, it was a great town to live in. I can see the people wandering downtown Ridgeway. Most of the brick buildings are empty and hold whispers of another time. I wonder what happens to towns when they die. Do they come back to life? What if they never do? These are things I think about when I am working on my apocalyptic mini stories.

Sometimes, I love the darkness of the forest. The silence of memories, of towns, the night sky. A place hiding in the forest.

Till next time...

Wednesday, January 9, 2019

Bucket List

I drove around the streets of the neighborhood I didn’t live in to look for the right person. People minded their business, doing their thing. I was looking for someone special.

Finally, I saw her. She came out a brick apartment building, alone and not on her phone. She was probably about 21 or 22. Beautiful, graceful, perfect.

I rolled down my window and called to her. She approached the passenger window, bent down to look in, and asked how she could help.

Before she could run or scream, I pulled the trigger and lodged a bullet in her head.

Monday, January 7, 2019

Let's Build that Wall If...

We build a wall along EVERY single border that the United States has.

Why stop at the southern border? Aren't we just sick of the Canadians coming over to this country with ideas of healthcare and paid leave? Working over here?

And Alaska... Sarah Palin says she can see Russia from her house. If that isn't reason enough to build a wall all around Alaska, I don't know what is.

Fortify islands with 30-foot walls on the Hawaiian Beaches, Gaum, Puerto Rico, and the Virgin Islands.

East coast, west coast and the Gulf of Mexico is also vulnerable. Build a giant wall along the beaches. Including Mar a Lago.

If we are going to do it, might as well do it right.

We are told that there is no money for universal health care but money can be found for a wall.

We are told the military needs equipment but there is a lot of junk we don't use.

But...

But what about the people who originally come in on work or student visas and never leave? What about the ones who come by airplane and never leave? What about the people hiding in boats and sail across the Pacific. Or those who come hiding in tractor trailers and trucks right under Border Patrol's watch?

Tell me how does a wall stop those people?

So if he wants the wall around the southern border then wall the entire country. It only makes sense.

Maybe once we are done with those walls. Each state can build their own wall.

Sounds wasteful and stupid, doesn't it? Yeah, that's the point.

Till next time...







Thursday, January 3, 2019

Air Sirens and Jiffy Pop

Air sirens went off again for the fifth time this week. I’ve met others while scavenging. We don’t talk much, we trade a little and then go our separate ways. When the first bomb dropped, I was prepping
the cabin while the family stayed home.  They’re gone now.

I found a perfect package of Jiffy Pop, built a small fire in front of city hall.  Bombs dropped in the distance like exploding lightning.

So buttery, so delicious as the bomb- fire expanded eating the horizon. Screams rise and fall. But I’m here for another day, might as well enjoy it.

Saturday, December 29, 2018

The People You Know by JM Scott FREE in all Kindle Markets Through Dec 30, 2018

Hey all, Finally The People You Know is FREE in all Kindle markets through December 30, 2018.

Did I even mention if  I published it? I published it about three weeks ago, the week I published Santa Girl because when I actually sit down and work, I actually get things done.

Ransom DeLuca is diagnosed with end-stage pancreatic cancer at 35. He opts for home hospice to spend the rest of his days. He writes poems for the people he knows and at his funeral they respond to the poems he wrote for them.

I know I posted a poem from the book before it even was a book so here's another one. Enjoy...

Grab a free copy today and discover Ransom DeLuca.


Saturday, December 22, 2018

Santa Girl , a Daughters of New America Christmas Story by JM Scott is FREE Through Dec 25, 2018

Hey all,  About a week ago, I released Santa Girl a Daughters of New America Christmas story.  It is FREE in all Kindle markets through December 25, 2018.

Nothing discovers the true meaning of Christmas other than Christmas in the apocalypse.

When a world event decimates more than the half of the world's population, 16-year-old Ruby Greentree is alone in Fernwood, WV. That is until she meets an elderly woman and two young children, who she moves in with. She looks at the calendar and realizes it's almost Christmas. And there is nothing more she wants other than to bring Christmas to her new family.

Check out the beginning...

There’s a special place I go before and after my work for the day, a little greenhouse down the mountain a piece.  It was owned by the McGarvey’s but they’re gone like everyone else except me and Mrs. Horton and the two little kids. In the summer, I tended to the precious plants and would bring home all sorts of goodies from the greenhouse. I was in their house just once, but I couldn’t bear the smell or the look of all the blood all over the walls. The sun hadn’t begun to rise yet. I lit a candle and looked at the calendar. It was December 20, 2026.

Five days until Christmas. Mrs. Horton said that we are on our own time now. And we have no use for calendars, but I just got to know the time. I used to wake up in the middle night and still do, looking for the time. I come here every day to know the time to look at stuff that I collected that was all mine, a painting of the mountains, expensive jewelry, clothes I would never wear but thought they were pretty, a cream-colored prom dress I coveted in the dress shop. I probably would have went to prom this spring coming.

Things were getting cozy between me and Darren Hollow. He would have been a senior this year and I a junior. I thought maybe I would marry that boy once he finished college. He did get himself a scholarship to state on academics. If anyone was like a best friend, he was it. Thinking of Darren, tears started to fall again. It was last year at this time when he surprised me with concert tickets in Charles Town. We did it for the first time that night. I pushed Darren out of my mind, which sometimes harder then it seemed. I guess I did love him because the same sadness overtook me when I thought about my parents and my big sister, who were all gone.

I sighed. Christmas. If it were like before, Mom would have the house decorated all up with lights and displays. Dad would complain about the electricity. Sasha would be planning for a toy drive with the school. And I would be signing on to be an elf with at Fernwood’s annual Meet and Greet Santa. There weren’t a lot of jobs for me in Fernwood, not until I could have a car. The closest town with a McDonald’s was about a half hour away in Brenlee. I haven’t made the trip yet, but I knew I would have to sooner or later.

I looked at the calendar again. The grey sky rolled over itself and squeezed the first snowflakes of the year. I knew what would bring the spirits up, Christmas.

Okay, it would bring my spirits up. Even though, I worked as in chopping wood, hunting, and bringing supplies, I still thought about them. Sure, Dad was a hard ass and wanted me to think of my future. Mom called me her wild child and Sasha was perfect– the son my Dad never had and the daughter he always wanted. And Darren who was my best friend before we got serious. I didn’t have anyone else. I didn’t like a lot of people. People didn’t really like me. I was okay with that. You would think that with the end of the world and all I would be happy. I guess I always thought when the end of the world came the five of us would be together, and then I would be the one to be the leader, looked upon as some kind of god-sent person made for the apocalypse. Of course, I was thinking some kind of war or maybe zombies. I was an expert in all things zombie.

I had to go back to the house and get the chainsaw. I was thinking I should take the kids, but I wanted it to be a surprise. Why didn’t they say anything about Christmas? But maybe they didn’t know or think about it. Mrs. Horton spent her time teaching them letters and numbers and reading. In the afternoon, Jason would fish at the creek and Kennedy would spend time with her dolls. Most of which were collected after I started living with them in July. I spent two months on my own, just waiting, hoping dad and Sasha to come back. They were at the high school when it happened. I didn’t actually know what happened until the smoke detector went off. Mom was making food and it started to burn. When I came downstairs, the skillet on the stove was black and there was nothing but blood and bits scattered on the wall. The tears started to roll down my face again. I had to be strong for Mrs. Horton and for the kids. I was their rock now. Sometimes, I just couldn’t help it.

I walked back up to the mountain to get the truck I borrowed from dead Mr. Watson. Mrs. Horton had a big Crown Victorian which she taught me to drive and the truck too. The truck was standard. I could use her car any time I wanted. But I felt that was the family car. Not that we go anywhere and with winter coming, we probably wouldn’t be going very far. I planned on coming down the mountain and driving a bit to the old tree farm about six miles to the east. I could chop down something close by, but those trees were wild and should be left alone. While the trees at the tree farm were made to be Christmas trees. They were always perfectly shaped. My family and I went there every year to buy a six-foot-tree.
Jason, who was seven, wore a red knit hat and was in the maple tree when I came up the drive.

“Hi ya, Ruby. Did you bring us anything?” he asked. He always asked that. I have been through most of the houses and bring all the toys back for the kids. They were getting a large collection in the playroom. I still had maybe a hundred homes to go through before everything was checked through. In all of Fernwood, population 500 and some, there were four of us.

“I just went for a walk,” I said.

“It’s going to snow,” he said. “You know how to build a snowman?”

“Sure.”

“Can you teach me?”

Smoke billowed from two of the chimneys in the house. The wind picked up and blew the dried leaves around more snow fell from the sky.

“If the snow is right, I will.”

Kennedy was coloring by the fire when I came in. I took the truck keys that hung on the peg in the kitchen. Mrs. Horton was baking something which smelled like pumpkins. My mouth watered at the thought of pumpkin pie. Mrs. Horton was one of those old ladies who knew everything about everything. She could tell you stories about when she was a girl and lived on this very mountain. How she got her first buck, which still hangs in the living room. How she landed her doctor husband. She was probably the most interesting woman I ever met. Before this happened, I knew her but I didn’t know her. She lived up on the mountain and I lived in town. I didn’t really talk to many of the older people but they were always pleasant enough.

“Ruby, are you taking the truck?”

“Yeah.”

“Could you bring up more propane? I want to start stockpiling for winter.”

Propane was easy and difficult to get at the same time. Most of us had some kind of propane tanks. I could manage the hundred pounders. There was a propane place just outside of town. I have been there before but not a lot. Mrs. Horton enjoyed cooking over the fire especially for soups or something like that. I’ve already brought her two tanks which she hooked up with no trouble at all. I always thought I was ready for the apocalypse but Mrs. Horton was the queen of the apocalypse. And she made sure to teach me everything she knew.

Then she said, “Be careful, if it snows too much and you get scared, just get somewhere safe. You might want to bring the shotgun.”

I nodded and grabbed the shotgun from the gun cabinet. She used to keep it locked but times were different. We never really knew what went on or who was left.

Jason had left his tree and was probably in the woods somewhere. I waited for him to jump out at me, but he never did. I got the chainsaw from the shed and started the truck.

Though I have been to the propane place, I never really left town and this was the first time I was going to. I pulled over and loaded the shotgun and stuffed some more shells in my coat pocket. The truck just started to heat up as more snow fell from the sky. Maybe we would have a white Christmas. We haven’t had one in years. It would be perfect just like times of Laura Ingalls Wilder. I started to sing “Sleigh Ride” as I turned onto Main Street and started toward the tree farm.