Friday, May 19, 2017

Graduation Weekend!

Last weekend, I graduated college. At least got to walk in the ceremony and all. I do have one last term which I am working on right now. Then I will be done. I am  thinking about going for my master's but I am not sure yet.

I can't believe it's only been a week since we left for New Hampshire. It really doesn't feel that long. On Thursday, the 11th, we picked the rental car up from the airport. It was a 2016 Nissan Altima and I fell in love with it, I would have loved to keep it. I drive a 2000 Altima right now and I thought that was luxurious the new car was even more so.

We left Thursday night around 9:30 and drove all night, stopping here and there. I really wanted to eat Roy Rogers chicken at one of the travel plazas but they were not serving chicken at 2 am. I did get Roy Rogers chicken on the way back. We made it into New Hampshire around 8 am and checked in.  I had a few hours before my awards ceremony so we went to Hampton Beach, NH.

Award you say? What award did you get, you ask? I was awarded for having one of the highest GPA's in my program. Currently, I have a cumulative of 4.0. I hope I get to keep that GPA until the end.  I graduated sum cum laude.

Before graduation, we went to Salem, MA. We didn't get to do a lot of witchy stuff. We will have to be back. We only had two hours to spend in Salem. We did go the Salem Wax Museum, which was not worth the money. It smelled like old wax and books in the museum and it took us maybe ten minutes to go through it. We did check out Salem Harbor, which was beautiful. If I could, I would pack up and live on the coast. I don't think I could ever get sick of smelling the salt,  the dead fish and salty marshes. Salem wasn't really what I thought it would be like. I liked it, downtown was nice and I would probably live there if it weren't so expensive.

Graduation was crazy. We had to pay $20 for parking. But at least we were right at the arena. And then I walked around the front and joined the rest of the people I was graduating with. There were so many of us. I never did get my hat painted because I could never figure out what to get.  Just like I had some pictures snapped (which turned out horrible) and got my fake diploma.I will get a real one in August, once I am completely done with school.  It feels kind of weird. I think it was the president of SNHU that something graduation is both a beginning and an end. Sure, I am 36 but I feel the future to be exciting and scary at the same time.

On Sunday, we stopped in Sturbridge Village in Massachusetts. It was a crazy trip. There was so much we wanted to do and didn't get a chance to. Like go to Maine, Cape Cod, Boston and spend more time in Salem. I guess we will have to plan another vacation to New England.

Till next time...

Monday, May 8, 2017

May and the Weather is Cool

Notice, sometimes when I don't have an interesting blog title that I use the weather? Not the most original, but I suppose it's better than saying, I am just going to babble on about my life.

This week is graduation. Can you believe it? I can't. It's almost surreal because 19 years after graduating high school, I am graduating college. We are leaving for New Hampshire Thursday night. On Friday, I am supposed to get an award for having a high GPA and on Saturday is the actual graduation.

So what happens next? I do have one term left to complete, which I already started today. I will be done in early July. Ideally, I want to continue working from home as a freelancer. I also want to grow Jaded Eklipse and continue working on my fiction and poetry and publishing either through Kindle or finding a traditional publisher.  But, I need to pay student loans and if there is a good job out there possibly with working from home then I might consider it.  I like working for myself, and I don't want to give it up.

I haven't  been doing much writing lately, and I am hoping to get working on some writing soon. I am taking Advanced Creative Writing this term so obviously I have to write stories. I am glad too, because I have been missing it lately.

What is on the horizon for my writing? I need to revise and edit Solider Girl. It is a novella, I finished over a month ago. I need to think of a title for the trilogy as there will be two other novellas that deal with the same apocalyptic event, but features different characters. I have to finish Havana and get it to my beta readers so I can move to the next step. I am still seriously considering taking some of the best poems from my blog and make a book. I have a chap book already prepared for a contest, that I am going to release to Kindle. And lastly, I have to start working on my poetry calendar. That should keep me busy for the rest of year. I also have other writing projects I need to finish.

That's about all for now. Till next time...

Friday, May 5, 2017

What is it About Healthcare

The internet is an uproar about the AHCA that barely passed the US House yesterday. It bothers me too. Because you know what I see? I see 435 people who can't work together and only want to pass party agenda. How did it get this point.  The senate isn't any better.  Chances are this bill won't pass the senate because there is not enough votes. I know Casey will not vote for it and Toomey will because he is a sheep. Actually they are both sheep.

My congressman, Glenn Thompson, said that he voted for it because he wanted healthcare that works for all Americans. That is funny because this new plan DOESN'T. Neither did Obamacare. It was flawed. I understand the price of what some people have to pay for their premiums and their deductibles and it is not right.

I don't care how much the big insurance companies cry about their loss of profit, even though they are still pulling in billions of dollars in profits. And if you think that your premium will go down if this is passed, you are sorely mistaken. Because looking at it from their view point, you are already paying for it then you will continue to do so. It will also make up for all those who drop their plan because of expense.

If this bill is passed, it will directly affect my parents who are in their late 50's and early 60's. It will directly affect me. So I think about it. If I lost my insurance, then I would have to pay more should I get it again.

Not that I hold a lot of stock on what DT says because I think he doesn't know what he is saying half the time, he did say healthcare for everyone. I really wanted to believe that. I really did. But just like most things out of DC it is a  pile of steaming shit.

I also love how so many people are rejoicing because they believe their premiums will go down (they won't,  because the CEO needs his fourth Lamborghini). And how the lazy, poor people will just back to the ER, which by the way costs more to the taxpayer.

Please tell me,  why are some of you so afraid of universal healthcare? Afraid of communism? Afraid of socialism? Afraid of losing your freedoms? Well with the new religious liberty act, only one group apparently has religious freedom and those are the Christians and the rest of just pay taxes for the supposed greater good.

For some reason we have a ton of money to make nukes, you know because that is so important. But we can't do universal healthcare. Our priorities are fucked up. But what do I know? I am  just one of millions of people that is ignored by our representative.

Dear Glenn Thompson, News Flash!!!! People want healthcare. They also want it affordable. They want to go to the doctor's without worrying about medical bills. I don't know why you got into office because it seems like you do nothing for anyone in our district. I am one of those people that used to go the ER for something simple like bronchitis because I didn't have insurance. You think I am the only one? Why not visit some of your rural areas and ask them what they did before the ACA. How many of us used the ER as our only place to get medical care. How many women had a gynecology exam, perhaps their first one in years because of the ACA? How many people are living better lives. Since you don't make an appearance in the district, then you have no idea. Just like your cohorts in congress, none of you have an idea of what the people want.  I know it doesn't matter, because some how in 2018, you will still get elected but it won't be because of my vote.


Monday, May 1, 2017

Girls Who Work in Smoke Stores

sandwiched between the displays
of lottery and the cigarette pack
lined back wall, she scurries
between smokes and the register

lonely, jobless men jibber- jabber- gossip
saying shit
no one has time to hear or wants to hear

and she has to let them hang out
there drinking their coffee playing
their lottery saying whatever they want
to say because the customer is always
right and she needs this job because
the owners keep dangling
some kind of promotion
that she will never get

she looks at me with dark, tired eyes
she wishes they would all go away
and give her five minutes to breathe
It seems like I could be her salvation
wave  a magic wand and buy a winning lottery
ticket then  pass a few grand
to the girl who sold it to me
and I would too
because she knows there is nothing else for her
except for maybe that promotion

someday

I’m not any better than you
just a different set of circumstances
in the end, honey, we burn down to the butt
and turn to ash.

***
Hey all, a day late but oh well. Here is poem 30, which completes the NaPoWriMo challenge. I struggled. I had stuff come up. I had school work. I was blank, my brain was mush but some how I created some good poems. Sure, I created some shitty ones too. But I suppose one of the best things about writing in general is that you get a re-do (or fifty) in most cases.  I am still thinking about collecting some of the best poems on this blog and making a book, what do you think?

Till next time...

Saturday, April 29, 2017

The Shampooed Temple

enlightened polyethylene dawn promotes efficiency
while code

filtration twinkles counter worlds.  I master the oxygen
gazette and extract

shell smudge from timbered sonnets. You
have everything

and cash flashes smiles and toothiest
trolls. I want to describe

today but the shampooed temple
gets in the way.

***
Hey all, here is poem 29. Only one more day to go. Can you believe it, where did this month go? I have no idea.

Find more poets at NaPoWriMo

Friday, April 28, 2017

Holly Hock in the Headlights

***
Hey all, here is poem 28, a visual poem. You can make your own by using this tool http://www.languageisavirus.com/visual-poetry/index.php#.WQPj_dIrLIV  I just felt like doing something different today.

Find more poets at NaPoWriMo

Thursday, April 27, 2017

July 4, 2055

For you. 

Half a cascading cloud take over
subordinate missiles nearby my
relocated toxicology

(cascading missiles, relocated)

hypocritical translations are
shadow warriors left for the dead
an electric spritz finds my market

(hypocritical, warriors, electric)

subsequent gold incubates tea stars
our debut culmination records
underground lava domes and arches

(gold, culmination, arches)


the last bunker imagination

***
Hey all, here is poem 27. I can't believe there are only three more days left of the challenge. Today, I wrote a petit recapitul portatif which is a ten line poem with 9 syllables per line, 3 lines per stanza. Between each stanza is a set of parenthesis with one word from each previous line, separated by commas. I learned this form last year and I like it because I love syllable poems. I also did one about zombies found in  Trick or Poem.

Find more poets at NaPoWriMo

A Latent Summer Memory

Let me pack you green
sunshine littered with starry

corpses in a bag with shallow
snow pockets as flaming

tears swirling melting
milk. This fleshless memory

of winter’s summer
spoils the romp

from storm tossed ocean
I find Neptune’s apple

wormhole in the maple’s
night field and you

won’t need the disguised sojourn
to drink a malicious mountain

I pluck  happy eyes
and sink through the earth.

***
Hey all, Here is poem 26, only a day late. I started working on it last night but I was really exhausted. I felt like just sitting in my chair and drooling.  This is a remix of old haiku I wrote several years ago.

Find more poets at NaPoWriMo

Tuesday, April 25, 2017

in the shoe box under my bed

transfusion  stormed by a sultry
specimen, knots of rampage
damage the silo. Straits  ravish

the boomerangs of  form
and the calyx of the marine-tethered
nitrate, chastened with the spanking

of roosters.  I hedge duels
and bayonets and the lopsided decisive
hue of wonderland

by nicotine. Wavering the morphine
on the formation torch, wandering
with delirious  frosted

stigmas to the slice  of a reckless superlative.

Source:   Tree, Iris. “Tranquility stirred by a sudden spasm.” Retrieved from: http://www.gutenberg.org/files/45643/45643-h/45643-h.htm


***
Hey all, here is poem 25, only 5 more to go. I can't believe how fast this month went by.

Find more poets at NaPoWriMo

Saturday Night Revival

dark matter
flows
from claptrap preludes
and the fiction election
drifts
across the lost lake

hope inside, come on in, you need us

you linger over
atomic
spectroscopy and
create metaphor
                melodies

prayers for you, paradise is for the good sheep, are you good?

my composition
is  a metallic
aura
and air theory
you play may-day
disco

as I corrupt the spirit’s
lyrics

we know your scared, eat this cracker and pray, it will all be okay

our joint vision of near
dystopia
populates our pockets with
                 dollars

It really is too bad
education is diluted to
                dull waves
and allegiances to
nothing.

***
Hey all here is poem 24.  And I am caught up now.  Now I am pooped.

Find more poets at NaPoWriMo

Monday, April 24, 2017

Canoeing the World

***
Hey all, here is poem 23. I haven't done any emoji/pictograph poems sine I worked on Trick or Poem. And I thought today would be a good day to do one. Don't be fooled, this takes longer than it looks, at least it does for me. Perhaps, it is because I am not a big emoji user. I am fascinated about emojis though and how people use them especially on social media. I am interested in the meaning they convey. However, I am also wondering why we seem to be going back to pictorial representations instead of using words. 

Find more poets at NaPoWriMo

Origins


Source: Thoreau, Henry David. Cape Cod.  Kindle for PC, location 267.

***
Hey all,  Here is poem 22. I know I am a little behind but I went offline Saturday through Sunday and visited my parents. I got back last night and I didn't feel like doing anything. I am going to try and catch up my poems tonight. I can't believe this month is almost over. I am thinking of making a poetry chapbook with poems from my blog. There are some golden nuggets on here. 

Find more poets here at NaPoWriMo

Saturday, April 22, 2017

Lightening Strikes Chain Gang

Only Employment was Included!
labor prisoners

search the Edison
elevator but only find
an Iowa farm

And They Have No Warden!

outdoor candles observe
thought near the eye
one last time

The Syllabus for Electricity Ignite His Placed Life!

Source: “Events in Brief.”  The Delinquent 1914. Retrieved from: http://www.gutenberg.org/files/54486/54486-h/54486-h.htm


***
Hey all, I know it is a little late, but here is poem 21. I thinking I am getting sick or it's tree pollen. Either way, my brain is a pile of radioactive mush. Today, I made a found poem. I took a section of my source and ran it through the "Powerball" feature on Applied Poetics. Then I took what was left and made the poem.

Find more awesome poets at NaPoWriMo

Friday, April 21, 2017

Blessed Drudgeries

You crease  over the trepidation,
you crash  the lonely  breath—

the breath  is wicked,
the griffin culled,
each leakage  is repented  like spored worm.

You butcher the trapezoids
with blessed drudgeries,

you symbolize and crow—

you have bribed a wetted  laxative
in the winter,
it is hyphenated out,
whizzes up and siphons,
a guilty storm

***
Hey all, Here is poem 20. I like how this one turned out. It is has a nice cadence to it. I don't have much to say right now.

Find more poets at NaPoWriMo

Wednesday, April 19, 2017

Dimensional Hitchhiker

Crystal shadows
creep through daylight splinters as moons swim in a rose sky
with sharks

from silver dust
the dimension hitchhiker emerges from the tornado dry heat cracks
into stalagmites

one life.  one death.
one more life. another death. different faces- same
old essence

she collects
thousands of dreams memories, bits
of yesterday’s souls

and deja vu
through water ripples words will set her free and whole only on
the page

***
Hey all, Here is poem 19.  This one is surrealism and fantasy, with a bit of reincarnation. It was inspired by the phrase "dimension hitchhiker." I hope you all like it.

Find more poets at NaPoWriMo

Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Jupiter Clouds

questions   fade  in   moonlit  restraints
Jupiter  clouds infest the smoking  spot
light, I am the   jaded silver you keep in
the floorboards and you are the congeal-
ed infestation I twist  in   crystal  games.
what is it like to  own day and night? the
flick of the light bulb stains stoic records
no angel is supreme and  I lick the Milky
Way  with my sky wand.  And it is good.

***
Hey all, Here is poem 18.Today I took some words and phrases from my old poems and remixed them to make a new poem.  Then I decided to make  the poem as square as I could. Was there a reason? I don't know, what do you think?

Find more awesome poets at NaPoWriMo

Monday, April 17, 2017

Obligatory Hoodwinking

In this faithful
domain, onions

lactate and traces
of cultures scrub

deranged submersions
the tollhouse wants a

retro rocket and global
ramifications

this saucerful
sorcery is my

stationary salvation
oxygenized

abstracts, jinxed
fellowship and anthrax

after the obligatory hoodwinking
I regain consciousness.

***
Hey all, Here is poem 17,   a surrealist poem. Because I love surrealism and I find it fascinating. The greatest thing about surrealist poetry is that you create your own meaning for the poem.

Find more poets at NaPoWriMo


Dawn of the Birds

As the sky fades
from Prussian blue to
Persian blue
they wake up-
a worm breakfast
and a fresh puddle bath
from yesterday’s rain
all before the sun hoists
itself over the die cut mountains

they hang up
their dirty tail feathers
shake out the nest
squawk and chirp
across the street to each other
like neighbors in the old city
when laundry was social hour

because a lot has happened
since nightfall, they gossip
about us and what we do
behind closed doors

***
Yeah! Here is poem 16 and I am caught up! So this one is a bit more fun and whimsical because poetry doesn't always have to be so serious. I was up at early one morning and the birds seem to talk to each other at dawn and just made me wonder what they talk about.

Find more poets at NaPoWriMo

Sunday, April 16, 2017

Driving, 3:30 a.m.

I prefer the blackness
cut with dim headlights
land squids in the distance
like good old gods
from that century
before madness
geodes and soda bottles
on the side of the road
glitter in the sky
and those dreams
are lost in the tribal
waters trapped
in broken aquifers
I am looking
up there somewhere
and are you looking
back at me

this message is all there is
when we are all gone.

***
Hey all, here is poem 15.  I was driving on the road late at night. And there is something really magical, surreal about driving on the highway at the time of night. Although I have a hard time seeing unless I am by myself, I love driving at the time of day.

Find more poets at NaPoWriMo

Halos in Darkness

whimsical wickedness
halos in darkness
tonight the leaky clover
sizzle  and wallow
temptations drizzle, the howl

shoplifts lingering
thoughts, a feline  tourniquet
in this blatant destiny  hollow
arranges breakneck whitewash and
the backward stanza

here it is now-
skirmishes  in the collective
with dromedaries  as  fugitives

and blankets of odd thoughts
in my garden of the moonless sky
filled with
halos in darkness
and whimsical wickedness

***
Here is poem 14. A surrealistic poem for you. I have ideas for two other poems, I am hoping they turn out as good as they are in my head. This is an old poem  and revised it heavily and it is like a brand new poem. Nothing like recycling old poems. Find more poets at NaPoWriMo

Benediction Turmoil

When TNT  isolates  loyalty
who’s fear would it be?
tsunami herds turmoil
by benediction

fission is literature
burying the forgery  of memories
flares of oration realize
snapping slander,
scouring coal

tremors  burrow
the suspension command
back to a charmed  wasteland

distortion highlights
the bladed desecration
gritty circuits
stampedes the  lofty  horizon
formation ticks once again,

the slaughter will be blunt
and worship will be right


***

Hey all here is poem 13. After this poem I am three poems behind There have been forces beyond my control and I couldn't write any poems. And then when I did have some free time, I had to work on my school work.  Well I am going to try working on another. Find more poets at NaPoWriMo

Thursday, April 13, 2017

Looking for That Real Kind of Magic

my cut clown car creeps
among ambulance alleys and
cherry lunches-
sapphire sarcasm streams as
the serpent saves santeria.

***
Hey all, here is poem 12. I actually sort of followed the prompt today. The prompt was to use consonance and assonance (repetition of  consonant or vowel sounds). And this poem is also a tanka because why not, I love writing Japanese style  poems. I've been thinking about witches as I have been watching Salem  on Netflix and I keep up with The Originals on the The CW.  I also read a paper about MacBeth today and of course there are witches in that.

Find more poets at NaPoWriMo

Wednesday, April 12, 2017

My Immortality



***
Hey all, Here is poem 11. I know I skipped a day. I was just worn down last night, and when poetry writing time came, I didn't want to do anything but sit around and drool. This poem is part of my Pinterest project One Book- 300 Poems where I create a poem from a page in Debra Ginsberg's book Waiting.  

I am off to write today's poem.  Be sure to find other poets at NaPoWriMo

Monday, April 10, 2017

Cloister



***
And for something a little different... a poetry collage. I suppose it's not all the earth shattering since I have done them before, but I felt like doing one today. The poem is a reconstruction and remix of three different haiku I wrote several years ago. For a little help with the mixing I used this Dada Generator and wrote the phrases I liked and then created the poem. To find more awesome poets check out NaPoWriMo

Sunday, April 9, 2017

Spark Plug Trauma

Stargazer wine whispers
Permeated freedoms. My
Apple pleasures surrender sleepy
Relics to the holy grail
Kept on toll booth bunkers

Prowling beyond the veil
Lemon grass tonic and moko jumbie
Under the vestige. And I bisect
Gluttonous heliotropic souls

***
Hey all, here is poem number 9. Today's prompt at NaPoWriMo was to write a 9 line poem. And I thought why not? Here is an acrostic poem using the words "spark plug" which happen to be 9 letters, 9 lines. And guess what it is not a doom and gloom poem.

Saturday, April 8, 2017

Today Was Once our Independence Day

The highway is empty; the black road stretches into the black night. The mountains just sit there against the denim sky whispering I told you so.  Ain’t nothing left in the town just neon pink store fronts and stores open twenty-four hours that no one is in. Because no one is around. The vacancy of possibility when there is nothing but empty towns and hospitals. It’s been how long? Time moves different now because the worries are different. No one to collect taxes. I hit the accelerator because I can, who will stop me now. Gray haze lays across the gentle slopes of the Alleghenies and the mountain turbines still blink off and on their safety lights for airplanes that won’t be flying overheard any time soon. Maybe they are sending a message, HELP US, to someone something (God, aliens, humans in Andromeda). Ain’t no help tonight and there was no help when it all went down. Adjusting the static on the radio just waiting for that other voice to break the black night while the family sleeps in the silence of our safe car, recently borrowed from the airport, full tank of gas, and I always wanted a Mercedes and the leather feels good and it smells new and fresh. I never had a new car before. Just as I speed toward home tucked beyond  the turbine SOS


in the valley, one 
red firework blossoms.
today-once it was July 4th

***
Hey all, so I am not sure where this gloom and doom is coming from. What inspired this poem was I was driving back from State College on I-99 and there was one firework, a red one to be exact. I don't know it just seemed odd and stuck with me. I let it percolate for maybe an hour and sat down and my computer, not really sure of what direction to take and the words just flew out of my fingers. I actually like this poem, is that wrong? A haibun fit the poem nicely.  Find more poets at NaPoWriMo

Backward Sky

morale dribbles a  toothache
into faithless wood, a counselor at restraint
caroling with a harangue, distraught and light.
before-
she sleeps with  the contraption of her brew.

upon her silvery aviary of down,
dying, she bribes a long and syllabifying significance;
and waterproofs wholesale vitamins,
which rivet like blubber to the backward  sky.

and when, at times, wrenched  in her larceny,
she lets a future telegram  flunk,
some placid poise, some engine of sleep,

tame his homeless hardware. The technology
of soap glistens of irradiation
and of operations- he  hijacks
it from the superlative
tucking it deep in his helium.

***
I know it's a little late, but I will write another later today. It is like my day vanished before my eyes. I spent a good portion of the day working on my Shakespeare paper. Once that was written, I had to write my marketing paper. Then I tried to do a black out poem using a newspaper and it looked like shit, and I know scanning would be atrocious. I don't how other poets make their poems look cool. I guess I am going to have to use magazines. I just can't draw in books, it is a weird affliction I suffer from. Anyway find more awesome poets at NaPoWriMo.

Thursday, April 6, 2017

Right Now

I Should Be
writing poems
and not making
pasta. I Should Be
telling you how the wind
sounds right at this minute
it’s all been done before
the wind seeps
through adjectives.

Right about now, I Should Be
somewhere else,  tomorrow
or yesterday making academics
faint with my genius

the furnace kicks on
just as the coffee pot
spews it’s last drip
and I find myself
living too many lives at once
the blurry transcendence
of chaos

***
And here is poem 6. Poetry writing has been difficult these last few days. I don't know if I am putting too much pressure on myself or my brain is somewhere else. Or who the hell knows. Today's poem is a free verse and stream of conscious poem about how I can't write a poem. Which is a bit ironic since I wrote a poem. Sometimes, when I want to write a poem and I have nothing inspiring, I work on a found poem. But sometimes there are too many source texts. Anyway, show some love to other poets this month and find them at NaPoWriMo

Wednesday, April 5, 2017

Sweet Infringence

slowly over a cup of gold
from the black rose lake
steel glass thorns
 into shadow worlds
for pure love of the waiting

waiting for rapture
to coincide with wild flowers
and I bleed wild flowers
through the garbage
and intertwine in lava

lava erupts from melodious
serenity, come encase
my heart mind and burn forth
with sweet infringence.

infringent roots grow deep
in the ancient world.
The roots grow deep.

deep, pure sounds murmur
to my noisy mind and burn.

burn gold.

***
And here is poem number five. Today, I took an ancient poem (one from the 90's) and used this tool http://www.lazaruscorporation.co.uk/cutup/text-mixing-desk to remix the poem to form a new poem. I like some repition, which is a poem thing (so there is a fancy, literary word but my brain is kind of mushy right now. I have no idea what it is at the time) I haven't used a lot of. Oh yeah, I made up the word "infringence"  because I like the way it sounds. I have no idea what it means, what do you think it means? Find more poets at NaPoWrimo

Tuesday, April 4, 2017

Night Whims

Water buffalo
Hunt from Orion’s white belt-
I need their life myth
Medicine trapped in star glass
Skeins of mozzarella drip.

***
Here is poem number four. So today I did an acrostic and a tanka.  The acrostic is made with the word "whims". Find more poet at Napowrimo

Monday, April 3, 2017

Shrinking Outlooks

I don’t buy protests
but distracted deadbeats
thrusting  novel medicines
into insomniacs.

My well-informed tonic
is restrained in England
we combine our modesty
finding spare rubbish

The pelican doses your stuff
I am alive and inquire an opinion
on shrinking outlooks.

Source: Wodehouse, P.G. A Wodehouse Miscellany.  Gutenberg.org  http://www.gutenberg.org/cache/epub/8190/pg8190-images.html

***
Day three, so far so good. But then again, it's only day three.  Eventhough, this is a found poem, I am surprised on the final product. There seems to be a hint of politics, what do you think? Find more poets at NaPoWrimo

Sunday, April 2, 2017

Crystal Cane

diamond crack
and caramel
on the mouth
of a cool oven

saffron mingles
with raspberry
fillets, ginger
coughs fancy
papers on boiled
acid drops

clarified in-
nocence fringed
at the edges
of small bands
of gold, boxes
of glass divided
into fulm-
inating powder

acidulated mirth
rubs to sugar
fire twists
sugar into
demulcent
mold baskets

effervescence will flow over




Source:
How to Make Candy. Gutenberg.org http://www.gutenberg.org/files/54173/54173-h/54173-h.htm

***
Today, I grabbed words from an old candy cook book (1891 I think) from Gutenberg.org. These words came from the section "Crack and Caramel." I found the section heading humorous. Anyway like other poems I write, I write down a bunch of words and phrases I like and make a poem from them. Find more poets at Napowrimo

Saturday, April 1, 2017

Hypnogogia

The menagerie of lilies-of-the-valley and cotton candy flowers flourish in seawater. A somnambulant  sephora reflects international sunsets as tides of breaking music and the impulse of the aurora aggregate broom flow from coyote cloud stones. In the cave-story pulsar, my iris arrests pictures, a haunting sensation settles in the shadeling grove, and the evocation of the hidden book splashes colors on the wind.
Magic curtails the 
living, gods come out to play
I close the shutters.


***
Yeah, it is National Poetry Month! This is the first poem:  a haibun,  a mixture of prose poetry and  haiku. If you want to read other participants' poems in National Poetry Writing Month or if you need more prompts to get you started, check out NaPoWriMo



Tuesday, March 28, 2017

National Poetry Month Ahead

First things first, I was sad to read that The Found Poetry Review will no longer be publishing. I have learned so much from the last two National Poetry Projects I participated with them. I learned how to make poems I never thought was possible, I learned that poetry is a fluid art form. And honestly, I wouldn't be where I am with my poetry without these people and their effort to bring found poetry more respect. I really appreciate all that they did.

So since National Poetry Month starts this Saturday, I will be participating by writing a new poem a day. Actually, I have some stuff planned in April so I will have poems scheduled for posting when I am away. These will be all new poems.

Speaking of poems, I am still working on the One Book 300 Poems for Pinterest. And I have decided to make resin wall plaques with small poems embedded in the resin. I also have to start working on my poetry calendar in the next month as well. This is the year for poetry. I love creating and writing poems, there is just so much possibility. I just wish more people loved poetry like I do. Just think only a few hundred years, poetry was everywhere, and people learned poems and shared them with friends. Whatever happened to that? Now it seems like less and less people care about poems.

I skipped Nanowrimo last year, and I hoping to that I will something to work with by November. I like these writing challenges because it makes me feel like I am working toward something. Oh I know I should be working on something all the time, but I just need a little motivation just to keep going. We've all be there.

Till next time...


Sunday, March 26, 2017

Dear DNC, What the Hell?

I have been a registered Democrat since 2008. I was an Independent beforehand but in this state I have to a be a party member to vote in the primaries. Anyway, since November I have answered a lot of emails on what I think is important for the party to focus on. I have done surveys sponsored by the party. And I get no response from anyone. Anyway...

The other day, I checked the mail and I got a paper survey from the DNC. I open it up all excited because I want to share my opinions. I actually felt like they were interested in my thoughts and opinions. So the first page is typical survey questions then I turn it over and there it is, they want money. Not only do they want money, I have to pay at least $3 to have my survey answers recorded.

WTF? I have to pay the DNC to have my survey answers recorded? That is the most fucked up thing.

So when Hillary Clinton was running for president, she was raising all this money for the Democratic Party. However, I do not know what they used the money for. It sure wasn't for the District 5 candidate. I don't know who it is off the top of my head. I know one thing on Facebook, I was seeing ads for Hillary Clinton, Donald Trump, Gary Johnson, Glenn Thompson and Pat Toomey. Who is missing from this Katie McGinty and the district 5 candidate. And I know from running TARGETED Facebook ads for Jaded Eklipse, they are a fraction of the cost then running TV ads. So apparently whatever money was raised for the last election cycle was not used to facilitate democrats in this state.

But let's go even smaller, state governments. I was inundated with Republican mailers for state representatives and only once did I receive something from a Democrat candidate. Would you believe the Republican won? Again not even targeted ads on the web for any democratic candidate except for Hillary Clinton, not even Katie McGinty who was running for senator.

Look, I  may not have a degree in marketing but something seems off. Here I am a prime target, female, mid-thirties who likes Hillary Clinton on Facebook and I know if I can do targeted ads for Jaded Eklipse so can others. Sorry I don't vote for letters, I vote for people. I will have vote for people across party lines.

You wonder why the Democrat party is not cohesive? Instead of cultivating the movers and shakers in the bottom of government, they only care about the top dog. Why the fuck would I give money to the DNC when that money  definitely does not help the smaller offices, the ones that actually deal with the people.

Until next time...

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

And Spring Comes- Again

Today, I was reading The Taming of the Shrew, there was a pork roast in the Crock-Pot, and sunshine streamed in the western facing windows. And it really did feel like spring. Of course it felt like spring last month as well. Last week, in fact last Monday, we were supposed to get the worst snow storm of the year.  There was a winter weather warning and everything. We got some snow, definitely not as much as they were calling for, but for some reason school was cancelled for two days. Now there are only patches that dot the emerging green grass.

I live in the north central mountains, we used to get a lot of snow.  Snow that would start sometime in late October and stay on the ground for most of the winter through March. We used to have several snow storms in one season. And now, I am not sure how the Tussey Mountain makes enough money to stay open. Of course they can make snow. And although I am not a skier, I even know the fresh powder is better for skiing the man-made snow is more slippery.

I am only 36, but I remember Pennsylvania being a lot more snowy than it is now.  There is something changing with the weather and weather patterns. And my time on earth is only speck to the age of the earth. That is something to think about.

There's a lot I want to say like "fuck the government" but I think I should formulate a much better post than Fuck the Government. I believe it, though. And I think all the dipshits in congress should make DC minimum wage. It's funny to think we are supposed to be their bosses but we don't get a say in their pay. Enough about that, I'm not in the mood for government chit chat. What is there left to say?

This past weekend, I celebrated my fourth wedding anniversary. We've been together for 16 years though, which is a lifetime or it seems like it. We decided to spend our time in Maryland. We went to Rocky Gap, a casino resort in Cumberland and I won $193 on one machine, playing a fifty cents minimum bet. BOOM. That was pretty awesome, and  I am not very lucky at the casino, so this was amazing.

Well that's enough for today. I want to work on Solider Girl, I am getting so close to finishing it.

Till next time...

Wednesday, March 15, 2017

Atomic Dust in Starlight

toothless piloting across
the wasteland, clutching fresh
photographs of  lonely
degeneration
your dusty reminder

thirty highway rest
stops come and go
while you travel
west, collaborating mirages
of smiles and birthday cakes
hurricane wanderlust

a half-charred guide
disseminating the Milky Way
you find eyes in card
board box windows
but keep moving
there’s nothing to see here
but the same illusion

Saturday, March 11, 2017

Why do People Hate Poor People?

If you haven't yet, check out this article on The Washington Post.

Of course hating poor people is nothing new. There are these mythical people called Welfare Queens, living in penthouses, driving Caddies, all on the government's dime. Oh wait,  they are not mythical-just members of congress.

Back to the notion that all poor people are lazy and if they would only 12 jobs they may get out of poverty. I am not saying there are abusers because there are just not as much as you think.

What makes people (which I am guessing those people are middle class. Of course who knows it seems like everyone hates poor people even richer poor people) hate poor people?

I know- it's jealously. Working poor and poor people live in luxurious  house trailers, apartments and run down houses. It totally makes sense. Then  there are those who get section 8 which help low income people pay for rent, again they are not living in some gated community. And you think your Homeowner's Association has a lot of rules? Section  8 housing has even more rules.

Poor people get food stamps. Free lobster, steak and caviar. Even if a poor person did buy that, it will cut into their monthly allowance and most people don't want to waste their money when they can buy processed food for a fraction of the cost.

Many of the beneficiaries of food stamps are disabled, elderly and children. While a smaller percentage are parents of children and even a small percentage are single able-bodied adults, who can only be on the program for a short amount of time. So if you want the elderly and children working for food because they are such a drain on society that kind of sounds like the turn of the 20th century.  For many people on the program they get whatever on food stamps and buy food for the month. There are multiple studies showing toward the end of the month, calorie intake in much less.

Poor people get Medicare. I have been saying this the 90's. We need Medicare for all. By raising the Medicare tax, every worker (even those wretched working poor people) pays into Medicare. I believe this, healthcare should be for everyone. We know it will benefit everyone.

And who are those working poor? They work at McDonald's, clean your $100 hotel room, serve you coffee, serve you dinner, anytime you buy anything in a store from a person who is not management. They pump your gas and check your oil. They may even work for a small business. A couple of years ago, we had half our roof replaced. The two guys that did it made $10 an hour. That's only$1600/ a month and $19,200 a year, which is the high end of the working poor.

All I ever hear is if poor people would do this and that? And what about you? Maybe you should be more appreciative of the money you do have and things you can buy. To a poor person, a person making $50K a year is rich. If you have a gorgeous house and your mortgage is too high, well isn't that your choice? You can spend money the way you choose and for some reason people will pay for their expensive phones and 9000 channels they never watch at the cost of food, and then complain about how rough it is for them.  I can safely say any poor person would rather have your problems then their own. And poor people, at least those that work (not the ones on SSI/SSDI) want to move up. Want to make more money, move to a better place. Do you think they enjoy making pittance wages? Do you think they love getting food stamps? No.

You want less people on the system, then why not pay them more?


Thursday, March 9, 2017

Mercy

They sent him a letter and told him God was fake. How could he be real when they were all sick and dying of cancer. Pastor James O’Keefe, cleaned his semi-automatics and read the letter again. He sent each a personal letter asking them to come to service one last time. There would be no scripture reading but fellowship and free food. Free for them anyway since he just maxed out his credit card for the food, money he could never pay back since there would be no one left at the church to put money in the coffers. How could they do this to him?

On Sunday,  he opened the doors to the small white church. They filed in. Once they got their overflowing plates, they took their seats. As promised, there were no prayers or scripture readings. Instead Pastor James O’Keefe chained the doors. No one was leaving.

His one begotten flock laughed and delighted themselves as he stood guard at the door.  No one bothered to talk to him or even look his way. What the hell happened to these people? First they turn their backs on God, then on him. It was not his fault or God’s for that matter that these people were sick. There was always heaven and eternal life without pain.

Pastor O’Keefe looked outside the church windows, watching two birds chase each other. A gun shot went off. People screamed. He turned his attention back. John Masterson stood on the table holding two revolvers.

“John?” Asked his wife, whom he shot without thinking twice about it. More people screamed.

“This your fault!” John screamed. “We are sick because you all didn’t want to fight the company. I told you, I told you all they were making us sick.”

He fired more rounds. People ran to the door.

Pastor O’Keefe took out his guns and the flock stopped.

“John, the lord has a plan for all of us. We will be granted the highest places in heaven,” the pastor said.

“Amen,” a couple of others agreed.

“You believe that shit, Pastor? That God wants us sick and dying. Why us? Why anyone? What the fuck kind of God is that? Why does he love the rich ones more?”

“How do you know that he does? That he loves us all equally?”

“Shoot him, Pastor,” Nancy the organist said.

“While we are coughing up our blood, they are breathing fine, some fucking god,” John yelled.

And some of the congregation gave an even heartier “Amen”

“John get down from there and let’s talk,” the pastor said.

“Talking is done,” as he unloaded his revolvers shooting people.

“Save us,” someone said.

The pastor shook his head, “I tried to save you once,  but you left.”

John stopped firing. Half the people were dead. He took the pistol turned it on himself. No one stopped him and he fired the last shot.

“Maybe you all need mercy,” the pastor said and shot the rest of them dead.

Saturday, March 4, 2017

Damn, It's Winter Again

This week I was on break and I had all these big plans of getting so much work done. It was going to be epic. I was going to be productive and write and edit. Okay so I did some writing and editing, but I didn't get done nearly as much as I wanted.

I've been stuck with Solider Girl off an on this whole week and I really thought I would have the first draft done this week. No. Close- maybe. I broke through the block and I had idea rolling I am hoping to spend more than a half hour writing it tonight. More than likely it will be a Kindle book because it is already a novella. It's not going to turn into a novel. I have two more large projects I want to finish before starting new ones, unless it is a short story or poem. I started a story called Love Always Seaside Heights. I'm not too far into that one yet; I have a feeling it will also be a novella and not a novel. And finally, there is a novel I have been working on for the last several years called The State of Ares a post-modern Utopian/dystopian novel. It will definitely hit novel status because it already has 30,000 words written with plenty more to go.

I also planned on pumping out a bunch of Suburban Vampires and that didn't happen at all. Luckily, I do have a bunch of chapter stockpiled for at least eight weeks.

Revising Havana is not  going well. I wrote the entire thing without any kind of break Many times in the rough draft of a novel, I will at least put *** between scenes. Later on, I move stuff around and make chapters, often times keeping the scene breaks. Havana was not created like the others. For one it is more of a stream of conscious novel. I asked people on Facebook and many said they need something, chapters or whatever. So I am sort of randomly breaking the novel into 3,000-4,000 parts and calling it a chapter. Though it doesn't feel right to me, not for this novel anyway. Another is the word count, last I looked Havana  is around 55,000 words, which is kind of slim. It seems like it should be more but it again it doesn't feel right. It is a YA/new adult novel and maybe the word count is sufficient for that age group. I want to get the first revisions done and give to a couple of people who said they would read it.

I wonder, should I stick with my gut instinct  or just assume I am wrong?

Well that's about all today, back to the computer screen.

Till next time...


Thursday, March 2, 2017

Sanctioned Shadows by JM Scott FREE Through March, 6 2017

Hey all, Last week I released my 17th Kindle book Sanctioned Shadows, which has been an on-going project for a little more than a year now.  Is there a record for the most self-published Kindle books? If so, I should try and beat it.

Anyway, Sanctioned Shadows is FREE in all Kindle markets until March 6, 2017.  Some stories in this book are around 5 years old others are more recent. There is a maturity in this collection of stories as opposed my other story collections. Many I have tweaked and tweaked again until I felt they were the best I could possibly do (and I had to beat down Negative Nancy as she always like to say my stories are boring and suck).

Sanctioned Shadows is a collection of 15 stories that explore humanity's dark side. When I began to collect and write stories for  this short story collection, I had plans of calling the collection "Depravity" but the title, Sanctioned Shadows, popped in my head and I think it fits better.

Let's take a closer look at each of the 15 tales.

"Train Number 9" This is one of my favorite stories in the collection. It was inspired by a true event, of a man beating another man with a hammer on a Septa train. However, the story is pure fiction. Centered around this one event, the story unfolds from different points of view of the other passengers, the victim and the beater.

"A Fresh Start" In this flash fiction story, Enola is homeless and gets s job as a phone sex operator but things don't work out. And then she makes a decision to change her life.

"Lifeboat"  This is a story of guilt, obsession and suicide. Amanda's toxic relationship with her best friend, Andy comes to an end when he kills himself. Amanda weaves the backstory with how she is feeling after she learns of his suicide.

"Songbird's Last Delivery" Tim is a gay high school senior who prefers to stay in the proverbial closet until college. That is until Caleb, star baseball player, assaults him. As mild-mannered Tim tries to prevent another assault, he does something that can never be taken back.

"Gunpoint" Former addict and drug dealer, Easter Jackson, is in a pickle when she recognizes the guy who robs her at gunpoint at the store she works at. The guy is her longtime crush and she doesn't turn him in. Easter's voice is unique and memorable and you can't help but to root for everything to turn out for Easter.

"A Place for You" Timid the leprechaun joins a midget fight club to earn money.

"Sam's Slumber Party" Samara is a loyal employee that is until she takes her colleagues hostage on the overnight shift. Even the sweet ones snap at one time or another.

"Saturation" Lia is a divorced woman who decides to skinny dip one summer night at the local lake. But Lia comes to realize what happiness is a little too late.

"Letting Go of Steffi"  Chip Waters is obsessed with Steffi, the rich girl next door, and this affects his future lovers. And then one day, Chip sees the world for what it is.

"For Love's Sake Alone" An abusive woman and her man. He takes things into his own hands and finds freedom.

"Sometimes the Garbage Must be Buried for Things to Grow" Skyler Michelle can't get over her ex. But he shows up one night and records their love making to blackmail Skyler's mother for money. The story doesn't end there and there is more to it, but I don't want to give a lot away. The ending for this one was recently gutted and rewritten.

"Birthday Girl" It's Solara's birthday and she works at the soda factory.  Evan used to work at the soda factory but got himself fired when his ex-girlfriend became supervisor. Evan has a brilliant plan for revenge but sweet Solara finds herself the victim.

"June 29" One thing that is pretty common in this collection is the snapshot collection of various viewpoints. Like "Train Number 9" this story is told from various viewpoints about a plane crash.

"2166" Two women touch a fern in the woods and are transported a 150 years in the future. And even though they are in the same town everything is in ruins and the women have to try and survive in this bleak future world.

"Save my Soul" This is my other favorite story. A grieving dad has a near death experience where he sees his son in an inbetween place. His sons wants to trade places where the son goes to "heaven" and the dad's soul is stuck in the inbetween place for a 100 years.

Please grab a copy of this book and when you are done, could you leave a review? I think it was Hemingway who said we [writers] are always apprentices in a craft and never become masters. With that I am always learning. Sure, I had a bunch of classes but they can only teach so much. People reading my work and telling what worked and what didn't will go beyond the classroom for learning on this craft. This craft I call writing, which is, for better or for worse, my life.

Till next time....

Tuesday, February 28, 2017

Floaters- A Stream of Conscious Blog Post

It was the summer of 1979 (and since I was born in the summer of 1980)  I don't what happened in the summer of 1979. Was Reagan running for president then?

I often think about nuclear weapons and how I am lucky I wasn't born during a time of drills and nuclear threat. All that plutonium and uranium somewhere in the earth like it was waiting for us to discover its power.

Why do even need nuclear weapons any how? Are there really aliens and we have to stop them to preserve our way of life? Like pickles and hot peppers.

Does anyone know what a billion dollars look like? Imagine all the good a billion dollars can do. Imagine what 54 billion dollars can do. I read somewhere Bill Gates is on his way to a trillion dollars. I guess one dollar for every star we can see.

Lately, there are floaters in my head. Random phrases and words But when I get to a blank page, they hide under the covers or in the sand with a scallop shell place holder until the tide takes it away. Sometimes, I lie in bed and the floaters come and swirl around like pixies.

Are pixies part of Carl Jung's universal symbol theory? I would have to look into that.  I want to write and work on stories and the blank page stares at me. I know I am missing something but I don't know what.

Everyone talks around me and today I watched Al Roker on TV and he talked with Lisa Kudrow and for some reason she seems just like Phoebe. She sat down at the table, which was just a prop for the segment, buttered her roll and nibbled on it. I wonder what they did with the food.   Jennifer Beals was on there too, and I was thinking about Flashdance. And for once, I could watch TV  without DT . Amazing, and yet I still think about those nukes.

You can buy plutonium containers from Russia. In the story that I am working on or more like staring at the next blank page, I researched nuclear weapons. I learned as long as Buffalo does not have a direct hit, I should be okay. I wonder if Canada would let me in, if bombs started dropping. Then my mind plays those scenes of what I would bring to my flight to Canada.

There was a book called Flight to Canada and I can't remember who wrote it right now. I remember it was strange and trippy and I loved it. I read it an African-American literature class at Penn State. The professor was in the majority, which I thought was odd at the time.

I wonder why it rains diamonds on some other planet and gold found in only certain places, just like coal. I like the trees and the mountains where I live and the creek runs rusty. I guess in another ten years it will go from rust to black. It's a good thing I have dark siding on the house now but we have cream-colored siding in the basement. I keep looking for pressure washers because there is nothing I would rather do then pump funky water to clean cream-colored siding while  looking for the sun.

And maybe everything is in my head. Sometimes, I just see (not like a psychic mind you) something foggy in the future. Something has changed. I know I said that before. The universe has changed. And I like what Tesla says about how we are energy or something like. I know the word frequency was in there in that quote I like.

Since I have no clue on what else to write. I'm just going it end it, sort of abruptly, and with the thought of floaters in plutonium.


Sunday, February 26, 2017

Subtext Theft


***
Hey all, this is a poem I wrote for my last poetry class. I'll admit, I love doing poetry collages. This one is digital like the ones that appear in Trick or Poem. I'm happy to be working on the poetry project for Pintrest because I love poems and I always feel writerly when I am working on poetry. 

Enjoy.

Till next time...

Thursday, February 23, 2017

And Here I am

Today, where I live it reached a high temperature of 66 with partly cloudy skies. I left this morning a little after eight to take my kid to the dentist and went out without a jacket, it was already in the upper 40's. Hundreds of miles away off I-80, Wyoming was experiencing a blizzard. Pandora is playing songs I like, but I've got some 90's music running through my head.

Scientists discovered seven planets rotating around a star in the Goldilocks zone. I closed on my house today. And sometime in the next week, we will have the deed. Sometimes it feels surreal. Here am I, 36 almost 37 and we finally own our home free and clear. But we are also very lucky because we knew the right people to get us to where we are today.

Last week I was working on March's budget and it is kind of empty because I don't know how much the sewer will cost or the fire insurance or the property taxes. Those are small problems though. One of the greatest things is that since we own the house, when I start paying on student loans, I will have more money to put toward the loans. Unless, I win 100K. That is enough to pay off all my student loans and go to grad school at SNHU.

I am still considering grad school, if I do, it will have to be paid for with cash because I already have a lot of student loan debt and I don't want to add to it either.

How's the writing going?  For once, I can say good. Remember the last post and I said I was stuck. Well I deleted 2000 words of garbage and restarted like I said and I am happy with the progress.  I will start working on the poetry calendar this week. And next week when I am on break I will write five more chapters of Suburban Vampires so I have a bunch done for my weekly posting on Wattpad.

So that's about all for today.

Till next time...

Monday, February 20, 2017

Back to Writing, Only to be Stuck

Lately, I wanted to be more productive. I woke up to the fact that I waste  a lot of time on Candy Crush ( two out of three versions) and on Facebook reading news articles and comments. I would also sit around with drool coming out of my mouth because I was too lazy to do anything. There is nothing wrong with be lazy, but when you are lazy more times than not, there is something wrong.

Slowly, I got myself back on track. Look- I'm posting more! I have been devoting at least a half hour for revising time and a half hour devoted for actual writing. The revising no problem- I started working on Havana my latest novel and switched to Sanctioned Shadows so I can  publish it (look for it this week!).  Just last week, I decided on scheduling reading time. Everything has been going great.

I restarted working on "Solider Girl" and I was easily pumping 1000 words in a half hour period. Then everything came to a screeching halt. So fucking stuck.

I like to pride myself on being a "seat of your pants writer" but even with that I have a basic idea of where to go. There is only one story that I have planned and that is Suburban Vampires (now on Wattpad).  Like I said, I have  direction even if it was vague.

Here's the thing, the climax needs to happen. I need to jump in time by at least several months.The first half really builds up. I am worried about jumping ahead. I thought about just writing the climax and come back to the middle. But then again the first part of the story took place in Nebraska and the second  half takes place in Vermont and I could split the novella into two parts and the time jump will happen at the part change. I have only written maybe 2000 words since they got to Vermont and they suck ass. The energy is missing from the second half and this may be the problem. Perhaps I  should just start again in Vermont. Have them get to Vermont then jump in the future. Actually have the part change right after they get to Vermont.  This is probably the best way to go.

I can feel the climax coming and it needs to happen. There's no rule or anything, just a feeling. I think about the things I learned in my fiction writing classes and I feel that is why I think more about the boring bits that no one cares about.

Thanks for letting me rambling on about this story. It is important for me to be steadily writing once again. I have the time to write and write a lot. I have the time to be edit and revise. I am lucky because I do have this time. I don't care about a big fancy house with a huge mortgage payment, I don't care about a new car. What I care about is writing and living the life I choose. And I am, even if I am stuck.  I don't want to quit, I can't because I came too far to quit now.

Till next time...

Saturday, February 18, 2017

Restless

In the one class I am taking this term, I had to use two social media channels. You can find a bunch on the sidebar, if you are interested. One of them is Pintrest. Oh, I love Pintrest. Why didn't I try it sooner? There is always so much stuff to look at. So many infographics.  When it comes to digital stuff, I am a hoarder. I won't clean out my picture folders even though I won't use bits of pictures and other text designs ever again. I love free books and free music. I will download free pictures because I can. And with Pintrest I can pin stuff I like for not particular reason other than I must have it on board.

Anyway, I digress and all that other junk is unimportant and just shows I am a bit whacky. On Pintrest, I have a board called "One Book- 300 Poems." I am creating a found poem using the blackout/whiteout method for each page from the book Waiting: The True Confessions of a Waitress by Debra Ginsberg . This is a project for Pintrest and I bought the book specifically for this purpose (bonus it cost fifty cents at Goodwill). Right now, I am scanning each page and making the poem digitally. I don't have the heart to draw on the pages, yet.

The following is one of the pages I created.


If you like what you see check out the others poems in the series here and while you're at, please follow me.

Till next time... 

Thursday, February 16, 2017

Trick or Poem by JM Scott FREE until February 19 2017

Hey all, I just wanted to let you know Trick or Poem is FREE on all markets until February 19, 2017.

In this small collection there are 31 Halloween and/or horror themed poems. Demons, witches and even a windego makes an appearance.  There are also a variety of poetry styles in the book such as haiku, free verse, digital poetry collage, found poems and pictograph/emoji poems.

By the way, the book cover is none other than Egg Hill Church.I did some photo editing and made it look creepy. I think it is one of my better book covers.

I hope you grab a free copy of the book and I would love to know what you think of it.

Here is a free sample:


Till next time....

Tuesday, February 14, 2017

Novel for Drunkenness

He lived in the shadows watching those who live. Once a week, he would get a note in the mail telling him who his next soul was. And every week for the last hundred years it was always some disgusting vagabond, drunk and crazy. He was sick of their pickled, nasty souls. He wanted something better. He deserved something better.

He got his directive for the week and tossed it in the garbage of his shitty one room apartment in north east Philly.  Jules Austere, the best-selling author was staying only a short distance away at the Hilton. Now that is a life, he could get himself into. Writing stories, making a shit ton of money selling the movie rights.

It was easy for him to slip past the front desk clerk and the lone security guard. People don’t want to see if they can’t explain it.  Jules Austere was staying in the penthouse which was no big surprise there.

Taking the card key he made while the perky desk clerk flirted with the middle aged security guard, Seamus put his ear to the door and heard the tv on as well as the bathroom fan. He slipped the key in, hoping the dead bolt wasn’t latched. It wasn’t.

Seamus crept into the hotel room. Crumpled clothes lay on the floor. Room service trays and McDonald’s bags were scattered over the table. The room stank like stale weed and vomit.

The bathroom door was slightly ajar and Austere was sitting on the shitter looking at his phone. Seamus glided into the corner that faced the tv and beside the king-sized bed. The toilet flushed ; Seamus noticed the runes burnt into his back. The glyphs of various shapes were to ward off supernatural attacks.

Fuck and double fuck.

Jules Austere saw Seamus in the corner.

“What bloody hell?” He yelled and came at Seamus with a dagger. Seamus grabbed his pudgy arms before the writer could sink the blade into his shimmery flesh.

“Who the bloody hell are you?” Jules yelled.

“Soul-Sucker.”

“They're real? bloody hell. Hey so what kind of souls do you take?”

Seamus stopped fighting and got off of him. He lit a cigarette, “Mostly drunks and druggies.”

“Right, well I am not any of those. So why me?”.

“Your stories, I want your stories- the unwritten ones.”

“Right, listen. Give me some of those drunk souls, I want that feeling again. I can’t because of my liver. And I will give you dozens of stories and novels, I never published.”

“Just like that?”

“I would give anything for a bloody drink and be drunk. And I mean anything. I will even put in a good word for you with my publisher.”

Seamus looked at the fat writer who wanted to be drunk but couldn’t. It was his life after all so he should be able to do what he wanted. He probably had to stay alive for as long as possible otherwise how would his publishers and producers make money?

“Are they any good?” Seamus asked.

“Yeah they are good, I wrote them."  The writer plodded off to the computer and brought up a file. Seamus skimmed it.

Seamus presented his arm to the writer, “Bite and drink, but first one of those novels.”

The writer plopped the whole folder on flash drive and sunk his teeth into Seamus’ arm.

***
And here you ago, another flash fiction story. This one is a around 540 words. I planned on writing a blog post, but I had nothing to say. I do have some ideas brewing though. What do you think I should write about? Let me know.

Till next time...

Sunday, February 12, 2017

Jackpot

driving on the not so open
road, fresh ivory dashes
against asphalt from drudgery
twelve hours locked
in place- looking at glass

the trip meter reads 777.
If I were in Atlantic City
under a sapphire sphere those
sevens would be my jackpot,
thousands of quarters ping
pinging like sleet on windows.
Enough not to go to bed hungry
tonight or for the next many nights.
Yes to prime rib and bury
enough in the backyard.

Tonight, the only jackpot that befalls
me are liquid half dollars splattering
against the windshield

That blue sphere shatters and I’m
on the same road where Lady Luck
masturbates on the shoulder
while cars keep going nowhere.

***
Hey all, I wrote this poem a couple of years ago while I worked at a glass factory. I was driving home and I just happened to notice the trip meter reading 777 just as it started to rain- those big, fat raindrops. Would love to know to know what you think

Till next time...

Friday, February 10, 2017

The Afterlife of Tanya Madera by JM Scott FREE Until February 14, 2017

Hey all, The Afterlife of Tanya Madera is FREE  in  all markets until February 14, 2017.

I wrote this story four or five years ago and it is still one of my favorites. I have had this idea for awhile, what if someone wanted to die a violent death because they wanted to come back as a ghost to inflict harm on others. But that's all it as

Then one day I was walking in the woods with my husband. It was this gorgeous spring day. Then I saw it, the pink flannel that you see in the book cover. And all of sudden, that little idea exploded.  I saw the characters and found the story.

If you will, here is an excerpt from the book....

Bill met Danny O’Brien at the hospital. He had the same spiky hair he had on TV but he wore black plastic glasses. His crew consisted of two other guys. One chunky guy with his pants falling around his ass and a super skinny one.

“Bill,” Danny said and shook his hand. “I’d like to see your wife first and then if you want, you can come along with us and talk to the girl’s mother and friends. I’m sure the mother will talk to you since you found her.”
.
Upstairs, Stacy slept on a chair beside Jackie. Stacy opened her eyes when Bill and Danny came in.

“Oh my god your Danny O’Brien from Spook Nation!” Stacy exclaimed. “Bill you didn’t tell me you believe in ghosts.”

“I don’t but I don’t believe Jackie went crazy either. Maybe this guy can help. He said Jackie is in trouble.”

Danny went over and touched Jackie’s skin. “She is very cold as if she were dead. That means I am positive Tanya is with Jackie right now. Make sure the nurse brings a lot of blankets.”

Stacy nodded and went to find the nurse to get more blankets. Danny opened Jackie’s eye lids and took some notes.

“What color are Jackie’s eyes?” Danny asked.

“They are brown with flecks of green,” Bill replied.

“Come here and take a look.”

Bill looked into his wife’s eyes, they were no longer brown with flecks of green but an ashy blue that looked vacant, lost- dead. Stacy came back with more blankets.

Danny looked at her, “she isn’t going to wake up right at this moment. Tanya has her right now. Before we can fix this, we have to figure who Tanya is and why she is holding onto Jackie. Bill, you want to come along?”

“Bill, I want to stay. I feel like this is my fault. I took Jackie back to the house,” Stacy said.
Bill nodded and told Stacy, “I’ll give you a call later.”

Rachael Madera lived in a small townhouse just outside of the Meridian Borough. The townhouses were all white. There were cars parked in front of each unit. Danny pulled into an open space. His camera crew got out and turned on their cameras. Danny knocked on the door with Bill behind him.

“Miss Madera, I’m Danny O’Brien, I talked to you last night.”

“From Spook Nation. Tanya loved that show. Come in.” Her eyes were red and sunken into her skull. The living room just had a couch and a tv with a coffee table. She scooped up some pills and put them back in the bottle and tried to hide the bottle in the sofa.

“You think Tanya is a ghost? Why isn’t she visiting with me?” Rachael asked.

“I don’t know. Do you know this man?” Danny asked about Bill.

Bill didn’t know her but recognized her as a waitress at the truck stop where he and Jackie went to dinner several times.

“No, not really. I’ve seen him and his wife at the restaurant I work at.”

Danny gave her a picture of Jackie, “how about Jackie did you know her. Or did your daughter know her?”

“I’ve seen her around. I don’t know if Tanya knew her or not. Her only friends were that girl Lucy and that guy Mike. I don’t know she would be hanging out with someone older than her but you never know teenagers. Maybe Tanya was into drugs.”

Bill went for Rachael and grabbed her shirt, “my wife doesn’t sell drugs. We are the ones who found her. And now your ghost daughter has my wife trapped in a coma. I don’t want to lose my wife.”
Danny pulled Bill away. Rachael looked at him with her wide, red eyes, “sorry I was just offering a suggestion. But you guys found her, so maybe it was your wife all along. Come on, you guys just happen to find her, doesn’t it make you guys look suspicious?”

Bill lunged for her but the camera men held him back.

“Bill, keep cool. We will find the truth. Miss Madera, focus on anything you might remember from when she disappeared. Anything at all.”

Then Rachael broke down in tears. “I’m a horrible mother because I don’t know what she was doing before she disappeared. When she was at home, she was either alone or with Mike. She spent all her time in her room. I thought she was just going through a phase. How would I know? I treated my mom the same way. I don’t know. Tanya and I were never very close. I worked a lot, I drank a lot and the damn doctor put me on pills that make me sleepy. Tanya was the one to take care of me when she was around. It should’ve been the other away around.” Danny went over to her and gave her a tissue. He put his skinny arm around her and hugged her against his skinny chest. After several minutes, Rachael calmed down.

“Can we see her room?” Danny asked.

Rachael sniffed her snot and nodded, “top of the stairs, last door on the left.”

Tanya’s room was bare. She had a twin bed under the window. There were two book cases filled with books with a cd player on top of the one book case. There was a computer on her desk. Her clothes lay in piles on the floor. The camera men videoed everything. Danny opened her drawers and pulled out a worn journal. He flipped through the pages.

“I think we have something to finally work with. Its Tanya’s journal,” Danny said aloud and rolled the journal up and put it in his coat. Bill flipped through the Meridian High School yearbook. She put a heart around a guy named Brett Adams.

“Looks like she had a crush on Brett Adams. I heard of him. He was fast tracked to the NFL then on the day of his try out, he went to kick the ball and it seemed like he pulled a muscle but he went down hard. According to the doctors, he dislocated his hip. He never played football again,” Bill said.

“Anything else in there?” Danny asked.

Bill flipped through the pages and then pointed out pictures of Danielle and Cameron with horns coming out of their heads. Bill flipped more and showed Danny pictures of her two best friends Lucy and Mike.

“Who should we start with?” Danny asked.

“Mike Hawkins,” Bill said, “he talked about her disappearance but then he didn’t say anything at the candle light vigil in her honor. To me it seems weird. How can someone say he cared about her so much and then didn’t say anything at the vigil?”

“I agree, I think he might know something,” Danny replied.

“I wonder if the police are doing anything?” Bill asked.

“I hope so. But I know they will make it look good and try to do something but they don’t have the resources to find out what happened. Unless someone comes forward and admits it.”

***

Grab your free copy to read more and if you feel so inclined let me know what you think.

Till next time...

Wednesday, February 8, 2017

DayQuil, Dreams and Me

Without DayQuil (really the Family Dollar knock-off because it is so much cheaper) I would not be able to write this blog post. Though I am feeling much better today. Monday was the worst between fevers and chills, a migraine and constant napping. I felt like I had a head cold last week but it was going away. Then Bam- my kid gets sick and has to come home from school. Two days later, I have it.

One of the worst things about being sick are the dreams. Normally, my dreams are already bizarre and vivid. When I am sick they are magnified a 100 times which means I wake up more because my dreams are even more disturbing. I get many ideas from dreams. One of my notebooks in One Note is labeled "Story Ideas" and when I remember an exceptional nugget I write it in that notebook. I also have another notebook labeled "dreams" and this is where I place dreams or fragments then look up symbolism on the web- as if I am trying to either figure out if I am psychic or learn more about myself.

Over the years various bits of dreams made it into a story. The giant bronze sun sculpture in Seaspring Briar that turns into a deadly saw blade was in a nightmare years ago. In that dream, the sun sculpture chopped off my brother's head.  Parts of Havana, WV, my novel in progress, were taken from dreams such as the town of witches, the mischievous dark- haired witch,  and the people who live in dumpters.  And in Gone Before Dawn, well there is a story to that one... where the entire novel was based off a dream in a way.


Do you that moment in between wakefulness and REM Sleep is called hypnagogia. According to Wikipedia (I know not the most scholarly, but it is sufficient for this purpose), Hypnagogia is a transitional state which features lucid thought, lucid dreaming, hallucination and sleep paralysis.  One thing that is weird about my sleep patterns is that I can go into REM quickly. There are times when I doze off, have a  fucked up dream, wake up because the dream was fucked up and only a half hour or 45 minutes passed. Anyway that time between wakefulness and dreaming is a fascinating place to hang out. There are some really great things that can be found in hynpagogia. Anyway back to Gone Before Dawn...

I was 17 or 18 and I was in bed almost in REM sleep, probably in the hypnagogic state when all of a sudden someone's voice, a young woman, screamed "someone please help me." She was in distress. And it felt so real, so real in fact I sat straight up in bed. And it unnerved me. I could never forgot it. Nothing like that happened before then and nothing like happened after that. It was like we shared brain waves for that fleeting moment. I still think about it and I can still hear her voice in my head. For years afterward I kept thinking about that moment in my life and eventually Gone Before Dawn was born. In it, Delta screams for help and there is someone that gets the message, Moira Ponds, who can hear voices- voices of those who go missing. Sometimes I wonder if what I heard what was real or not.

One last thing, in Gone Before Dawn, The Puritans are a right-wing,  ultra religious  group of leaders that are in power all over the world three hundred years from our present. I wrote this novel in 2014 as part of Nanowrimo. And during a nap on March 2, 2015 I had this strange dream, "was arrested in Lake Harmony (in Pennsylvania) by Donald Trump who happened to be a cop for bad driving and smacking into a couple of cars."

I think I'm onto something or maybe it is just the DayQuil talking.

Till next time...



Saturday, February 4, 2017

I Love Santa Clarita Diet

Last night, I binge-watched Santa Clarita Diet  and I loved it.  And I am really hoping for a season two. What is not to love?

Zombies- check
Drew Barrymore- check
Drew Barrymore munching on dead people- check
Dark humor-check.

But then it got me thinking, sure I love zombies, who doesn't?  There was something more. Something about Sheila and Joel's characters, how they curse all the damn time, and how they act. How the  music is stuff I heard when I was younger. And then it dawned on me- I related to the characters.

And then I realized, damn I middle-aged. When the fuck did that happen? Weird thing is even though Joel and Sheila are middle-aged, they didn't act middle aged (aside from the killing and hiding dead people). You know like middle-aged like how our parents were long time ago. It's like there was whole secret world that gets opened up when your middle-aged. Seriously, you want to drink beer and watch Spongebob, no one  gives a shit. All while your kid is just trying to hide. It's like you spend your twenties raising small children and then boom by the time you are in your mid-thirties your kids are older and things are different.

Sure, there are a lot of people who hate getting older. This July I will turn 37 and I am looking forward to it. I will be only 42 when my kid is 18. That is still middle aged with plenty  more to go.

How do you feel about getting older?
Till next time...

Monday, January 30, 2017

Good-bye Poetry Journal

Today, I have to retire one of the two poetry journals or notebooks or workbooks- whatever you want to call it. I have this weird thing where I write poetry on paper with pen. Not that I don't write poetry on the computer because I do just that is not the norm. This sweet little notebook has no lines and is spiral bound and cost me two bucks at Wally-World.

The no lines are important and hard to find. Unless of course, I want to shell out a bunch of money for a sketchbook. I bought this notebook two years ago and there are three empty pages and it is time for retirement. Yeah that is another weird thing, I never completely finish a notebook. I always leave a few pages because I always like to make sure the same poem is in the same notebook. In the time I had this I have written poems for a National Poetry Month challenge, two poetry classes, various poems because I wanted to write a poem, notes on chapbook creation, poems for my Halloween book

My handwriting is pretty bad. It is a mixture of cursive and print. I swear the older I get, the worse it becomes. I kid you not, I even have a hard time reading what I wrote. These pages here are the first draft. There are some pages with arrows, scribbles and  words in the margin.

When I was younger, I wrote poems on whatever was handy- napkins, paper plates, scraps of  paper, margins in school notebooks. Over the years, many of those are long gone. I think I may have one in a shoe box but that is probably degrading over time.

Sometimes, when I am looking for something else, I come across one of these old journals. I find myself rereading it. Then BOOM, I lost an hour or two.  But rereading those old notebooks, I learn something. I learn about how much my writing has improved over the years. I can visibly see the progression.

Anyway, should I ever become famous, these will be valuable to some scholar writing their dissertation and looking for insight. That is if they can read my handwriting.

Before signing off, I just want to share with you that I have gathered all the stories for my upcoming short story collection Sanctioned Shadows. I am going to start final revisions tonight. Once they are done, I will decide the order and begin preparing the book for publication. I am shooting for February or March of this year.

Till next time...