Thank you in advance for purchasing my book, Letters to a Prisoner. I'm looking for reviews on Amazon. A previous version of this book was endorsed by Al-Anon. It contained exerpts from Al-Anon's Blueprint For Progress. I decided to go ahead and publish without those exerpts. It is currently required reading at Habilitat-The Place of Change, a drug rehab in Kaneohe Hawaii. Here's the link for your convenience: http://amzn.com/1456405365
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Monday, June 13, 2011
Father's Day Story--Published!
My story, "Clean Sweep" has been selected as "Today's 'Dad & I' Story" for OneFortyFiction.com.
As you might know, we allow visitors to critique stories once they've been posted. If you'd like to follow in on any critiques our readers choose to make, you can do so at http://www.onefortyfiction.com/archives/clean-sweep.
As you might know, we allow visitors to critique stories once they've been posted. If you'd like to follow in on any critiques our readers choose to make, you can do so at http://www.onefortyfiction.com/archives/clean-sweep.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
Mastiff Manners
They begin pristine
in their precise
composition
like two dancers
center stage
their muscled torsos
strutting and swaying
in perfect rhythm.
Rocketing
limbs splayed
as they spiral down
landing abruptly into the mud
coating every square inch
as if it were a precious salve
from the Dead Sea.
Sliding and rolling across the wet terrain
eight large paws leave no stone unturned
no blade of grass still, no fruit untried.
A rushing river hangs back
as they race by
two competitors
colliding into a break dance of
epic proportion.
Barking,
"BEWARE
YOUR SEASON IS AT HAND."
"BEWARE
YOUR SEASON IS AT HAND."
Choose with care.
Sharpen your wits.
It will suit you to study
carefully, the mastiff manual.
They are untroubled by
your crow and your claws.
They will smell your green
goo as it drips off the edge
of a palm frond
overlooking the pond’s edge.
Squash that splash!
Hide your red-orange
flash and fan-tails.
Their hunger is fierce.
They will
excrete your squirming mass
swallowed whole
next to
the chirping peep
fins,
feathers and entrails
laced with reckless dread.
As they pause
pacified
to chew on a twig
flossing
away the fragments
in the midday sun.
Wednesday, June 8, 2011
Thursday, June 2, 2011
Honorable Mention in Poetry at 2011 New York Book Festival
2011 New York Book Festival. I received an Honorable Mention in Poetry for my self-published book, "Letters to a Prisoner"
Please visit our web site at www.diyconvention.com for the complete results.
Please visit our web site at www.diyconvention.com for the complete results.
Saturday, May 28, 2011
The nation is controlled by
The nation is controlled by deviant mutant aliens from another galaxy.
First contact was established in Ancient Egypt. We mutants had to buy Cleopatra off. The slaves were no problem. The pyramid design opened a door into our solar system. It was all part of the Master Plan.
The second group, also aliens, scared the hell out of the Inca. There were too many white faced hairy sightings to ignore. Our gifted writers and artists shared. They used leftover blood as ink. Sacrifice was later outlawed and we left. The jungle took over.
We aliens later financed the Hollywood film industry. Drugs were routinely administered and abduction, a regular occurrence. We carefully implanted the ancestor's seed. We ignored the prime directive. Clean-up is beyond our compliance. The producers have run amuck.
My father, another alien, was banished to this planet due to a selective hearing problem and a low tolerance for rule adherence. Mom was an artist. She went to the dark side of the moon ahead of Neil Armstrong. It was a covert mission. That is where the beta writing strain comes from. Our family is responsible for infecting the populace. Our ways remain too advanced for this culture. They still believe in deities despite our best efforts. Our science and telepathic abilities have to be reproved over and over again. Magic and illusion have gone the way of Monster Quest. The ratings speak for themselves.
Alpha Centauri was where our troubles began. Dad was the brilliant young Captain aboard, the newly commissioned, Venture, Starship class Z7653, Star date 2511. He beamed down ahead of security and was found in a compromising position with a Centaurian leopard. Later they accused him of commercial spot altering. They said he was trying to profit from it. Dad claimed that he found the leopard like that, but they knew better, him being infected by something called writers block. We still don't talk about it.
The inflexible High Council, made up of many aliens, banished him to the past on this archaic planet, with one moon, where they don't even have three eyed emerald fish and the locals are so ugly, it has us permanently constipated. We had to teach them our language. I would give anything for a bowlegged Alterian hump sucker. Not only are they delish, they relax the bowels, which makes our kind much easier to get along with. It produces minor gushing. Rapid fire bursts have resulted in some casualties in the Midwest. See product package for additional warnings.
The truth is Donald Trump, a talking head alien, had to be pulled out of the presidential race.
President Obama and his arch rival Osama bin Laden, also talking head aliens, are being called back to HQ. Osama is already back. All the money-power brokers are supposed to report for reassignment. Trump's show, The Apprentice, is too successful, which is highly suspicious in the present global climate. There is talk about a nude circus in Atlantic City, no word yet on if that includes the audience.
Here is the latest news from HQ. It is classified Code RED, the highest priority.
We're pulling the plug on the Earth experiment. The Dirt and Ash Concert is SOLD OUT. WE WILL DEPART behind Lady Gaga's, a hot alien babe, latest stage design. Hot air, lava, and plate shifting is escalating. The weather is out-of control! Simon Cowell and the X-Factor are unstable.
It is time to depart and resettle elsewhere.
The Mother spaceship arrives in 2012. Let the world-wide internet deprogramming commence.
This is the final transmission; Viking, over and out!
First contact was established in Ancient Egypt. We mutants had to buy Cleopatra off. The slaves were no problem. The pyramid design opened a door into our solar system. It was all part of the Master Plan.
The second group, also aliens, scared the hell out of the Inca. There were too many white faced hairy sightings to ignore. Our gifted writers and artists shared. They used leftover blood as ink. Sacrifice was later outlawed and we left. The jungle took over.
We aliens later financed the Hollywood film industry. Drugs were routinely administered and abduction, a regular occurrence. We carefully implanted the ancestor's seed. We ignored the prime directive. Clean-up is beyond our compliance. The producers have run amuck.
My father, another alien, was banished to this planet due to a selective hearing problem and a low tolerance for rule adherence. Mom was an artist. She went to the dark side of the moon ahead of Neil Armstrong. It was a covert mission. That is where the beta writing strain comes from. Our family is responsible for infecting the populace. Our ways remain too advanced for this culture. They still believe in deities despite our best efforts. Our science and telepathic abilities have to be reproved over and over again. Magic and illusion have gone the way of Monster Quest. The ratings speak for themselves.
Alpha Centauri was where our troubles began. Dad was the brilliant young Captain aboard, the newly commissioned, Venture, Starship class Z7653, Star date 2511. He beamed down ahead of security and was found in a compromising position with a Centaurian leopard. Later they accused him of commercial spot altering. They said he was trying to profit from it. Dad claimed that he found the leopard like that, but they knew better, him being infected by something called writers block. We still don't talk about it.
The inflexible High Council, made up of many aliens, banished him to the past on this archaic planet, with one moon, where they don't even have three eyed emerald fish and the locals are so ugly, it has us permanently constipated. We had to teach them our language. I would give anything for a bowlegged Alterian hump sucker. Not only are they delish, they relax the bowels, which makes our kind much easier to get along with. It produces minor gushing. Rapid fire bursts have resulted in some casualties in the Midwest. See product package for additional warnings.
The truth is Donald Trump, a talking head alien, had to be pulled out of the presidential race.
President Obama and his arch rival Osama bin Laden, also talking head aliens, are being called back to HQ. Osama is already back. All the money-power brokers are supposed to report for reassignment. Trump's show, The Apprentice, is too successful, which is highly suspicious in the present global climate. There is talk about a nude circus in Atlantic City, no word yet on if that includes the audience.
Here is the latest news from HQ. It is classified Code RED, the highest priority.
We're pulling the plug on the Earth experiment. The Dirt and Ash Concert is SOLD OUT. WE WILL DEPART behind Lady Gaga's, a hot alien babe, latest stage design. Hot air, lava, and plate shifting is escalating. The weather is out-of control! Simon Cowell and the X-Factor are unstable.
It is time to depart and resettle elsewhere.
The Mother spaceship arrives in 2012. Let the world-wide internet deprogramming commence.
This is the final transmission; Viking, over and out!
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