Category: poetry

your father’s life is worth $154.08 a month

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There’s a part of me that wants to write a whole poem about this, but Jesus, it kind of writes itself, doesn’t it?

It’s like the six word poem, baby shoes for sale, never worn, which says so much.

A hundred and fifty-four dollars and eight cents a month.

That’s what you’re worth, orphan.

Target: 1700 words
Written: 3074 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: The Girl Who Played With Fire, Stieg Larsson
Comics: The Walking Dead 21-24 (I forgot how great this series was before the show got super repetitive and blew it.  Part of the reason I never finished it, and why I'm going back to do so now.)
Music: Heathen, David Bowie

we are blind

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The very first poem I wrote in this era of actually trying, over two and a half years ago, was about how the things we don’t acknowledge are the things that take us down.

Governments ignore the masses to ply to billionaires, and the masses get taken in by a populist con man.

Billionaires ignore the long game in favour of short term returns, and when the cataclysm comes, they will be shocked. No one on the ground will; we’ve been tied to the tracks with a train bearing down on us for years.

One domino will fall, and the rest will follow.

Pay attention to the things you neglect the most; they will be the things that bring you down.

Target: 1700 words
Written: 1736 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: The Girl Who Played With Fire, Stieg Larsson
Comics: The Walking Dead 1-4
Music: Heart In A Cage, The Strokes

one thousand

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You believe that shit?

Yesterday, I crossed the last milestone before the manuscript milestone for Father Lightning and today, I realized that it’s been a thousand days since I laid out this gigantic series of goals and focus and wrote a little haiku called Birds Fall.

Now, I’ve written a novella, a novel, most of another novel, five more poems, eleven short stories and eleven more comics.

Man.

A few days ago, there I was, ready to give up.

And now?

I guess I’m on it.

Golf clap for me. I’m not doing too bad.

Target: 1700 words
Written: 1771 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: Proof Of Conspiracy, Seth Abramson
Comics: The Mutant Misadventures Of Cloak And Dagger 16-19
Music: Hard Volume, Rollins Band (holy fuck, when I say something is genius, or that it sucked me in, or is absolutely transcendent, I'm talking about Joy Riding With Frank - what an experience hearing that for the first time)

the sky turned pink, and the water too

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Sometimes, there’s a haiku in a title, without even asking.

Target: 1600 words
Written: 1368 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: The Stand, Stephen King
Comics: Dynamo 5 20, Invincible 60, Noble Causes 40, Invincible Returns 1
Music: Freeze Frame, The J. Geils Band (wow, that Centerfold is some regressive, misogynist shit, isn't it?  Who cares if your girl posed nude in a magazine?  Pretty sure the only thing that means is that she's probably pretty hot.  They don't let just anyone do that, you know.)

one million words

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A milestone passed. I hadn’t really thought about it until I saw the tally. Over a million words since January 1st, 2024. A little over two and a half years, averaging about a thousand words a day or so currently.

Not bad. Too bad my original estimate was three thousand words a day, which would put me closer to three million, but hey, life, am I right?

Not bad at all.

Target: 1600 words
Written: 819 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: The Grey Seas Under, Farley Mowat
Comics: Invincible 40-41, Noble Causes 29, Dynamo 5 3
Music: The Fragile (Left), Nine Inch Nails

eight-hundred-ninety-seven

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That’s how many days since I first sat down and said, “I’m going to try this writing thing,” and put together a haiku about birds falling as a metaphor for our blind spots and was promptly rejected by a magazine that prints exclusively haiku, because I hewed too close to the five-seven-five rule, even though I made it split-sentence run-on, for literary twist.

That’s how many days since I started thinking about monsters under the bed, which led to more short stories about misogyny, a comic about a woman’s revenge and her self-persecution, one about astronauts saving the world by killing innocent aliens, and a book about the Odd Couple, if the odd couple were virtue signaling hypocrites and MAGA monsters.

Eight-hundred-ninety seven days since I wrote down thirty-seven book ideas, a baker’s dozen comics, and vowed to write as many short stories and poems as I possibly could.

And still, I don’t have the guts to send them out to publish.

What is wrong with me?

Wait, don’t answer that. I already know.

I’m scared.

Rejection is the worst feeling. You’re the hero of your own story, tossed away like a background extra cut from the final scene in someone else’s.

My step-son did that once; he and a friend were extras on some dance movie. His friend was considered good-looking enough to make the background cut. My step-son danced for hours to never even get in the frame.

Target: 1600 words
Written: 1563 words, novel: Father Lightning

Read: Well Of Shiuan, C.J. Cherryh (I'm in love all over again)
Comics: Voodoo v2 2-3, Grifter v3 3-4
Music: Fleetwood Mac Essentials, Fleetwood Mac

bobby loves jodi

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Bobby loves Jodi
Who loves Jenny
Who loves both of them together
(from time to time)
Plus Peter down the way
and his best mate Damon
(in Lego block formations, interlocking wherever the pieces fit)
Damon fancies a pint of Gina
who loves nothing better than muscles on a man
(or men)
And she loves Adam who loves Joey
who bleeds Joey
and only Joey
in defiance of Gina
And what one drunken night descended to
(and descended a lot)
(like, really way down)
And didn’t involve Jordan
Who fancied Terri, Amanda and Tariq
At the same party where he fancied Lisa, Donna and most of the lower half of Angie
(what a time that was)
And we all laughed because it’s just tits
And ass
And cocks
And cunts
But it’s so goddamned complicated
(and so goddamned simple)
Like the most pungent game of Twister
Where everyone collapses in laughter
Save one or two who lay uncomfortably on the bottom
and draw back
Because Bobby loves Jodi
And sometimes Jenny
Who loves both of them together
and isn’t that nice

Target: 1400 words
Written: 3673 words, short story: The Run

Read: Plot & Structure, James Scott Bell
Comics: Cinderella: From Fabletown With Love 3-4, Jack Of Fables 42-43
Music: Wild Horses, The Rolling Stones

constrained

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Bound, constrained.
Surrounded by rough ropes crafted by these hands
These hands, that tapped keys in wispy prose
Slammed harsh declarations
Strangled like a noose
Hewn strands of wound steel
Wrapped in silk
Intent on withering on the vine
No bloom
Only brown petals
And cracked dry leaves
Is it soft inside?
Or cast iron hard?
Torn between hardline and open arms
Are they one and the same?
Could they be?
Solid, but moving, like mercury peanut butter
Flexible, but unmoving
Always in motion, but stuck in your throat.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 315 words, poem: Bobby Loves Jodi

Read: Plot & Structure, James Scott Bell
Comics: Fables 91-92, Cinderella: From Fabletown With Love 2, Jack Of Fables 41
Music: Wild Honey, The Beach Boys
There's a lot to be said about knowing what you want to say, but not knowing how to say it, and that's all I can say about that.

kill everything

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You wanna kill?
You wanna kill.
Slithering, sliming kill.
Tortuous, driving, stabbing, kill.
Kill your darlings?
Kill yourself.
Kill yourself.
Kill your self.
The little clear ball of essence at the centre of your being.
You wanna kill?
Kill the construct.
Tear down the scaffolds of perception.
The told of who you are.
The thought of what you’ll be.
The picture of Dorian Gray,
Superficial.
Paint on a wet window pane.
Slitherslide to the dirt.
Strip it away.
Tear off its clothes.
Stand it naked on a pedestal.
Scrub it raw.
Finger it.
Finger all the dark places.
Strip off the skin.
Pull the nails.
Pluck the hair, face, eyes.
Rip muscle from the bone.
Throw bone into the chipper.
Leave the heart, and its veins spread like lightning in blossomed freeze.
Carry no blood.
Somewhere behind the sinew,
the tough and liquid mass,
That’s where you’ll find you.
In place beyond being,
not-being and the same.
You wanna kill?
Kill everything.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 175 words, poem: Constrained

Read: Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind, Shunryu Suzuki
Comics: Jack Of Fables 39-40, Fables 90, Cinderella: From Fabletown With Love 1
Music: Wilco Essentials, Wilco (so underrated - Heavy Metal Drummer is the vibe I always wanted)

still crashing out

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I know this is because I’ve got myself under a ton of pressure to finish this book before Christmas.

Literally. I’ve set the date as December 23rd.

Finished by that date, so I can sit back with a cigar and a whiskey and fucking kick some goddamned ass.

Then to lighten things up for a bit with some poetry, more short stories and comics, maybe a hip little ditty or three.

Then, maybe, by the time March rolls around, I’ll be ready for canon project #3.

And maybe I’ll head back to historical.

Paranormal.

Lovecraft country, baby. I am the man of a thousand ideas; and a thousand more I will never have time to complete.

Target: 1400 words
Written: 1483 words, novel: Bad Neighbours

Read: Prozac Nation, Elizabeth Wurtzel
Comics: Fables 16-19
Music: White Blood Cells, The White Stripes