Retrospect is the third chapbook I had written composed of works created from the ages 0f 17 to 21.
The Perpetual Bachelor takes the view of the single man at a more objective and sociological angle. I like to go a little deeper into some issues that in commercial culture tend to be summed up in a few anecdotes, overly simplistic statements and stereotyping. It’s not that I am not sometime guilty of such things myself, but I try to leave the egocentrics, gender bias and neuroticism out of the conversation. In other words, this ain’t no Sex in the City.
New World Punk is gloves off commentary on various issues. By all means I do not try to say something controversial or sound sophomoric or flex some kind of edgy wit, you can tell when people “try” such things. I just do. I may lay down my plan to deal with immigration one week, then attack the use of poor English the next. I don’t bother to throw my two cents in on the hot topics, there’s plenty of people around to regurgitate the two maybe three accepted dogmas and any such topic. Nor, do I try to get too far out. I basically try to take an outer-worldly, detached point of view on what ever topic gives me an itch, and say merely say what “is”
Man with Cat has nothing to do with blogging. It is just one long run on letter to my friends and family back home. Not at all edited and most likely not that interesting to those who know me not.
Everything to Ashes was my first chap-book of poetry, It’s creation came about, well, sorta like this…..
Since I was about 9 or 10 I was a odd kid. No one really knew it, but I knew it. It took along time for me to figure it out what was wrong, or in more accurate words snap and behave in a way that resulted in an appointment with a shrink.
At the age of 17 I was finally diagnosed with Seasonal Affective Disorder. It’s kinda like being manic depressive part time. When the days get shorter, the lack of sunlight results in a lack of Vitamin D which results in a lack of serotonin which results in a miserable human being. When the sun returns, some feel almost normal, some go manic and need to be on a leash and all spend their spring and summer repairing relationships, making up on work, grades and life in general.
When I was 12, my best friend was confused on how to get a specific girls affections. Me, rarely without some type of smart ass advice, suggested he write a poem. “Yeah right, how do you do that?” he responded. I sputtered out two quick poems from somewhere in the recesses of my ass, and we were a bit surprised. I took my friends advice that day and wrote them down. Soon after I discovered some old books in the basement that had belonged to my grandmother. Some girlfriend of hers had given her a book of poetry of Lawrence Hope. I never could find out much about him but the old brittle pages and smell of the slowly decaying manuscript made me feel as if I was delving into an ancient magic.
I would spend hours in my room staring at my desk, reading poetry, pretending to do homework, but mostly spacing out and allowing the over analytical and highly critical mind of a depressive focus on a multitude of things other than tearing myself apart. Most of the time it seemed like a possession of sorts. I never suffered from any sort of schizophrenia, no voices or the like, but I always did feel as if I was in battle with myself and we took it out on paper.
I believe most of these were written at the ages of 13-14, perhaps a few at the age of 15. You may find these are some strange things to be coming out of a kids head, but being the result of such a kid it makes you a lot less likely to quickly drop a verdict on anyone. I had told people about my experience, a few time a group of people, and my opener is always, “First things first, you can and will never totally understand what is going on in another persons head.”
Phoenix is the second chapbook of poetry with works composed between the ages of 15 and 17. Went through some things yet started to discover the reasons behind my troubles.
Desensitized is the fourth in a series of poetry chap books I had written some years ago. Everything to Ashes, Phoenix , and Retrospect were self publish books of 30 or 40 poems that have found their ways into the hands of various people in my life. Girl friends, buddies, co workers, acquaintances and those who had merely grabbed them on those open mic nights.
The “English major” idea of “proper poetry” had always made me wretch. I found the rules of poetry, if there can be such a thing, are really just a method for those technically sound to find an even playing Field with those far more creative than they. I can often jump from being straight forward to being abstract, sometimes with in the same stanza. I always felt I was the opposite of Frost, whom I love. As he may write a four pages on a pile of fire wood covered in snow, I will toy with massive concepts and toss is into a poem of less than five stanzas, if that. Poetry had been a very helpful outlit for me but the bug had slowly ebbed from me, and the muse is just not there.
I am completely unapologetic about my amateurish style and at the same time do not declare myself above the technical aspects of the written word nor do I compare myself to the successful and raw styles of Ginsberg , Jim Morrison or the like.
I had always written for myself and found great satisfaction when others could pick up what I was putting down. I post these now for my friends who have been waiting for that fourth chapbook for several years that had been sitting in my hard drive. Hope you enjoy it.
Heart Hit Lust Solitude is another small collection of poems and work in progress written from my mid twenties to the present.
