Cockamamie Celestia

Credit comes where credit’s due, and laws—

well, laws come twitterpated before the thaw

of old white men in old white suits;

They (omniscient, omnipresent, indescribable they) did it first to Galileo

then to poor sweet Mattimeo

(better known as Bob the bloviating, argle-bargling snob)

with the theory that he chose to lob:

Balls.

You laugh, but it’s quite a simple fall—

the world, the moon, the stars, and all the drumming racket between

it’s all just balls of a rather vibrant sheen.

Given, he colored himself early with the choice

of Al Gore for Internet’s first modest voice—

a tubular choice for a system clogged

with indecision blogged

for people! for substance!

Well, he’s nothing but a nuisance

some little boy crying wolf

when the world was playing golf—

but as the rest claimed ends of ice and fire

(destruction, not the Game of Thrones) desire

telescopes were found to spy The Bearded Man align

the perfect shot from His designs

too late to cry for all their hope

that God was not a golfing man or replicating trope—

Pool’s the game on which He set His celestial roots.

The Gunsmith’s Song

I narrowed the world with scorching air,

a cave I stalked into earth’s bosom lair

echoing with its iron song

where no foreign hand belong.

I weighed my lungs in the choking air,

it laid the foundation bare

with the sinking burden of its flight—

a flash of light, and swift goodnight.

Years drift through the sulfurous after-air

Buried at the point of its timeless snare

Bent, unbroken on its stark crescendo

Lost to a brother I should never know.

(And for the more fantasy/full book inclined, don’t forget that there’s just one more day to get in on the FLASH SUMMER SALE currently involving The Hollow March, the first novel in my Haunted Shadows series. Don’t let it pass you by!)

Fantasy Summer Sales and Indie Week Giveaways

Fantasy bandwagon: activate!

Fantasy bandwagon: activate!

It’s one thing to have written three books.

It’s quite another to share them with the world.

Well, this week I’m aiming to do just that. In concert with the approaching American Independence Day (sorry Brits), I figured it’s only right to celebrate Independent Authors, too, so there’s going to be a FLASH SUMMER SALE running on THE HOLLOW MARCH all week long. From today through Friday, July 3, the first entry into my fantasy series–THE HAUNTED SHADOWS–will be available on the cheap. So if you know anyone looking for a new fantasy series to lose themselves in, that’s the bandwagon to jump on.

And by bandwagon, I mean gryphons.

And by jump on I mean get eaten by…

Er, you know what? The details really aren’t important, are they?

Contemporary fiction at its finest.

Contemporary fiction at its finest.

What’s more, I’d also like to take the time to incline your ever-so-thoughtful heads towards another Indie sale going on this week. Fellow author Bryce Salazar’s debut novel, SHE SEES METAPHORS will be available for the low, low price of free through tomorrow. Absolutely no cents involved. Plenty of nonsense, though.

Bad jokes? Hey, that’s just part of our appeal.

Seriously, though, Salazar is a brilliant writer, with a piece that will blow the pants off any character-intensive reader out there. It tells the tale of one Jacqueline Schuler, who sees the world in metaphors. Literally. From streets of violent rivers to broken hearted mannequins, it’s a unique outlook on the world, with some truly intense imagery. It’s not quite magical realism, but it’s certainly magical in its modernity.

So give it a read, why don’t you?

Wear that Millenial Stamp with Pride

I want you to stop and consider something for a moment. Our generation is in a truly unique position in the history of the world. We are the first to have not only grown up with the Internet, but grown up on the Internet. This is the critical difference between us and everyone gone before us.

Call us the Millenials. Call us the next Lost Generation. But there is something more to us.

Ok, screw that headline.

After all, it is they that come up with the terms: we surf the Net. We cruise the Web. We are lost in Virtual Space, careening through the system of Tubes that constitute what is, to them, nothing more than an overly addictive game.

But it is not a game. One plays a game. We don’t “play” the Internet. It is as critical and ever-present in our modern environment as the grass beneath our toes or the atmosphere that holds us to it. It is not external—it is connected. It is not alternate reality, but another layer of reality itself.

Which is to say, the Internet is not something we use. It’s something we live—on it, inside it, alongside it, frolicking with it down memory lane, what have you—but it is an inescapable facet of our existence. We use the Internet to keep in touch with those both near and far, to organize, to research, to prepare. We plan with it, chart calendars on it, study, and dream through the wondrous expanse of its pages. Friends and enemies rise and fall online. Love and hate flourishes and dies in its expanse. Some of the greatest debates (and the tackiest) in the history of mankind are no doubt, out there, in the expanse of the Internet…Online, eternal, waiting.

For us, the Internet has never been something we needed to “learn.” It is an evolution—another entity, sitting alongside us in the classroom, aging and lengthening before our eyes. It is continuous. In it, we grow, and through us, it grows. It is. It simply is.

What more need I say? The Net is a part of us. It’s not tacky sci-fi, not some Utopian paradise—it is, at its simplest, the collection of thoughts, ambitions, emotions, which embody Us. It is us. Let the history of mankind be writ large upon it.

And let the folks on it learn to start treating one another as equals. But hey, that’s just commonsense in facet of life, isn’t it?

…isn’t it?

This Video is Everything this Week

“No Laughs Tonight

Whether you’re a Jon Stewart fan or not, I implore you to watch his segment above on the Charleston shootings this week. I could not think of any better sum, analysis, break down, what have you. Honest and raw, it truly says the things everyone in this country needs to here.

Watch it because this week, this…this is everything.

And afterwards, when you inevitably need a pick me up, watch the interview with Malala that followed, because that woman is an inspiration, and will restore your hope and faith in mankind.

“Jon Stewart forgoes laughs for a heart-to-heart. Care of: TV Guide.”

High School Reunion

Everyone gathers to hear the poets preen

on the source of inspiration:

how the athletes ran into

glass cases;

how the singer overcame

dead man’s notes;

how the clown croaked

on a moped’s swerving laughter;

how the skin of truth

peeled from our bones

as the noise of the streets

drowned our jail cell march.

Huddled over coffee and secrets

we agree only those without

stand alone.

That their haikus

lack the character

of conviction.

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