Monday, August 25, 2008
Humungo News!
An exciting development for me: I won the H.R. (Bill) Percy Novel Prize for my novel (Living in the Dirt/Drive-by Saviours) in the Atlantic Writing Competition!
This is hopefully a big step toward finding a publisher.
Check out http://www.writers.ns.ca/pr25Aug08.html for details.
I will receive my prize and give a reading at a Gala Celebration of Writers and Writing next month.
This is hopefully a big step toward finding a publisher.
Check out http://www.writers.ns.ca/pr25Aug08.html for details.
I will receive my prize and give a reading at a Gala Celebration of Writers and Writing next month.
Labels: 2008, nova scotia, publishing, subway novel
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
At The Old Salvation
It's amateur hour at the Old Salvation
We're upchucking our distillations
There's a lady crying in consternation
We're all dying of anticipation
waiting on a better day
We're all agreed on this world of bleeders
it's not what we wanted and we feel cheated
but we're over-run by false-hearted leaders
control-freaks and bottom-feeders
while we search for better ways
Dancing is our only relief from living
We soothe our guilt with token-giving
drown our tears with libation tipping
shred our souls with fake-sex stripping
waiting for the final play
Happy hour comes at half past middle
Good and evil duel it out on the fiddle
Jello shooters kill us a little
As we wipe away each other's spittle
we drink to the loss of pain
When morning arrives 48 hours later
we're devoid of love and lost our haters
Some surrender to instinct and be-come maters
a new generation emerges much later
and soon it too will pray
Pray for the loss of pain
Pray for the final play
Pray for better ways
Pray for a better day
We're upchucking our distillations
There's a lady crying in consternation
We're all dying of anticipation
waiting on a better day
We're all agreed on this world of bleeders
it's not what we wanted and we feel cheated
but we're over-run by false-hearted leaders
control-freaks and bottom-feeders
while we search for better ways
Dancing is our only relief from living
We soothe our guilt with token-giving
drown our tears with libation tipping
shred our souls with fake-sex stripping
waiting for the final play
Happy hour comes at half past middle
Good and evil duel it out on the fiddle
Jello shooters kill us a little
As we wipe away each other's spittle
we drink to the loss of pain
When morning arrives 48 hours later
we're devoid of love and lost our haters
Some surrender to instinct and be-come maters
a new generation emerges much later
and soon it too will pray
Pray for the loss of pain
Pray for the final play
Pray for better ways
Pray for a better day
Labels: 2007, nova scotia, Poetry, politics
Sunday, August 10, 2008
Heat
You feel like Dante's innermost circles have risen around me
shown themselves to be playgrounds and creatively wacky theme parks,
pogo sticks on trampolines
You give me vertigo and soothe that fear with targeted foot rubs
slow my heart rate to a post sauna tingle, when the skin is crystal clean,
and satin smooth
It's a bizarro anticipation for what has already been, because spinning
old is new again, same old conversations make us sweat again, solitude scary
as birth again
Same sense of separation, don't fear; though fear is natural as conflict
In death, chaos, and survival know that you are adored, treasured, wanted
because
You feel like Satan's fall was never intended, that it never mattered
just a joy-ride, a bare bones pleasure cruise, under low hanging candy
and whipped cream
where there is no entertainment but what we create together
This is how you feel when I remember you here, when my mind is ready
and my body can be put at ease.
shown themselves to be playgrounds and creatively wacky theme parks,
pogo sticks on trampolines
You give me vertigo and soothe that fear with targeted foot rubs
slow my heart rate to a post sauna tingle, when the skin is crystal clean,
and satin smooth
It's a bizarro anticipation for what has already been, because spinning
old is new again, same old conversations make us sweat again, solitude scary
as birth again
Same sense of separation, don't fear; though fear is natural as conflict
In death, chaos, and survival know that you are adored, treasured, wanted
because
You feel like Satan's fall was never intended, that it never mattered
just a joy-ride, a bare bones pleasure cruise, under low hanging candy
and whipped cream
where there is no entertainment but what we create together
This is how you feel when I remember you here, when my mind is ready
and my body can be put at ease.
Labels: 2008, Canada, love junk, Poetry
