First Professional Publication!

If you have any interest whatsoever with my writing I think you would be thrilled to know that I have, for the first time, been published in print! The link is as follows: www.createspace.com/3491715 and the book itself is called Green by Midwest Literary Magazine. My short story "Hint's Peak" can be read here.

Woman in the Morgue: Black Petals Magazine

“The ghouls ate her soul… sixpence and two shillings found within the woman’s skull.”

Issue #51, special thanks to A.M. Stickle.

Read at: http://blackpetalsks.tripod.com/blackpetalsissue51/id16.html

Monitary Military Minors A Poem

The ghost of tarots read
A fortune and a fate
Cast spells and chant instead
A seal to vaulted slates
Where gold embedded, lowly rich kin
Whose blood once shedded, now they declare wars
And smile behind unbroken skin
Are the talents of the warriors
Further reaching than life taking?
Or are they taught as they progress towards truth
The beauty they are forsaking?
Behind the errors sleuth,
Comes tapestry dances
Done so wily
Like private celebrations where perversion strives
They've stumbled upon the curse romances
All subtly drink senselessly and forget their war scars
And dream of tour's end and driving fast cars
Hold on, some say, hold on to better days
Where quieter truths once reignes
Not so now, benign hunger
And lust of all things monetary
Renders both beauty AND truth all too scary...
And what should they carry onto that battlefield?
Whose signs of victory are only the crops of wisdom one yields...
Hold on, look back, look back on better times...

Cloak- Poem

Darkest before the dawn
Helix aflame from out the tempest skies spawn
My weakness
My heartache
Have ye' lost the will to foresake?
The treasures of entrapment?
Wide, the plains of enfamy
Deep, the skies of harmony
Pay tribute to the tributaries
That form tribunal rule to coax the masses
Their masonic glean
Their deceptions seem
Like gentle messages from messengers of good hope
Yet that which they rob from us, right under our noses
The noises, the poems that release toxic chi
And replaces with glee
These things God put here for you and me...
They would tread and mull those plains down...
They would blanket the skies with lights and chaos...
Betwixt the wicker hourglass and pyrite grandfather clock
Lies a cloak which you and I must wear
It blinds us
We have no idea
Just toward either we head
And when our life is up
And cloak is shed
We realize our allies have truly been misread...

"Angry Angus" POEM

His anger seered, yet behind his eyes
Hid a petty steer
In a pasture of manure and tattoo ink
He stepped to me, and I did not blink
And thank God that he thought to think
That I would not be toyed with
That when he would swing his fist, it would be him
Who would pay
And when his fellow red Angus stomped and leered
I knew no fear
For both were dumb beasts
Vying for the last green leaf of taunting
Which I saved for the last stand
When neither raised a hand, but ridiculed and mocked
I got in, flipped a bird with a smirk on my face
Then left behind the inbred disaster
How humorous it looked in the rear view
And how marvelous
Now that they knew who was who

"S-Avus" POEM

She came in, overexcited

Seemingly exalted

For some higher purpose

That ultimately shun her, sent her home

For shame, the state she was in!

It seemed an exelcier wellspring of pain and tormented agony

Distorted, slurred, her perception blurred

A flat tire, she claimed

Her great stature defamed

For naught, that what she was on prior evenings

Was something calm, relaxed, still breathing

But when she stepped into the world of upset

All that was adept turned around

Revealed sad, stony eyes

Could not concentrate

Could not do the things which came natural

Just look at this woman's peril!

Sweeping here and there, breaking without care

The porcelain sheep in every one's trusting figure

A splinter she caught

In the form of a syringe

Before she came to work

Divergence Poem

Absalom!
They hold vengeance upon pedestals
Then balk when it is obtained abruptly
Take to our forefathers when harboring mistrust
Take to our Lord God when love must...
Be found
Arabesque, the universality of man and women's unity
What foretold the sight beyond a pale moon?
For within the dreaded, nocturnal flight
Upon that very same moon appeared
A death's head superimposed
Perhaps by high flying hawks or UFOs...
Be that as it may, a storm is coming...
Humming...
Waiting for mankind to choose its course of action
Will they be joining hands or banging on the battle drum?
Or will the simply cease to sum- up and down their fears creep steadily!
Like insects marveling at heavenly berries
None merry or too joyous
To realize these obsessions will destroy us

Black Petals Magazine

"His eyes narrowed as he motioned to a sign which read The Devil's Throat."

From "The Devil's Throat." Which can be read in full at: http://blackpetals.tripod.com/blackpetalsissue49/id9.html

Hound Dawg Magazine

"There will always be, seen or unseen, those thoughts which happenstance...
Makes certain a most haunting requiem." From "Thoughts of the Dead" which can be
read in full at: www.wisdomtwinbooks.weebly.com/hound-dawg-magazine.html
In "Issue 4".

Sick/Poetry/3-14-2010

Sick Children
Sick Parents
Sick Everything worth stealin'
Sick vermon
Sick shadows
Flyin up a cold brick wall on nights so hollow
Howl, sick brood
The muse sets itself beside you
Murky, oh into your ear it tells a murky secret
That halls vanished for thousands of years
Where conniving pees had jeered and leered
Sat sulking behind the grave of myriad generations
"Heed the protestant pest." It whispers
Detest the merciful bounds which crawl up your backs and abscond,
The personal pleasures usered by sharp, jagged measures
To learn and grow
See the hearkened truce sow in the gardens of primrose
Far off the diamond studded hill,
Mornings, evenings, trepid and still
With the grace of an eagle perched upon a limestone window sill...
When day takes a daylong nap and elongates our muse's trap
Oh, trappings of a bottle
Filled with gold ale
Will these sick subjects prevail?
Or fall beyond the pale of the decadent trench?
Stoln' by obsequious grench
Still marching up to jail with their dank, fowl stench
Sick...Sick...Sick...Sick...
Bark the dogs, commands the guardsman,
"Sick!" "Sick!"

Recent Publication

Hello!

Looks as though I was caught in the Poetic Matrix without knowing it!
Check out my poems and other great poets' works at:
http://www.poeticmatrix.com/letteRon-line8/L8PoemsPage5.html

Skeleton Key

Skeleton Key, oh skeleton key!
Lost somewhere in eternity
I used it to open some doors,
I used it to gain affection
I hopelessly thought that by using it
I could free myself of all aggression
For it was but a skeleton key
That once when I sought
I would no longer have fought
With myself
And, oh it was merely a skeleton key
That kept my vice from destroying me!
And where the keyhole is infringed upon
And the door to a home is broke open
Will only then, the souls of the meek
And those lost which so seek
The skeleton key flee
Into the swirling madness of night
Skeleton key, oh skeleton key
Sheild my weary soul from marshall flights!
Skeleton key, skeleton key
I used ye to find my will away from me
The scoundrel destroying my sanity
And inner sanctity
Skeleton key, oh skeleton key
Let me use ye for one last time
To open the door to the home of my mind
And leave the torrential madness of vast hatred
And disgrace!
Forever
Forever behind