Saturday, July 23, 2016

Insensitive assholes

I can't seem to get this out of my head. This past Friday, I was at the vet in Willingboro taking Layla for a follow up after the surgery she had to remove a growth in her ear. She generally hates being there. She nervous sheds, with dandruff. She shakes and wants to be picked up. We sat down close to another guy who was there with a dachshund, as well. His was a dark haired boy, eleven years old. Layla wanted to say hi and, of course, get attention from the guy, as well. His dachshund was missing his eyes. He told me that he has diabetes and they had to take his eyes out. His little paws were swollen and he was worried about him. He said that he was getting around pretty well by hearing and smelling things, and that he can get to his bowls and his toys. He said that he knew he was struggling, but he just couldn't let him go. I completely understand that. He was a very sweet dog and wanted to be held. The guy was entirely great with him. You could tell how much he cared for him. So, while we're sitting, this older woman walks by, sees Layla and says, "Hey boy! Look at you!" She's a girl. Layla obliged her. She's a people kind of dog. She loves everyone. She goes on to say that she "has dogs at home". Ok. Whatever. She seemed a bit weird and forward. She then walks over to the man and his dachshund and says, "Hey dog!" and moves closer to look at him. He didn't immediately react...well, because he's blind. What does she do? "Nevermind," she says, and waves dismissively at both of them, as if she couldn't be bothered. I found it weird, rude and highly insensitive. Part of me wanted to tell her off for being an asshole. I just shook my head. The guy didn't react much. He chose the high road, and besides, he was more concerned with his pup than to care at all about one douchebag's rude behavior. It basically tells me that some people couldn't give a rat's fat ass about others who struggle with disabilities, whether in the human or animal form. I haven't been able to shake that dachshund or his owner from my memory. He was a sweet pup and his dad clearly loved him. It bothered me to think about how dismissive people can be. Anyone who thinks that the prospect of losing their companion is of lesser importance due to their not being human is just an asshole. Remember...if you can easily mistreat or shrug off a sick animal, you're probably a borderline sociopath.

Tuesday, March 15, 2016


More and more, I'm finding myself not wanting to be on social media. I've wanted to get back to blogging more, and so I really should work towards that, as well as getting my ass in gear for NaPoWriMo next month, as I always do. I have been reading as much as possible. I'm enjoying the disconnect. I'm going to try my hand at some fiction...short stories, which is what I used to do back in the day. I'm doing it for shits and giggles and to get a few things out of me that I'd rather not do in poetry...characters, anyway. They are all pieces of me, in some way or shape, anyway. As for Facebook and Twitter...I would like to use them more as tools for plugging my work. My poetry is who I am and what I do and I need to keep bashing people over the head with that until they realize that. Perhaps...someone will give a shit. I'm betting the opposite, but that's because my self confidence and self esteem has always been dog shit. Couple that with the depression I live with and's a giant dog shit smoothie. And speaking of poetry...

I know that there are cliques. This is been going on since the beginning of time. As a life long outsider, I find it hard to connect with a lot of other poets. Sometimes I can, but this is a rarity. It has always seemed to me that, for as much as I try to build things within the poetic community, it's often brushed aside or disregarded. I see some people (and NO, I would never name names) who don't really put in the blood and sweat into their craft getting ahead, and honestly, it pisses me off. Do the work. Give a shit about the craft, about all the scenes. Don't live in a house of mirrors. Read other poets voraciously. Be selfless and humble. Never forget where you came from. I will always, no matter how small (they are never big) my successes are, keep a level of humility. The other thing that I see, especially from some poets on Facebook, is that there are certain cliques that scoff at and put down others, to the point of mocking and discrediting those who don't fit in their little fucking jar of what they believe poetry to be. I give a hearty "FUCK YOU" to those poets. You are not the emperors of poetic form. Your jealousy and high school cattiness can eat a bag of dicks.  

Anyway...I have a pile of books on my desk and more piled on the bookshelves. I keep buying books, taking books out from the's a sickness, but one that I'd rather not cure. Maybe you'll see me here more. Maybe, whoever you are out there who actually reads this fucking blog, will give a fuck and a half. Also, I have a new chapbook out from Indigent Press called "Into The Undertow", if you're interested. I'm very happy with how it came out. Much love to Charles Joseph for all of his hard work. 

Friday, May 8, 2015

So, what exactly does television have against strong women?

I'm seeing a bit of a trend in television lately. The trend is "Let's make this great female character that a certain group of people can really connect with...and then kill her off!". Admittedly, I watch too much tv. I prefer tv that is well written and thought provoking, but I also get caught up in crime dramas and the like, some of which many people would call "trash tv". I wouldn't. Trash tv, to me, is stuff like Springer...and anything involving a Kardashian. I don't have much use for reality tv. I do love my food shows, and I'll watch any Gordon Ramsay show, especially Hell's Kitchen. to the whole point of this post. Last week, NBC had a "crossover event" linking two shows I watch with one I don't. (I watch SVU and Chicago PD.) On the third part of the event (on SVU), one of my favorite characters on PD was murdered: Nadia DeCotis, played by Stella Maeve. Nadia was something of a reclamation project. She was a junkie and a prostitute that Det. Erin Lindsay (played by Sophia Bush) decided to help get on her feet. Through the course of two seasons, we watched Lindsay pick Nadia up when she fell off the wagon, dragged her to rehab, pushed her to better herself, moved her into her apartment. Nadia worked hard, had a goal to be CPD, took criminology classes. Essentially, she turned her life around. So, what do the writers do? Cast her aside as an afterthought...have her get abducted by a serial killer, brutally raped, tortured and beaten and left dead on a beach. So, are they essentially saying, "Why bother?" If you invest in a character the way they did with Nadia (who really was beautifully played by Maeve), why chuck it all to fit this story line? There are SEVEN male characters on Chicago PD that have had bigger story arcs. This leaves three women, with Nadia's death. Lindsay (who has the largest arc of the three), Kim Burgess (who is often shown making bad choices and showing bad judgment) and Sgt. Trudy Platt, played with great depth by Amy Morton, but on the screen far too little for my liking. Honestly, I can count at least three of those male characters that are entirely expendable, but instead they get rid of the compelling Nadia character. So, are women forever to play second fiddle to less compelling characters who only take up space as eye candy? I was glad that I was among a large portion of people who were touched by Nadia and Stella Maeve's portrayal of her, so much so that people flooded Chicago PD's Facebook page with feelings of complete dismay and utter horror at the description of her torture, rape and murder on SVU. It actually was quite graphically described.  

One of the biggest offenders of "let's kill off all of the women" is another show I've watched faithfully from the beginning, "Supernatural". Yes, the show IS essentially about Sam (Jared Padalecki) and Dean (Jensen Ackles) Winchester and the dynamic between the brothers, at its base. My gripe is that not one developed female character on that show EVER gets to survive. The latest casualty was one of the best female characters the show has had, and my favorite, Charlie Bradbury, played by the fantastic Felicia Day. I had a feeling that, in the last episode, she was going to die, and of course, my instincts were dead on. (Pun intended.) The thing wasn't necessary to the plot. Charlie didn't HAVE to die. The circumstances surrounding her demise made little sense. Plus...the fucking guy who killed her had ONE FUCKING ARM. Really?! On Charlie's worst day, she could have taken this guy. Charlie also was probably the most developed female character in the history of the show. She was entirely different: smart as hell, a hacker, a gamer, quirky and a lesbian. Many fans of the show will say that it's the curse of being considered "Winchester family" (by extension), but there are a lot of people HIGHLY PISSED that Charlie is dead. I am one of those people who yelled, "Fuck this show!" at his tv last night and, in a fit of anger, posted on my Facebook about it briefly...later chastised by my cousins and a few other people for blurting out a spoiler. I couldn't help myself, as usual. Will I continue to watch Supernatural? Yes. I will see it through to the end, but...after watching Nadia die on PD and then, a week later losing Charlie, I started to think deeper about what Hollywood is doing.

Women, despite every advancement in society and every foot forward made, are still marginalized as a whole. Oh, you doubt me? Have you read any headlines lately? Watched the news? Are you aware of the rape culture in America? Slut shaming? Why wouldn't Hollywood move on to the next face? Men are, more often than not, front and center in television, movies, music...the list goes on. It seems easy enough for the writers of a show to cast aside a strong female when a stronger or more dominant man wants to have his way. Expendable seems like the best word here. Female characters become expendable to whatever story line said show is going for. Off the top of my head, I can think of many others who became expendable on their respective shows: Claire Kincaid and Alex Borgia on Law & Order, Jo, Ellen and Mary on Supernatural, Fish Mooney on Gotham, Tara, Jenny, Anya, Joyce and Darla on Buffy, Cordelia on Angel...I could go on. Also, it seems the Sci-Fi and Horror realms are particularly harsh on heroines and super villains.

It's been mentioned to me that not enough women watch female led shows. That might be partially true. It's possible that networks aren't reaching the demographics they've intended to. It's also entirely possible that, to these networks, there isn't enough interest in seeing heroines from the general public. Movies are just as guilty. Joss Whedon has unfairly gotten a lot of crap over Black Widow, but...who else is presenting any films or shows with a female superhero as the lead? Why is it such a taboo to think that people would be interested in such a thing? The closest we've come to a female superhero in a film was Chloe Grace Moretz' portrayal of Hit Girl in Kick Ass. What exactly are we giving younger women to emulate right now? What are we telling them by making their lives expendable, even if it is just the small screen?

In the end, it's all about the money, and if studios can't cash in on a show, its merchandise, etc., they're not going to green light anything that will ultimately make them lose money. I hope that Supergirl turns out to be a hit when it makes it on the air this year. Someone has to stand up and give strong women a platform on television, otherwise, it's business as usual in this patriarchal country. Don't think that something as simple as a television show or a movie can't hold certain social mores. Women will ultimately continue to be an afterthought to a country run into the ground by its backward thinking. It's another link in a chain that holds back progress. 

Tuesday, May 5, 2015

Album Review - Best Coast - "California Nights"

Let's get this out of the way first: Bethany Cosentino isn't exactly a lyrical genius. She's not known for her ruminations on the intricate web of relationships or the hows and whys of life. It doesn't mean that you can't relate to her, though. Best Coast, if you're not familiar, is a duo: singer/songwriter/rhythm guitarist Bethany Cosentino and lead guitarist/multi-instrumentalist Bobb Bruno. They are mostly known for their debut album, "Crazy For You", which is equal parts fun and heartbreakingly sad. They've made a lot of surf pop/dream pop type of indie music over the course of two albums and an ep. They've made music that has a sameness to it, which has been one of their biggest issues with critics, but their fan base is rabid and loyal. "California Nights" is a game changer. Why? It busts out big riffs from Bruno and branches out somewhat lyrically. On a sonic level, the landscape is very different. They swung for the fences and, for the most part, they've connected. The title track, with its reverb soaked guitars and vocals and shoegaze keyboard elements will be a shock to long time fans, but it's the best song on the album. Best Coast has made plenty of odes to The Golden State (their name basically tells you where they stand on the coast wars), but this is the only one on the album...but not really. "California nights make me feel so happy, I could die. But I try to stay alive, " shows a little conflict in Cosentino's feelings towards the state she loves so much. Then she follows a little later with "I take the way I've known, but have I really grown?" It's that little glint that she's done with the more petty and wistful, teen-like past of previous songs. She's 28 now, and while she's still writing about love, jealousy and ambivalence, she's also writing about insomnia, going off her meds and conflict. Like I said, Cosentino doesn't use big words or get too clever. She's straightforward lyrically and it's doubtful that this will change any time soon, but give the woman credit for taking a big leap forward and finding a vision for her band. Best Coast could have stayed muddled in surf pop forever, pining over the same guy over and over again for album after album, but they've gotten more ambitious musically and decided to not be afraid for sounding loud and crunching some guitars. Bruno's solos have really grown and are a nice surprise here. Think 90's alt-rock like Belly, or even "Eight Arms To Hold You"-era Veruca Salt. "Heaven Sent" could have come straight out of the 90's. They aren't revolutionizing anything here, but the gloss of Wally Gagel's production lends to a highly satisfying musical experience and Cosentino and Bruno still know how to make you feel good. It's a driving on the highway in a convertible with the top down with your arms pointed towards the sky wearing a pair of dark lensed sunglasses with a white frame kind of album. Don't think about it too much. Just listen and love it. 


Saturday, March 21, 2015

World Poetry Day

So I found out tonight that today was World Poetry Day. I had no idea, which is pretty strange for someone whose life basically revolves around poetry (and music and a few sports that I'm a fanatic about). Many have been sharing different poems or pointing people to relevant poets or events happening today. I've decided to highlight a poem from my favorite modern poet, Sierra DeMulder, who I had the honor of hearing live for the first time this week. Sierra is a fantastic poet and a kind and encouraging person. She can captivate a room within minutes. Trust me, I witnessed this. This poem is in her first book, The Bones Below, which is outstanding. As we witness the violence in the media that has been going on in schools across the country, imagine it from this perspective and you will see how very much kids are being let down by other kids, by adults, by their own parents. If you can, find this poem on YouTube. Sierra's performance of it is just...I'm not sure I have the words.

Static by Sierra DeMulder

Somehow, there is silence
People are running, their mute eyes panicking like deer, 
who have never seen the oncoming glare of judgment.
A single red flower blooms in the center of her shirt. 
She finally looks at you.

Rewind 1 week:
She sits in front of you in science and she smells like ice cream.
You wonder if she even knows your name -
Wonder if she would ever notice your thimble of existence. 
To them you are nothing but the skinned knees of the student body.
But they will read about you. 
(the ones who are lucky, who will see death and not meet it) 
how you walked like a god, 
unnoticed among them, 
planned a revolution for your fingers to pluck pulses like arrows from bows.

Rewind 1 week: A sharpie in the boys bathroom speaks hollow point prophesies.
It goes unnoticed. You go unnoticed in the hallways, stepped over like broken glass.
You count how many people make eye contact and don’t make it to your second hand.

Rewind 1 week: The whole world is sleeping.
You are wrapped in a straightjacket of alarm clocks and 
school bells; The only one conscious in a city built of zombies.

Rewind 1 week:
The guidance counselor asks if there is trouble at home,
"You never speak in class, you eat lunch alone" but how 
can he possibly relate to this Armageddon in your head, 
to the static collecting between your knuckles,
You stare at the picture of his perfect framed family,
imagine each of them crying. You tell him, and his photograph to go to hell.

Fast-forward four weeks:
This is hell.
3 bodies down,
6, 7.

Rewind 8 days: You wonder if heaven exists,
Or if it’s just a Santa Claus lie to make you sleep at night and be nice to others.

Fast-forward 7 days: She catches you staring.
Calls you a freak. You forget what it’s like to feel anything but fire.
The hallways laugh. The lockers punch back.

Fast-forward 1 day: You drag the weapon from your belt.
The hallways stop laughing. Their wax smiles start melting.
The sound of gunshots does not scare you, the satisfaction does.
You count shells in your head, fallen bodies out loud. 
This is their alarm clock. 
This is natural selection.
This is survival.

You rewind. The trigger pushes your finger forward.
The bullet comes spiraling back into the mouth of its barrel.
A single red flower wilts in the center of her shirt.

She finally looks at you.

Tuesday, July 8, 2014

Virtual Blog Tour

This is a day later than it should have been, but unforeseen circumstances kept that from happening. Anyway, I was invited to join a "virtual blog tour" by my poet friend Bruce Niedt. Here's how it works: a fellow poet or artist invites you to participate, then you acknowledge them on your blog, answer four questions about your creative process, and refer your readers to three other poets or creative artists and their blogs. Those artists, in turn, do the same and each one refers their readers to three others, etc. It's a great way to get traffic to your blog and also introduce others to creative folks you think are worthy of attention. I've known Bruce for many years and currently, he is a member of the Quick and Dirty Poets, the Burlington County, NJ poetry group that I co-founded with Rachel Bunting, Andrea Jazwiecki and Anna Evans back in 2003 in Rachel's kitchen. Bruce is an extremely diverse poet who challenges himself all the time. In fact, every crazy, ambitious mashup of styles he tries is quite often a keeper. So here's a little more about Bruce:

Bruce W. Niedt is a "beneficent bureaucrat" from southern NJ whose poetry has appeared in numerous print and online journals, including Writers Digest, Writers Journal, The Lyric, Lucid Rhythms, US 1 Worksheets, Spitball, Chantarelle's Notebook, and Edison Literary Review. His awards include the ByLine Short Fiction and Poetry Prize, first prize for poetry at the Philadelphia Writers Conference, and two nominations each for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. He has workshopped with Jane Hirshfield, Marge Piercy, Molly Peacock, and Stephen Dunn, and is looking forward to working with Billy Collins in January 2015. His latest chapbook is Twenty-four by Fourteen, a collection of sonnets and other short poems, published by Maverick Duck Press. His blog is

Ok then, now here are the questions I'm supposed to answer:

1. What am I currently working on?

I am slowly putting together a full length manuscript that I hope to send around either this year or next year. I am also contemplating a 16th chapbook of poems. More than likely, it will be another themed effort. I've also decided to slowly work my way back into writing fiction, which is something I haven't done in roughly twenty years. 

2. How does my work differ from others of its genre?

I don't think my work is particularly unique, and I'm notoriously critical of my own work, and myself, for that matter. I think what makes me a bit different is that I like to be pushed outside of my comfort zone. I like being challenged. (However, formal metrical poetry is not my As for content, it's not terrible unique, either. I write about dark things, dark places, strained relationships, lost people...and then sometimes, I soften up a bit. I generally stick with free verse, but I have written some non-rhyming, formal poetry. I don't think my work fits in with the MFA crowd or any particular traditional style. I write to connect and most of the time, I think I manage to do that.

3. Why do I write/create what I do?

The short answer is that I write because I must. I write because if I don't, I'd probably lose my mind. There's a sense of catharsis in doing what I do. I've known for a very long time that I'm a writer, that I'm a creative person. I was writing at 9. I acted in school plays in grade school. I had vocal training. The writing, however, is what I've always come back to...the one thing that express what I could never say. I don't think I could ever stop writing. There isn't a job I've had in the past that has defined me more than my writing. The other reason is the hope that anything I write makes a personal connection with someone who reads it. 

4. How does my writing/creating process work?

I guess you can say that my muse shows up when she feels like showing up. I never like to force myself to write. It's just a recipe for disaster. I've gone through some wicked dry spells, but I always manage to claw my way out...and the catalyst is almost always a challenge of some sort, like National Poetry Month's Poem-A-Day Challenge. This year, I wrote 67 poems. I try not to limit where the ideas come from. They could come from a tv show or a movie. They could be inspired by a song, a news headline, someone I know or want to know...anywhere, really. I don't have a special mug or anything like that. However, I definitely prefer to write in silence and usually alone. I don't like letting anyone see anything I'm in the middle of writing. 

Finally, here are the three poets I chose to do the tour. Taylor Emily Copeland is a poet and editor I've known for several years and respect a lot. I really like her confessional style, as it's easily relatable and often quite powerful. I've known Amber Decker on a professional level for many years, but recently have gotten to know her personally, as well. Amber is one of my favorite poets. Her style is raw, honest and heartbreaking. Shannon McKeehen is a newer poet friend who I got to know through my friend Kayla Williams. I've published her at Chantarelle's Notebook and have featured her there, as well. Much like Amber, there's a lovely honesty in Shannon's work, but a softness, as well. I always enjoy reading her. 

Taylor Emily Copeland is a poet from Eastern Pennsylvania. Her poems have appeared in Hobo Camp Review, Thick With Conviction, Chantarelle's Notebook, Drown In My Own Fears, The Active Voice and others. In 2010, she was nominated twice for Best of the Net and also was nominated for Best of the Web. She loves the band Paramore, reads obsessively, likes pink things, drinks too much coffee, drives aimlessly and falls in love too easily. She is unashamed of all of it. Her blog is

Shannon Ranee McKeehen is a poet, nerd, teacher, and trouble-maker from Ohio. She received her MFA from Mills College in Oakland, California in 2010, and her chapbook, Barbra in Shadow, was available the following year. Barbra is a feminist re-imagining of the femme fatale from 1940's film noir. Currently, Ms. McKeehen is working on her doctorate in Rhetoric and Composition at Kent State University. She continues to write poetry while juggling academics. You can find out more by visiting her website and blog at

Amber Decker is a poet from West Virginia who has been published extensively in both print and online venues. She is a lover of horses, hooded sweatshirts, dark chocolate, fantasy novels, werewolf movies and red wine. She also spends a ridiculous amount of time at the gym working on her anger management issues. Her latest collection of poems, The Girl Who Left You, is forthcoming from Six Ft Swells Press. Amber's blog is

Monday, April 7, 2014

Against my better judgment...

I'm posting something I wrote here today. So far today, I've written three. One is a cento, and as much as it takes creativity to make a cento, I almost feel like it's sort of a cheat. So, two self portrait poems (including said cento) and this one, a love poem to an inanimate object. In this case, it's my laptop.

HP G62 is a silly name. Can I call you Noelle?

I actually really fucking hate you
and most of the time, I want to
punch you straight in the face,
but then I'd have to have you
repaired or replace you, and the
truth is, I'm very sentimental.

When you're doing what I ask of you,
you're as quick and thorough as a fox
darting through the brush at Island
Beach State Park. I've worn the "A"
off your keyboard, but you don't seem
too worried about it. I tried to feed
you more brain power, but it wasn't
the right stuff and you rejected it.
It's ok. I'm used to being rejected
by the ones I love the most.

The truth is, I want to hate you.
I want to throw you when that blue
screen of death interrupts me in the
middle of a poem, or updating my website,
or listening to music on Spotify.
I want to slam you on the desk and scream,
"Why are you doing this to me?!",
but it's only because I treat you so well.
I just want some appreciation once in a while.
A simple "thank you" or "good night" when I
put you to rest at night will suffice.

I know you see me through your webcam.
I might not be the perfect guy for you
and I suspect you'd be a blonde girl, as most
blondes thumb their noses at me, but sleep
mode tonight knowing that, in all honestly,
I cannot live without you.