4/23/13

Poetry Month/New Myna Birds Flock


Poems by AM Ringwalt, Suzanne Savickas, Robert Cole, Ben Rasnic, Rachel Mallino, Hugo Esteban Rodriguez CastaƱeda, Bonnie MacAllister, and Paul David Adkins are now up and writhing around in the latest Myna Birds flock, in the midst of poetry month! 

toe tips before the floor boards – don’t believe in circles – zigzag from comfort to discomfort – cave in or release - the insects feast – cryptic markings – mascara flakes detach – dead amid the shards – into the scissors holes - a pink house with palm growing

Here is the link - http://13myna.blogspot.com/

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Also my small indie print press, Blood Pudding Press, is offering 25% off everything in the shop for poetry month - so there's one more week to take advantage of that, here - https://www.etsy.com/shop/BloodPuddingPress

4/7/13

Convoluted Streamer


I don't define myself by who I'm with. I define myself through my own personal expression, (especially poetry and other thinking/feeling/creative writing) and my own thoughts and feelings and style.

Although it sometimes bums me out a bit if my thoughts/feelings/style don't seem to appeal to many people, that doesn't mean I'm going to change them.

I have no intention of or desire to act fake or tone the real me down to fit into some main stream.

I'm not sure where MY stream is going though.

In recent years my own thoughts and feeling and REMEMBERING is often a convoluted, mixed up mess.

One of my issues in recent years is I don't seem to know what I WANT so how should I know what best to focus on? Either everything matters too much or nothing matters all that much at all. I'm in between, but I don't know exactly what I'm in between. Maybe nothing.

Maybe I'm just going to be in between my own something/nothing realm for the rest of my life.

I tend to be a pretty productive, focused person - so not knowing what I should focus on/ what I WANT to focus on, who I even ultimately AM or desire to be is...less than stellar.

Even as I'm writing this, I wonder why am I writing this? What's the point? What's the point of anything? Does this even make any sense? What are points and sense? Maybe I should dive into painting a nonsensical pretty mess.

I know I am and want to be truly expressive. So if my expression is sometimes pretty, sometimes ugly, sometimes sexy, sometimes horrific, sometimes a messy fusion mix with discolored grit flung in the midst, then maybe that's my stream.

4/5/13

Condom Dream (should I open the jar and pull some out?)


Me and a woman I went to high school with walked to the door of a store to buy condoms.  Two men were with us too, but they weren’t our significant others or sex partners, just casual male friends standing behind us and despite their presence, we were in charge of our own condom choosing and buying.

The other woman knew what she was doing, had obviously interacted with the costumer service man before and even had a semi-secret code word related to her condom purchase.  As for me, this was my first time buying condoms – and since I wasn’t buying them with a particular partner in mind (because I didn’t have a partner), I had no idea what brand or variety to choose.  I was asked what size I wanted and how should I know?  I was asked if I wanted any special features and I didn’t know that either.

Since I wasn’t buying condoms with a particular cock in mind, I said standard size.  The other woman had spoken softly, and when she told him what she wanted, he was standing right in front of her; but when I was asked what I wanted, he was standing across the room next to the various condom accoutrements and so I had to loudly announce (almost yell) my uncertain answer in front of the whole store.

Then I got brought a huge jar-sized contraption (about triple the size of a mayo jar), with hundreds of condoms inside, all of them unpackaged and tiny. Less than half the size of an un-blown up balloon.  I wasn’t sure if I was handed this large jar with tiny condoms because he thought I wanted to buy the whole jar or if I was supposed to take off the lid and pull out the amount I actually wanted.

The woman next to me knew what she wanted and quickly got what she always got.

The two men behind us just stood there saying nothing and waiting for me to be done.

I’m not an easily embarrassed person; sex talk doesn’t bother me.  But I am a very uncertain person and I felt uncomfortable and slightly embarrassed about myself for not having a helpful partner (or any partner for that matter), not knowing what to do or choose when handed a huge container full of tiny condoms, and feeling like a clueless condom gimp.

A clueless sex, love, relationship gimp.

An odd little dream based on my current uncertainty about all those things.

4/1/13

Happy April!


I’m aiming towards oodles of poetry love and treats this poetry month.

An updated Thirteen Myna Birds will be glimmering its multicolored wings soon (and as of right now is still seeking lots more poems to add to its flock, so feel free to submit some of yours for consideration)!

AND

A new Blood Pudding Press poetry chapbook is hoping to be published sometime during this poetry month – Sister, Blood, and Bone by Paula Cary!

Speaking of Blood Pudding Press poetry chapbooks, if you haven’t yet, do feel free to investigate the two recently published contest winning poetry chapbooks – RENEGADE//HEART by Lisa M. Cole and Poking through the Fabric of the Light that Formed Us: Songs and Stories to Read in the Mirror by Lora Bloom, which are available for perusal and purchase in the Blood Pudding Press etsy shop individually and as part of a lower priced two-some here - https://www.etsy.com/listing/126759449/set-of-two-get-both-new-2013-contest?

Furthermore, throughout the entire month of April, you may use coupon code APRILPOEMLOVE with any purchase you make from the Blood Pudding Press shop and receive 25% off!

Also in honor of poetry month, below are links to older articles of mine focused on Sylvia Plath: