I’ve been writing a lot of poetry lately and posting it on a poetry page on Facebook. I’ll be publishing a poetry collection by October or so called Underground Modern Poets of 2012 collecting various poetry from many diverse people.
Here’s a few samples
Healing — part V
by Art Glib
i am resigned
and
there will always be a place
on the path of
my lifeline
that leads to
the spiral grip of true and
undeniable love
clinching at my heartstrings this day
i reconcile
to denounce sadness
bitterness or hate
seeing them as the impish thieves they are
they are like the anchor on the Edmund Fitzgerald
i have the power to do this-we all do
it was what it was
and we are who we are
i feel the joy on my
face as i
raise your praise to the sky
i feel the heat of
life giving sun
it’s like the way i feel
when i think of the best of us
a place of pristine truth
two souls in a corporation of flesh
a place where i wish you
peace of mind
love
happiness
and an
abundance of good things
bless us
and let no sweeping thoughts
of disdain
corrupt the pure remnants of your smile and laughter
i will not let anger steal those from me
i am not going to risk losing the locket of your memory
that i hold to my breast when you are in my thoughts
good bye
good luck
Godspeed
i love you
sQt 2008
Untitled
by Anthony Gray
When everything’s lost
and life seems surreal
When everything crashes
and nothing is real
When sorrow seeps in
and all that you feel
is confusion and madness
How do you deal?
Where will you go?
Where will you go?
When no one is sorry
for nothing they’ve done
Where will you go now?
Where will you run?
Everything dies
and the time will come
when the days grow too short
to mourn every one
When life’s vicious cycle
throws you ‘neath the wheels
and there’s no one to turn to
How do you deal?
Where will you go?
Where will you go?
When no one is sorry
for nothing they’ve done
Where will you go now?
Where will you run?
When it’s all said and done
it’s hard to regret
knowing full well the sun
is determined to set
When smoke in your eyes
can no longer conceal
You just let it mask you
and that’s how you deal.
Where will you go?
Where will you go?
When no one is sorry
for nothing they’ve done
Where will you go now?
Where will you run?
When you’re all alone
and the passion is gone
Can you keep your own head up?
Or where will you run?
OmnImpotence
by KrackPipe Ken
through the gloom
a dreary moon
lay soundless on the sod
a haunting tune
from dead leaves strewn
engirdled brooding god
“if I am naught,”
aghast he thought,
“but smoke and grim façade
“from womb to tomb…
…then only doom…
the deadless treadless trod.”
Little Boy Little Toy
by Jo Hewitt
Men and my pen always a dangerous combination, I’ve gone there before I’ll never be anyone’s whore I feel they never see me as real well you better duck and cover for I’m about to tell you about your own private hell mamma’s boy using women as your toy you’re invited to have a say but not have things your own way 41yrs of age you have a fit a real child’s rage in your childhood room you cause doom and gloom action figures a twin bed what a man you can barely tie your own shoes it’s no wonder it’s not you I choose grow up don’t blow up nonsense lies you spout a never ending fount try again a slave to the children you crave whine away for you I will not pine child in a mans body
Fetish. The psychological definition of a fetish is any object or non-genital part of the body that causes a habitual erotic response or fixation.
Paraphilia is a biomedical term used to describe sexual arousal to objects, situations, or individuals that are not part of normative stimulation and that may cause distress or serious problems for the paraphiliac or persons associated with him or her. A paraphilia involves sexual arousal and gratification towards sexual behavior that is atypical and extreme. –Wikipedia
Nyotaimori (Japanese: 女体盛り, “female body presentation”), often referred to as “body sushi”, is the practice of serving sashimi or sushi from the body of a woman, typically naked. Nantaimori (Japanese: 男体盛り) refers to the same practice using a male model. This subdivision of food play is originally an obscure Japanese practice not common in Japanese culture but that has attracted considerable international media attention. –Wikipedia
Some say it’s an art and others a novelty. Underneath it all there was and is a fetish quality to it and has been since the ancient ritual has begun. For people who love sushi and love mixing food with sex it is an erotic pleasurable experience.
Nyotaimori is the “art” or “fetish” of being aroused eating sushi off of the body of a naked woman or man depending on the party, customer and restaurant and it is one of many fetishes that involve sex and food. Many people enjoy combining these two parts of life because they are both very pleasurable, so you get double the enjoyment by putting them together. There are many restaurants in the U.S. and throughout Europe who use naked models with strategically placed dishes or leaves to serve sushi off of; you just have to enjoy your sushi at body temperature.
There are also body preparation requirements. The body must be thoroughly cleaned with anti-biotic, hypo-allergenic and fragrance free soap. This is followed by splashes of cold water to withstand the cold sushi and keep it cold as long as possible. Some governments require a layer of plastic between the body and the sushi due to sanitation laws and I’m sure this is not as enjoyable for the fetishist.
I’ sure I would try it for the sheer novelty of it like trying any novelty restaurant. I think I’ve said this before, as many kinks and fetishes I do have, mixing food with sex is one thing I can’t stomach.
Although a lot of Nyotaimori is experienced through dinner parties and the hiring of models that can stand still, there are reastaurants as well.
My brain is functioning yet my body can’t move. Glued to the couch unable to even change the channel with the remote. I want a cigarette but can’t lift my arm to light it.
I can feel my insides shake nervously. Rapidly. My heart is beating a mile a minute yet I can’t move my body. My head is unfocused. The television is in front of me making blurred sounds and images.
I pray. I cry. I take deep breaths.
Finally, I can move just enough to get to the pill bottle and swallow anti-anxiety meds, I manage to sit up and wait. I fall back down.
It passes. Now I am worn out from the experience. Tired.
This is an excerpt from my book Dangers of a Confessional Mind originally written on Thursday, April 01, 2004. Pick up your copy now.
King of My Bedroom
From King of the Hill to King of the Road. Here I sit King of my bedroom. Soreness creeps into my throat and I can’t eat or smoke without pain. I lay in bed downloading porn and watching movies that I’ve seen over and over again not because I like doing this but it’s all I feel up to doing. No passion in my heart. No stories to tell. Just porno and horror movies. Sleep. Painfully swallowing and inhaling. I barely make it to work. I call out another day. My fantasy girl’s whose ass and face hurt me at work tells me how good I look and I shrug it off A coworker tells me she’s telling other people how good I look with my shave and haircut and I still go on with my dragging day waiting for the breathing to get easier and the razor blades in my throat to go away. No cure for my ills I guess but time and sleep. I want to write something clever. I want to make you laugh. Hell I want to laugh. My sickness took away my obsessions and my desire to write. I hope I can still write without obsessing. I close my eyes again and I still don’t think of her or any one. I just see white spots in the dark. I try to write a love story. I can’t. I don’t have a love story. Maybe true sex experiences. No. I’ll write about how bored I am with writing because I am sick. Sick of feeling ill. Not being able to breath. Sick of celibacy. Sick of longing to love and be loved. Sick of not having enough money to do anything except barely survive. Sick of sick of sick of sick of myself and my little rants. I’ll just swing the covers up over my head and turn up my Social Distortion Cd I just found that I thought was lost for the last two months and cry another lullaby along with Making Believe and watch Re-Animator for the second time this week. I’ll put on my crown of pity and take heed upon anyone who dares enter my sorrowful kingdom. I am the King of My Bedroom.
Back to the up all night and no sleep routine. It’s an old act I developed in high school or was it college? Not a stand-up comedy routine. Could be at this point because if I don’t laugh I’ll cry.
Cry. Soft whimpering cries. Loud screaming cries.
No dies. Not yet.
Tired wired eyes. I doze off then wake up. I wake up I doze off.
I tried to eat my worries last night and I couldn’t keep them down.
I’m hungry then I can’t eat. Can’t sleep. What can I do?
My body rejects my denial and forces me to think. Think. Think
I slept earlier yesterday after a panic attack. Anxiety attack. Anxiety went into cruise control and got into an accident with my insides and outsides. I was inside. Inside.
I slept yesterday. It was a dream. Not the sleep. It was dream to sleep. The day before I slept. Slept early. Awoke early.
Productive. Creative. Happy. Happy.
Today and last night and some other nights the pains in my face drove me to a painkiller. Kill the pain. Kill pain.
Kills pain. I can’t sleep. Can’t sleep. I dream of sleep. Dream sleep.
Remember the night owl I once was? I wanted to be? Proud to be?
No worries.
Worries. Problems. Dilemmas. Solutions.
Solutions. Think. Think man, think. A Solution. Solutions.
Solution? Not there yet. Not sure I’m anywhere yet. Had one or two or three or more. Solutions. Each solution is kicked out of the way by a bigger worry. Bigger problem. Bigger dilemma.
I cry. I laugh. I get outraged. I am sensitive. Sensitive artist. Bah.. Starving artist. Bah..
I go away for a minute. Two maybe three. Minutes. I am surrounded by love and sex and fantasies I make up as they float through my dreams.
I get home to an empty fridge and a coffee table cluttered with reminders of my worries. I scramble for solutions. I do what I can to solve the worries, problems and dilemmas.
Productive. Creative. Happy?
Not sure. Doubt. Hope. In between.
Go forward. Move ahead. Back to the taxi. Whip it.
Ryan. Ryno is what we called him. The most popular of his many aliases. Gone. Died. Brain tumor took him at age 42, a month away from 43. My age. He fought. We prayed and fought as best we could at a distance. Some closer than others. Weird to watch someone die. I visited him last week and haven’t seen him since the benefit for his medical bills back in July 2010.
My band the World Famous Crawlspace Brothers were playing a show with my friend Vince’s Misfits tribute band in Delaware, Walk Among Us in 2006. I met Ryan because he was a friend with Vince and was video taping Walk Among Us. Ryan was a big guy and wore glasses and had that I don’t give a shit nerd look. He was very nice. He went on to video tape a few songs of my band as well.
When we were done playing Ryan came up to our merchandise table and bought our cd and T-shirt. He asked us all to autograph the cd. He was the ultimate fan boy. I relate because I can be quite the fan boy with other bands and celebrities. He made us feel really god about our performance. He wanted to make a dvd of our show for us and also post it on YouTube.
A few days later he showed up at my work and handed me 4 dvds of The World Famous Crawlspace Brothers. 1 for each band member. I offered him money but he refused and said he loves the songs and performance. I thanked him and this was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. We kept in touch through the months and he showed up at all of our shows in Delaware.
I discovered Ryan’s music projects on MySpace. He had a heavy metal band called Chemikiller that was incredible. He had a “scum rock” band called 4x that was also great. I loved his music. He was also a huge Kiss fan and was in a Kiss tribute band called Strange Ways and he dressed up like Gene Simmons. I had the pleasure of seeing him. Despite the initial shock of seeing the big guy in tight spandex, platform shoes and make up, his performance, singing and bass playing was amazing. He took on the Gene Simmons persona and I forgot it was Ryan. One of my favorite shows to this day. He later went on to play in The Hellside Wranglers with Vince and Pat from Walk Among Us and myself. It was a more aggressive electric punk version of The World Famous Crawlspace Brothers. He joined up with Vince’s Walk Among Us, The Hated with friend Dan and eventually close friend Brian. Vince and Ryan also started a band called the Negative Zeros. He was always playing, recording, performing and out there.
As I got to know him better I realized despite his talents he was human with human problems like the rest of us. We didn’t hang out as much as we should have but we were there for each other when the chips came falling down.
My one regret is that we never did a Hellside Wranglers reunion like he has wanted to do for the last 2 years. I just lost interest in playing out. I never lost interest in my friendship with Ryan. We didn’t get together as much as we should have but we knew what we had. Once you are in a band with someone there is a universal connection and friendship that lasts forever. At least for me.
In April or May, I can’t remember when exactly, Ryan’s friend Brian called me and told me that Ryan had brain cancer. I heard many stories of how serious it was and didn’t know what to believe. I couldn’t get to the Hospital to see him but I was able to talk to him and he explained ot me what happened. He was getting headaches and memory loss. He said that the final straw was when he was forgetting how to play songs that he has been playing for over 20 years. He went and had it checked out and found out he had the tumor. Most of it was removed and what was left was cancerous. I felt so bad. I prayed for Ryan every day since I found out. Even this morning before I found out he passed, I prayed for him and his family.
July 3rd 2010, we had a great fundraising show and I actually played solo with my acoustic guitar. Ryan was there. He was bald from the chemotherapy. He had trouble speaking but had no problem singing along to my songs that only Ryan knows so well. He knew how to play almost everyone of my songs better than I do. There was a decent crowd and a lot of friend’s bands there to support him. He had a great time. This was the last time I saw him until last week.
I got a call that he is going fast and I better visit him. I got his wife Kim’s phone number and made an appointment. I saw him last week and he was in and out of consciousness. He knew who I was but could barely speak. I hung out as long as I could and left having a feeling it was to be the last time I would see him alive. It was. I wanted to visit him this week but I ran out of money and couldn’t afford the gas.
I checked my messages today and Ryan’s friend Brian left a message to call him. I could hear him crying. I knew. I went on Ryan’s facebook page to see before I called Brian back. There were messages with sympathy etc. I cried. I called Brian.
Ryan was a dedicated musician and a genius on the guitar and bass. I will remember him for these qualities as well as his unconditional love and friendship.
I’m going to go cry some more.
He will always be alive in his music and the memories of family, friends and fans.
AAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! That’s how I fucking feel right now. Panic. Stress. Anxiety. My un comfortable comfort zone. My thoughts race far beyond my own comprehension. Trouble thinking yet alone typing. Writing. Blogging. Shitting or whatever this precious intimate open hearted garbage is that I’m puking all over you the reader. The black letters on the white word docment page on the shiny screen. Mind going. Going. Gon . .nope. Not gone but cracked a bit. I feel it buzz down my spine as I try to get some of these thoughts out …
It started last Friday. No it started 2 weeks ago today I think. A Sunday definitively. I called Brian about the meeting we got to Sundays in Phila. H e said he couldn’t go. He couldn’t. Well he chose not to . Ya see he said he was busy. He said he was busy ficing the house he owned next door to him. His tenant moved out and he was getting it ready to rent. I asked. I had to ask. So I did it. I asked. Yes I did. I asked Brian. I asked Brian “ how much are you renting it for?” He told me a price I couldn’t. No wait it was I price I wouldn’t refuse. “how many bedrooms?” I asked I did. 2. 2? Yes 2. I told him I want it and I have aroomamate in mind already. I did. I knew Seth was looking ot get out too. I wasn’t looking ot get out but I knew that living with my mother at my age with my habits was wearing on her and she was going ot be moving on and out and something. Biscuit? Pancakes.
Whew… Breathing is easier when I do it I did.
So. So Seth said yes let’s do it. Move in together. Wednesday we checked it out and told Brian yes we wanted it. We will take it. He was happy Seth was happy. My mom was happy. Everyone’s happy except for me. I like where I am at in life believe it or not. Change is a stressful thing for me. I have been nothing but productive since I lost my job the end of May. I finished my novel and published it along with the Best of the Serial Killer Coloring book that I was thinking of doing for over 5 years. I write every day even if it’s trash or ramblings like this one or not. I don’t know
Oh yeah. SO I am happy living with my mom. She’s a great roommate or house mate except she wants me to work. She understood me wanting ot get my book finished and out because she is a writer too. Now it’s time to move on. I decided that before I was pushed out. She’s leaving anyway in the next year or t2. Did I say that already. I can’t keep track. I’m even to wired and lazy at the same time to spell check or proof read. Can barely move. Except to the bathroom and tha’ts another problem I ha’ve been getting the shits almost every day or every other day for a 3 weeks .
Stress? Maybe I don’t know.
Yeha, My Dad died last year in July, <My adopted dad. Mu adopted Grandmom died in January this year. Death… Family. It brought me closer to my mom and the rest of the family but it fucked me in the head so I repressed it. I do that. I’m good at that repressing
SO I am totally unmotivated and paralyzed with fear, anxiety, depression, and motivated with diarrhea. That’s it. I’ve barely packed. 4 fuckign days I have to be out of her eand in the new place by Pctoer 1st and I have to hace to to/ to clean thehouse and clear my dead dad’s stuff ourt of one of the rooms I live in. 10 bookshelves worth of giant books, cds some records and whatever else… Get that shit done my shit done. I’m throwing out my bed tomorrow so I sleep on a couch for a few days. Who cares ? I’ve done that beforooore.
OFund out the other night my friend died. My old employer. Jana banana. I jope toget my head toghteher enough to write somethingnice about her eventually. She was great. I am also good friends wit her brother. We haven’t talked for years and we did finally the other night. I went to the wake. It was fun. She was the owner of the Singing Banana Telegram company . tha’ts why we called her Jana Banana. They had a singing banana come out and sing to the dead Jana. It was more like a comedy roast than a viewing or wake or wahtaever. I don’t evenknwo the difference.
My ex-wife showed up. Weird… I called her and invited her but didn’t expect her to show up. I went years hating her and we’ve been pretty civil that past few years and she was friends with Dave the brother and we were at Jana’a last wedding and Jana was at ours. It was weird to see that she looked good. I neverthought I would think or feel that about her ever again. She had plastic surgery before I left her and I hated it. I talked to her and we had a good time at the viewing. Weird. Wird for me and .
ok. My head won’t stop. Whish there was a button I could push on my forehead to stop my thoughts.
I also remembered an old friend of Jana’s that no one got in touch with. I remembered that she goes to a coffe eshop on Sunday nights for a sewing or knitting circle thingy . I called her after the viewing and mademy friend and future house mate Seth waiting bored in my car while I told Jana’s friend and my old friend that Jana died over the coffee shop phone. We talked and caught up. Now we’re re-connected.
All of these reconnections are overwhelming me with the pressures and anxieties I already had and I was am are is. . . confused about it all. Dave. Myex-wife Cindy, My old friend Cindy, …Jana. RIP
Then I came home to the wonder ful facebook and was friend requested by some guy I didn’t know and I haven’t been that picky so I accepted him and immediately received a facebook invite to my High School reunion. Then he came back to me and and. . I sort o remembered him. My 3 yeaars on facebook I was only requested by one person I knew from high school. Now more memories… good and bad. I started looking at his friend list and saw all of these people I sort of remembered but not quite. Weired weird … freaky weird. Shut up. Ok yeah then I saw someone that has always hated me but was friends with one of my old friends and we used to tolerate each other. I got upset and thrown off by that too. He spread the rumor that I was gay years after high school because my friends and I messed with his homophobia. I hate homophics. Most of them. Not you. Or you. But him. Yeah
Then I started this paranoic rampage of the mind about me going to the high school reunion and having people come p to me and I don’t remember who they are. It’s been a lot of years since I’ve seen or heard these people. It’s not til November so fuck it. I guess. But it was just one more thing..
Oh yeah then one of my facebook “friends” that I don’t even know left a comment that my friend that died is going ot hell. That was just another thing to add to my overwhelming anxiety and racing speeeding thoughts and stress and blah blah blah. . . etc ya know…
He followed it with a “you’re going to hell” directed at me. So I deleted, blocked and reported him as a fake profile because he had not info and only cartoon pics of himself.
Today facebook took me off and signed me out and said my account was suspended for suspicious activity and to prove it was really me I had to identify my “friends” pictures. Luckily most were people I know personally. They have a real hang up about it being a friends and family site but what if I want to make new friends? Fuck it. Least of my worries.. Just one more thing to make my head throb and speed.
I’m also talking to a girl who I know is fake because she has one picture of herself and 34 pictures of her friends and I recognize some of them as porn stars. Not that I look at pron or anything.. haha. Ok . you know already..vShe doesn’t bother me I just go along wither talk about liking me etc.. Any female attentio is good right? Even it’s a fake girl. Probably a dude or one of my friends. Haha.
I think that sums me up . my mind up.. my anxiety stress etc blah bluck poo faa haa gaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Sirll there . Here. Might not stop butIknow it will eventuallllyy Next weekI’ll be crying over something different. Maybe tomorrow, who knows? All I know is that I will survivie. Isn’t that right Gloria Gaynor?
It’s starting to hit me. The feelings and emotions associated with leaving the nest all over again except this time I am sober and a lot older. I’m talking about moving out from my adopted mother’s house. It’s been a great year and a half or so but an opportunity came up and I had to take it at the last minute. One months notice.
I moved in here in March 2009. It was mutual need at the time. I was having trouble with my rent and my adopted dad was sick and needed extra attention. I was a slight mess )total mess to be honest) and my mom needed the extra help with my dad. I moved in. It was goal to get closer to him while I was there and we accomplished this goal just in time for hs death in June 2009. To be honest, it’s taken a long time to recover from that. My mother seemed to recover faster.
My mother and I have had a great relationship and made great house mates. I help around the house but she asks little of me. It was discussed that I was going to have to leave within the next year or so. Then I lost my job. It’s been a blessing and a curse.
I hated the job and I had some money away and collected unemployment. This afforded me the time and energy into finishing and publishing my novel and 2 other books. After 2 months of just writing and working on my books, my mom was tired of me sitting around the house all day and wanted me to look for a job. The one I have my heart set on is an Alcohol and Drug counseling job that requires you to have 2 years sober. Because of my brief relapse in 2008 I am not eligible until October 9th. To be honest I’ve been kind of putting off looking for work because I want that job that I’m not guaranteed to even get.
Its been a rough month and my mom has been on me abut looking for a job. Luckily, my great aunt’s boyfriend put me to work very part time cleaning offices with his business. It was enough to keep my mom happy for a little bit. I had to apply for a couple more to make her happy. I really want to be a writer full time but that will take some more practice and writing and promoting. I also want the counseling job and I guess I’m putting all of my eggs in one basket but that’s what I do sometimes.
So I am set to move into a 2-bedroom house that my friend owns. On October 1st. I’m moving in with a friend I’ve known for years. Meanwhile my mom is going on a 2 week cruise to Europe this Saturday and won’t be back until the day I move. Today is the last full day of us officially living together. Tomorrow she is leaving. We went out for dinner as sort of a goodbye and a celebration of our new lives the other night. It didn’t hit me until now that this is the last time I’ll see her as a resident of the house. Sad yet happy.
She wants me to move on but she’s worried about me not having a job yet. I’ll survive. I always do. I just need more people to buy my books, get a job and start anew business. I haven’t done that in a while and I usually do well when I do it.
It’s nice to know that I’m leaving on good terms this time instead of her throwing me out because I drank too much when I was younger. It’s a positive experience but I still have to go through the pains, sadness and anxiety that go along with it.
The word sad is defined as being affected by grief or unhappiness. That’s where I’m at today. I’m sad. I feel grief. One year ago today my Father dies. My adopted Father for those that don’t know. I was “adopted” when I was eleven years old by my fourth and fifth grade teacher and her husband. Technically, they were my legal guardians. Although, I never call them Mom and Dad that’s what they are to me.
I’m not sure if I’m sad because I’m supposed to be or if the memories are coming back from last year and it’s causing the sadness. It could be living with my Mother that I feel her sadness. It’s probably a combination of all of the above. I’m not sure if I’m depressed or not but I definitely feel sadness. I’m not used to feeling real feelings that normal people feel over normal situations. I’m used to feeling emotions for things that “normal” people wouldn’t. Things like obsessing over women or things or crying or getting angry over little things like stubbing my toe or having to get out of bed. I haven’t felt that way for a long time over silly things so when something real hits me it’s unusual.
It is a strange thing that people seem to react to dates, anniversaries, holidays birthdays and such. We’re supposed to feel a certain way because it’s a certain date. This is the day that your Father died so you should be sad. It’s Christmas so you should be happy and giving. It’s your birthday and depending how old you are you are supposed to feel happy or sad. Do the actual dates trigger the feelings based on memories or does the body naturally react knowing what the day means? Some dates I skip over and forget they even exist and then I remember and look back to how I felt that date and it seemed appropriate to the date.
All I know is that the past week a lingering sadness has been building up to today. I feel sad. I can handle it today for I have a greater being in my life today. I have friends and family to talk to today. I have a good life despite my loss. I miss him and he will live on in my very existence.
Posted by richhillenjr 
Rich Hillen Jr's Mind Explosions & Implosions 
Paralyzed From The Inside Out
January 24, 2012Paralyzed from the inside out.
My brain is functioning yet my body can’t move. Glued to the couch unable to even change the channel with the remote. I want a cigarette but can’t lift my arm to light it.
I can feel my insides shake nervously. Rapidly. My heart is beating a mile a minute yet I can’t move my body. My head is unfocused. The television is in front of me making blurred sounds and images.
I pray. I cry. I take deep breaths.
Finally, I can move just enough to get to the pill bottle and swallow anti-anxiety meds, I manage to sit up and wait. I fall back down.
It passes. Now I am worn out from the experience. Tired.
Whew.
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