A little bit about me

I am a narcissist.  I care about me first and everyone else second or last.  My order of people I care about goes from me to my wife to my daughter to my son to who I consider to be my best friend to his wife.  Everyone else I really could care less about.  Some people I could care about less than others as I do have some good acquaintances that make my life more enjoyable.  If I don't talk to you on a regular basis or have never talked to you on a regular basis I really would care if you died tomorrow, this does include some family members, they haven't made any effort even though I've tried.
I am a psychopath.  I am homicidal and suicidal.  I have absolutely no respect for life.  I have megalomania, but only when I am in a manic mood.  Speaking of which I am "officially" Bi-Polar with auditory and visual hallucinations, I have a severe anxiety disorder, I am claustrophobic and agoraphobic.  I hate large crowds of people.  I don't like to go out much, but when I do I like to have a good time, whether that be talking with the people who I consider and can count on half of my hand as friends or going out somewhere to have a good time, I just need to take my pills.  Unofficially, because they don't want to burden me with the label, I am schizophrenic.
Speaking of my pills, On a daily basis I take Lithium, Geodon, Wellbutrin, Klonopin, and Ativan (yes I am on two anti anxiety meds) for my mental disoders.  If I need it I also take Propranolol, and Zyprexa.
I also have several things wrong with my back.  For that I take Percocet, MS Contin, and Flexoril.  So all in all I take 11 different pills and on a bad day I take about 19 pills in all.  Needless to say I am not always on top of my game.
My brain is full of hole, partly because of the medication, but mainly because I destroyed my body and my mind using recreational drugs in my younger years.  I was addicted to marijuana (yes you can be addicted to it, trust me), LSD, ecstasy, heroin, cocaine, ketamine, and a few others that I can not think of right now.  I have not, however, ever tried crack, meth, or PCP (I am quite proud of this fact).
I had a father who was an enabler, by which I mean he would buy me and supply me with drugs.  My mother was more concernes about herself then she was about me, but I have mostly forgiven her for that.  She is a better person now in some ways and, in my opinion, worse in other ways.
I had two step-fathers who abused me physically.  One put my head through a wall, the other would start fights with me, did I mention that one was a brick layer, no, well he was.
Without the help of my grandparents, who I love very much, and my aunt I would probably not made it past my fifth birthday.
I have tried to commit suicide more times than I can remember and I have gotten into more fights that I care to remember.  Since my daughter was born (I was not much of a father to my son) I have cleaned up my act entirely and decided it was time to grow up.
I have been working on my poetry for years, mostly emotional stuff and stuff about love, which I know so little about, but only recently have I started to throw my hat into the ring of novel writing.  I will never give up poetry, it is too much of an outlet for me.  Someof it I share with the world for free, other pieces I try to get paid for and still others I keep to myself and maybe one or two only are read by the people who they are directed at.  I have one piece like that now.  I am just waiting for her to calm down a little bit and be ready to accept it.
I believe that you can love someone with all your heart and still have some left over to give to someone else.
Constantly my mind wanders between reality and fantasy, but I try my hardest to control those changes.  The voices have pretty much left me alone since I got on this regiment of medication, but the visual hallucinations continue.  I am oh so happy about that (can you sense the sarcasm?). 
What I want out of this world is to be recognized for the talent that I am (of course that could be the megalomania talking) and to become a published author in more than one category and genre before I take my dirt nap.

Now you know a little bit about me.  My life is like an open book, there are very few secrets I keep close to my chest, so if you have anything to ask, feel free.  I will do my best to answer it.

A few limerick for you to laugh at

Chef Jim

 Jim could cook the most delicious food.
One quirk, was that he’d cook in the nude.
A smile awakened
while frying up bacon,
but the popping grease ruined his mood.

Telltale hair

Bob had his mom's broken rotten teeth,
his dad's sense of humor underneath,
but the hair on his head
was from a man named Ted;
It's a shame that Bob's dad's name was Keith.

Ungraceful Grace

A young girl, cursed with the name of Grace,
she was always falling on her face.
One day, she couldn’t see
that giant oak tree
and now she lay dying at its base.

Poor Tom

Poor Tom with his heavy lead foot,
screaming, yelling he couldn't stay put.
He was going real fast
that dumb stupid ass.
Now we walk and Tom is underfoot.

Poor Billy

Billy Niles was a teenage boy
he sat on the pot, there to deploy,
too bad it was slick,
his head met the brick.
Death by plunger to the eye, oh joy.

Jessica Louse

Jessica Louse walking downstairs,
forgetting all her worries and cares,
when a big black rat,
jumped and she went splat.
Now Jessica's in our nightly prayers.

hidden pleasure (poetry)

she suggested we find a place to hide – and         a place to feel one another so – we went where no eyes could pry and she kissed me under      the moon big and round like her eyes as they stared into mine and I got lost for just a moment until I felt her hand on my waist sliding to the button of my jeans pulling – tugging – freeing me watching as she went down on her knees and kissed me I arched back as I slid past her teeth and watched as her nose was buried in my skin what a way to begin this moment of hidden pleasure then she rose from her knees and brought her lips to mine and let me taste me and I found my arms wrapped around her unclasping her releasing her and pulling her shirt over her head I witnessed perfection fall so I gently held one in each hand while my lips were still locked to hers then my hands found their way to her pants quickly undoing and undressing the rest of her my lips still locked to hers I found us on the ground fused together hip and mouth lips and hips smashed together over and over finding that spot as she moans giving away our position to all those that would listen but we no longer care as she arches her back into the air and meets my thrust over and over until we collapse together in a heap of sweat and smelling of sex no other words spoken just a hurried dressing and quickly walking back trying not to smile too much.

anxiety (Poetry)

anxiety shaking quaking twitching itching scratching never relaxing never the chance to breathe – in and … …out the door hit the floor running to a destination unknown known to be out of reach but still reaching for greatness when greatness only slips through my fingers fingers that tap the table rhythmically sending my body into an uncontrolled dance of shaking quaking twitching itching scratching never relaxing never time to stop my mind racing leaving my mouth chasing words never spoken am I broken on a level unknown or is it known but not shown to the world instead curled inside my head making me seem brain dead but instead my brain is more alive it just can’t thrive on normal levels of non interaction when you run away from me scared because I am shaking quaking twitching itching scratching and never relaxing

For those who care

I am writing every day.  Some days I work on my poetry only, other days I work on my story only, but most days I work on both.  I have gotten several pieces of poetry started, but none finished.  I can’t seem to finish them.  It is rater annoying.  I have a friend helping me out with one of them and if she doesn’t mind I may have her help me on others.  I think if she helps me on one then I want her to help me on five so that I can send them in together for publication.  Usually magazines and other publications accept between 3 and 5 poems from us so it would be nice to send in a group of them instead of just one at a time.

The book I am working on has kind of stalled.  I am thinking of asking a good friend if he wants to co-author it with me.  I enjoy working with others on my writing.  It is enjoyable and gives us all something to talk about.  It is a sci-fi piece that I have sketched out completely.  I just need help writing it.  I am sure I co0uld write it on my own, I just think it would be more fun if this friend helped me with it.

My life is wonderful right now, if not a little confusing.  My wife is extremely understanding.  And she knows I love her, just I don’t think she knows how much, but she will someday and that is all that matters.  My daughter still isn’t walking on her own, but it’s not a big deal as she just turned one a little over two weeks ago.   She is way ahead in other areas though.  She has a huge vocabulary for a one year old.  The doctor said she was lo0oking for between three to five words.  She has something like thirty words in her vocab and she stings words together, it is nice.  The bad thing about my daughter is that we can already see her temper coming through.  She is a redhead through and through.  We can visualize the temper tantrums already.  My wife and I were talking and determined that she was probably going to be the type of child that hold their breath until she passes out or gets her way.  Not fun, but it comes with being a parent.  I didn’t get to experience any of this with my five year old.  His mother experienced it all.  I wasn’t much of a father, but I am trying to change that, I just hope it isn’t too late.

Personally, my medications are back on track.  I had a little scare there for a bit when they switched my meds, but I am alright now.  Everything is back to being leveled out.   I am now on eleven different meds for a total of eighteen pills a day.  Not too bad.  Better than it could be.

Until next time,

W

Rant with unrelated Poetry

I have not been in the publishing game long, but the thirty some odd rejection letters I have gotten have all been form letters, Now I understand the benefit of form letters I volunteered at a campaign office a few years back.  It just make me feel even smaller when they point out that it is a form letter. I can tell a form letter when I see one, now you are just insulting my intelligence.  I understand you are busy, no need to tell me that either.  Just get tot the point and politely say, "We are not interested in your work at this time."  If you are one of the few that have the time to write out a reason why, please do so, we as authors enjoy constructive criticism.  It is the only way we get better, that and practice, lots of practice. 

I read through the first full length novel I wrote the other day and I nearly died laughing.  It was horrid.  The story was there, but I did no fact checking and the story was entrenched in the court system.  I'm not a lawyer or a legal assistant.  I know next to nothing about the legal system, but I thought I could just wing it.  Boy was I wrong.  Research is a key factor in writing, whether it is one on one research or utilizing the many resources on the web, it doesn't matter, but you have to do some for of research.  If not, your book will fall flat, trust me. I am looking at the last novel I completed that is a bit short to be called a decent fantasy noel, so I am working on that and try to expand on certain things. The other story I am currently working on is an urban fantasy set in 2311.  I think is has some uniqueness to it while still stealing ideas that have been floating around in my head from some story or another.

I would however like to say thank you to one individual and that is my wife.  Living with a full time write who is in his early thirties and has nothing published yet is rather annoying, trust me, I know.  But she stands by me anyway.

In the next entry I will be talking about my medical conditions and why I am a stay at home writer.

Here is a piece of poetry for you to read.

Love on the Beach

I see you standing there on the beach,
my toes digging deep in the sand,
attempting to gain proper footing
before my heart takes over
and forces me to run,
without thinking,
into your awaiting arms
that are attached to your perfectly tanned body
that is covered with a pair of ripped up blue jeans
and a shirt that probably saw its last good day
in the summer of 1998. 

Ironically that was the last time I was on a
beach staring at someone with eyes like yours,
piercing deep into my soul, but this time my
soul cries out for you to hold me, to catch me
in your arms and gently lay me on the blanket
there at your feet, waiting for our bodies to lie
on top of it; tangled so badly that no one would
be able to tell where you ended and I began.

So I stop thinking and start moving, slowly at
first, so that I am sure that this is exactly what
I want to do, then I speed up quickly throwing
one naked foot in front of the other; gaining
ground quicker and quicker because I am being
driven by the look in your eyes and the gentle
way the corners of your lips rise to the sky,
like they are telling heaven to cover its eyes.

Water laps further up the shore, coming
dangerously close to the blanket due to the
rising tide, which mimics the rising tide of
emotions that are building up inside of me
waiting to be released as my skin touches
yours, which it does as I arrive at my desired
destination, your body with those outstretched
arms that are now wrapping around me, letting
me melt into you as the emotions pour forth
like the tears that are streaming down my cheeks.

We fall down together, against the warmth of
cloth and the sand gives way, just a little,
making room for my body, on top of yours,
a smashing of limbs and lips, an entanglement
of salt water and sand, against us as I finally
find that that goal of you, and your skin,
and the release of letting all the desire, the need,
the exhilaration be passed from my soul into the
air between us, building as the waves
start coming more frequently, lapping at our toes.

The water sips at this feast, as you push me back for a
second of air and wrap both arms around me
meeting at the small of my back, looking up at me
with that half smile of invitation, the nakedness
of you; nothing that can be defined without looking
into your eyes, baring the oceans of your soul in that
second.  The words that could be said are not said, but
spoken all the same as you lift up, arching toward me,
in the same motion as the waves, to meet my lips.

Our bodies turning, until you look down at me,
long hair tangled over your shoulder, bits of sand
pinned in place like glittering stars that shower over my face.

You are like a picture, held into the corners of my memory
by the sound of the water rolling over us, the way your
skin glistens with the moisture and the heat, by the turn of
your hip as we are buried in surf and soil, in each other.

One arm, pushed into the ground as you take
everything you could want and I am neither sailor
or captain, but you are still my siren as the high tide
comes in and I am suddenly seeking every breath
that passes between these kisses, the air that you
breathe becoming my life force.

I do not, will not, could not care if I drowned here with
you beneath the water which buries us in turn as you rise
above or I rise above in the midst of this making of love.

The only thing left in this moment is you, the glimpse of
your floating hair as I push you beneath or the way your
eyes shimmer, slightly off center, as I look up and you push me
beneath, drowning each other in turn,
loving with no regard to everything else;
giving in to the moment;
lost in the current of us.

First Post

I have started a total of four blogs on four different sites.  I have yet to find one that works for me.  Hopefully this one will be different.  I have heard a lot of good things about it.

I have to date completed 12 62,000+ word novels and am working on 4 others.  Only one of the completed one am I happy with.  I am happy with 1 of the ones I am working on now as well.  But mainly at this stage of my career I am writing just to write.  The more I write and read the better I become at it.  My twelfth novel is so much better than my first one and this one which will be my fifteenth novel is damn good in my opinion.

I love writing.  I have been writing poetry professionally for ten years and for the last two years I have tried to make a little money off my poetry.  I also self published a book of poetry titled POETIC VISIONS OF AN UNCUT MIND.  I have been writing novels for about five years but only finished my first one last year.  Like I said before, the more I write the better I become at it.  I need to get better at writing my query letter and any advice on that I will be happy to hear/read.  So this is my first post.  Oh and here's a couple of pictures of my children

 Joey 11 months  Keagen 5 Years