Tuesday, January 16, 2018

chaos is
 
chaos is currency in
these troubled times
 
chaos is two star-crossed
lovers mainlining the
future
 
chaos is a glass of something
strong after the first five didn't
work
 
chaos is the beautiful woman
that allows you to look but
never touch without the right
amount of cash
 
chaos is a system created to
enjoy the failure of others
 
chaos is convincing yourself
that jesus still loves you
 
chaos is a man with two left
feet deciding tonight is the
night the dance floor becomes
his stage
 
chaos is when the last woman
at the bar says no
 
chaos is a lonesome drive home
ignoring the flashing lights and
sirens off in the distance
 
chaos is waking up in a pile of
your own shit after a night of
white russians
 
chaos is the joy of wanting to
do it all again
-------------------------------------------------
under a thousand stars
 
i remember sitting
by the river one
night
 
smoking a cigarette
under a thousand
stars
 
laughing about the
woman that just left
me and the pile of
bills on the kitchen
table
 
the bottle of gin
was empty
 
time to see what
advice mr. daniels
has for me
 
i think i smoked a
pack of cigarettes
that night
 
i stopped cold turkey
about a week or two
later
 
with love out of the
picture i had to make
a decision
 
either the smokes or
the booze had to go
 
and honestly
 
i like clothes that
don't have to be
sprayed over and
over again
---------------------------------------------------
dysfunction gave way
 
the cold settles
in for the post
christmas blues
 
first time i can
remember there
being snow on
the ground on
this day for years
 
and amazingly
 
dysfunction gave
way this year to
friends and alcohol
and well behaved
children
 
as i was sitting
there listening
and drinking
 
i thought back to
the little shit i was
as a child
 
it's certainly easier
to understand why
i am hated and alone
 
it could always be
worse i suppose
 
i could have my
own children to
fuck up as well
 
so, i'm not as evil
as you think
-------------------------------------------------------
rice krispies in milk
 
i got up from my sister's
couch and both of my
knees popped
 
kind of like the sound
of rice krispies in milk
 
was that your knees
my sister asked
 
yeah, i achingly said
 
jesus, she said
 
don't worry, i replied
 
soon, i'll be nothing
but replaced parts
probably made by
small children in
china
 
she laughed
 
i went down the stairs
to go watch a basketball
game
 
think fondly of all those
years ago, when i could
actually run a court and
was in range as soon as
i walked in the gym
 
i caught a glimpse
of myself in a mirror
 
that was certainly
a few lifetimes ago
by now
------------------------------------------------------------------
three bad decisions away from a night in jail
 
the distant look
in the eyes of the
woman you love
 
she's no longer
there
 
you know it but
you're a stubborn
fucker often unwilling
to accept no for an
answer
 
but any attempt
to change her mind
will be futile at best
 
you're three bad
decisions away
from a night in
jail
 
watching taillights
fade into the horizon
might be the best
decision you have
ever made
 
there's a bar at the
end of the street
 
there's a glass of
something strong
with your name
on it
 
her legs will go
on for miles
---------------------------------------------------
some slow songs in the background
 
a sunday
morning
in the
sunshine
 
looking
through
the
coupons
in the
newspaper
 
a cup of
coffee and
some slow
songs in the
background
 
i look
around
this empty
room and
wonder if
death will
be more
lively
 
the
mundane
never
fucking
agreed
with me
---------------------------------------------------------
J.J. Campbell


While We Sat

the rest of the universe
spun listlessly.
All the animals in the world
slept.
We listened to delicate
classical music.
Drank chamomile tea.  Why
not?
Why anything else?


Composer

He who in front
of a crowd can woo
with baton.
I cannot woo.  It’s
beyond my reason
and vocabulary.

He who can stand
stark, speaking with
canyon image created
by words, a simple
story.

That’s art, really.
A commodity.


A Short Break

Roscoe took a short
break from the rest of his
life Friday morning.  It was
what locals call butt cold.

There he was, filling his
cabin with cigar fumes, puffing
heat into himself,
listening to the same lyric over
and over.

Truth is, I don’t know his story,
don’t know his name.  Roscoe
is just one I gave him.

But taking a break from
solid grey cold, whether figurative,
literal, or both is fine
in my book.

JD DeHart


Now I Accuse
A short story collection by

Gary Beck

For Immediate Release
 
Diving deep into love, enmity, compassion, and regret, acclaimed poet Gary Beck brings us through the complexities of life with his brilliant collection of short stories, Now I Accuse. As hope-filled dreams collide with cruel reality, some will rise above adversity, some will give under its weight, but most will find a place in between where they can more comfortably discover where they belong in this turbid world.
 
A crisp, clean slice of the human condition – The Blotter Magazine
Great. We love it – Fabula Argentea
I didn’t want it to end – Clever Magazine
Now I Accuse is a 150 page short story collection. Available in paperback with a retail price of $11.99.. ISBN 941058752, and a Kindle edition for  $4.99. Published Through Winter Goose Publishing. Available now through all major retailers. For information or to request a review copy, contact:
jessica@wintergoosepublishing.com


https://www.amazon.com/Now-I-Accuse-Gary-Beck/dp/1941058752/ref=sr_1_1_twi_pap_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1516060775&sr=8-1&keywords=gary+beck+now+i+accuse

Gary Beck has spent most of his adult life as a theater director, and as an art dealer when he couldn’t make a living in theater. He has 12 published chapbooks and 1 accepted for publication. His poetry collections include: Days of Destruction (Skive Press), Expectations (Rogue Scholars Press). Dawn in Cities, Assault on Nature, Songs of a Clerk, Civilized Ways, Displays, Perceptions, Fault Lines, Tremors and Perturbations (Winter Goose Publishing) Rude Awakenings and The Remission of Order will be published by Winter Goose Publishing. Conditioned Response (Nazar Look). Resonance (Dreaming Big Publications). Virtual Living (Thurston Howl Publications). Blossoms of Decay (Wordcatcher Publishing). Blunt Force and Expectations will be published by Wordcatcher Publishing. His novels include: Extreme Change (Cogwheel Press), Flawed Connections (Black Rose Writing), Call to Valor (Gnome on Pigs Productions) and Sudden Conflicts (Lillicat Publishers). State of Rage will be published by Rainy Day Reads Publishing, Crumbling Ramparts by Gnome on Pigs Productions. His short story collections include, A Glimpse of Youth (Sweatshoppe Publications) and Now I Accuse and other stories (Winter Goose Publishing). His original plays and translations of Moliere, Aristophanes and Sophocles have been produced Off Broadway. His poetry, fiction and essays have appeared in hundreds of literary magazines. He currently lives in New York City.

 
Winter Goose Publishing is an independent publisher founded in 2011. We are a royalty-paying publisher dedicated to putting out the best literature in prose, poetry and art; covering a variety of genres. For more information go to: www.wintergoosepublishing.com
Blossoms of Decay
A poetry collection by

Gary Beck

For Immediate Release
 
Direct, cutting, and visceral. Gary Beck takes no prisoneers and writes in an uncompromising style. His subjects include politics, the state of America, and teenage bullying. Love or hate his views, you will certainly know where you stand. His style makes comulsive reading and you will move from poem to poem as if in a tunnel pursued by a runaway train. Be sure to jump clear so you can return to enjoy his writing more deeply. An established and prolific author, Gary has many more titles to come with Wordcatcher Publishing.

Beck writes passionately about his subject matter. He brings poverty, wealth and class
center stage. We are presented with inequities rooted in divisions of class. There is no hiding place, nor mixing of words nor compromise.
-  Poets Network and Exchange Magazine
Blossoms of Decay is a 136 page poetry book available in paperback with a retail price of $9.99. ISBN 191126561X and also in a Kindle version for $4.99. Published through Wordcatcher Publishing. Available now through all major retailers. For  information or to request a review copy, contact:
david@wordcatcher.com
 
 
 


https://www.amazon.com/Blossoms-Decay-collection-poetry-Wordcatcher/dp/191126561X/ref=tmm_pap_swatch_0?_encoding=UTF8&qid=1515601067&sr=8-1

Gary Beck has spent most of his adult life as a theater director, and as an art dealer when he couldn’t make a living in theater. He has 12 published chapbooks and 1 accepted for publication. His poetry collections include: Days of Destruction (Skive Press), Expectations (Rogue Scholars Press). Dawn in Cities, Assault on Nature, Songs of a Clerk, Civilized Ways, Displays, Perceptions, Fault Lines, Tremors and Perturbations (Winter Goose Publishing) Rude Awakenings and The Remission of Order will be published by Winter Goose Publishing. Conditioned Response (Nazar Look). Resonance (Dreaming Big Publications). Virtual Living (Thurston Howl Publications). Blossoms of Decay (Wordcatcher Publishing). Blunt Force and Expectations will be published by Wordcatcher Publishing. His novels include: Extreme Change (Cogwheel Press), Flawed Connections (Black Rose Writing), Call to Valor (Gnome on Pigs Productions) and Sudden Conflicts (Lillicat Publishers). State of Rage will be published by Rainy Day Reads Publishing, Crumbling Ramparts by Gnome on Pigs Productions. His short story collections include, A Glimpse of Youth (Sweatshoppe Publications) and. Now I Accuse and other stories (Winter Goose Publishing). His original plays and translations of Moliere, Aristophanes and Sophocles have been produced Off Broadway. His poetry, fiction and essays have appeared in hundreds of literary magazines. He currently lives in New York City.

 
Wordcatcher Publications. Indie publisher - born in Wales, serving the world. Authors are at the heart of everything - without their words we'd have nothing to publish.
https://wordcatcher.com 

Wednesday, January 3, 2018

He was a King, Though!

He was the king who reigned for years,
so phenomenal a grandeur
The archetype of sovereignty
He steered thousands of gallant warriors
and stood stunning like a golden swan 
So he held the opulent crown
with the twinkling turquoise in its crest

Time passed by, and the king grew old
It was then the old age frailties
He was confined to the bed,
and was like a rumpled brownish rag
The once tight muscles, 
now shrunk into hanging wrinkles
His lips were just quivering
with words struggling to come out
All day long, he was immersed in a trance
waiting for the eternal silence
And, at last, he was buried beneath the soil
Yes, it was common for every man

He was a king, though!      

Blissful Vesak

The flowers are all in a magnificent bloom
The full moon glistens like a golden plate
The flowery canopy over the foliage
looks like a shimmering bridal sari
The tiny birdies crisscrossing the air
like twinkling sabres
The silvery lined butterflies
embracing the flowers
The shallow streams
flowing melodiously
with the bluish waters
The breeze blows, so soothing
The whole world glows
with the dawn of happiness
The most sacred season of the year
The day when the truth
was revealed to the world
The greatest gift of the pristine Dhamma
leading to the eternal emancipation,
The highest virtue of Nirvana!


Glossary

Vesak – A highly important Buddhist festival which celebrates the three main events namely the birth, enlightenment and death in the life of the Gautama Buddha
Dhamma – The teachings of the Gautama Buddha, Buddhist teachings
 
To a Street Girl I Saw

 Your permed hair
 and gaped mouth
 still do I remember
 Between your dried lips.
 there were the brownish stained teeth
 that never gleamed.
 You had made your home in a grey corner
 of the scruffy pavement
 and a companion in a skeletal puppy.
 The torn out frock with its receding thread
 attached to the thin figure of sickly constitution.
 The sputter of a coin or two
 in your stained, discarded sardine tin
 was your sole communication.
 Goggle eyes fixed upon you
 and pupils in them dashing up and down
 While the night gorilla hurrying
 amidst the street buildings 
 your soft whimper heard by nobody.
 At times you were beside a public dustbin
 scavenging leftovers amidst a heap of cellophane.
 Your still eyes, I know, bore an expression
 and they revealed everything.
     
A Portent Warns a Soldier's Wife               

 The gutter of the wrenching lamp flame
 twisting itself wildly
 made a warning
 It jumped, skipped, pulled
 and spun round and round
 And was,
 in the end,
 dragged away by the roar of a brisk wind
 Her pulsation was hit for a moment…
 Throughout that night,
 she was armed against her heart
 The next day,
 it was late in the morning
 as she learnt he was gone,
 Gone with that very flame of her lamp. 
               
An Anthem for a Warlord  

Sought refuge in underground bunkers
Nor did you see the sunlight
while groping in the gloom of the underworld
At the fall of sky hugging mansions, 
you shrank into earth drilling luxurious bunkers
and fortified them with many a snare 
Isn't it due to your fear,
the repulsive fear of the death?
 Clad in armoured suits,
 what was your expectation?
Above all it was the fear
that quivered throughout your body
Despite your exorbitant wealth and excessive power
the fear burned your heart
almost like a rolling fire ball
You draped a chain attached to a capsule of Cyanide
around your Tigers' neck, 
just like a noose
to hasten their journey to the
penultimate destination
Yet, never did you wear one
The truth surfaces,
you were afraid of death
that you have bestowed on thousands
without the least sense
 Thirsty, you must be,
restlessly running after a mirage in the desert
The fear followed you like a shadow
Perhaps you wished mental relief,
relief from fear,
that you lacked in abundance
Yet, you are late,
too late,
 The dead may already be holing your heart!

Indunil Madhusankha












Helpless I do not know if good intentions prevail among the elected, among the appointed, leaving me apprehensive that the fate ...