The Books Thus Far

The Changeling (Fantasy)
Grandfather Time (Fantasy)
Mastery of the All (Fantasy)
Hard as Roxx (Science Fiction)
The Juice and Other Stories (Short Stories)
The Brooklyn Trace (Mystery)
Jeanne Dark (Mystery)
Beyond the Farr Road (Short Stories)

In Progress:
Eddie Daley: Black, White and Blue

Not bad, if I say so myself.

Days of Art #39: I Cannot Dizzle upon Mah Toes

Raw, Naked Art

I cannot dizzle upon mah Toes
by Emily Cold-Ass Dickinson and

I cannot dizzle upon mah Toes–
No Man instructed mah crazy ass–
But oftentimes, among mah mind,
A Glee possesseth me,
That had I Ballet knowledge–
Would put itself abroad
In Pirouette ta blanch a Troupe–
Or lay a Prima, mad,
And though I had no Gown of Gauze–
No Ringlet, ta mah Hair,
Nor hopped ta Audiences — like Birds,
One Claw upon tha Air,
Nor tossed mah shape up in Eider Balls,
Nor rolled on wheelz of snow
Till I was outta sight, up in sound,
Da Doggy Den encore me so —
Nor any know I know tha Art
I mention — easy as fuck — Here —
Nor any Placard boast me —
It’s full as Opera —

This is a brief poem, from a previous post, as translated by Gizoogle. I encourage you…

View original post 29 more words

Days of Art #42: “We Wear the Mask

Raw, Naked Art


We Wear the Mask” by Paul Laurence Dunbar

We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,–
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties.

Why should the world be overwise,
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see us, while
We wear the mask.

We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!

1-Chinatown HDR 12-001

View original post

Strong Brew

Raw, Naked Art


“It’s purzun,” she says
or at least she would, were the Bronx in her socks
instead of the south of London in her jeans. And
she arises, bent, but better, awakening, shaking off the
dusty din of discarded decaffeinated detritus,
the daily drudge of dying promises
of lies he said, of didn’ts he did and
woulds he wouldn’t and love
that never sweetened the bitter taste of his
stale, morning brew.

but it’s a fresh morn, time for
starry starts and ill-spent dreams
time for love in the streets, of
surreptitious tugs and licentious licks
of games of touch and songs
with no words but plenty of woodwinds
and a salty rhythm from just south of the Equator.
in the old days, that baker’s dozen
dime-store brew, she’d settled for the ease
of decaf, taking the tinge of bitterness
from her palate, and praying for the
death-strike of hope, to…

View original post 156 more words

100 Days of Art – Day 25: But I Can Dance Among the Clouds

Raw, Naked Art

I cannot dance upon my Toes
by Emily Dickinson

I cannot dance upon my Toes —
No Man instructed me —
But oftentimes, among my mind,
A Glee possesseth me,
That had I Ballet knowledge —
Would put itself abroad
In Pirouette to blanch a Troupe —
Or lay a Prima, mad,
And though I had no Gown of Gauze —
No Ringlet, to my Hair,
Nor hopped to Audiences — like Birds,
One Claw upon the Air,
Nor tossed my shape in Eider Balls,
Nor rolled on wheels of snow
Till I was out of sight, in sound,
The House encore me so —
Nor any know I know the Art
I mention — easy — Here —
Nor any Placard boast me —
It’s full as Opera —

View original post

Bad Poetry from my Youth #2

Never Go Back

You can never go back
except for when you do.

Her eyes still kiss his
softly, secret — never ends
A vision of youth
ten years fade — never werer.
Lines grow lighter, lighter,
love is young, and bold, and proud…

Hairline stretech, reaches forward
(afro blowing in the wind)
stretch marks fading, disappearing
green eyes shyly, brightly,

Now she stands, ever lovely,
eighteen still and twenty yon.
Taller, standing
(or he’s mistaken)
now sure, is she, that
broken hearts can be forgotten
shallow tears make this one sweet.

Her eyes still kiss him
tall and strong
and young and proud
musician’s hands
and a sinner’s smile.

She blames herself
for their transgressions
sees him through unworthy eyes
beauty inner, outer, ever
standing here,
without disguise.

Find Whate’er Ye Seek

Raw, Naked Art

I must admit, that despite my fairly advanced knowledge of music, I knew little to nothing of Sia. It had nothing to do with her talent; rather, it is that Pop music has to cross a pretty high threshold to get my attention. Perhaps “Diamonds” as performed by Rhianna should have done it, since it’s one of the few of the singer’s songs that I really love. Apparently, Sia wrote the lyrics to the song in fourteen minutes.


So, imagine my interest when I heard the controversy surrounding Sia’s new video for “Elastic Heart,” starring Shia LeBeouf and the amazing 12-year-old dancer (actress) Maddie Ziegler. I drew my attention, to be honest, because it was trending on Facebook for claims of implicit pedophilia. I pay attention when people ring the Ped alarm, for a number of reasons, which I’ll go into a bit later. But first, if you haven’t…

View original post 507 more words