Great News

I don’t know if I made mention of this – yes I did – but I’m going through my poems with the intention of getting a few of them together in order to publish an anthology. I’ve already had two single poems published by The Paper Plane Pilots in their online literary magazine, In-flight, and a coworker of mine also published two of my poems in a magazine he runs. Well, that’s the good news! The magazine is ready; I’m going to get twenty or so copies and I’m going to give them out!

Come to think of it. I’m only going to give out about four of them. They were published with my pseudonym, so I can’t just give them to people I know. Would any of you like one? I looked it up and I can mail things without putting my address on them. I’d put my name on it though, so you’d know it was me. What do you think?

Anyway, I just wanted to get it out there that this is happening. I’m excited about it and I hope I that this anthology comes together well and is received well also. I’m also incredibly open to any help or advice concerning publishing since I know next to nothing about it. Thanks in advance. I’d really appreciate it.

So, do you have any great news to share?


There’s Something About Writing

I just made a really long entry into my online journal which I have not opened in so long that I had forgotten about it. I was going to write about how I left my umbrella at the train station on my to work and how I was going to have to buy another one and how I didn’t really want to do that because I’m kind of broke, but then I started writing about something that was a bit more important to me and it turned out to be a terribly long paragraph that I hadn’t foreseen. Wasn’t that nice? And guess what? I felt better after writing all that out. Weird, because that wasn’t the first time I had written about that particular thing, but I hadn’t written about it to such an extent before. I guess sometimes bits and pieces aren’t enough. I’m just very thankful to Christy Barongan for telling me write even though I might think that it’s not helping, because I was starting to think that writing wasn’t helping me, but look! It has! Even though this nice feeling will fade in a while, it’s nice to get things off your chest sometimes and I’m glad that today writing helped me to get something off of my chest.

After 1 a.m.

I hate myself. Same old same old. I could say that the devil is strong. I could say that I’m weak. Both would be true.

I’m sick, of being sick, and moping around about how much I hate reality and my life and how much I don’t want it like this.

I’m tried. I’m not sleeping because of the dramas, but I can’t find anything gripping to read – not that I’m looking hard.

I want to ask for help but I don’t. I don’t want to burden someone else, and I don’t want to say any of it out loud. That will change everything.

At these times I don’t know what to do with myself. Can’t pray, can’t write poetry, can’t sing – haven’t written a song in ages,and nothing’s suitable on my karaoke app. Don’t even know what kind of music I should listen to to go with my mood. Should I go with soft or something hard and fast. Just tried soft and it didn’t work, looking for something else – not finding it.

Sitting on the floor writing because I figure this will be the most comfortable right now. Still switching songs and skipping every single one. If I could dance well from my head I’d turn something up and go for it. Maybe I need to plug my ears with it. That would probably be better.

Penmanship looks like crap. Just switched genres because K-pop wasn’t doing it for me. Chrisette Michele. Cool. Sounds similar to a gospel artist I used to listen to. Used to. Can’t listen to those anymore really.

It’s after 1 a.m. … and I hate myself.

Mine and Yours

I cannot be sad
With you,

For your sadness
Is different
From mine.

I do not
Your sadness

And no word
You say
Will convey it

If I sat
With you
For a hundred days
And expressing grief

I still
Would not know
What it is
That made you
The way you are,

I will never understand
How you felt
When you were
When you were
When you were

Though I have
Been neglected

But my
Being neglected
Is not the same
As yours.

I cannot

I wish
With everything
In me
That nothing
Ever happened
To you,
That you never knew
What it was like
To be left

But I cannot change
The past,
Much to my dissatisfaction.

I cannot make you

I don’t even know
Who you are.

I wish I was the only one.

The only one
Who was sad,

And that everyone else
Wore genuine smiles
Of happiness,
What love really is,

But I’m not,

You are sad too,

And as much as
I would like to,
From where I am,

I cannot help you.