We drink because we are Poets Thursday's poetry prompt:

"Prompt: You are on a journey of some kind (a treasure hunt, a mission for the government, an excursion to the land of the lost). A) What is your journey and what two choices do you come to face in the course if this journey? B) What is choice #1 and its consequence?

Three feet long, made up mostly of an iron shaft inlaid with runes of melted mythore, the slender handle is barely wider than a wizard’s wand, perhaps as round in girth as a female Unicorn’s horn. It is Unicorn’s horns that make this misery making masterpiece so malign.

The foot of the shaft is a loop of nondescript leather, used to hook or attach the weapon to a saddle or satchel strap as necessary.

Welcome back for another installment of Pay Day Thursday.

Today I would like to introduce you to Jessica.  She approached me with a desire to collaborate and to have a letter exchange type dialogue.

Jessica's Blog is The Carpenter's Quill

So what is your name, age and where are you from?
My name is Jessica Carpenter, and I will be turning the big 3-0 next month.

It's live ... theselfpublisher.com.

Can I just say one thing before I get to the business at hand?  Yes?  OK.  I think that's a majority.  I am absolutely thrilled and amazed that "theselfpublisher.com" was available.  That it was, I believe, speaks volumes on the subject.  Theselfpublisher.  It's time to build a community, a spirit, an effort to promote, encourage, assist.

Is it possible for something that’s spherical to have a physical end or beginning? A ball just keeps going on and on and on and on. No matter how many times you turn it, you never get to any definitive beginning or end. Where does an egg start and where does it end? With the chicken or the egg or the chicken or the egg or the chicken?

I created this poem to perform as spoken word for my first Pay Day collaboration turning my Gravy Baby poem to song Introducing Ray the Musical Poet.  It was to be my intro but I’m not nearly ready to attempt spoken word yet, it’s quite the challenge.  If you don't know much about spoken word I encourage you take a look.

I've had this idea for the last few days.  I'm throwing out to you, my followers.  I want to start a new blog dedicated to self-publishing.

Those of us who blog and write and publish, I believe, owe it to each other to support each other's efforts.  We can do this with "likes" and "follows" and reviews and the like, but there's more there. 

If I were wanting to think about selling prints , could I do it from here ? Any feedback is appreciated.
[email protected]

People people people!  Guess what today is?  MONDAY!  And since it’s Monday, we’ve another spectacular feature lined up for you, and this young lady is a very, very interesting human being.

-Mya Brooks-

Mya C. Brooks is a twenty-three year old green horn with absolutely no credentials to speak of, that just so happens to live in New London Connecticut, a small town that constantly smells of salt water and engine fuel.

They called me the evils of man,
and I luxuriated in the title,
in fact, my passion was such,
I set fire to each letter in the Bible.

The Lost Muse

I sit down and pick up the pen
To serenade my lost muse again,
There are vague images I seek
And while consistencies are bleak,
I still enjoy searching the cause
The words in which the moments pause
And in that sudden clarity,
I look for my epiphany...

My muse is gone, been called away
And while the world will keep at bay…

I have forgotten the feel of pen in hand
The feel of my palm anchoring the page
The flow of ink in a single stream of thought
The echoing of scratch and scribble withstand
As memories in this the computer age

I use to strike down errors with one fell stroke
The blemish reminding me to be thoughtful
Now all I have to do is hit the back space…

I've been doing a bunch of thinking lately. I mean, most of it has been about, like, cat videos and comic books, but over the past week a significant part of my brain has been occupied by the following question:

What place do men have in the feminist movement?

First of all, let me straight up say that I think that they for sure have a place, and an important one at that.

Last month, I was asked by Julie Green Art to make a list of what keeps me going.  The request came right before I left for my convention, I promised to do it the next week, and forgot.  For taking so long, I deeply apologize and will make sure to keep some sort of system that avoids this mistake in the future.

Driving around town today with the youngest of Princely Midgets, I saw an Adopt-A-Highway sign.  It was sponsored by the First Atheist Church of True Science aka FACTS.  Hmmm.  An Atheist Church.  This requires further inquiry.

First, I needed to research the definition of church.  "A building for public especially Christian worship."  That's the primary definition.  The secondary definitions equally apply to worship, clergy, and the like. 

We stared Death in his eyes.

            The Gods could only watch.  And tremble.  As the world collapsed beneath the feet of men, and whole armies were swallowed, Death regarded us, and we knew that time was at an end.  Galthaesia had forsaken us; the Neherim vacated Eras, not of their own accord; the Third Order of Angels had fallen; the Tritans walked away from the earth; and we could only watch, and tremble, as time slowed to a standstill. 

I have this goal.  It's not quantifiable, but it's a goal.  My goal is to exceed the caliber of writing of Stephen King, and to push the envelope of propriety beyond what the Marquis de Sade achieved.

So, here I am, having written what I thought was a brilliant prologue, and I've just decided it's garbage.  I've noticed something.  When I started out the prologue, I think my writing was outstanding, awesome even. 

Happy Saturday Poets!

If you’ve been following along with We Drink Because We’re Poets the last week, you know that we’ve been somewhat busy!  And what have we been up to, lately?  Come close, and I will tell you!

13 May

Monday Poetry Prompt #3 – Nonsense Verse.  Just a note: you can go back to the prompts any time, and you're free to use them!

Earlier today, I wrote about my reacquaintance with one of the best addictions there are -- seeing your book sell on Amazon.  As I noted, today was the day that Ereadernewstoday.com would be featuring my book as one of the bargain books.  When I got up this morning, three copies of One Night in Bridgeport had been downloaded.  An hour later, it was at eighteen. 

Well last weeks Friday Fun Time was a blast, so I figured we could do it again. And we have fun by writing happy fun poems! So lets kick it people!

Here comes my monkey love
Was shrieked from the beast
Bieboon was its name
A tabloid legend is born
A crime against humanity, against nature
An abomination of lust and one glove…

First off, this is not me losing faith in my own writing.  I want to get that out there right away before I give people the wrong impression.  Contrary to what some reviews have said, I have faith and confidence in my writing style.

This is something I thought of now since I got a 3-star recently and it mentioned the style was difficult.