Sahm Ataine King is a poet, aspiring novelist, and graphic designer and has been in-love with the written word since his exposure to the Science Fiction/Fantasy and Poetry genres at a young age. He has self-published two poetry collections, “The Grey Muse” and “L’aria Onyx“, along with his first novel, “28 Shades of Black“, and is currently writing three other titles from the Sci-Fi/Fantasy and Erotica genres. He lives on the planet Earth and hopes to one day expand his horizons by traveling the world and learning of cultures beyond the confines of the internet.
"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?
*Disclaimer – Do not read if you are a belieber or related to a belieber. Also, if you believe the antichrist, the devil, the pale horse, or death should not be disrespected in such a manner, it is also not a good idea not to read this post.*
People! I just had a revelation. In fact, my revelation came straight from the Book of Revelations. That’s right, that Book of Revelations…from the Holy Bible. Take a look at this passage:
And I looked, and behold a pale horse: and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him.
That used to be one of my favorite quotes from the Bible…until I realized it was a reference to Justin Bieber. I know what you’re thinking: Sahm, you’re just taking some random passage from the Bible and making shit up because you really, really, really hate Justin Bieber. What’s your point? *CGH* I mean, no I’m not! Hear me out, hear me out! You can’t look at Justin Bieber and tell me that he isn’t pale. Bear with me, though, and I’ll tell you the 5 Reasons why Justin Bieber is a sign of the Apocalypse. Continue reading →
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.
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.
*Disclaimer – this is a general posting, not to be construed as directed at any one person, but to all persons, though it is inspired by various recurrent situations that I have not addressed. As a standing rule, if I have a beef with an individual, I will name said individual. There will be no error, and there is no beef.*
Good day people. I need to make myself clear about something, here and now, so as not to ruffle any feathers in the future, and because I have not taken the time to do so in the past.
I am in a relationship with a woman that I am very deeply in-love with. Her name is Michelle, but you all know her as Blu. She is the moderator of the blog Life and Love. She is a green-eyed, French-speaking beauty who nobody (beyond maybe one or two of you) has any idea of what she looks like and for the simple reason that she does not post pictures of herself anywhere. Were she to do so, the men lining up to get her attention before they even attempted to get to know her for the person that she is would stretch the length of the CONUS. While that may be a slight exaggeration on my part, I need to illustrate this point for a few reasons: her not putting her pictures up is her choice for her reasons, not at my request and not to protect my ego (as my ego is too god-like to need protection). She chooses not to show herself, and I respect her choice not to do so, so you will never see her and me in any pictures online; you will never see her in any videos wherein you see me. The final reason is this: people do not need to be concerned with her appearance, but with her character, with her person. She is hosting a blog, and it’s not to be judged by her appearance, but by what she enjoys learning about and what she enjoys posting. She’s doing a lot to help me and Pap out with We Drink Because We’re Poets, as well, and the last thing that I would want to hear anyone say is that I’m somehow using her looks to garner attention. I don’t know which would piss me off more: the accusation of using her looks for my own ends, or her being reduced to just her looks. Either way, I’d probably lose my shit on someone’s face like a rabid monkey in a cage. Continue reading →
Bruce Lee said ““Empty your cup so that it may be filled; become devoid to gain totality.”” What he meant was, “Take everything you ever learned and throw it away that you may learn. You can’t learn if you already know everything.”
Such a succinct quote belies the sum totality of the truth of the statement. Picture the chains you wear as you move through this life, following rules, day in and day out; adhering to traditions, whether they be religious traditions, cultural traditions, or familial traditions. Consider the lack of progress that has not been made because of tradition, adherence to set ways, formulas, protocols, modes of behaviors. This is the very thing that Bruce Lee fought against when he sought to instruct Westerners in Wing Chun Gung Fu, when the Chinese establishment insisted that he cease teaching those who sought to learn some of the most beautiful Martial Arts known to mankind. And this is the beginning of Jeet Kune Do, the way that is no way, and the emptying of the cup; the undoing of traditional constraints in an effort to create a more perfect means by which to supplement the skills of the Martial Artist. Continue reading →
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.
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 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.
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…
*Disclaimer – Please do not read this post if you meet the following conditions: 1) You are prone to insecurity. 2) You are prone to making undue assumptions. 3) You really are an epic failure. If you think this a post is about you, in short, you’re vain. If saying as much isn’t enough, please follow these recommended steps: 1) Find a bottle of Windex. 2) Drink the contents. That is all.*
The highest form of fail known to man. Reaching this level of fail means only one thing:You must die, or the world will fail itself due to such an extreme level of failage.
:OMG I gotz teh myspaces n mah yootoobs rool n sutf n u sux cuz u has no myscapes!
You know those times you can just see shit about to hit the fan? I mean, those times when you’re looking a few feet down the street, right into the grill of a Ford F-150, and you see these people just standing there, about to get hit. You try to warn them, but they have more faith in that truck missing them than they do in getting the hell out of dodge. Then…
BAM! They get hit. And when they’re lying in the hospital, having their wounds and broken hearts tended to, all you can do is wonder, Why are you so surprised? Continue reading →
He thinks himself the timber of the gods’ beating hearts. The argument produces an inconsistency; he believes in no god, save himself. Logic fails. Murder is writ into the stars. The unmarked graves of unlearned lessons go unnoticed as people step o’er Gaea’s face; a mat, which no longer reads “welcome”. A man says that he is lying. Is it true or is it false? He thinks the cat can answer, despite ingesting the poison in the box; a quantum leap. In and out, existence and non, the sequitur being that nothing is true and nothing is false; no thing is real and no thing is virtual. He thinks himself the timber of the gods’ beating hearts. A paradox: Continue reading →
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.
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.
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.
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.