“Last Resort” is Free! May 11-15

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I am putting up another promotion for the poetry book that I put out quite a while ago. This promotion will be over Mother’s Day weekend, just before the launch of my Fantasy novel “First Quest”.

The promotion goes from May 11th-15th, 2017 on Amazon’s marketplace.

You can get to the book itself by following this link.

If you miss out on the promotion, don’t worry!  The price of the book is effectively going down to $0.99 USD starting TODAY.

 

Irish Drinking Songs

I was commissioned to write these few songs for someone, though they didn’t want to pay for the rights to them.  Given that fact, I am posting them here both to show them off, and to maintain my ownership of them.  I am having issues with the formatting (I dislike the double-space after each line, but couldn’t get rid of it for the last two songs), so if anyone knows how I can fix this I would appreciate the tell.  Thank you.

Whiskey my Wife

Oh down by the wat’r where the blinks do grow
I laid me down to rest
In a bed of white in that field of green
With a bottle on my chest
Just me and my whiskey and a biting chill
We talked the night away
She did listen, but I still don’t know
What in hell made me say

‘You’re beautiful and lovely
With your golden skin and eyes;
Your presence keeps me warm,
I am such a lucky guy.
Though you’ll be gone in the morning,
Just stay here for the night.
I love you dear, sweet whiskey.
You make everything alright.

Oh down in the hollow far beneath the hills
I met a woman fair
She could cook and clean and even sing,
And had flowers in her hair
She asked for my heart, but I had to say
That another held it tight
I told her I would be gone in the morning,
But I’d stay there for the night.

‘She’s beautiful and lovely,
With her golden skin and eyes.
Her presence keeps me warm;
I am such a lucky guy.
Though she’ll be gone in the morning,
She’ll stay with us tonight.
I love my dear, sweet whiskey.
Honey, whiskey is my wife.’

 

The Rules

Ev’ry man must know his limits

Though sometimes we forget

So I lay down some rules

For myself and these fools

Who spend too much time wet

 

Don’t you drink no more ‘til you close the door;

Only pour a glass once the last has passed;

If another calls ‘fore the last drop falls,

You’d better pick up your lily pace.

 

But the golden rule

For all men and fools,

And the one no man should break

Is a simple deed

For this listed creed:

Only drink when you’re awake.

 

Ev’ry man must know his limits

Though sometimes we forget

So I lay down some rules

For myself and these fools

Who spend too much time wet.

 

Don’t you never spill  from a glass that’s chilled;

Keep both hands clean as they’ve ever been;

If you break this creed, it’ll be your greed

That gets you so shitfaced.

 

But the golden rule

For all men and fools,

And the one no man should break

Is a simple deed

For this listed creed:

Only drink when you’re awake.

 

Queen of the Floor

Once long ago there was a queen of the floor

A fair maiden to behold

Jaws fell to the ground as she walked through the door

From the young men and the old

Her feet were quicker than a jackrabbit’s dart

As she danced to every song

The woman whose moves caught every man’s heart

In their eyes could do no wrong.

 

Walk away, ye boys, for your heart might pound

But her scornful stare makes a man unsound

For no matter the pace

Any man who will chase

Her will find his hope on the ground.

 

She’d come in the morning and come in the night

Anywhere the music played

She’d dance through a storm and dance through a fight

But she would never stay

As fast as she dances, just as fast will she leave

Never to return

A room feels so empty when it’s missing her weave

The heat of her moves can burn

 

Walk away, ye boys, for your heart might pound

But her scornful stare makes a man unsound

For no matter the pace

Any man who will chase

Her will find his hope on the ground.

Feels Like Nothing

It feels like nothing,
nothing at all.
Like a void in my spirit,
a black hole in my wall.
When my defenses come down,
that nothing remains
to save me from feeling
as it swallows the pain.
I put pen to paper,
and nothing comes through.
Blank pages with lines
and nothing to prove.
Over and over
I erase the mistakes,
leaving nothing to show
of the words that I take.
Every word feels like nothing,
a lie from my soul.
Nothing important.
Nothing finished or whole.
Like something is missing
in every line,
because every thought
feels like nothing inside.
These reactions are fake;
every word is preplanned.
Nothing is real
that I write with this hand.

How Interesting

((an excerpt from my book, Last Resort))

How interesting, the way that timequeen
has played me like a card.
Set me down in proper place
just to make things hard.
Life removed the Joker,
so I’ll have to play his part.
Here I am, the Queen of Spades,
posing as the Queen of Hearts.

How interesting, the way that time
has robbed me like a crook.
Put the pistol to my head,
just like in the books.
I can’t remember anymore
all of the things it took.
I wouldn’t know what was mine
even if I tried to look.

How interesting, the way that time
puts the pieces all in place
like life is some sort of puzzle,
a picture of my face.
Each crooked piece that finds its way
into another’s space
takes me one step closer
to facing my disgrace.

How interesting, the way that time
gets away from me.
So many things I could have done,
if I had only seen
how much time I’ve wasted.
But now time is wasting me.
I guess it’s time I stopped this rhyme
and got myself some sleep.

Last Resort

Here i41oXrVykPgL._SX312_BO1,204,203,200_s to hoping that this is the first chapter of the rest of my life.

I had originally wanted my first publication to be my novel, the first in a series of fantasy books.  Things don’t always work out how we plan, however, and I got this wild craving to reread some of the old poetry that I had written.  And behold!  The first thing published under my name now exists, a short collection of poetry from the past ten years or so of my life.

The primary focus of the ones I included in this book were to show some of the struggles of living with a mental illness.  I know, likely not the most flattering thing for me to be showing off to the world.  However, I do feel it’s a highly misunderstood topic, and it likely always will be.  The intent of the book is less to get my own feelings out there, and more to hopefully catch the eye of the people who need to understand that they are not the only ones who think in those ways.  Many people suffer from diagnosed and undiagnosed issues: anxiety, depression, paranoia, PTSD.  It is very common to feel so alone in that struggle, and reading or hearing words that someone else says that sound like your own can often be the only relief from that loneliness.

My book, Last Resort, is available on Amazon for a measly $2.99 for download.  Just click the title to get started.

I want to say, before closing, that I really appreciate everyone’s support in this, especially my sister.  She has read and reread these poems so many times in order to help me refine and proofread, and she has been the greatest source of both constructive and positive feedback.