Cut of love
I’m not just loved,
I’m often hated,
and yet the one
I hate to see
just damn pity.
Don’t wanna see
that in your eyes,
that I have fallen
and I can’t rise.
I’m not saying
that I’m jaded,
but maybe hope
If I could redo yesterday
I’d do it all the same
only I’d make sure that you knew
you were the one to blame
I don’t want you to get over me
I don’t wanna be your test
I don’t want another lecture
from somebody who “knows best”
I’m not trying for forever
or even for a year
I just want someone there
to stem the flow of tears
I’m sick of all my free time
and sick of poor, lonely me
I’m tired of all this madness
sick and tired of poetry
I face a wall
that stands so tall
with no cracks I can see.
I’ve tried so hard
and come so far
to find no door for me.
Please let me in
and don’t begin
to change what I must be.
I’d lose too much,
grow out of touch
with things that make me free.
I’d have to say I’m scared
I’m scared cuz I don’t know
I don’t know what will happen
what will happen when I go
when I go to lay down
to lay down in my bed
in my bed that’s full of pillows
full of pillows, tears, and dread
tears and dread I feel each evening
each evening trying to sleep
trying to sleep away my pain
my pain that runs soul deep
I’ve been rereading my own book in order to get some ideas of what I want to do, say, and show during my upcoming workshop. And I have to say, it’s definitely an interesting experience.
Keep in mind that these poems were ripped from my heart. For most of the poems I chose to publish in “Dark-Hearted”, I couldn’t NOT write them out. Think of the most painful, persistent heartburn you’ve ever had… and then imagine the relief your antacid (or whatever cure you use) gives you. That’s how the poems were for me; holding them in hurt so bad it was hard to breathe, but writing them out made the pain subside, at least partly.
Another quirk of rereading my own poetry is thinking of the inspirations. My poetry is organized on my computer in a very specific way: title, date, why it was written, complete poem. I like having a record of everything that made the poems come out. But in “Dark-Hearted”, I selected poems that fit the theme and then organized them by their emotions (anger, sorrow, etc.). I wanted the poems to flow, and I succeeded… but for me, as I read, they’re out of chronological order.
My final poetic musing is that I published less than 25% of the poems I’ve written so far. I’m now trying to decide if I want to publish a second collection, including all of my lighter-themed poetry (and corny middle-school stuff). It’d have to be more autobiographical, in order for some of the poetry to make any sense. And that’s a whole new can of worms.
My signing at Hastings here in Killeen was a huge success! While the average book signing at our small store sells only 1-3 copies of their book, I managed to sell 5.
That’s on top of the 5-6 I’ve sold prior to the signing. And the Amazon orders, which are even better. It’s just amazing to know that strangers are purchasing my book; I guess it’s just now starting to sink in.
I hope that one day I make it really big, look back at my posts here, and smile. ^_^
Officially, my first signing will be at Hastings. It’s on May 15th, a Friday. I should be starting it around noon or two-ish in the afternoon. Once I confer with my hairstylist (lol), I’ll have an exact time and will post it on the official Book Signings & Events page to the left.
Barnes & Noble can’t carry my book in the store, unfortunately. Because of the way they would have to order the books, they have to have them prepaid for. In other words, in order for me to do a book signing, the people who wanted books would have to pay for them ahead of time, come pick them up, and then get them signed.
Hastings can carry my book in store, and they are currently in Killeen. I’ll be arranging my first book signing ASAP, most likely mid-May. I’m hoping for May 16th, but I’ll post the official date when available.
I’m also going to get ahold of Borders Express here in the Killeen Mall. I believe they use the same book source as Hastings, so they should (ideally) be able to carry my book as well.
I’m working on “sending out feelers”… that is, on getting the various local bookstores and what have you to carry my books. We’ll see how convincing I am as time goes by.
I’m also looking into contacting other stores in two ways. One is via email, for some bookstores in my “hometown” (as close as I have to one, at least). I think I can convince some of them to carry a “local” author, even though I don’t live there anymore. If anything, my relatives in the area may be able to build some hype for me. The second way I’m going to attempt to contact stores is through my wonderful network of friends. If they ask their local branches to carry my book for them and other friends, it’ll be available to more people.
The biggest road block is that I still haven’t discovered whether my book is “returnable”. It’s a process in which a bookstore can return unsold books down the road and get a refund. Bookstores tend to shy away from non-returnable books. So we’ll see where mine stands tomorrow. Wish me luck!
Copies of “Dark-Hearted” are on the way to Hastings as we speak!
We’ve only ordered ten to start off, so I’m not scheduling a book signing just yet. Between coworkers, myself, and friends locally… I’m not sure there will be more than a couple books left for a signing in the first place. We’ll see.
As soon as I finally DO manage to schedule a signing, though, it’ll be exciting!
a weight on the heart.
felt by so few, yet so many.
a feeling unworthy of a name.
going unnoticed until it’s gone.
the spirit yelling to the mind.
the mind finding bliss in ignorance.
anger and sadness playing a game.
the unbeatable beatable foe.
an enemy often unseen.
it comes when destruction occurs.
it’s gone before the dust settles.
who cares about who cares?
a person’s best worst friend.
be prepared, you’ll meet again.
The loneliness crept up on me;
I didn’t see it coming,
but once here I couldn’t breathe
unless I wept. The tears,
they hurt, being torn up and thrown out
from deep within my soul.
No ordinary sorrow,
this was death, murder,
and by my own heart as well…
How dare you leave me here in this God-forsaken place?
What’s home without a mother?
It’s just an empty space.
How dare you leave me here in this empty, sinking pit?
What’s life living without you?
It’s just a piece of shit.
How dare you leave me here without my only friend?
How can things just move on?
I wish my life could end.
How dare you leave me here, lost in a world so wild?
How could you do this to me?
Inside, I’m still a child.