The Randomness Faery Bit me

So I know I missed last week…and here it is Sunday…and time to schedule my posts. I again don’t wanna. I feel like a child throwing a tantrum. I usually enjoy the blog. I enjoy the stuff I do for writing and for publishing. Still, I spent yesterday getting caught up on work I had put off. I wrote a poem, took out 2 bags of trash, did 2 loads of dishes, put up the finishing touches on 2 anthologies, and set the basics up for preorder for Death becomes her (Serena’s Poetry book). I still need to put the files together to finish that one. I only put the front cover as a placeholder – I need to format it properly and make the rear cover. So I sit down to work and I find myself ready to revolt.

I have lots of chores to do. The chicken needs to get its cage cleaned out. (We have 2 chickens and 2 ducks. One of the chickens was brought in during the winter due to illness and we have not got it back in the outside coop yet.) I need to clear my kitchen around my dishwasher – It is about to be replaced. I just got done eating and now have more dishes to do. I have writing to do. I have dusting and straightening that really needs to be done… So yeah I have things I need to do. I am sure there is laundry. Yet, I find myself rebelling at the idea of doing a single freaking thing. It is not just the blog.

This week is already setting itself up to be a busy one. I have promised to visit a friend. My new dishwasher is supposed to be installed. My little brother turns 40 on the 28th. (I have to harass him online on his birthday. it’s like required….lol) I have general housework that though it is not much will take me triple the time it would take anyone else. And I still have to shower, cook, and eat during that time.

And I still don’t wanna set up my blog. I think that I am going to try and do stories of my life again. Simply because it sounds fun. It means that my blog will update randomly this week. Y’all are so patient when I do that. I just really appreciate it.

In case y’all are wanting to look at what I did yesterday….Here are the Links to
Seeking Stories
Grandmother’s Wisdom
Death Becomes Her

And if you missed them the two most recent books by me –
Gathering Teardrops
Pip and Friends

In Fae Corps News –

I am also in discussion to possibly reprint an author that I have worked with on anthologies before. He is considering Fae Corps for the book that he had out. His publisher went under and I am hoping that I get to play with this wonderful book.

Raz is still hard at work on his second book – he missed the deadline because he is trying to put together the best story possible.

Our winter anthology (Darkness Screams) deadline is August 1st and the call just went live.

Seeking stories releases on June 1st. Grandmother’s Wisdom releases on June 1st.

Grandmother’s Wisdom is the first Charity anthology we are doing. 50% of the Author royalties – In other words half of what we receive for it…will be donated to No Kid Hungry. We felt like this fit the purpose of the anthology. It was meant to be a remembrance of our grandmothers. There are some really wonderful memories in that one.

Seeking Stories is a collection of adventure stories of all sorts. From the slight horror stylings to the futuristic. It has an all-star list of writers, poets, and artists.

Death Becomes her releases on June 18th. It is dark poetry from Serena Mossgraves. Quite a few of them are about death, In one form or another.

Okay, I feel like that is all…OH! and I dyed my hair Purple again. Yeah, that is all now.

Poetry

politics, and sleep deprivation demons

Poetry woke me. it is not the first time, likely will not be the last. I have been working on two different projects as my poetry goes…I have been finding that I am writing a lot of political poetry…where I had not been before. I guess as I have aged my heart is just not in swallowing the rage I have been feeling for the way the world around me is. I don’t like saying nothing when I see a wrong being done. I have fought for my voice, so I guess I will have to use it. well not all of the poetry I have been writing is appropriate for this volume.

so I am writing two. I think the first one is either going to be smaller than my usual or take longer, I am not sure. it currently has twelve poems compared to the twenty nine in Handprints. Gathering Teardrops will be released in May and I am not sure if either of these will be available this year. I have a bit of a full schedule for publishing this year.

I will announce when each are done writing. I have another poem that is bouncing around my head wanting to be written, so I am writing instead of sleeping….sigh

oh…btw…I have an interview on Facebook on Friday…will post the link as soon as I get it.

on Politics

Dammit I wanted Bernie,

not another closed mind,

instead I was wanting someone

who made me hope for mankind.

Socialism should not be a fear,

where kindness is a weapon

against the masses

and old men don’t have us

tied up in the idea that we cannot be

helping each other with no strings.

why don’t we have social programs

where people are not afraid

of the violence that seems ingrained?

why is learning regulated,

where only the rich can afford it?

symptoms of the disease,

classism, racism, and greed!

Yeah, those things cost money,

but isn’t that what taxes are for?

the political system regulates

bodies that they know nothing about,

the average person is mired

in depression, debt, and doubts.

Too many balls in the air

Trying to get books ready for publication, writing more, and recovering from a really nasty infection…means the blog caught neglect. So here is a poem written today titled The White Whale…

Monday Poetry

All of the Shoulds, Woulds, and Coulds.

I find myself judging me
for things done in anxiety.
The things I should be doing
eat at me, whispering in my ear deafeningly.
I cannot grow a care…
Though I know the reasons that I should.

The things that would happen
are just as bad,
telling me how important it is
and why I should be sad.
Instead the urging only
reverses my mind to anger quixotically,
making a monster of the rage building deep inside of me.,

The could be is somehow worse,
for in me, these are the ones that hurt.
I feel like I am not enough,
because I can not make them happen
no matter how hard I try.

So the should, the would, and the could,
each have their place
in stretching my anxiety
into another day.
They make me into a nervous wreck,
weighing each mistake
as a possibility.
Fighting the trio
I become a careless me.