Post-Interview with a Phony

An "artist"

can own a home

without selling out.

An "artist"

can work two jobs

and still make time for the typer,

and the lover,

and the dog companion,

simply because he has the drive,

has embraced his definition,

and gave rise to his voice.

An artist doesn't write about his hair falling out

if his hair isn't falling out.

An "artist"

or a "poet"

doesn't get nationally interviewed

and have to remind everyone that he is an "artist"

and a "poet."

That's what public masturbators do.

Lastly,

"poets" do not write grocery lists

and call them poems.

That's what a cliche does.

A real "artist"

will remind you

of these things often.

Especially when you have forgotten.

And, yes,

they are here,
and will be here,

should you need

to find one.

Earned

I wish I could tell you

that I pulled it all from nothing

but that would be 

the furthest 

from the truth

I have wept,

lost friends,

drank bottles until the corks

turned to dust,

and bled alone

and afraid

in the dark,

and in the wild.

I wish I could tell you 

that I wrote it all from imagination

But I didn't. 

I earned it.

I'm Alone in the Dark and There's a Strange Noise Behind Me

Most of my time has been spent writing horror rather than poetry. The good kind of horror. Not the kind that the kids go for nowadays, with the blood and guts everywhere. When everything has a zombie in it, or some bastardization of a vampire. No. True horror at its finest.

Please note that I'm not referring to my own fiction as good. Just what elements I think go into making good horror.

I like to focus on the more "human" aspect of horror. Humanity is what we are all reduced to in the end, so I like a nice psychological twist of the mortal coil. As a child, I was afraid of damn near everything. Now, as an adult, I'm afraid of damn near everything else. The more unknown something is, the scarier it is. We have Lovecraft to thank for that bit of wisdom.

Death should always come as a well-appointed guest in good horror. By the time that the character is done going through their worst nightmare, death should be greeted like an old friend. Just picture him, sitting there, all blacked cloaked and legs crossed in your favorite arm chair. Reading the New York Times and laughing at the obituaries. Then, he looks up from the folded corner of the paper and asks "Are you ready to go?"

The fear is in the chase. Or it is in the tortured mind. The fear for the reader comes from how real you make the character feel. I feel like when the focus is directly on the monster and character relationship (however brief it may be), the reader is the outside spectator; rooting for one side or the other. However, when the writer brings in elements that link the reader to the victim... or the monster, then there is a plethora of horror to unveil.

Readers should be able to step back and say "Hey, I do that too." Or, "Something similar happened to me once..." Or, "I feel that way some times..." before the bad stuff happens. The more they can relate to the fictional characters, the better.

I also like to tie in some folklore to make the horror at least somewhat educational; but that's a post for another time.

Writing horror is fun. For me, it's also refreshing because the possibilities are endless.

Happy haunting.

~Torres

Dormiveglia

On stream of consciousness post to shake off this Monday morning somber, and rush in a Monday night slumber as quickly as possible.

Sure...why not.

I posted only a couple of times since moving into a big creepy house with a newly acquired wife and newly acquired dog. After a long depressing winter, I bought some touch LED lights. I put them both in my office. One over the computer keyboard, and the other over the typewriter. They've been getting a lot of work lately. I haven't been blogging, but I am still writing. I just haven't been sharing. I want to build a strong defense before I unleash it into the void of the Internet. Where it can mix with everyone else's egos and drift down a circuit board stream.

It almost sounds refreshing. Like a generic soda. It's not supposed to.

Dormiveglia is an Italian term for those who are half-awake and half-asleep. I feel it's the perfect term for how I'm feeling today. I hope you don't feel the same.

There will be poetry coming soon. But for now... patience.

Later on.

~Torres

There is a Lodestar

You barely see them
staring out of bus windows
anymore.

It's a digital age
with digital youth
and a sinking world
spinning around them.

The last thing a child needs
in their American life
is poetry.

Not Howl,
nor Rime of the Ancient Mariner,

But a lifetime of limericks
and one liners.

Emoji filled,
and responded to quickly.

It may seem lost
in public sight.

But I know a truth.

I see a light in the darkness.

The distance flickers with an unmistakable glint.

There will always be a room.
A safe haven.

Away from the maddening crowd.
And wars over coffee cups.

And in that room,
there will be another.

Always questioning,
and feeling way. too. much.

And they will pick up a pen.
And solve the world's problems
from within.

And I, in turn,
will find definition,
and purpose.

Feed

To think
You can't take the time
to feed a fantasy football site
your money.

You can feed yourself with
burgers and fries.

You can feed yourself gossip
about an undefeated woman
pummeling a now defeated woman
who didn't shake hands
before the bout.

You can feed yourself news
of attacks and terror
to grow hatred.

But you won't feed your mind
the knowledge it needs
to understand the difference
between extremist
and peaceful practitioner.

You won't feed a Syrian refugee.
Or their terrified child.

But you'll watch.
You'll glance briefly.
You'll eat tonight.

You'll feed.

And you'll do nothing.
Unless you have the misfortune
to really see.

And then be forced to wait
 for someone to feed you
what you think
you deserve.

Truth

And I find,
  That in the end,
      All I'll ever need...

Is a fresh writing instrument
   And a reason to bleed.

____________


More coming soon...