Saturday, May 24, 2014

I probably shouldn't do this. GIVE BOOKS AWAY, but it is only for a day or two...

THE COLOR RED DOES NOT SLEEP is's first single author chapbook. It is a fiery story about the color red told through poetry. The author is Dawnell Harrison. She is a poet who lives on the west side of the United States. She has several books of poetry out in the world. THE COLOR RED DOES NOT SLEEP is her latest.

Click on the hyperlink to get a copy of THE COLOR RED DOES NOT SLEEP. For a shade over a day only, May 24th-25th, the price has been lowered to the floor of a volcano.

Monday, March 24, 2014

If Only People Knew What Poetry Can Be Like...

If only people knew that poetry can like this it would be more popular...

Saturday, January 25, 2014


Here we go! Cacoethes. You will enjoy this one Bill.

Here’s mine: It was next to 10 in the A.M. William sat staring at the company expense reports, trying vigilantly to focus on the numbers at hand. As he stared into the numbers, his mind would traverse to his cacoethes of the pen.

Every morning it was the same. Pauley had an irresistible urge to "cock-a-doodle-doo," in his wife's ear when he woke before the alarm. The one time that he did do it, he wished he hadn't. Loraine, who grew up on a farm, hated chickens. As a girl of ten, she was once attacked by a rooster when she entered the coup. The rooster gored his long talons into her arm, which poisoned her blood with a rare avian infection. Loraine, in an unconsciousness state, grabbed Pauley by the balls and squeezed. She had no control over her own cacoethes.

That was fun Peter. I’m going to spread your word around.

Could you write me a short narrative using the word: "cacoethes," and text it back to me?

What does it mean Bill?

Cacoethes, Song Jay, is defined as an irresistible urge to do something inadvisable. Or you could make up your own definition within the context of your narrative.

Nah, that's perfect. I'm so happy to discover that there is a word for that. Ok let me work on it…

CACOETHES - In retrospect the squirrel cop should never have consumed the entire Snickers bar all at once. Officers -well- citizen now Roger J Squirrel skulked in the back of the squad car aware of the discomfort building in his shoulder as the tiny handcuffs stretched his little squirrel arms into a weird angle behind his fluffy back. The blue and red lights cycled outside overwhelmed his still dilated eyes. Shame welled up in his psyche with the notice of his former peers; Officer Mallard and exchange Officer Wallaby conferring in hushed tones in the front seat. Unable to grasp the entire picture all at once, RJ retreated to the least disturbing memory from among the fragments still hoping that, that poor kitten would recover all of his claws intact. Secure in the fact he would never again be allowed in proximity of the Halloween candy jar let alone asked to guard it, he gave up on further reflection and sat hunched in silence. (Composed by S. W.)

That’s a great phone flash fiction piece Song Jay!

Writing is a passion of mine. Some might say it is a cacoethes. However, I prefer to think of it as my lifeline. Writing helps me stay sane in an unpredictable world. Writing makes me happy and my heart smile. I am sure others have their own cacoethes; they just don't want to admit it. It is easier to judge others urges instead of looking deeply into one's inner-self and identifying their own unadvisable actions they inflict upon others. (Composed by S. M.)

Thanks Shazza, for playing the game.