Author Notes

War On Drugs Hidden Victims

The war on drugs has hidden victims, babies and kids pushed under the rug, in hopes they will just go away. Tiny babies born addicted to heroin and Percocet, Oxy and Fentanyl.

I know one. She came into this world sick. Dog sick. Dope sick. You’ve never seen sick until you’ve seen dope sick. I can hardly imagine being born that sick. I’ve seen grown men in tears and puking and shaking, near death, from being dope sick. It’s hard for me to fathom this happening to a baby. [Read more…] about War On Drugs Hidden Victims

The Good, The Bad and Junkyards in Jersey

Everyone knows they are going to die, I’m not sure we all believe it. I don’t believe it. I don’t live like I believe it.

My friend with cancer, tonight, I realized she knows it and believes it. There is a profound difference between the two. It’s a coming to terms with everyone’s greatest fear. I saw the reality in her eyes. I saw a fear filled peace.

I run from it, refuse to accept it or believe because I’m so fucking scared of it.

I should accept it. I’ve done enough stupid shit, been so close too many times. [Read more…] about The Good, The Bad and Junkyards in Jersey

A Farm

A few months ago woman mailed me an old picture; a cow in a field of short grass. In the background was a man and a boy on a tractor, they were in straw hats. Even from fifty years away I could still feel the heat of the sun that day. I could smell the grass, now hay, cut and drying in that sun.

I slowly became lost in the photo. I remember that cow, we ate her. Tough meat. She went down fighting, I remember the day. I stood there while she was shot in the head. [Read more…] about A Farm

This thing called life — sitting on a couch in Newburgh, NY

I had a surprise meeting, a meeting of the minds, I suppose, last night with this young woman, Jennie Torres, a writer, a student.

We talked about writing, novels and short stories and blogs and music. We discussed the importance of creating change, if nothing else creating a dialog though our work. We discussed the difference between great writing and the nonsense available as published work today; too many stories of wizards and demons and vampires and bare-chested men with wings – and not enough actual literature that makes people think.

The difference between telling a real story story through music, hip-hop, or glorifying a negative image of a culture that already has far too much negativity and prejudice attached to it.

The importance of poetry, real, raw, angry poetry.

The importance of keeping it real.

I showed her this Hemingway quote:

“In the morning there was a big wind blowing and the waves were running high up on the beach and he was awake a long time before he remembered that his heart was broken.”

It was amazing to see her reaction, from her appreciation for simple, perfect sentence structure, to the emotions she felt from this handful of words. [Read more…] about This thing called life — sitting on a couch in Newburgh, NY

lá sona Naomh Pádraig

Ireland 1847 – No green beer. No corned beef, no cabbage. No potatoes. No shamrocks or leprechauns. Starvation. Betrayal. Ruined lands and lives. Watch the heavy laden ships sail to England, with the crops and cattle of your land, while your family starves to death. Swear allegiance to the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland.