Words

When words sting like bees,
Sticks and stones seem pointless for
The hurt has already penetrated the heart.
Words can be the biggest bullies.
Words can punch you in the stomach
And take your breath away.
For such beleaguered souls
One word of kindness
Has more healing power than
An ambulance full of medicine.
When will we learn that the true religion
Is kindness.

The Wayward Knight

The knight did not ride a white horse,
It was black as the blackest crow,
His armor was not shiny,
It was rusted in places,
And made an awful noise when he walked.
Ladies did not fancy him
Even though he often fought for their honor.
Men fought him and lost but did not understand the state of his armor,
His mission was to find a lady
Who would accept him as he was.
He felt that appearances shouldn't matter
As long as one's deeds were noble.
He forgot one of the golden rules:
Love thyself or no one else will.
He died young, a lonely man,
For to love yourself is to take care of all you own.

Art and Writing.

I think it's important to produce art as a writer, even if you don't consider yourself an artist. I believe it frees up your spiritual heart, and makes room for new ideas to come in. You can even do little character sketches, and playing around with color is very liberating. Try it! You don't even have to share them with friends. Make a journal of your sketches and leave them to posterity if you like. Don't be too critical. It's just another technique to free your mind and your heart, which is what you need to be a good writer. Or at least that's what I think.

I Returned the Publisher's Edit Today

I was given the corrected manuscript last week, and today I finished making minor changes to their edit, and sent it back to them. This means it goes to the department that designs the text format of the book. So it is going forward, which is fairly exciting, to say the least. Check back for more updates on The Story of Josephine.

How to Order My Books

You may order my first book The Girl, the Moon, and the Melon from amazon.com and from barnesandnoble.com.

You can order my second book The Story of Josephine from this site: Click Here.

If you would like me to do a book signing for your group contact me a month ahead of time so I have time to order books: rndnswrth@gmail.com. I would be happy to do book signings anywhere in New York city.

Love is not Little

She loved a man who took long walks in the forest,
She wasn't pretty, and her beauty was apparent
Only to herself, and the little ones of the earth.
She sat by a stream and told the fish her problem,
That it made her love him more that he didn't know she existed.
That he was strong and sensitive and that nature loved him
The way she did, with all her heart and soul.
Nature can love too, and it picks the ones it loves
By revealing to them what the average person never sees
Because they are too busy pursuing money and fame amongst their fellows.
It's the silent ones that nature loves,
And he was so silent.
It was said that he was in love with a beautiful dark haired girl,
And that she had broken his heart in so many pieces
That even an ant pile could not carry away all the pieces.
Her heart broke too the longer time went on and he didn't see her.
Why do men always fall in love with girls so pretty they can't
Even handle it, they treat it like a power stick that they can
Beat men with for thinking that they are good enough to touch their
Beauty in secret places where love takes place.
Beautiful women can be raunchy that way.
To them it's all about sex and the power it imbues
To their ego, their flesh, their soft passion for more of it.
They found her drowned in a lake,
It was declared to be a suicide.
He finally saw her then for a moment,
And voted it a tragedy.

The Pyre of Persecution

Rhian was a witch who lived at the edge of the forest. Her mother had taught her how to steal a person's will, and how to curse a person with bees. Her mother had been an evil old witch, but Rhian decided from an early age to go her own way when it came to magic. She knew how to make a hundred butterflies land on her arm and face. Their little feet made her giggle like a little girl. The town's people chose her to burn at the steak, because she was pretty, and too many old nags saw their husbands looking at her when she walked through town on the way to the grocer. She made love potions for ugly girls, who paid her in secret, but never enough. She knew how to put a curse on people, but all she said before they lit the pyre on fire was: "I've never looked back, ask any of them. You know what I'm talking about."