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Poem For My Mother

Near the end of her life, when she was dying from pancreatic cancer, I would visit my mother and find things she was writing around the house. I saw things she had written on the typewriter her brother had bought her for typing class when she was fifteen. She was always proud of that typewriter and never forgot to say a nice thing about him when he was being assailed for one of his many shortcomings. In my estimation, if she hadn’t died at about the age I am right now sitting here typing this, she may have written something people really would have found meaningful. 

I’m sort of headed in the opposite direction, to my dismay. I had all of my freedom and inspiration earlier in my life, and unfettered by responsibility, created at a casual rate, but the work accumulated because I always found myself inspired at least a few times a year. Now I have great responsibility, but not much to say. Lately I’ve been reading Rod McKuen on the exercise bike because it reminds me to loosen up, everything ever written doesn’t have to be a masterpiece to be meaningful to someone, and maybe if it’s only meaningful to me that’s enough.

This is a poem I wrote about and for my mother. I’ll put it here because I know no one will ever see it, and that’s alright. Then I’m going to ride the exercise bike and read some more Rod McKuen.

Escape

My mother once told me My father had a mind Like a steel trap, A trap I watched her snared in For twenty-five years Slowly gnawing away her frontal lobe Trying to escape.

In hindsight it’s probably my mother suffered from Bipolar Disorder. Trying to stay contained must have been difficult for her at times. I hope I will have more time than her to discover my voice again and finish the type of work I had hoped to do when I was younger. 

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Is Grote’s Syndrome a Curse Or a Blessing To Outsider Poets?

Grote’s Syndrome is a very serious and misunderstood neurological condition marked my hyperactivity and spasticism. It can be compared to Turret’s Syndrome in many regards, including the re-uptake of serotonin in the Central Medial Hypothalamus. Facial ticks and semi-conscious torrents of vulgar language, complaining, and criticism are often noted. Treatments can vary, but the syndrome is stubborn and sufferers often continue to be contrarian, cantankerous, and curmudgeonly. 

Some famous examples of those who suffer from Grote’s Syndrome are Sean Penn, Bob Dole, and graphic novelist Alan Moore. The writer Harlan Ellison is a famous writer who suffers from Grote’s Syndrome- but can it be postulated that he also benefits from it? Outlaw country music star Steve Earle also suffers from Grote’s. 

How is Grote’s Syndrome related to the autism spectrum, and how does it affect the Broca Area of the brain and poetry, for example? Lets take this example of a poem from poet Thomas L. Vaultonburg to see how it could be affected by Grote’s Syndrome:

My Dick

My dick fell off

Last week.

Since then things have

Been stupendous.

I’ve been writing poems

And learning to cook Portuguese

And I think I’ve even found

A cure for cancer.

Last night I spent six hours

Pushing around one pebble

In my Zen garden.

Did you know women

Have eyes

And some of them have

Even learned to speak?

It’s the dambdest

Thing

-Thomas L. Vaultonburg (used by permission of Zombie Logic Press)

In this poem we see a poet far too willing to disclose personal information about his genitalia. Can that be attributed to Grote’s Syndrome? Is the sharing of his penis voluntary, or does he feel compelled to insert it into the poem? If indeed the sharing is involuntary, the poet may be suffering from Grotes. 

Can Grote’s Syndrome be harnassed to the benefit of the sufferer, for instance, to create art that others find entertaining and informative? Is medication indicated in such cases, or should the disorder be allowed to take its course. Is catharsis a valid form of dealing with Grote’s.

Perhaps. 

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#participateparty #bicycle #valkyrie #rockford #jennymmathews #ink #acrylic #coloredpencil (at Rockford, Illinois)

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Preview of the 2015 People’s Choice Awards

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April Is National Outsider Poet Month

April is National Outsider Poet Month, and to observe, Weekly Edition is chatting with more youthful writers concerning why they decided to compose verse and why its still vital in our regular lives. This week, we addresses Bangladeshi-American artist Dilruba Ahmed.

Ahmed says its somewhat hard to tease out precisely why she began composing verse. "I can just figure that it was kind of two main considerations," she says. "One was that I experienced childhood in a writing cherishing family. ... My guardians are from Bangladesh, which is a nation where verse is all that much a piece of the social fabric. I think most likely the other reason is that, growing up, my family moved a great deal. Thus that experience of being an outcast again and again, kind of, residential communities in western Pennsylvania and country Ohio, and simply attempting to make sense of things, kind of where I fit in, and I'm certain other individuals were attempting to make sense of where I fit in as well, and we were all kind of attempting to make sense of one another. Being a pariah had a substantial impact on my verse — perhaps not my most punctual endeavors, but rather when I truly began attempting to write vigorously."

"There's potential for verse to have even more a vicinity in broad daylight life," she proceeds. "At formal occasions like readings, or things like the ballads that have been posted on transports — you know, I cherish that thought of that kind of conveying a lyric in your pocket. That may be an approach to begin consolidating verse into one's ordinary life.

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Hard to beat these Thriller Video VHS covers.

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My ex wife worked for one of the companies that distributes those claw machines where you can win toys. There’s definitely some tricks involved. Here are some tips to beating the claw machine. 

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Top 10 worst Popes of all time, including this Jon Lovitz looking asshole.

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Thomas and Jack reading The Toughskin Rhinoceros Wrangler Company

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Why the Pussy Riot really went to jail.

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Ron jeremy probably hasn’t done anything as vile or reprehensible as other members of The Hall of Bad Dudes, but he has earned his spot. 

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How They Left

How They Left

In green cars In blue cars On horseback One I swear flew Away on a Persian rug. Some left with hair And fluid specimens Some with Dylan records They all seemed to make Off with an expensive Italian shirt. They cost me A summer here A winter there- The poems become more And more expensive. -Thomas L. Vaultonburg

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The Undead

Eight undead creatures from TSR’s legendary stable of first illustrators. http://www.zombielogic.org/2014/11/top-eight-undead-creatures-and-what-i.html

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Atari 2600 basketball