Summer Dress

Summer Dress

 

Sitting across the patio

is a seedless sunflower

wearing a thin summer dress

Her nectar is so sweet that

all the bees stare, hoping

for a chance to pollinate

 

I’d fly over beside her,

and lifting her skirt,

I’d spread her petals and

force I’d exert

 

But once done, I’d

smell my fingers and

walk away, and she’d

mean nothing to me,

and I’d still feel

alone, and

sterile

 

© Volatalistic Phil 2013, Crushed Black Velvet

3 years sober & update

Okay…so I know it’s been forever since I’ve posted a blog. I know, shame on me right? Oi. Friends, life doesn’t stop. Everything keeps moving and lately I’m feeling so low. I’m feeling so small and shit going on lately, a relationship ending, bullshit with cops…I just it’s been a journey these past few months.

I left because they valued this shit more than me and their own life

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On the 11th of May, like every Mother’s Day, I was sober again. This time friends, it’s been three years. Does it feel different? Yeah, I guess. I still miss my vices at times, but I know that it’s nonsense and is a way to die and not live. I just choose not to be that person anymore. It gets lonely, like now, I feel so alone and lonely. I have friends and what not, but sometimes I think about the substances and how they were comforting, but I know I’m just telling myself lies. It’s like when you get out of a toxic relationship (which I’ve recently just done) you make up excuses for the relationship and you glamorize it and you highlight all the good parts. The bottom line: —————->>> Clean & sober is the only way to be.

Enough of the sad shit, right?

I just bought a new motorcycle–a 2007 Honda Shadow VT1100. She’s so pretty and is sooo much fun to ride. By the grace of God I was able to pull it off and my payments are pretty low, which is great for a starving artist like myself. (I just picked up a second job as a waiter, aside from getting tips, the best part is–they feed you!)

I went shopping!

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Meet the twins!

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Road trip to see mom!

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Made it!

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Does my balaclava make me look creepy or like a ninja or both?

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I had this for lunch today!

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Oh, & i’ve got a new fucking book out if anyone’s interested!

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White Wedding Lies, and Discontent: An American Love Story on Amazon.

Phil Volatile

It’s been a while

It’s been a while since I’ve written an update, okay, so maybe a month? Anyhow I thought I would check in for anyone that may be interested. I’m working on releasing a new publication called White Elephant. It’s 144 pages with poems, haikus, rants, incoherent stuff, coherent stuff, sadness, strangeness, and two or three disturbing images. Really, I think the description does a good job at summing it up: Hatred, loathing, fear, sad, love, coherent, incoherent, drugs, images, strange, disturbing, poems, happiness, thoughts, death, violence, stories, babbling, hope, joy, relationships, observations, rants, haikus, depressing, disturbing images; White Elephant.

So that’ll be coming out soon and for paperback I think I’ll start it off at $3.99 so if you happen to be interested, you can get a White Elephant for really cheap! And like all of my publications have been thus far, this one is also adult audience intended.

I’m also currently working on another project about my experience being homeless. I’ll be done with it soon, but I’m not yet sure when I’ll have it released to you wonderful people. All that I can tell you right now is that it was the most advanced and most civilized society that I was blessed with the opportunity to experience.

I’m also about to release the print version of Flash Fiction 40+1: New Mexican Bread Aisle, probably on or around the same time as White Elephant.

I leave you all with something from White Elephant. I love you all! Help take care of each other!

CHURNING

It was never the same after the flavor

       left our mouths teething

And the way colors continued bleeding

       until they were bled from our eyes

When staring at the ocean, you wouldn’t understand why

And staring at the ceiling might as well be staring at the sky

There are no more whispers now,

       only softly spoken cries

And there are no more reasons,

       only questions wondering why

The beaches might as well be dried

       from the seas, that have all gone awry

But this machine churns this fervent sly

       and it does make hamburger meat both day and night

To return home to what you know, the neigh and nigh,

      cannot be done, but is as easily conceived as,

thoughts of suicide