Saturday, June 15, 2013

chuck scott: Five Questions with Chuck Scott

chuck scott: Five Questions with Chuck Scott: *Some days I have lots of time to daydream. This is a result of my daydreaming of being a published novelist/essayist/blogger of great renow...


chuck scott: Five Questions with Chuck Scott

chuck scott: Five Questions with Chuck Scott: *Some days I have lots of time to daydream. This is a result of my daydreaming of being a published novelist/essayist/blogger of great renow...


Tuesday, June 11, 2013

Because I feel an obligation to post something, no matter how inane.....

I have been busy as of late. I have been writing short stories and some other stuff that seems to stay in a form of incompleteness. 

Sending out poems and such has a way of taxing my soul.--I am an impatient man..

I have a couple of rewrites to do, and that in itself makes me want to gouge my eyes out with a broken screwdriver. 

Until I finish, I leave you with this, written by someone else who is long dead....

Men Say They Know Many Things

Men say they know many things;
But lo! they have taken wings, —
The arts and sciences,
And a thousand appliances;
The wind that blows
Is all that any body knows.

Henry David Thoreau

Because I feel an obligation to post something, no matter how inane.....

I have been busy as of late. I have been writing short stories and some other stuff that seems to stay in a form of incompleteness. 

Sending out poems and such has a way of taxing my soul.--I am an impatient man..

I have a couple of rewrites to do, and that in itself makes me want to gouge my eyes out with a broken screwdriver. 

Until I finish, I leave you with this, written by someone else who is long dead....

Men Say They Know Many Things

Men say they know many things;
But lo! they have taken wings, —
The arts and sciences,
And a thousand appliances;
The wind that blows
Is all that any body knows.

Henry David Thoreau

Monday, April 29, 2013

Poetry Reading

First poetry reading
in a couple of decades.
I laughed.
I cried.
I sat in awe.

That night I learned:

Georgia Peaches
are FREAKY!

Kansans punch
two year olds,
in the face,
for crying.

During intermission
while smoking a cigar,
playing cool and aloof (who am I kidding?)
I listened to conversations.
One common thread,
among poets who
stay in the game is:
poetry kills the poet-
but what a way to go.

While waiting for the crapper
I was let in on a little known
secret,
(to men)
about women’s public restroom
etiquette.
Women,
whatever you do,
never,
I mean never,
talk on your cell phone
while on the can.

--You will be busted out
by one of your sisters
with explosive bowl syndrome—

I learned the significance
of PBR in a can, also
that same PBR
on an empty stomach
is money well spent.

Most importantly,
I remembered that words are best shared
with other people. 

Poetry Reading

First poetry reading
in a couple of decades.
I laughed.
I cried.
I sat in awe.

That night I learned:

Georgia Peaches
are FREAKY!

Kansans punch
two year olds,
in the face,
for crying.

During intermission
while smoking a cigar,
playing cool and aloof (who am I kidding?)
I listened to conversations.
One common thread,
among poets who
stay in the game is:
poetry kills the poet-
but what a way to go.

While waiting for the crapper
I was let in on a little known
secret,
(to men)
about women’s public restroom
etiquette.
Women,
whatever you do,
never,
I mean never,
talk on your cell phone
while on the can.

--You will be busted out
by one of your sisters
with explosive bowl syndrome—

I learned the significance
of PBR in a can, also
that same PBR
on an empty stomach
is money well spent.

Most importantly,
I remembered that words are best shared
with other people. 

Sunday, April 28, 2013

Sorry Kids



Slicing through
the dung of it all, 
the sick of it all, 
the sum of it all.
Blunderbuss to the head,
an epiphany,
sudden realization,
clarified awareness
that we know nothing more
than the day before
or through all of history
other than, 
wars remain,
people kill,
poverty remains, 
people starve,
and children suffer
from our muddled traipsing 
through the 
bogs of life....

Sorry Kids



Slicing through
the dung of it all, 
the sick of it all, 
the sum of it all.
Blunderbuss to the head,
an epiphany,
sudden realization,
clarified awareness
that we know nothing more
than the day before
or through all of history
other than, 
wars remain,
people kill,
poverty remains, 
people starve,
and children suffer
from our muddled traipsing 
through the 
bogs of life....