“Gatsby’s Abandoned Children” & “Where I Found God”

Hi guys,

It’s Jeremiah here, editor of Nostrovia! Poetry.

I have a new blog that I’m running now called “Gatsby’s Abandoned Children”.  This one is a personal blog where I will share my poetry, publications, and thoughts on poetry in general.

I’ll also be sharing tidbits on Nostrovia! Poetry, and tips for gaining publication in the press.

You can follow the blog here.

 

Now, here’s a poem to celebrate;

 

Where I Found God

I found God in horizon by the tracks

He was drunk, bottle of whiskey in his hand singing lullabies, gun in his lap.

Grim as Job, he was crying

I heard the prayers he put on vibrate causing earthquakes in his pocket

He gave me a shot

it was warm.

“Bohemia” published by Yorick Magazine

Bohemia, a piece of flash fiction, was published by Yorick Magazine in volume 2.  This is my first piece of published flash fiction, and I hope you enjoy it.  I’ve pasted the story below;

 

Bohemia

“All in favor of writing a poem in opposition of military-industrial civilization, say ‘aye’,” said a man dribbling sleepys from his eyes. His movements were weighted by a thick coffee stained robe.

“Aye,” the crowd said. One member of the congregation, a member of no particular importance, raised his hand.

“Yes?” the sleepy man said, lulling his tongue along the inner linings of his mouth. Cigarette and sweat shook his taste buds.

“Is the flash fiction prose poem regarding sexual revolution and masses still being applied for?”

“Yes, Allen, the application sheet is on the desk near the exit. Grab one as you go. How’s your poem Growl going?”

“It’s ‘Howl’, sir.”

“Whatever.”

 

You can read the issue it was published in online here, which features the work of great writers and poets such as Giuseppi Martino Buonaiuto and John Grey.

Psilocybin and Camel Saloons

Reject all the material barriers to participate in
Ultra-Destruction of Self
Self is beautiful, destroy it!
Legions of small insects dream of sheep pestering flesh,
bugnails creep eyes open
You’re forced to watch The Movie of your reality, being able
to react upon each curtain’s fall
1/30th of a second quickest time, hurry!
Self is awake
The temporary insanity of Loves must sleep
Love for material, love for people, love for highs,
love for Love
A void must be built within Self to destroy Self
To be conscious in the womb, a glorious death sweet as
pomegranates stuck between the skin of teeth
Zippers of flesh are opened to bleed freely along the eternal
mindscape of Consciousness
Physical body is not conscious, meat temple for “I”
What are you seeking crying philosopher?
Why are you trying to be sooo God damn Zen?
Magnificent walls, squirming murals around your
breathing bulge
What tales of you to tell?
Share your secrets!
The sobbing philosopher slits his wrists in geometric
patterns, and chases destruction lovingly,
entertained by the ominous lights of progression
rusting the horizon
Babble of idiots chase his giggling robes
Fire bomb thoughts quest for elusive truth, fingers slipping
down wet slides of authentic flesh
Each tip bawling love me! love me! love me!
Betray the destruction and rebirth of Self!
Abandon your quest! Lie and love me!
Weeping on sodden type writers, the archaic thinkers of
beautiful present are consumed by the universal poem
Organic truth is eternity
Discover me!
I’ve merged with the eternal, saliva of
God wets my eye lids
Thick ageless flesh encase the meat encasing my skeleton
encasing potential soul
Languid spine of man is malleable,
Osteopaths of Eternity’s fingers direct bone molds, suit
cases for the truth-seeker
Star glazed eyes bellow “keep away!” darting into recesses
of Manchester
The evils of Brown Ave need to be contemplated, loved,
hated, understood in essence, unexplainable terms of
seekers!
Seeking Holy oasis from the feverish socializers and lovers
and pleasure fondlers and innocence seducers
Soda crackle fizz of midnight along the highway pops, the
singing monologues of droning robots
O’ great philosopher!
Reject the trivialities! Cry over nothing rather sob over
trivialities!
Thoughts corrugated, rough surface to trespass, tripping
High with Self, high with Ultra-Destruction
High, I see God in the eyeblink of eternity,
and screech WHY
Faces in trees gnaw on thought-bones and,
only answer WHY
My pockets hold no answers and,
only answer WHY
The evils hold no answer and only answer
WHY
No thing truly matters, bury the heart, the ranting of
fanatical-desire must be dispelled
We need need need need need!
A truly beautiful destroyed Self does not!
A truly beautiful destroyed Self is a babe opening his eyes
to watch the creations of lead on paper for the first
time, and
wonder wonder wonder!
A nose is born!
Then eyes!
Then lips!
Then ears!
O’ vast world, how is this so?
Programming has yet to circuit in his mindscape! Yet to
be infused with barriers of social living, with desire
filters for acceptance, with love for love, with rejection
of acoustic heartfelt squawking of Self!
His well of thought is deep and pure to gulp
The steady drip of human experience has yet to dry the
faucet of the mind to a trickle
This babe, this beautiful individual, a waterfall of
understanding and Holy thought!
Not yet a dribble of security, of mindless human Self
Not yet a reflection of wired Mirrors
Originally published in LSD Giggles
Published by The Camel Saloon

Dead Snakes, “LSD Theory of Interconnectivity”

My poem LSD Theory of Interconnectivity was published by Dead Snakes.  Come check out the press, and send them a submission or two.  I hope you enjoy my poem!

LSD Theory of Interconnectivity

Everything connected,
intertwined!
Everything harmonized
as it is, should and shouldn’t
Slowly fading as light does into the ocean depths
Slowly growing as light does from the ocean depths
We are always becoming something
We are always being something
This is
everything
as it is.
“You’re just not used to pure Being.”
howls the poet rushing madly to his notepad

from the collection LSD Giggles

“The Virus Is Silence: Wisdom from a Young Culture Warrior”

“Hey, do you want to join the poetry club I’m starting?

Naw man, I don’t understand poetry.

Hey, do you want to join the poetry club? I run it, and I’m looking for people interested.

Haha, no. Poetry’s stupid.

Hey, do you want to join the poetry club I’m desperately trying to find members for?

No. Poetry is pretentious and annoying.

These are responses I received while trying to find members to start a poetry club at my high school. To start a club at my school, you need at least thirty signatures of people interested in participating. A lot of people were willing to sign to help get the club started, but blatantly said they would not attend because it’s a poetry club. My peers are filled with pre-read stereotypes of poetry, and trying to start the club powerfully displayed it to me. They call it whiny and pretentiousstupid, without having read into poetry.”

You can read the rest of the essay on poetry and “the virus” at State of the Art, hosted by SPACES lit mag.

The Virus Is Silence is a Nostrovia! Poetry project to promote poetry activists and share poetic creatives’ hard work.

Want to help cure the virus?  Like The Virus Is Silence on Facebook and follow @ThePoetryVirus on Twitter to help this project grow!

“Cops of America, Fisherman”

Riot Police

Cops of America, Fisherman
by Jeremiah Walton

Half-bred baby poems jotted madly in cold winter blue snow blankets wrap
red toes warm for dreamless sleep under crooked stars in perfect alignment

Cars flow along rhythmic stream

Almost no trout

Only trout in river hooked

Mouths chewed snuggle teethed barbs gnaw eternally

What a beautiful day it is!

Published by The Vein, issue #15

Round Robin Blog Project

I received an email from an anonymous individual, who told me there was a “round robin blog project” going on.

I am supposed to answer the questions below, and pass them on to another writer who incorporates online publishing into their work.  Once they have answered and posted these questions on their blogs, I provide a link to them.  This is where the “round robin-ness” comes into play.

There’s an interconnected feel in doing this.

Questions

1. What is the working title of your book?

LSD Giggles

 

2. Where did the idea come from for the book?

The main inspiration was my friends and experiences with them, with, and without, psychedelics.  One of activity I truly enjoy is simply aimless wandering, walking around with no intent other than for the sake of walking around.  Doing this has wound me up into quite a variety of strange scenarios, and provided some inspiration for some of the poems in LSD Giggles.

 

3. What genre does your book fall under?

Poetry!

 

4. What actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

Ken Kesey or any of the Merry Pranksters, though it’d be difficult to act out a collection of poems.  Since a lot of the poems surround actual experiences, it’d be fun to film a movie based off the collection among friends.

 

5. What is a one-sentence synopsis of your book?

“A short, nonprofit collection of poems about psychedelics that is geared towards the youth generation, my generation.”

 

6. Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

It will always be available free as an ebook, though I’m in the process of stepping into print.

 

7. How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

It took me about six months to have all the poems.  I didn’t plan to write a psychedelic themed collection.  I had a wide variety of poems about my experiences, and I netted them together in a chronological manner to tell a story.

 

8. What other books would you compare this one to within your genre?

Most people who have enjoyed LSD Giggles are Allen Ginsberg, Timothy Leary, or Beat poetry fans.  I tried to avoid emulating them, but their influence on my writing certainly shines through.

 

9. Who or what inspired you to write this book?

Friends, psychedelics (yes, again), urban exploration, being young, and just how life fell together over the past year.

 

10. What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

The focus isn’t psychedelics.  Psychedelics are just a tool to tell the story of kids just messing around, and enjoying themselves.  I haven’t touched any form of hallucinogenic in 4 months, and don’t intend to.  I had my run, and I’m done.

That’s hard to convince potential readers of though, since the title is “LSD Giggles”.

I will include the link to the writer who participates once his post is made.  Look forward to it, I’ve chosen a great writer and poetry supporter to continue this round robin blog promotion project.

Thank you guys, poets, writers, readers, all of you!

Nostrovia! Poetry’s blog has reached 500 followers!  Thanks for reading, commenting, and spreading word of N!P’s efforts.

Without your help, N!P’s goal of bringing poetry forth to the youth, to defeat the stereotypes they apply to poetry, would be falling through.

Here’s a poem to celebrate.

 

Vortex

Woodshift helix burning holes pink landscape of mind aflame

Shoe in the head coherent thoughts stomped

Loose cohesive holds psyche together

Only for Now, but this Now is much too eternal!

Self induced seizures, rattling subjective beads of group moral

Who’s bad trip is tripping up who?

Sleep sleep sleep

Sheep bark stripping naked refusing their numbers

Rearing the farmer’s sheers in revolution

Revolt! Revolt! Revolt!

Cut and twist brain cells into knots of understanding

Misunderstanding! Our God-head is beheaded!

His shoulders bleed cries of eternity, farts of existence, sputter of the asshole mouth

Teenagers deep in perception Armageddon

“Please, dear writer, write my final thoughts…

I know what is happening… This is our end…”

I feel the Great Sleep riding in from Edge-City

Driven by the spiritual spinal chord

We’ve stayed too long

The end will never end

When was the beginning?

The room spliced in Red and Blue

Contrary counterparts

Red TV senses bombardment, gushing inwards

background thought’s vocal chords warn of calamity

Light or dark? heavy light switch pendulum flicks

bbbaaaccckkk aaannnddd fffooorrrttthh

lost in the updown bounce of lunatic laughter Why is he rolling along the carpet’s erect hair? Cutting

patterns, laughing laughing laughing

Who’s looking in the mirror now? “DO NOT GO OUTSIDE THE WORLD IS HUNGRY” Flames of breath couple up within our lungs We are burning alive gasoline baking, every Thought born

panics into death Chairs wiggle wobble dance showing unity of what? Unity of new reality and old, space and time perception

stretched before in white holes vomiting existence

upon our outstretched tongues and cheeks We are dying in the basement of Existence Mother upstairs unAware

 

an excerpt from LSD Giggles

Milk & Honey Siren is now available!

Milk & Honey Siren, the much awaited nonprofit anthology has been published!

With the fantastic poems of Kyle Hemmings, Nathan Hondros, Roger Kees, and Kristen Berger, this anthology grew to more than anything I expected. Nostrovia! Poetry is proud to publish this anthology, and is distributing it free for all to read.

This anthology aimed to provide a home for a variety of poems and genres, in order to display the diversity there is in poetry. This collection hopes to convert those who have pre-read distaste for poetry, especially those of the youth generation. So many people in my school dislike poetry because of what they are taught, the boring mono-droning of teachers showing poetry to be a constrictive form of literature that is pretentious, and boring.

Nostrovia! Poetry and Milk & Honey Siren aim to change that.

You can get your hands snarled around a copy at Nostrovia! Poetry. If you enjoy, post a review on Goodreads. That will help push readers towards it, preferably them being anti-poetry while entering the collection, and leaving with the love we all fell into.  Here is a preview of the anthology:

Migraine by Nathan Hondros

it was a revelation
that knife I carried
behind the eyes –
if she had seen me clearly
she would have known
how I carry death
in a hot iron between the temples.
later, she was knee deep
in the Aegean. a sort of siren,
calling me in,
her hands above her head, and
naked from the waist up.
instead I fell face first.
I lay in bed all day imagining this for her.

 

Cheers!

-Jeremiah Walton

The release date is almost here!

anthology milk and honey siren book cover

Milk & Honey Siren’s book cover

February 1st, Milk & Honey Siren will be published and made free through Nostrovia! Poetry.

This anthology’s mission is to bring forth a large diversity of poetry for those who are not into poetry to read, and find a home with it.  This collection includes the work of Kyle Hemmings, Kallima Hamilton, and Roger Kees.

Join the Facebook event to show support and keep up to date with what’s going on at Nostrovia! Poetry.  If 50 people join before February 1st, a preview will be posted on the event page.

Cheers!

-Jeremiah Walton

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