Wednesday, October 31, 2007

new and dark and sparkling

She should know who she is. And be slowly learning who I am, under this thin veneer of sanity and vanity.

wash tomorrow red

coming out of the clouds, loud and proud and drawing a crowd
to see what the fuss is all about, shouting words absurd enough
to stuff the toughened sacks of slack jawed, wadded-up faces traced
to shadows and silence where the violence is black and grey, today.

I do not know what is real beyond what I feel and seal away
in fey words and absurdities that freeze and tease the disease
of the middle path, the wrath of mediocrity. pretty but soulless.
give me the blood of your sorrow to wash tomorrow red, I said.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

Monday, October 29, 2007

Shakespeare In Doubt

For those of you who would care (bound to be someone out there) I have been added to the list of official signatories of an online petition that challenges the authenticity of ascribing the works of William Shakespeare to William Shakespeare.

To see my official listing on the Shakespeare Authorship Coalition check here to find my name amidst academicians and such way more suited to have an opinion on the topic like noted actors Jeremy Irons and Michael York.

Not that I begrudge the fellow his due, I just agree with those who question whether there has been real scholarship that properly attributes just about anything of merit that was published in Elizabethan England to one man. I'd like to think there were a few more working poets and dramatists at the time.

getting back on track...

October 29th. That's getting on in the year and I'm behind on three or four major projects. Not good, not good at all.

So I am going to have to step it up a bit. A lot. A few orders of magnitude. A few magnitudes of magnitude.

The Radio City of Legends conversion seems to be doing nicely, although I am of mixed feelings about it...it kept me from podcasting for a few weeks, so now I am feeling neglectful about that.

Behind on my edits to Tag...haveta work on that, and a gentleman from South Africa wanted some information on my VD and works, for an online publication he does, and I am behind with him.

And man, do I need a vacation.

Saturday, October 27, 2007

Radio City of Legends: the schedule

So many people have expressed some confusion over exactly what is available on Radio City of Legends at Live365.com that I thought I'd make it easy. Heh.

The current programming breaks down my schedule into 4 blocks. The blocks are scheduled for specific start time, EDT (eastern daylight time) and within a block a single piece or podcast may repeat, but here's the blocks with their contents:

01:00 AM, EDT: A random selection of my singles from my CDs

Skyscraper Ambition
centaur
NQ
Strange...but Beautiful
rivers of resurrection
Burma
Darfur (Jesus Wept)
Love Gods Multivox
Right Set of Lips
horizon
cut me
Damascus 3
the taste
bright and deadly
Falling and Fallen Angels
the warm wine
burning in this chosen sphere
the golden apples
thunder out of valhalla
I want the fire
Bragi to Freya on his deathbed
slitoris
sleep
mantichore


10:00 AM, EDT: Long Forms and Arcs

Beasts of Legend
The Naked Reads
Eros V
Wordslinger
Rivers of Resurrection
Live at Kyrienar


12:00 Noon, EDT The City of Legends Mix

Strange...but Beautiful
Darfur (Jesus Wept)
the taste
Burma
bright and deadly
slitoris
Damascus 3
I want the fire
Thunder Out of Valhalla
NQ
mantichore
Rivers of Resurrection
Skyscraper ambition
sleep
the golden apples
the warm wine
Right Set of Lips
Love Gods Multivox
burning in this chosen sphere
Bragi to Freya on His Deathbed
centaur
cut me
Beasts of Legend
From Out of the City for February 16, 2007
From Out of the City for February 25, 2007
From Out of the City for March 11, 2007
From Out of the City for March 25, 2007
From Out of the City for April 1, 2007
From Out of the City for April 8, 2007
From Out of the City for April 15, 2007
From Out of the City for April 22, 2007
From Out of the City for April 29, 2007
From Out of the City for May 6, 2007
From Out of the City for May 13, 2007
From Out of the City for May 20, 2007
From Out of the City for June 9, 2007
From Out of the City for June 17, 2007
From Out of the City for July 1, 2007
From Out of the City for July 8, 2007
From Out of the City for August 12, 2007
From Out of the City for August 19, 2007
From Out of the City for September 2, 2007
From Out of the City for September 10, 2007


08:00 PM, EDT: Amomancer and Friends

The Amomancer Block (a complete walkthrough, hosted by the poet, of the new CD)
Beasts of Legend
Burma
Damascus 3
Darfur (Jesus Wept)
Falling and Fallen Angels
Love Gods Multivox
NQ
Right Set of Lips
Strange...but Beautiful
Thunder Out of Valhalla
Wordslinger
The Naked Reads

Friday, October 26, 2007

more bartered secrets

Two more responses, both affirmatives.  One of the confessions actually made me a bit sad, but I understood it.

The other was something mildly shocking, but in sort of a comic-book way, as it was a long time ago and I saw what happened only from a vantage point that made it not directly effect me.

This has been a revealing, even troubling, experiment.  I have surprised myself at what I have been willing to reveal in exchange.

We are now up to eight responses...two to go.

the secrets project: update

The barter continues!

Three more responses:  Two of them declines.

That makes 6/10 have responded, 4 of them with a secret.  I see I have an email from a former muse responding to my request...I don't have time to open it right now, so it will have to wait a few hours.  This will make 7 of ten.

Thursday, October 25, 2007

the great secret barter, the first responses

Wow...response to my great secrets barter has been fast and furious. Three have already responded, all with affirmatives and secrets.

Two were things I suspected but had not confirmed, one was a complete shock, but something at my level of experience I can ride out (and it is fairly ancient of a secret). All were from people I have known for several years and have great and earnest affection for. Their secrets are safe with me.

All three received back two things from me: A secret (each got a different one), and my respect for trusting me with their darkness.

This is strangely comforting, to be trusted like this.

tell me a secret

I decided to try a little experiment in human nature, but with real emotional investment.

I am going to email or message 10 close associates or friends and offer them a barter, a quid pro quo.

I want them to tell me a secret. Something about themselves that they rarely, if ever, share with anyone. Those who respond appropriately, they will get an equal level secret from me about me (yes, I still have a few secrets left).

I won;t report who told me and who didn't. I won't confess the secrets I share here or anywhere else. I won't give away the secrets that I am given.

I just feel a bit...curious.

I'll let you know how it goes...how many I hear back from. Included in the list are three muses: one current, one recent and one from the past, in case you are interested.

Wednesday, October 24, 2007

ingots of lucidity

I can't disavow these words, but I can say they are of my preconscious mind and thus even I do not fully grasp what they mean.

ingots of lucidity

I dreamt of you, again, last night.
You've told me how that makes you feel,
knowing I choose my quantum bubbles of thought
caught from the ether with either hand
and branded with my desires. Fires
that snake like your eyes past my defenses,
where your beauty is the currency of passage,
but the message you carry is cryptic
and the frantic antics of other suitors
do nothing but muddy the waters
where the daughters of destiny bathe,
brave and bare and their hair
falling like the hearts of suitors rejected
for imperfections you saw, eventually,
and that I wear as a patchwork coat
to convince you of my earnestness
in a dream where you never even saw me walk by.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

California dreamin'

As December and my trip to the Golden State approaches I am slowly seeing momentum build for several readings, mostly in the schools. This is a good thing.

I like doing readings in schools. Not so much as I do, say, in women's prisons and rehab centers, but nonetheless, a good crowd.

There's always the one who wants to show me their stuff, because their mother told them they are a good writer. There's the girl in the front trying to pull a Sharon Stone. There's th two in the back who snicker at inside jokes based on their limited knowledge of the English language. The archetypes are staggering.

Plus, I get to have lunch with at least one former muse. And see my daughter and son-in-law. All in all a great trip.

Tuesday, October 23, 2007

barefoot hearts

This just came to me, forgive the intimacy.

barefoot hearts

I have walked
barefoot
on cold stone floors
unswept, unkept
able to feel the grains of dirt
beneath the soft but sturdy skin
on the soles of my feet

such is life
to experience life
it must be felt with bare skin
felt, tasted, smelt, probed
despite the dirt and cold stone
waiting for love
waiting for a lover
or walking to her

because that is what she deserves
a man not afraid to walk barefoot
on this life


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

Monday, October 22, 2007

morsels and mould

That line in "Horizon", it came to follow me around for a few hours the other day.

You know the line...that line. The line every muse has measured herself against, whether she knows it or not, since the 80's.

"But I, I shall live on these crusts stained with jelly, filling my belly with morsels and mould."

For the past decades, the question has been if I have been filling my emotional, spiritual and psychological belly with the barest minimum necessary to survive. If in hunger I have taken things into myself that are not nourishing, satisfying, to me.

Being thousands of miles from someone you really do have feelings for...it just makes the hunger more real.

jigsaw people

something new, for someone special to me and precious.

jigsaw people

broken hearts heal imperfect
but stronger than before
we are jigsaw people
cut of experiences, for which we bled
from heart and thigh and head
that we may know the scent of evil
and walk, away, one day, to the gentle shore
where a lover lingers, with respect.

William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

Sunday, October 21, 2007

Busy, busy day

Busy, busy day.

E.J. finally convinced me to allow him to post the full lyrics to "bright and deadly" on his blog. You'll understand why there was tooth-pulling involved if you read them...intensely erotic and intimate.

I also made my first shift of programming at Radio City of Legends on Live365. Check out the new show where I do a full rundown on the new CD. It premieres tonight at 8 pm, EDT...that's 2 am in South Africa, 7 pm in Diamondhead, Mississippi and 5 pm in California.

Add to this some spasmodic writing fits...yardwork and essential work in advance of my one-poet invasion of California in December (no, Dan, I have not forgotten the book) and you can see why I am busy.

Saturday, October 20, 2007

Radio coming into focus

Just wait...but not too long. This weekend I am reprogramming Radio City of Legends at Live 365, based on feedback from the listeners. New material, new formats. I will announce it all when it is uploaded.

Burn while the fire is consuming you, for the immolation is the consecration and purification that fights back the night.

Tomorrow is for the poets and those brave enough to inspire their desire.

a new poem: the priesthood of the passion

I was awakened by this, as it moved through me. And I saw it was good.

the priesthood of the passion

touching in ways I cannot comprehend my friend
let there never be an end, just an intensification.
a sensitization. a visitation to the presentation
of a sensation that blooms from the heart
to part parts of lovers now discovered
uncovered, merging urges purged in haste
when the taste of false gods called the odds
in empirical oracles of ordination of the ordinary.

this is a priesthood of the passions that fashion
themselves in honeysuckle and a flower I'd never known
except in dreams where you came to me, bare and brave
in flesh and fresh hopes and heavens I'd not visited
except in midnight memories of things that never were
but cure the stirring stab of loneliness unlike
licked and sticked unpicked petals that fell, wasted,
as we did, on battlefields of past pretense'd defenses.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

I live my life on a cliff, breathing the winds and staring into the abyss every second of every day. Not insane, but I gave myself over many years ago to the living of a life of earnest passion. It is lonely and lovely. But having lived in the grey, I have few regrets.

Friday, October 19, 2007

review of Amomancer: Nightblooming


The insanely talented Sage Sweetwater has filed her review of the new CD Amomancer: Nightblooming on Authorsden.

It is a very positive review, and if you are still on the fence about the new CD, I'd recommend you give it a read. She not only reviews the CD as a whole, but comments on each and every one of the tracks. For instance:

taste: I literally fell to my knees and cried when I listened to this selection. I wanted to hold my woman close, and I know her eyes are not closed to my thoughts - and she is something like music - and she is open to me.

cut me: Dripping in erotic sensuality, bled from a vampiric episode of lovemaking so very intense, it bleeds from the CD and penetrates the veins of the soul. The drums seduce the soul.

All in all an intensely satisfying review. If you are intrested in the CD, it can be picked up via Lulu.com or at the City of Legends Bookstore.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

word on the street

There is a rumour that the poet will be reliving his most bizarre nightmare this December, when he once again puts in an appearance for the students of Notre Dame High School in Salinas, California.

Those of you who have heard his tales, know of what I speak.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

WSMV gets it right

Yesterday I posted to this blog a statement of outrage at Nashville television station WSMV for posting as news a press release by webscammers Poetry.com.

Today the article on their website has been taken down.

We live in a world where so much information surrounds us we don't know what to take at face value (I get so many forwarded news items every day that were disproved or discredited years ago...but people don't check their sources or the validity of what they see and hear, so often).

To their credit, the management at WSMV, when informed of their error, fixed the problem.  

Thanks, guys. Maybe I'll drop by your studios next time I am in town and do a reading.

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

a line from the ether

It is just a fragment that came to me like the muffled crack of a 2x4 upside the head:

Lumious creatures should not settle.

I am curious as to what shall grow from this kernel of truth.

Journalism not in the public interest: WSMV

It may seem a small matter to you, but seeing the website for Nashville TV station WSMV reprint as a news story a promotional press release from scam site poetry.com blew me away.

Have we become so lazy in this day of spoon-fed news that supposed "news" sites are content to reprint anything that is offered as a way to fill space and add links?

No reputable writer in the world supports poetry.com, which scams young and often untalented poets out of their cash by offering cash prizes in exchange for you submitting your works then buying copies of books including anything and everything submitted by others.

For decades they have been a well-known fraud perpetuated against gullible young writers, and to have a "news" organization just post their press release as news is shocking and insulting. What next? Manufacturing the news? (Oops, I spoke too soon, Fox...)

Someone needs to wise up these yokels to their responsibility to get it right and not serve as recruiters for confidence schemes.

Monday, October 15, 2007

Overwhelmed with Sorrows

The only way through the shadows is to pass through their heart.

Overwhelmed with Sorrows

I would rather die for my sins than live for a lie.
I have fallen and risen, I cannot deny:
I have been the wrong place when the moment was wrong.
I have stood in my silence for a season too long
and assumed I was doing the will of my fate
and have earned, by my actions, an innocent's hate.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

"An honest man cannot be the hero of his own memoir." - WFDV

Sunday, October 14, 2007

standing at my door

Last evening I had dinner with my old friend Anastacia, and the topic turned to my social life. I explained to her the complexities of it at this time, that I am between relationships, even though I am on some levels very committed to a lover-muse who is "in absentia" (once I explained the situation, she actually approved).

But then she asked me a curious and difficult question. If one of my past loves were to show on my doorstep this evening and say "Come with me and be with me for the rest of your life"...who would i say yes and who would I say no to?

With the caveat that reality plays perverse tricks on a man, here's the answers I gave to her:

Psyche: Yes.
Valkyrie: No. But we remain friends.
Panther: Hell, no! (Ana laughed at this response)
The Mad Gypsy: Yes.
The Angel: No.
The Wisp: Yes.
Black Jasmine: Yes.
The Goldenheart: Yes.
Suede: I would have as of a few months ago, but having seen her politics, no.
The Leopard: Not bloody likely.
Brigit: I grimaced and swore, then admitted I would probably, with counseling.
Pink Jade: Yes.
The Siren: Without a doubt.

The "No" votes are due to hard earned wisdom of either our severe incompatibility or a character flaw in them I cannot abide. It does not mean I do not love them, just that I don't want to create a bad situation, all around.

I politely declined to discuss what would happen if 2, or all, of them showed up at the same time. Just as well. And I note that, in its own way, the dream of the three panthers has come true in my life. Never trust a jungle cat with your heart. They feed, crap it out, then bury the waste to pretend they never fed at all and were never there.

fragment

How about a poetry fragment. This came to me s I was driving an errand this morning...had to pull over and jot it down...

play piano on a rainy afternoon
dance on the salty sands beneath a waxing moon
all these joys enjoy, they come and go too soon
love knows no season and no reason.

William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

No name for it yet..thanks to the Southern Star for inspiring it...

When the final poem comes I'll post it.

Saturday, October 13, 2007

this and that

I've put out a call to most, if not all, of the poets I know, looking for additional content for Radio City of Legends. If I somehow overlooked you and you are interested, drop me a line.

I will most likely be touring in California in December...if you are in the Golden State and have a venue, school or properly attended boudoir where I might read, you know where and how to find me. I'd like to mix a handful of readings into my social engagements. Or visa-versa.

I have been massively abusing the lucid dreaming of late...but it helps.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

this just in

The poet is a bit downcast today, so he will probably not be posting until later or even tomorrow.

shards of light

I had forgotten this wonderful piece of intensity and vision until just the other day, when I ran across it in a sweep through some of his catalog.

shards of light

severing the cord.
Like fallen flechettes of cracked amber
made manifest in the cleft of the rocks split
by the final thrust of a staff in the hands of a mad prophet.
The question is sanity or rage.
Love a mottled emotion made purer in the fury of a fire unkept
and swept beneath the ashes to linger in the insulation
of forgotten promises.
Words that escaped their cages when we looked the other way.
Words that dance like shards of light in a reality
where photons have mass.
And lovers dare to dream in a truth that makes a difference
in all that has a bitter sameness to it.
A nameless fear we unlock to walk to the horizon.
And jump.
Over the edge of the world.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

Wednesday, October 10, 2007

the virtue of proximity

We humans are an interesting lot; part dreamer, part realist. When someone starts pulling away you feel the change of tidal forces, if you know what to look for (as one friend recently said "You know the flavour of silence").

At a great enough barrier of time and space, the gravitation effect of Jupiter, or even the sun, is less than that of a brick (one of the reasons I am so bemused by astrology), as Carl Sagan so well said it, the obstetrician at your birth had more gravitational effect than all the planets in the heavens.

So, again, I find myself losing a muse's heart to one more advantageously located. I will mourn, in my own subtle and unsubtle ways, but I cannot curse or condemn her or even be angry at the reality, that is a waste of emotion (I get angry at deceit, not truth, and she was honest with me...no coward she). At sufficient range there is nothing I can do to compete with the attraction of a nearby body, and I trust the wisdom and soul of her to choose well and place the trust of her heart well.

Anyway, (shaking off the sting) I have much to do today and much to announce, once all is in readiness. My labours are unceasing, even as the lame god still pounded his forge when Aphrodite was abroad in the world.

The temple stands, even in the absence of the goddess.

Tuesday, October 09, 2007

anul nathrack...

Miss me?

I did.

I'm in the middle of a maelstrom (and not of the making of a neglectful lover...for once). But things are getting close to resolution.

Stand back.

Monday, October 08, 2007

I'm alive...don't nobody worry 'bout me

Don't worry...I am just busy trying to work out the last few legal and technical barriers to something spectacular...it could be manifest within the next 24 hours and I promise it will seem worth it.

Susan - Isn't the romance more fun with the mystery? Besides, I never put pressure on my muses to step from behind the veil. I made that mistake, once...she spent the next two years of her life basically denying we'd ever met as the pressure on her from those both favouring the relationship and opposed to it came out of the woodwork. I think the low point was when someone conducted an interview with her, which was posted online. She had moved on with her life. Later, she called me up and asked me to have the people who had posted the interview with her remove it from publication online! It seems her new boyfriend didn't like some of the things she'd said in the interview.

Yeah, I had to live the life, she wanted plausible deniability.

I have to admit, cowards get my dander up. I don't like painting people into corners, thus the use of totems. If Nightblooming or the Siren or the Leopard ever want to say "Never heard of the guy" they can...it is always heart-wrenching when they do, but this is how people, some people, look at themselves in the mirror every morning, by lying to themselves about their pasts.

inspired by a woman

Guys, I want a bassline and rhythm tracs on this by Thursday.

ardour

I will take no pretender again to my bed
and you have slipped into my heart and my head
bringing me joy as you banish the dread
of loving again without question.

I have chosen to honor your heart with my thought
that I never imagined could be cornered or caught
but you ripped away shadows of demons I'd fought
in a time and a place of damnation.

I cry out to you and I pray that you hear
for all that I want is to make myself clear
and one day, God willing, to draw to you near.
my love, my breath, my redemption.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

Sunday, October 07, 2007

being obtuse...

A lot of people have been wondering what I am up to.

Sorry, can't go into detail until it is completed...ideally sometime tomorrow EDT. And if that is the case then I will let you know in great detail.

Suffice it to say we will be taking the level of access to and enjoyment of my works to a new level, with equal access internationally to extended media access.

I can say no more.

While I am here, let me just blow a kiss to someone who I know, from time to time, checks my blog (even if she tries to fly below radar, for very valid reasons). You make me feel alive and to crave life.

stayin alive, stayin alive

Contrary to rumours and idle speculation, I am alive, engaged in life and sane. Nor am I angry at anyone, peckish, pouting or busy get a 24x7 full-body massage from some barely legal poetry groupie.

I am just busy with some rather astounding changes I am making in my universe, most of which will be apparent to any and all who keep their eyes and ears open.

Although, I have to admit, the massage would be nice right now. Women: Can't live without them, they are the best thing that inspires us, the best that God wrought. My life has been a tapestry of attempts to live up to being worthy of them in general and, in any season not held steadfast long enough (yet), one in specfic.

Friday, October 05, 2007

chasing the tale

There are those irritating moments when I wonder, having seen the patronizing way people talk to mentally handicapped people, if I am backwards and just no one has told me.  I wonder if I am being patronized by anyone and everyone who compliments my intellect, my writing or my insight.

Those are strange moments, but I think the time that I have spent, outside of a healthy and nurturing relationship, does warp my perception.  I feel the edges fray...slowly, as I have some conscious and preconscious control, but the erosion is there, like wet sandstone slowly crumbling back into the sea.

I am certain I am intelligent and talented, but what if I am just impaired so that I don't see the reality and people take pity on me and tell me I am smart and gifted because its the charitable thing to do.

Ah, the world of sentience and doubt.

letters I've written, never meaning to send

A long time ago. Yes, a very long time ago, as clock and calendars count. But my soul, my heart, knows no calendar or clock. I was very much in love with a young woman. I have been in love. Indeed, I can earnestly state that I have never fallen out of love. Out of favour, yes. Out of my mind, yes. Out of harm's way, certainly.

But this young woman and I debated the issue of intimacy and I was, hesitant for us to take the final step.

She quoted to me the lyrics of a song by Cat Stevens, "But I Might Die Tonight"...and that song, on contemplation, changed my view. Right or wrong, it was very liberating to me.

For those of you not familiar with this piece, the lyrics are from a young man who is being told to conform to those people around him and to do things the way they say to do them, the way they have always been done...

"I don't want to work away, doing just what they all say..."

I have never been opposed to hard work, often being accused of being a workaholic, but the final stanza struck me hard and set up a vibration that resonates with me to this day...

""Be wise, look ahead,
use your eyes," he said.
"Be straight, think right."
But I might die tonight!"

Things left unsaid and undone haunt any person of conscience or passion or purpose. Yes, I might die tonight without saying "I love you" to my child or my lover, even one thousands of miles away.

I might not jot down that phrase or poem that popped into my head just a moment ago, leaving unsaid the capstone of my career, my existence, as a writer.

Life was not created for cowardice.

Thursday, October 04, 2007

three new poems for a muse

Just written. I hope she likes them.

bring us to the feral

your eyes taunt me haunt me
and make me pray you want me
to do the things that no one else
should ever be allowed to do
for and with and to you
as you embrace my confession
and my expression
of passion unpacked
to bring us to the feral
where we connect, both flesh and heart,
until the line is blurred
and I am cured
of the melancholy of your distance
an insistence
by the gods of this brittle world
that immortality is the gift
that poets control and share
a communion of my essence
taken into you to fulfill
not just prophecy


the taste of your sweat

I want to know the taste of your sweat
kissed from shoulder and breast.
a sacrament for those who are blessed
with the vision to see the necessity
and the purpose of a word stronger than joy.


in silhouette against the sky

whisper to me your desires that I may fan the fires
and fulfill your needs with a heart that bleeds
only to sway you to the surrender to my affection
for my protection, I have danced the edge of the light,
making right the sinister ways and filled my days
with dreaming of you, in silhouette against the sky.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

late night reverie

It's not that "for the right set of lips I would die"...

it should be "for the right set of lips I would live".

There is an energy on the wind and a scent of rare flowers carried into my sphere. Am I fool to fall? Or is this that which makes me who and what I am?

We shall see.

Wednesday, October 03, 2007

I (heart) archive.org

I love archive.org. Really I do. They are legally and officially designated a library, and serve as a point in space for an incredible volume of written and recorded files of everything from famous speeches to local garage band performances.

I have kept most of my recordings on archive.org for some time, where they provide a free haven for me to store my podcasts, recording and even a book.

Check them out sometime, even if just to gorge yourself on the banquet. Here's some of my favourites out there, worth a visit.

http://www.archive.org/details/Beasts
This is the fifteen minute music/poetry arc "Beasts of Legends/Beasts of Myth" that was on my CD "The Last Romantic Verb". Note the multiple formats available.

http://www.archive.org/details/ValentineErotic
One of my most downloaded items, according to the counters at archive.org. My Valentine's Day recording from 2006 of erotic poetry. Features the poems "As I Slide Into You" and "Lust Bunnies". Eleven and a half minutes.

http://www.archive.org/details/Compleat_Panther_Cycles
Save the forty books, spendthrift, and download the entirey PDF file (including the cover as a separate download) of my massive volume "The Compleat Panther Cycles".

There's dozens more here, explore and enjoy.

hump day poem

It is a trifle, but I get so many requests for it, this is just to shut everyone up.

A Snowy Hill Named Wednesday

It is downhill from here.

Not like your 50th birthday
when you realize that the odds
of getting lucky on Spring Break
are pretty much astronomical.

But more like the snowy hill
you climbed (in those oversized boots
your Mother made you wear to stay dry)
so you could ride your sled.

All you have to do is hang on
and yell and scream in childish glee
as the cold air and snow rush past your face
and you feel that gratitude for living.

Laying in a heap at the bottom
a metaphor for Saturday morning
when you haven't yet gotten the gumption
to do the lawn or visit your Grandmother.

Then you extend the metaphor
and find yourself on Monday morning
dragging the sled behind you as you trudge
up the snowy hill to Wednesday, again.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

Tuesday, October 02, 2007

bruised petals as metaphor

It was pointed out to me the other day (and not for the first time) that many, many of the women I have been involved with have been on the mend from abuse. Whether they were rape victims or incest survivors, battered spouses or emotionally terrorized by dysfunctional parents, the odds are that, if I am in the room, they'll find me, we'll talk, and somewhere down the road, something will happen.

I think that is a gross generalization...I am sure that there are many, many women who have been in the same room with me and don't even remember me (and I am sure some of them came from abusive backgrounds).

Of course, there is a school of thought that suggests abuse is so prevalent in our society, it is next to impossible for a woman to reach maturity without having been through some sort of abuse, that all are needing the faith healer aspect of my personality, the poet who listens and allows one to vent out the pain. Just as a "cutter" often is doing it to take control of their emotional pain, so does a writer bleed their words to cleanse the wound and ready it for healing.

I am no holy man. No miracle worker. I am just someone who listens and cares. I have dealt with so many people who were molested, assaulted, beaten, threatened and coerced and I have offered them a safe haven. That this therapeutic aspect often blossoms into a relationship is not lost on me. I do not consider it codependent, although I do draw some healing of my own wounds (Yes, I have them) from the knowledge that I am helping someone out of a bad place, emotionally and spiritually.

Some come to me admitting their pain, some hint at it but never confirm it. Some deny it, for a time, then one day blurt out their story, a story I had long suspected as I know the scent of bruised petals.

Most abused people carry one or more of the following traits: Compartmentalization, aversion to examination, a need to take control.

Compartmentalization merely means you take aspects of your life and put them in specific compartments, often isolating them from those things you place in other compartments. These people wear one face by day, another by night. They keep secrets, they erect walls, sometimes walls that become their prisons instead of their protection, as often the walls are a reaction to damage already done.

Aversion to examination is just an attempt to keep people from getting too close, asking too many questions, looking too closely. They are afraid of being "found out". They can be explosive in temper if they feel you probing them for the reason behind their secretiveness.

The need to take control is very common in abused people, particularly rape and incest victims. The individual will try to take back the lost control in the past by acting out, sometimes self-destructively, in the present. You'll see them create a very controlled environment, but often in a strange and twisted manner. I have known more than one rape victim, for instance, who became extremely promiscuous, as they wanted to be in charge of their own sexuality, to take back the control.

The bottom line for me is that most women I have known close enough to be friends or lovers with are to some degree victims of a society, a culture, that thinks it is okay to abuse women, to treat them as things, not people. There are times it infuriates me like nothing else I can imagine.

Does this empathy, this compassion, sometimes lead me into relationships with women who are perhaps too damaged to sustain a healthy relationship? Perhaps. But to walk away from someone in such need of a kind voice, a considerate mind and a patient friend would be far worse.

selling the city?

I received an email yesterday from someone I'd never heard of, offering to buy my domain (www.cityoflegends.com).

The odd thing was they didn't approach me at my registry email (I keep my business separate from my writing)...oh, and the price. They were offering to take my domain I've possessed for a decade, which receives thousands of hits a month and has been synonymous with my writings (and is linked to from hundreds, if not thousands, of sites as well as is the spine for my primary email accounts on the web and that of a few fellow Bohemians and if referred to in nearly all of the acknowledgements and liner notes for my CDs and nooks) for the awe-inspiring compensation of

(gasp) sixty dollars!

I'd be insulted, but this showed me nothing wrong with me or my poetry, but either some arrogance or ignorance on the part of the requestor (I hope it is not the people from the multi-million dollar retirement village in Florida that chose to use the same name (City of Legends), as I would think that (a) they have money and (b) they understand the notion of branding).

I replied that I was not interested and then delated the email. I was bemused. Most likely some web porn operator looking for a catchy name for his staged amateur sex tapes (that's the other thing, the person taking over the domain would end up connecting with my readers due to the good will and connectivity I have built up over the last decade).

Sorry guys, I have my price...but you need to go further than the nearest 7-11 to pull that kind of cash.

Monday, October 01, 2007

new poetic fragment

A poetic fragment leapt out at me as I drove to lunch...I pulled over and hastily scribbled it down...(and you know who you are)

you are as beautiful as the sky
and I
I am lost on the horizon
where blue meets grey
meets miles away
from what steps over
the edge of the world
where words are hurled
like stones of memory
and contemplation
of your beauty


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

This is how poetry works, this is how poets work and this is how inspiration comes. There is a great world of difference between a construction worker and a sculptor.

new poem, anyone?

the bitter breeze

the winds are warm and dry
and lie not to me
as you did
when you blew through my hair
and said, then and there,
that you were
in my life to stay.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.

Copyright © William F. DeVault | All Rights Reserved