Tag Archives: writer

Back To It


Ain’t that the truth?

Well, as always, here’s to hoping your day flies right on by and that you’ve got something cold and on the rocks waiting for you when you get home tonight.

Make Monday A Little Easier – Procrastitorian’s Pinterest Board

Monday Mullings – Procrastitorian’s Previous Poems & Odes to Monday Disdain


Just Make It Through


Just make it through, folks. Just make it through.

Need a little more motivation and happy pictures an’ inspirational quotes just ain’t your thing? Be sure to check out my links below for some a bit more your style.

Make Monday A Little Easier – Procrastitorian Pintrest Board

Monday Mullings – Procrastitorian’s Previous Poems & Odes to Monday Disdain

As always: here’s to hoping your day flies right on by and that you’ve got something cold and on the rocks waiting for you when you get home tonight.

A Reminder

we suffer from a collective
our hearts are
we have to write
them out or they’ll
well up with
grief and muck
and it will just be
too much, too late
never enough
and we’ll do anything drastic to
bleed them

Realistic Expectations

Realistic Expectations

Realistic Expectations

Epic and extraordinary are
words meant for proteges
and those bright souls
who had
a little more life to live.
I just wanna be a footnote
inconsistent but well wrote
and, some day, have someone
half-drunk trace an old line
with their hand and say aloud
to themselves
‘This one?
She wasn’t half-bad’.

Well, made it to Friday finally, folks. Congrats on that! This poem here was originally scheduled for Weds but, well, apparently you have to click the publish button for them to post. Who would have thought I’d forget that after over 180 posts? Anywho, this is a little one that I thought you might enjoy. Sort of an explanation of what I’m shooting for in life.

Well, as always, here’s to hoping that your weekend is long, your drinks are cold, and that Monday finds you roaring and ready to go for another round!

Alone With Everybody by Charles Bukowski

Alone With Everybody

the flesh covers the bone
and they put a mind
in there and
sometimes a soul,
and the women break
vases against the walls
and the men drink too
and nobody finds the
but keep
crawling in and out
of beds.
flesh covers
the bone and the
flesh searches
for more than

there’s no chance
at all:
we are all trapped
by a singular

nobody ever finds
the one.

the city dumps fill
the junkyards fill
the madhouses fill
the hospitals fill
the graveyards fill

nothing else



Well, it’s Friday, folks. Thought I’d post one of my favorite poems in leu of one of my own today. Absolutely love this one by Charles Bukowski, and a lot of his other works as well!


Here’s to hoping that your weekend’s long and your drinks are cold!

Better Late Than Never

It’s better late than never
so suit up and stand down from
that monotony you’ve been wasted on.

You had dreams, kid, and they’re
not dead or gone, just buried,
you’ve had them all along and
no one’s gonna fault you for
waiting this long.

It’s better late than never and
rather than take regret to
the grave you’re gonna make
the world a better place
or at least that corner you’ve
been countin’ on.


So I’m a little later than usual posting today, but that seems to be the theme of things, dosen’t it? Now, I normally don’t post on Thursdays, but seeing as how I need to get back into the swing of it, I’m going to go ahead and just release this lil’ scrap into the world. Taken from one of my notebooks with a few added lines, I like the essence of it, just like my last one. May not be the best, but it is a theme to work on, isn’t it?

Weekend’s nearly here, folks, so just hold on and ride out this last day!


It’s the kind of friend
that’ll pat you on the back
with a bread knife,
Malicious or indifferent
it’s got its own sort of
saunter going on and plans
you ain’t a part of.

watch yourself, kid, cause
there’s no heart in the
heavens that will let you
win, and the only strength
you’ll find is in that breath
which you were dealt
by default.


Lil’ word of advice for some people that you’ve got alllll this life to live, but you’re the only one who is ever going to do anything with it. Honest.

Anywho, it is just a little middle of the week motivation for ya. Hope you all get the holiday off tomorrow, and that you’re weekend is long and relaxing as it should be!

Patience Lost

Graciously I give my patience
and slowly I swallow my pride
but some days there’s not a god
in all of history that can grant
me the strength I need to abide
by the ignorance I find myself
surrounded by.


It’s simple. It’s to the point. It’s Friday. Here’s to hoping that your weekend is long and Monday seems a world away!

He’s In the Details (Story 1, Pt. 3)

He's In The Details

He’s In The Details

(Continued from Part 1 which can be found by clicking here. )

(And Part 2 which can be found here.)

“Lonny?” the fuzzy voice wafted in my ears, repeating again shortly after. “Lonny Boy.”

My eyes slowly blinked open as I fought to focus in on the form above me. Only about an inch from my face, our noses nearly touching, was the strange mutated sheep-esc face of Phos. As my mind had not yet solidified his face to memory, there was little I could do at such a terrible sight other than scream, lashing out with two unmanly slaps that caught the equally startled Phos across the face, causing the devil to let out a strange bleating as he scrambled back.

As soon as he was away from me, I  instantly sat up, chest heaving as everything came quickly back to me; however, everything was still a bit hard to take as I gazed about the room, eyes first going to the window, realizing how low the sun must be in the sky for it to be that dark outside. As I began to recall what happened, I turned my head down to the side, checking under the end table and finding that Ninny was still there, eyes still wide and unblinking. The tilting of my head sent a rush of pounding blood to it that it had obviously not requested, making my pulse beat loudly in my ears. Groaning, I reached up and gingerly touched my sore skull, finding a bit of wetness there.

“Well, nearly made a liar out of me, Lonny! Heh. Would have been the first man I killed if youuuu-,” Phos stopped himself, clearing his throat as he decided against finishing his joke.

As I brought my hand in front of my alarmed eyes, I found the blood there to be dark, a sign that it had been dry for quite some while and, thankfully, upon examining my skull, I found it wasn’t cause for panic. With a relieved sigh, I let my head fall forwards into my hands, trying to sooth the pounding.

It was only when the buzzer at my front door began to sound in rapid succession that I came back to the moment, having felt foggy minded since the fall. Standing sluggishly, I slowly made my way to the door. Opening it, I gazed out at the devil who was laughing his head as he continuously pushed his nail into the soft doorbell, ringing it even as it stood there.

“Ha! Bet that is driving you crazy. Well, why don’t you try this on for size?!” He slammed his nail down one last time, making the button stick to cause the ringing to continue.

I slowly reached out, gently thudding my fist against the wall next it. The sound stopped as the button became dislodged. Phos stared at the button, going silent as his nose twitched a few times. I turned around and began to walk back in. The sound of his hooves against the ground followed me in, leaving the door open. I moved back to my chair near the table, turning to look up to him as he walked past me, his eyes going up to the clock.

“Oh, time flies when you are having fun! Going to have to be on my way soon,” he said with a snort before turning and looking towards the box. He reached out, poking it with one hand.

“But…it’s only five o’clock,” I muttered, eyes glancing up towards it was well before back at the demon. “The box says you’re here for the day, right?”

“Awww, hate to cut the date short myself, Lonny Boy, but those are the rules.”

“But the box s-“

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, waving me off with a bit of annoyance in his voice. “I know what it says, but damned enchanter was a two bit, so it’s a little off. Do you know how hard it is to get someone to make one of those things? And not even to mention the price of having something engraved again, especially these days! Anyways, noticed you didn’t have any candy for tonight,” he said with a wave of his hand, motioning towards a large stack of candy in a bright green bowl.

“I…where did you get that?” I wasn’t quite sure I wanted to know.

“Good ol’ thunder thighs house. You know she wasn’t going to pass out most of it out anyways,” he snorted with a chuckle.

I shook my head, sighing; I was so sure Mary was going to find out. Never did, but I was on edge for a good few weeks afterwards, avoiding her at every turn.
I slowly arose from my chair, walking over to pick up the bowl of candy, holding it my arms. I couldn’t remember that last time I’d taken part in Halloween. I was always traveling about, forgetting about such things I deemed childish.

As I ran my hand through the colorful assortment of mixed candy bars and little wrapped truffles, I distantly asked, “Like Halloween, do you?”

“Food, fun, and frightened children; what’s not to like, Lonny?” Phos answered with his, by now, signature snort.

My eyes rose from the bowl to the devil who was busy inspecting the box, fingers running along its ominous exterior as he smiled,  silently gloating over how terrifying it looked. I stared at his back, realizing how at ease I felt with him in that moment. There was it, the thing I had been looking for all this time, though it was quite different than I had expected. Sure, he wasn’t about to eat my ears while he made me watch or anything such as interestingly gruesome, but it still it was something more. Something else out there that-

Phos suddenly raised his head, as if hearing some far distant sound, and I could feel it within me, knowing it was time. My eyes briefly raised to the clock, noting the time was exactly five-twelve. It was then that my mind recalled the question I possessed before taking my little tumble.

“Phos! Wait, where do you-“

“No time for questions now, Lonny. Gotta be on my way,” reaching down, the devil placed his hand on the box to open it, though paused, eyes turning back to me.  “Hey, Lonny boy!” I’ll never forget that pose he was standing in. He was looking back over his shoulder as he crouched over the box (hooves slicing into my once flawless wooden table). For a long moment, our gazes met, my green to his yellow,  the silence between us was only accented by the suddenly loud tick-tick-tick of the seconds hand on the clock. Then, the same wide grin I had first seen him with spread steadily across his face  and he gave a hearty, “Happy Halloween”.

Then, as quickly as he had come, he was gone. No flashes of smoke, no dissipating into a cloud of bats. It was just as though he never existed at all. It was a blink of reality shifting, of worlds changing. I slowly brought my gaze down towards the now closed box. I stood there for a long while just thinking, the brisk October wind filling the room as it blew out the firelight. It’s strange how your mind wants to deny what you’ve seen once its gone, tries to change it. Even as I stood there, just moments after he had ransacked my house, that doubting belief crept into my thoughts. What if he wasn’t re-


With another squeaky scream, the candy came up into the air before it clattered across the ground in a rainbow rainstorm of sugar and cellophane. At the door, the small group of children and one adult who had gathered were giggling profusely, the leader of their dubious troop dressed in his all red costume that was, what else, but that of the cliché devil. The humor was not lost on me at the time and once I managed to pry myself from the spot, I joined them in their laughs.

“Alright, alright. Jokes on me, come and get your earnings. You can have whatever hit the floor,” which appeared to be half of what had been in the bowl to begin with.

The energetic children all entered in, the accompanying parent watching  as they scrambled across the floor in an attempt to score the biggest share. Halfway through their rummaging, a bright pink fairy stopped in mid grab, head turned to the side. She stood up and walked back over to me, tugging gently on my sleeve. Confused, I silently walked over with her a few feet before she stopped, pulling me down with a point.

“Mister,” she muttered softly, and I allowed my eyes to be directed across the wooden floor  into the corner to a dark shadow under the end table. There, still perfectly petrified in a state of eternal poof, sat Ninny still gazing blankly out towards the direction of the living room.  Letting me go at last, both I and the little girl stood up as she thoughtfully , and most correctly stated, “ I think there’s something wrong with your cat.”

She’s never really recovered from that night, you know. Neither have I, for that matter. I spent a good deal of the time after (what wasn’t spent cleaning, of course) walking around in sort of a haze. There were so many things now that finally came into my mind to ask him now that the shock was gone. Well, now that it has lessened, I should say. Where exactly was it that he went to? What else had been here in this world? Who were these other-kinds that he mentioned so vaguely?  What more was there? More maddening than not knowing if there was something more was knowing there was, in fact, something more but not knowing anymore about it! Oh dear,  that sentence is just a mess as the thought itself…

Attempting to be a little clearer and more concrete, I should say that I now had more questions than when I began. There was more than I could have ever imagined possible that came through that solitary, little box. I’d learned that it was possible for objects to hold more than intent, more than what now seemed like meager human emotions. They held worlds. They held demons. They held, above all, endless possibilities.

However, I must also add this: no matter how maddening my questions can seem, I appear to have a leg up over all those philosophers who are left pacing back and forth with no answers in sight. My answers, you see, are only months away. Mere hours, really. Of course it’s June now but, really, what are five months compared to the scheme of things? I mean, I haven’t even moved the box, you see. It’s still there, still is sitting, on that damaged table just feet beyond my favorite chair. It’s right there under that clock, across from that fireplace, just waiting.

Waiting for those twelve strokes to chime and then, for all the questions in my mind to be answered. What else was there? Where did that portal lead? What did Phos mean when he’s said he’d look in on Mary when  he returned? But, above all, there was one question that continued, in my mind, to reign supreme: what in the hell could a demon need with three sets of underwear, fifteen pieces of silverware, a power brick for a lap top, a coffee pot (minus the machine), two light switch covers, the bell off a cat’s collar, and one Men’s Health magazine?

Apparently, my not so dastardly friend had been busy while I was asleep.


Well, that wraps up the first draft of Lonny and Phos’ first encounter! Yes, I eventually fell as though I will be writing more of these two together, having fun figuring out the scheme of things. However, that’s all for now, folks! This lil’ story here is done, though I must admit I toyed back and forth with which ended I wanted, and ended choosing this one above the other possibilities. Now, for next week, I’m working on a little story called Death By Analysis which isn’t in first person, so that means I’ll be a bit more back in my element. You see, I’ve never really written first person other than this story so the next one might seem a little more coherent. Well, sort of coherent. Besides, how coherent can a story about a therapist and her favorite client turning out to be a- well, I don’t want to ruin it. I guess you’ll just have to come and read for yourself 😉

Holding On (Friday Fictioneers)

Holding On

Holding On

I noticed a really cool little writing prompt with a group called Friday Fictioneers, so I thought I’d give it a go. You’re supposed to tell a story in a hundred words based off the picture. Here’s my lil’ attempt.


What was taking her so long? The pasture beneath his hooves was nearly a swamp! Should have been here by now. Been here to scold him like she always did. Give him one of those harsh talking tos that ended in sweet chuckles and a sugar cube.

It was fun to hear the old man curse his name in the distance while she stormed out in her dresses that always flowed like a well groomed mane.

But this had been going on two weeks now, and there were no sugar cubes. No dresses. No her.

He refused to let go.


Picture: Copyright –Douglas M. MacIlroy

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