I am the ghost in the machine,
The fixer of all things,
Purveyor of time and hope
And oblivion.
Look into my eyes for strength,
Into my heart for understanding,
And when morning comes again
There is change.
Do not fear me, do not hate me,
For I walk among you
As a beacon of possibility
And promise.
Look to me for your stability,
And in times of weakness
Know that I am omni-present
And shall remain.
When currents wane and rivers slow,
The fixer of all things
Will fade from being
And be recalled
As the singular thing,
The difficult being
That shall ever be
The ghost in the machine.

In shadowlands dance I
with skulls for bells
fingerbones for toothpicks
choking life from the sinew
ambrosia from the mildew
and purpose from coincidence,
laughing as desperate hands
claw at my trouser cuffs,
raw in this dystopian illusion
where for a moment it seemed
the ether would coalesce and
somehow become…
a human being.
In moments linger I
with young abandon,
the reeking of shadows
stoking pyres of my remorse
for want of misdirection
and singular satisfaction,
scoffing as desperate souls
weigh me down with anchors,
lost in the Utopian fantasy
where for lack of ideas
the ether might coalesce and
somehow become…
a human being.
For you, my love, I try
with aches for paint and
fingerboards …

Here’s something that has significance in regard to the Blood & Chartreuse novel. I won’t explain in greater detail, because I don’t want to give anything away, but the story addresses the general issue of extraterrestrials visiting Earth who may blend in with the human population, for various reasons. Take it with a grain of salt or start stocking your underground bunker – either way is fine with me. My only reaction to this article was that it provided some excellent back-story to a project I’m already working on. Make of …

Neither the hand of God
Nor the touch of angels
Not the turn of good luck
Nor the prayers of the faithful
Have brought me to this moment
Where I breathe and consider
The simple act of being.
Neither divine providence
Nor positive energy
Not tears of the mothers
Nor intercession by preachers
Have brought me to this moment
Where I breathe and consider
The simple state of being.
I am here because I’m here.
No soft, lilting song
Can surmise my longevity
Nor raise inspiring cadence
To describe this very moment
Where I breath and consider
The simple intent of being.
I am here because I’m here
And today that’s enough,
To …

I submitted Blood & Chartreuse to WordHustler’s Literary Storm novel contest today. It’s something I’ve been building up to for awhile, but I finally got the first three chapters of the novel submitted, with a few days to spare before the deadline. I wrote write much about this, other than to add that I’ll keep my fingers crossed. This is, by no means, the only place Crewe’s book will be going. But I may just wait and see where this goes first before sending it anywhere else.
Update
The novel didn’t win. …

The doors were locked at Cebo’s Tapas Bar & Restaurant. I tried not to be annoyed. It was typical for Marcos to be late to a meeting he scheduled. One took it in stride. A price of doing business with a colorful character. I’d never begrudge Marcos the opportunity to make a grand entrance. But I wasn’t happy about standing outside of a closed business, banging on its security gate, when everyone in the area knew it was closed. It didn’t look good. I didn’t like being remembered. I knocked …

“Another hot dog?” Tommy asked me.
I shook my head at the old man. I’d had three of the damned things already. Each one had been like a log. Tommy loved them, but they were wasted on me. I was more convinced than ever that professional chefs shouldn’t make hot dogs. They turned out beautifully, but I never knew whether to eat one or have my picture taken with it. I rubbed the angry, sore wound on my chest and wondered if I really wanted to add on layers of heartburn.
Tommy …

There was nothing that morning that told me my life was about to change. Well, unless the sharp stench of sweat was a portent of things to come. I was late for a baseball game and in a bad mood because of it. It was early. I stood before a group of clueless recruits, glaring at them. If their flesh had been served to me for appetizers I would have found the dish lacking. I’d been pulled for a random orientation class and forced to address the roomful of derelicts …

Sample Chapters
( 01 | 02 | 03 )
The character of Crewe has been with me for a long time, but I’ve only recently started to write with him to any extent. For the most part, he’s a response to the god-awful vampire Rock star drivel of Ann Rice and the sub-culture that rose up around it, not to mention Stephenie Meyer’s horrifically bad Twilight series.
I suppose you could say that I like my vampires to be something more than a bunch of fluff and discontent. Give me …

I laid my trust with a brother
but he smiled and laid me low.
I hid my pain from a mother
She wailed that I treated her so.
I knelt before a lover
who lamented my selfish ways
So I knelt before my maker
that he might end my days.
Words are trouble. Life is pain.
If all go well, it reverses again.
When hearts are heavy you speak no more
they watch and wait and listen for
Those weak willed indescretions
that lead the gods to contend
You’re a waste of time and oxygen,
a wraith that simply pretends
that you’re a human being,
of flesh …

The redhead stared at me, kissing her way along the length of the other girl’s clavicle. It was slow. Methodical. It was meant to be erotic, shot through with the kind of electric abandon that fills the room when one thinks she is the first to ever do something naughty. I watched with as much interest as I could manage. It was the oldest game on Earth. The slow tease. Production. Performance. A nice way to pass the time, admittedly, but nothing terribly new. Not even in its location or …

“Why do you not dance with us? Who are you to live?”
He peers carefully around the doorframe. I watch his eyes. Cold. Blue. Unfeeling! My heart is pounding! I try to call out, but only cough blood. He says nothing, wanders quietly on down the hallway, checking the other rooms. I try to rise, but cannot. So sore. So weak. The pain is so intense now. Tears fill my eyes. Even death is denied me. Oh, God. What will he do? Cornered!
The footsteps return down the hallway. I …