Bio? Do ya really think I need it?
Mood:  a-ok

I took some time to put together a Biography page on the website last night. It was actually a lot more effort than I thought it would be. When you do things like this you need text, photos, links and of course the HTML code to make it all work. Now, I’m not real good at HTML but I can do a few things… though the technology has passed me by.

 

While visiting the website of Sorez, another poet, I noted he had included covers from publications he was in over the years… great idea! You see your website is basically an advertisement vehicle. It’s a method to get the word out about what you do, are trying to do and available to do. It is more or less your Vita or Resume’. So I took the tip and created a similar page with covers from my earlier works. That took a little time as well! You see, I have most of the publications but I don’t have clean, sharp images of the covers, so I did the best I could by photographing them. They don’t look to bad. Oh, and while I've been at it I put up my Christmas lights on the website as well! Happy Holidays to all!

 

It was a productive evening. I even got a little more poetry written I intend to add to my manuscript.

At last! A new manuscript!
Mood:  celebratory

After numerous revisions and edits I forwarded my latest manuscript to a publisher yesterday evening. The work I submitted contains ninety pages from the title to the bio with over fifty poems. "Bikers Got Culture" will be a work of humor having carefully selected poems with wit telling of a Biker Culture encompassing all walks of life from the lawful to the lawless and from the rich to the poor. In this work I've added more pieces on a character I have affectionately given the handle of "Oilslick" a fast talking, beer drinking, oil encrusted, bug bespeckled biker. I like the guy and I suspect I’ll be revisiting him from time to time. Oilslick was first introduced about fifteen years ago in my first book and has been again thrust into service in the hope he will continue to provide a degree of entertainment value as other “Sad Sacks” in literature.

I have my fingers crossed on this as the jury will remain in deliberations on whether this book is accepted for print for some time. Meanwhile I’ll reside on my stack of pins and needles carefully placed upon the seat at my desk.

This morning I put together a new piece, something along the lines of free verse. Hope you like it.

 

Motorcycle Jacket

By Wild Bill © 2011

 

Terrain of grey wilderness meets my vision,

Salt encrusted wasteland of fishers,

Ancient topography telling of old times,

Prehistoric moments when verve ruled the neo earth.

 

Over eons sun baked this vista.

Wind buffeted rivulets pilfering what life remained.

Stitches that held fast continents from drifting

Long gone but a legend of greater times past.

 

Tired, aged and worn limbs spread beneath her landscape

Flexing this rigid globe in tumult, shredding anew rested crevices,

Bringing images of life past with animation like some undead thing

Moving absent its soul.

 

Again this scorched world sets out across space and time

Falling in weightless melancholy

Enslaved to the bidding of laws of physics her master

Racing across infinite heavens.

 

Shielding yet again

Ablaze in this atmosphere of friction

A comet tail of debris laid in the wake

To end as a cinder burnt and spent.

 

I’ll grieve for you soulless thing.

Tears in cascades for times of old

In a better era when at the dawn of our creation

You my lifeless friend were my protector.

New Book!
Mood:  a-ok

Well it was a long night followed by a long day. I put in some marathon hours and came up with a first draft to my next book “Bikers Got Culture.” This effort takes my first book ‘Wild Bill’s Culture Corner” to a new level.  Basically I have taken everything out of the book that did not have a humorous theme and added newer material to enhance a fresh focus on the wit of the Biker lifestyle.

The most flattering reviews of my original work concentrated on the drollness of that first effort and many have over the years expressed enthusiasm for a renewed focus on humor. At this stage of development the manuscript is just over 90 pages, but obviously can be adapted to the introduction of new or re-worked material.

Much of the original work was revisited and revised to improve meter and the general tone and interest of the verse.

I have a couple of ideas for a cover I believe would enhance the theme and represent what the reader should expect within the binding.

I am currently looking at two publishers. Each has experience with similar work and offer a diverse marketing strategy that includes both traditional paper and ink and electronic format.

At this stage of development however, I believe I should walk away from the project for a day or so in order to see the manuscript with a rested eye.

This was a good day.

At last!
Mood:  happy

For the millions of fans out there who are not aware; I published a book back in 1996 titled “Wild Bill’s Culture Corner.” Back then “Word Perfect” was the “Go to” processing program and the 4 inch floppy was a miracle of technology so I of course not wishing to fall behind the technology curve used both Word Perfect and a 4 inch floppy to preserve my book. Over time it became more and more difficult to find something that would read a 4 inch floppy and could understand the archaic language residing in the background of Word Perfect. Then… I lost the floppy. Darn! Well this led me to the inevitable conclusion that someone would need to copy the book into Word. My wonderful daughter made it through about half… then ran out of steam, and was compelled to follow other projects with a future.

 

Well… this of course led to my eventual trek into the past as I assiduously re-typed the last half of the book. Admittedly it was an adventure. Revisiting my early work was a blast and frankly led me to the patent understanding that in 1996 I had a different idea as to what one should consider to be “good poetry.” As I typed I made a number of minor edits to several pieces and plan on returning to this old manuscript from time to time in an effort to make further adjustments.

 

What I celebrate today however is the completion of this rather arduous task. I now have ensconced within that miracle of technology, the “Zip Drive” the original text of “Wild Bill’s Culture Corner” with minor edits and revisions. Man, am I glad that’s over!

 

With this I can now begin the effort of dusting off and digging out my earliest work committed to lined yellow paper, with, the old trusty No. 2 pencil. Did you know that without treatment, lead will begin to deteriorate over time? Yes… so I need to direct my focus on those old, rather dog eared relics. Now granted, few deserve preservation but some are salvageable.

 

Once that is done… I will begin putting together my second book. Frankly, I’m rather excited at the prospect!

Poetry work? Well yeah, I suppose it is.
Mood:  a-ok
                           It’s a long time coming, but I have finally begun to clean up a bit of a mess. I have a lot of poetry now; unfortunately much of it is still in the form of pencil on yellow paper from over a decade ago. I'm slowly beginning to get it typed and into a Word document so I can do something with it, before it disappears.

 Another project I have finally turned my attention to is re-typing my book Wild Bill's Culture Corner published back in 1996. Yeah, I no longer have a digital version of it so I must re-type it as well. 

 Once all of this is completed I hope to compile enough good material for a second book or at least an improvement to the first. I've already identified a lot of material that would be republished and much that wouldn't. Talk about tedious! 

 It brings to mind that poetry can be work. I write as do others I know, for the joy of creation, but make no mistake, poetry can be work. The first book I published was both a joy and a project. The tedium of putting together a publication print ready can seem overwhelming but the finished product is worth the effort. Some wonder why poets write books when you almost never see them sell in any great number. I mean, really. When was the last time you saw a book of poetry make the NY Times top ten list? We write for the few that do enjoy it. We often write for one another. We write because we simply love it and publish as a way to share what we love.

Wow!
Mood:  lucky
Just finished a poetry reading in Daytona at the Schnebly Recreation Center sponsored by the Creative Happiness Institute (CHI) and Writers Ink Press. The opportunity was greatly appreciated and frankly, I had a wonderful time. I read The Six Legged Moose, a piece that has been published many times. This humorous yarn was my attempt to present what Robert Service may have written… had he been a biker. Everyone loved it!

 Attendees were there to hear two truly great poets, Tealen Thomas or Carmel CA reading the work of his cousin Dylan Thomas, the Welsh poet that inspired Bob Dylan and Joseph Cavanaugh reading from the work of the Irish poet, Patrick Kavanaugh. Both read some of their original works and even delivered a one two punch upon occasion reading in tandem from their combined works. These guys are published "super poets" and it was an honor to share their stage.

 I would like to thank David B. Axelrod who emceed the event for the opportunity.

 The center is right on A1A, the main thoroughfare along Daytona’s famous beach and coincided with Bikertoberfest so the readings were complimented by the melodious sound of motorcycle pipes.

 It was a wonderful evening. Not only did I truly enjoy the opportunity to read but I was enthralled and inspired by two truly wonderful poets.

Primordial, yeah poetry is indeed that.
Mood:  quizzical
 Yeah, yeah I know. It's been a little while since I last posted here. Been busy... Well maybe a little busy. We're into fall here in Alaska. Snow now covers the tundra in Kuparuk and frankly I'm looking forward to it. It'll be nice to see the snow cover the mud!

 

This summer was wonderful, caught some halibut and some salmon. Both are proving to be rather tasty! Alaska offers up a rather unique frame of mind to me. There's something primordial in collecting wild, living creatures and eating them. Be it moose, caribou or fish Alaska takes me back to the basics of what it is to be human.

 

Poetry takes me to places as well. Primordial? Yeah, I think so. When I write I return to “the basics” exploring the vast wild lands of my mind. Feeding on emotion, thought and imagination satisfies a hunger within me. There are times when only poetry can describe ones thoughts. Last year I wrote a piece named “Dreams.” It made it into Spare Change News in Boston thanks to their rather excellent poetry editor Marc Goldfinger. I’ll share it here.

 

Dreams
By Wild Bill © 2010

 

Motion ends the welcome wind that cooled me in my travel

Surrendering to searing heat of burning sand and gravel

The kickstand sinks in blacktop but stops in time to rest

As I remove the armor of leather chaps and vest

.

Stepping ‘cross debris in respite off the path

Thirst begins to show her adolescent wrath

Toward the cooling dark my boots begin to tread

For when she cries afoul desire becomes a dread

 

Again it ends in shadows, familiar scent and chill

Then reality takes over in darkness cold and still

Memory steals an instant rewinds and plays a scene

 

Of life before the moment when free I would careen

 

Through turns and curves and twisty’s delighting in the speed

 

Wind and time passed by to satisfy the need

 

Steal and heat my servant I drove them to their best
 

As King within my Kingdom I would not allow them rest

 

Another story opens as my eyes close yet again

 

Of asphalt trails, firelight, of women and of men

 

Friends and laughs and drinks; reflections of my time

 

Before the dreams took over in forgiveness for my crime

 

A new poet!
Mood:  chatty

Just stumbled across a new Biker Poet… well maybe he’s not new, I really don’t know but I can say that I only now discovered him. Rod Hatter produces “Motocards” a collection of “biker” related greeting cards featuring his verse and his art. Now to be honest, the art doesn’t turn my crank, but the words, well they are pretty good. Most of the stuff I found is only months old, Hatter is rather prolific, so what happened? What snapped in this guy that led him to suddenly spill his work onto paper and the internet? Well I have my suspicions but you’d really have to ask him. It’s an interesting question though. Why do biker poets write? What on earth in this macho lifestyle leads a rebel to take up a pen, plant it on paper and with a fertile mind watch words grow into vines bursting with the fruit of emotion?

 

I know that the biker lifestyle is romantic, poetic and worthy of verse but to be frank many biker’s I know don’t see it. They live it but can’t imagine committing their thoughts and feelings to paper. Well Rod did and when it happened, when he found his pen resting on that piece of canvas oil poured from his instrument and formed words that describe a way of life. Fine job Rod and thanks for getting your material out there so others can enjoy your words.

Good reads

I just burned through Sarah Palin's new book "Going Rogue" and found all 400 plus pages to be an excellent read. Whether you lean politically to the left or to the right, Palin's book is an interesting peek inside the failed run for the White House by Senator John McCain. I often wondered how a "Maverick" war hero and familiar Washington icon popular with the press during two primary races could be so badly beaten by a political upstart. This book sheds a degree of light on his doomed campaign and offers a candid biography of a new rising political star.

Some time back I read a book considered the thinking Biker's Bible, “Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.” I have actually read Persigs book three times, so far. With each review I pick up something I missed the previous time. Now, some would say this is because the book is a comprehensive story, driving deep into the philosophy of the author. I however suspect it is because my reading comprehension rests somewhere in the neighborhood of a turtle. In either event, if a book on philosophy can hold the attention of a reader who considers Star Ship Troopers a "classic' it must have something going for it. I strongly recommend if you have not picked it up and explored its pages, that you grab your hiking boots, flashlight, and fedora and dive in.

 

Life Ceded
Mood:  chillin'

It is apparent that within the "Biker" culture death holds a significant place. Every society proffers deep spiritual meaning to the end of life as we understand it. It seems that every civilization universally see’s the loss of their brothers and enemies as a mystery to be solved with sacrament, meditation and/or mysticism.  Look at the art of the Biker if you need visual evidence. Skulls, skeletons and images of an afterlife bedeck our bodies and our bikes. From heaven to hell and everywhere between lost bikers are depicted locked to their lifestyle or lost to it. As a reflection of those visions our literature reflects those fears and raptures morosely or with jubilation.

I mentioned in an earlier entry to this blog that I tend to direct my work toward the yarn, rather than a spill of passion to paper. I try to do this in a fashion that will spark emotion or otherwise cause the hair on the back of the neck to stand up a little. I don’t know that the following will do that for anyone, but in the process of constructing it I required a great deal of visualization. Is it about death? You betcha!

Life Ceded

By Wild Bill © 2009

A growl a tremor an impetus moves me

Caught in the motion of immediacy, traumatized by the glow; impeded.

What is this place of betrayal of chaos of solitude?

No feelings, no cold, no light, no dark. Rapt by fear trembling; life ceded.

Breath lost, weight gone, normalcy a fugitive, I quiver.

Gripped by cold hands; motion stolen. “Who takes me?” I demand.

“Who dares rip me from this dream?”

“Who arrests this audacious soul, what object usurps my command?

A light, nay shadow in shadow holds me cold

Calluses fixed to grip familiar steel no longer do I rule

Legs heated by her tender body no longer rest in my domain

Eyes prospect for another, an entity for whom this vessel is but a tool.