http://contemporaryhaibunonline.com/pages44/Carey-Estranged.html
Estranged Union is a Haibun I had published in the December 2008 issue of Contemporary Haibun Online. The online journal is full of great prose and haiku poetry. It is definitely worth checking out.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
A Ghazal For Christmas
www.associatedcontent.com/article/1229942/christmas_poem_a_ghazal_for_christmas.html
Check out the Christmas poem recently published in Associated Content.
Check out the Christmas poem recently published in Associated Content.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Filling in Swift
http://www.authspot.com/Short-Stories/Filling-in-Swift.339357
Filling in Swift
by J L Carey Jr
Short Fiction. A mafia hit man has been shot and now finds himself in the hospital being interrogated by two officers. In a twist of events though the story unfolds to reveal who the true interrogator was and the lengths a man will go to exact a revenge.
Filling in Swift
by J L Carey Jr
Short Fiction. A mafia hit man has been shot and now finds himself in the hospital being interrogated by two officers. In a twist of events though the story unfolds to reveal who the true interrogator was and the lengths a man will go to exact a revenge.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Thursday, August 7, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
Schadenfreude
Schadenfreude
We can feel sorry for Martin Luther, for
Bobby and Jack and the numberless mourners
Who agonized at the hand of their demise.
There is pity for the duped martyr, for the
Ignorant squirrel or the imbecile dog
Who die their commonly deaths on the roadside,
But we feel no remorse for the big three, who,
While laughing, choke on the fat they render. No,
We grin instead and fix their piano box.
We can feel sorry for Martin Luther, for
Bobby and Jack and the numberless mourners
Who agonized at the hand of their demise.
There is pity for the duped martyr, for the
Ignorant squirrel or the imbecile dog
Who die their commonly deaths on the roadside,
But we feel no remorse for the big three, who,
While laughing, choke on the fat they render. No,
We grin instead and fix their piano box.
Monday, May 5, 2008
Thursday, April 24, 2008
add Verse, a new blog for poetry
Hello. Today I launched a new blog for poetry called add Verse. The blog was designed for compiling some of my favorite poems and poets as well as to allow others to share their favorite works also. I am hoping that it allows for some discussion of these works as well as a place where people may go to find or discover interesting poems and poets.
The first poem is by Edna St. Vincent Millay and is titled Passer Mortuus Est. It was from a collection I recently read titled Selected Poems the Centenary Edition. It is a short and enjoyable poem by Americas first woman Pulitzer Prize winner. I hope you enjoy the poem and the site and look forward to any posts.
http://addverse-monkeywrench.blogspot.com/
The first poem is by Edna St. Vincent Millay and is titled Passer Mortuus Est. It was from a collection I recently read titled Selected Poems the Centenary Edition. It is a short and enjoyable poem by Americas first woman Pulitzer Prize winner. I hope you enjoy the poem and the site and look forward to any posts.
http://addverse-monkeywrench.blogspot.com/
Monday, April 7, 2008
Catch and Release
Catch and Release was recently inspired by some talk around the office. A buddy of mine has been doing a lot of fishing lately, but he hasn't really been catching anything. It still got me thinking about when I was younger and where I'm at now.
Friday, March 28, 2008
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
They're Knuckling Under
This is the latest piece from the collection I am tentatively titling Tercet By Moonlight. It was inspired by a woman named Murial that I work with. We had a very engaging conversation about the American Axel strike and what she felt it meant to the Union and the Automotive Industry as a whole.
They’re Knuckling Under
Secretive grins smear the high horses faces
Their clever, anvil hammered shoes trampling
The teetering weather weakened picket fence
Corporate Nazgûl, dark riders, kings dethroned
Whose pungent chemical breath chokes and pushes
The whirling feather of solidarity
Union sweat still lingering on the down line
Hopelessly mingling with the fear and blood
It’s true then! Giants do grind their bones for bread.
Secretive grins smear the high horses faces
Their clever, anvil hammered shoes trampling
The teetering weather weakened picket fence
Corporate Nazgûl, dark riders, kings dethroned
Whose pungent chemical breath chokes and pushes
The whirling feather of solidarity
Union sweat still lingering on the down line
Hopelessly mingling with the fear and blood
It’s true then! Giants do grind their bones for bread.
3-12-08
This morning my wife and I were discussing the ending of this poem and she suggested changing it because it didn't seem to keep the same mood or feel as the rest of the piece. I agreed with her so here is an alternate ending for the poem. Any feedback as to which ending is prefered would be appreciated.
They’re Knuckling Under (Version 2)
Secretive grins smear the high horses faces
Their clever, anvil hammered shoes trampling
The teetering weather weakened picket fence
Corporate Nazgûl, dark riders, kings dethroned
Whose pungent chemical breath chokes and pushes
The whirling feather of solidarity
Union sweat still lingering on the down line
Hopelessly mingling with the fear, the blood
The frost that mantles this unmendable wall.
3-13-08
Friday, February 29, 2008
One Ringer
One Ringer
by: j.l. carey jr.
The clock loomed high on the wall above the phone. It hung there like the moon over a grave on an old B movie poster. Ominous. I could feel the second hand crawling with the sweat down my back. It was hot as hell in that room, but I couldn’t seem to stop shaking.
“So do you have any kids?” he said, breaking Luna’s silent ticking.
“Um. Yes. Yes I do,” I told him. “I have a daughter.”
“Yeah,” he said, rolling his head from the ceiling to the floor.
“Yes,” I replied. “And do you?”
“I have three.” He grinned. “Three boys.”
I smiled at him awkwardly. “They must be a handful.”
“Yeah, I suppose.”
“I can imagine three is. My daughter is hard enough to handle and she is only one kid.”
“How old is your daughter?” he asked, with some stern intrigue in his voice.
“She is seven. But, she thinks that she is fifteen,” I added.
“Isn’t that the truth? The man laughed.
I smiled and asked him how old his sons were. The question seemed to stunt his laugh.
“Ahh. Well, my boys are all grown now.”
“Really! Are any of them married?”
“To be honest with you, I wouldn’t know. We haven’t spoken in years. I don’t think they give two shits about me. I can’t blame’m though. After their mother and I divorced I wasn’t much of a father to them. I spent most of my time working.”
I froze for a moment as a beeping went off. Fear and adrenaline charged through me before I realized that it was only the timer on my watch. My brain seemed to cramp as I asked myself why? Why had I allowed myself to get involved in this chaos? Why?
With a breath of relief I shut the watch off and then double-checked it again to make sure. Still bug-eyed, I glanced up at that clock. That damned clock, Luna in orbit. Then turning back to him I said, “I’m sorry. My watch startled me. I always forget to shut it off so every day it beeps at 4:50. You would think that I would be use to it by now.” I gave him a half-laugh that was quite fraudulent and he returned one to me that was equally unbelievable.
“So, what’s your daughter’s name?” he asked as if my little outburst had never taken place.
“Her name is Gabriella or, or Gabby for short.”
“Does her name fit her?”
“What’s that?”
“Does her name fit her? You know the name Gabby. Does it fit her personality?”
“Oh. Yes. Yes, she will talk to you till no end.” I chuckled at my own inability to get what he was saying. “She will ask you questions to the point of insanity also.”
“Yeah. I remember when my boys were like that.”
“Yes. I remember just the other day my daughter asked me how cars moved so fast. I told her that it was the engine of course. She asks then how does the engine work. I say it uses gas. Well how does it use gas and on and on. Finally I had to tell her enough was enough.”
“You do. Sometimes you have to stopp’em or they’ll just keep going.”
“Yes. Yes.” I caught myself staring at the clock again and then the phone. I didn’t want to look at the phone, but I did. Why did I look at it? Why was I even here at all? I should be at home right now. I never should have got involved. I tried to cloud my mind with reassurance. Thoughts of how life would be once this was all over and I had the money to provide a good life for my family. I rubbed my hands on my eyes to try and break the spell. “I’m sorry what was that?”
“I said kids can be pretty unpredictable with what they come up with.”
“Oh. Yes, they can be. Life itself can be pretty unpredictable though.”
“Yeah, sometimes. Although, I think life in general can be pretty predictable. You’re born, you live and then you die. The rest is just filler and even most of that is predictable. I think that’s why most peoples lives become boring and monotonous.”
“Perhaps? Perhaps they only believe their lives are boring and choose to ignore the possibilities that surround them though.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes I think it’s the easy way for people to live their simple and monotonous lives. They think that everything is the same old same old even when it is not.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“It’s like when a family member is killed in a car crash. Everyone feels the loss of that person at first, but with in no time at all they’ve moved on. They go right back to Monday night football and P.T.A. meetings and it’s as if that person never existed.”
“Yeah, that’s a good point. Don’t you think your daughter would miss you if you were gone though?”
“Yes. Yes of course. She would be sad for a while, but she would move on in time and go right back to playing Barbie’s with her friends.”
“Don’t you think that it would have a tremendous impact on her life?”
“Yes.”
“It would probably change her personality and her entire outlook on life.”
“Yes. Probably”
“I bet it’s even safe to say…”
Brrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnngggggggg. It came. What I had feared and prayed against since the night my fate was decided, when I was the one who had been picked to stay back. It had come. The phone had wrung.
I looked at the clock, Luna and her second hand was pulling fast away from the five, as if she were gesturing a wave goodbye. That cold sweaty feeling rushed over me again, as I stood up. I slid my hand into the pocket of my jacket and felt the cold metal of my revolver. I don’t remember firing it. There was only the smell of the gun and Jon’s head drooping over his now lifeless body. His hulking frame strapped in the chair with the black mask covering his eyes, still blocking out his true whereabouts or perhaps now he saw everything perfectly clear? That we had stolen him away from his plush home in the middle of the night and that no one cared enough to get him back. “I am sorry my friend. I guess your sons didn’t give two shits about you.”
Brrrrrrrriiiiiiiinnnnnnnngggggggg. Brrrrrrrriiiiiiiinnnnnnnngggggggg. Brrrrrr.
“Hello?” I answered with terror and shock in my voice.
“Pete! Who in the hell were you on the phone with?”
“I wasn’t on the phone with anyone?”
“Just shut up and listen to me. We got the money, now…”
“You didn’t give me the one ringer?” I interrupted. The sweat and cold seemed a transport to darkness.
“No we didn’t give, wait--tell me you didn’t! Tell me you didn’t!”
“You didn’t give me the one ringer!”
There was another shot. The receiver swung, hanging from the cord. The clock looming--Luna high above the madness. Her second hand still twisted, but the minute hand rested on two after.
by: j.l. carey jr.
The clock loomed high on the wall above the phone. It hung there like the moon over a grave on an old B movie poster. Ominous. I could feel the second hand crawling with the sweat down my back. It was hot as hell in that room, but I couldn’t seem to stop shaking.
“So do you have any kids?” he said, breaking Luna’s silent ticking.
“Um. Yes. Yes I do,” I told him. “I have a daughter.”
“Yeah,” he said, rolling his head from the ceiling to the floor.
“Yes,” I replied. “And do you?”
“I have three.” He grinned. “Three boys.”
I smiled at him awkwardly. “They must be a handful.”
“Yeah, I suppose.”
“I can imagine three is. My daughter is hard enough to handle and she is only one kid.”
“How old is your daughter?” he asked, with some stern intrigue in his voice.
“She is seven. But, she thinks that she is fifteen,” I added.
“Isn’t that the truth? The man laughed.
I smiled and asked him how old his sons were. The question seemed to stunt his laugh.
“Ahh. Well, my boys are all grown now.”
“Really! Are any of them married?”
“To be honest with you, I wouldn’t know. We haven’t spoken in years. I don’t think they give two shits about me. I can’t blame’m though. After their mother and I divorced I wasn’t much of a father to them. I spent most of my time working.”
I froze for a moment as a beeping went off. Fear and adrenaline charged through me before I realized that it was only the timer on my watch. My brain seemed to cramp as I asked myself why? Why had I allowed myself to get involved in this chaos? Why?
With a breath of relief I shut the watch off and then double-checked it again to make sure. Still bug-eyed, I glanced up at that clock. That damned clock, Luna in orbit. Then turning back to him I said, “I’m sorry. My watch startled me. I always forget to shut it off so every day it beeps at 4:50. You would think that I would be use to it by now.” I gave him a half-laugh that was quite fraudulent and he returned one to me that was equally unbelievable.
“So, what’s your daughter’s name?” he asked as if my little outburst had never taken place.
“Her name is Gabriella or, or Gabby for short.”
“Does her name fit her?”
“What’s that?”
“Does her name fit her? You know the name Gabby. Does it fit her personality?”
“Oh. Yes. Yes, she will talk to you till no end.” I chuckled at my own inability to get what he was saying. “She will ask you questions to the point of insanity also.”
“Yeah. I remember when my boys were like that.”
“Yes. I remember just the other day my daughter asked me how cars moved so fast. I told her that it was the engine of course. She asks then how does the engine work. I say it uses gas. Well how does it use gas and on and on. Finally I had to tell her enough was enough.”
“You do. Sometimes you have to stopp’em or they’ll just keep going.”
“Yes. Yes.” I caught myself staring at the clock again and then the phone. I didn’t want to look at the phone, but I did. Why did I look at it? Why was I even here at all? I should be at home right now. I never should have got involved. I tried to cloud my mind with reassurance. Thoughts of how life would be once this was all over and I had the money to provide a good life for my family. I rubbed my hands on my eyes to try and break the spell. “I’m sorry what was that?”
“I said kids can be pretty unpredictable with what they come up with.”
“Oh. Yes, they can be. Life itself can be pretty unpredictable though.”
“Yeah, sometimes. Although, I think life in general can be pretty predictable. You’re born, you live and then you die. The rest is just filler and even most of that is predictable. I think that’s why most peoples lives become boring and monotonous.”
“Perhaps? Perhaps they only believe their lives are boring and choose to ignore the possibilities that surround them though.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yes I think it’s the easy way for people to live their simple and monotonous lives. They think that everything is the same old same old even when it is not.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“It’s like when a family member is killed in a car crash. Everyone feels the loss of that person at first, but with in no time at all they’ve moved on. They go right back to Monday night football and P.T.A. meetings and it’s as if that person never existed.”
“Yeah, that’s a good point. Don’t you think your daughter would miss you if you were gone though?”
“Yes. Yes of course. She would be sad for a while, but she would move on in time and go right back to playing Barbie’s with her friends.”
“Don’t you think that it would have a tremendous impact on her life?”
“Yes.”
“It would probably change her personality and her entire outlook on life.”
“Yes. Probably”
“I bet it’s even safe to say…”
Brrrrrrrriiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnngggggggg. It came. What I had feared and prayed against since the night my fate was decided, when I was the one who had been picked to stay back. It had come. The phone had wrung.
I looked at the clock, Luna and her second hand was pulling fast away from the five, as if she were gesturing a wave goodbye. That cold sweaty feeling rushed over me again, as I stood up. I slid my hand into the pocket of my jacket and felt the cold metal of my revolver. I don’t remember firing it. There was only the smell of the gun and Jon’s head drooping over his now lifeless body. His hulking frame strapped in the chair with the black mask covering his eyes, still blocking out his true whereabouts or perhaps now he saw everything perfectly clear? That we had stolen him away from his plush home in the middle of the night and that no one cared enough to get him back. “I am sorry my friend. I guess your sons didn’t give two shits about you.”
Brrrrrrrriiiiiiiinnnnnnnngggggggg. Brrrrrrrriiiiiiiinnnnnnnngggggggg. Brrrrrr.
“Hello?” I answered with terror and shock in my voice.
“Pete! Who in the hell were you on the phone with?”
“I wasn’t on the phone with anyone?”
“Just shut up and listen to me. We got the money, now…”
“You didn’t give me the one ringer?” I interrupted. The sweat and cold seemed a transport to darkness.
“No we didn’t give, wait--tell me you didn’t! Tell me you didn’t!”
“You didn’t give me the one ringer!”
There was another shot. The receiver swung, hanging from the cord. The clock looming--Luna high above the madness. Her second hand still twisted, but the minute hand rested on two after.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Tuesday, February 26, 2008
Ralph Nader For President
Yesterday I was quite pleased to hear that Ralph Nader would be running for president in 2008. He is the only candidate that I have ever truly believed could make a difference. If elected he would prove to be the greatest president since Abraham Lincoln. He is the only candidate that would institute any real reform and change, not just spew a bunch of rhetoric about it. He is a man for the people and always has been. He understands that NAFTA has failed and needs to be changed. He is a firm consumer advocate. He has a realistic plan for fixing healthcare in our country and he's just one hell of an American.Vote Nader 2008.
www.votenader.org
www.nader.org
Monday, February 11, 2008
Road of Ruin
Road of Ruin
My broccoli mind once flourished with visions
Garden gathered ideals of sun fed import
But devil time shaved ever at the florets
Potholes formed along the folds of grey matter
Cobblestone roads of memories stained rust red
Skull lumps mapped out troublesome finger readings
Resolved I blacktopped over the maudlin street
Pressed my sparsely greens into books for keepsakes
Then plowed on under melancholy blue moon
2-10-08
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
The Leech Field
The Leech Field
In the leech field their withering cash cow lie,
Bloated worms clinging like scarlet silhouettes
In hopes the bovine may one day rise again
To suckle once more America’s heartbeat,
Her gluttonous pulse so sweet and fattening
Never minding what their fathers had endured
Old sit downers of the oleaginous hell
Who long held mighty Cerberus by the tail,
Only for their heirs to let it slip away
2-5-08
In the leech field their withering cash cow lie,
Bloated worms clinging like scarlet silhouettes
In hopes the bovine may one day rise again
To suckle once more America’s heartbeat,
Her gluttonous pulse so sweet and fattening
Never minding what their fathers had endured
Old sit downers of the oleaginous hell
Who long held mighty Cerberus by the tail,
Only for their heirs to let it slip away
2-5-08
Sunday, January 20, 2008
One Fell StrokeThe platelets clotted within those musty walls
Jaggedly standing with the peeling led paint
Thirty year old fixtures of the artery
Clabbered blood still trying to eek its way through
But the stretching walls grow ever more brittle
Corrosion binding to its coalesced innards
One more stint to keep the butter coming home
One more before the old three cut the life line
And send our stymied souls down the river Styx
1-20-2008
The first poem of a collection recently started and tentatively titled Tercet By Moonlight
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