Blah Blah Blah

I'm not here right now, leave your name and number after the beep.......

Sunday, July 29, 2012

My spin on an Image...Mag pie tales


I write with black letters
Across this my wall of
Maybe she will

Maybe she will…what?
Come home, Stay away,
Bring the leaves back to this tree
And raise our pup with me
Clean up this mess
Left behind in her departure
At this point…I don’t care

I write with black letters
Across this my wall of
Maybe she will

Chris McQueeney    7/29/12    1:00 P.M.

This prompt thoughtfully brought to us by Tess over at The Mag please feel free to go see what others have done with this...

Saturday, July 28, 2012

Heart shaped

    She has finally moved Her things. For the last seven or eight months Her stuff has filled my second living room. It is a bitter sweet thing this Her moving her stuff out. On one hand I have my home, and it is no longer in limbo. On the other it symbolizes another nail in the coffin of our life together.
    There She sat, two rows of seats in front of me. She was wearing a sweatshirt, University of Idaho on the front I think, and a pair of sweats. From behind Her thick curly hair looked a bit wild, dirty blond. I think I had seen her before that, but I am not sure. At one point She got up to get a cup of coffee or to go to the bathroom, and my world stopped. She had to have been one of the most beautiful creatures I had ever seen.
     Others may argue with me about that, but I don’t care, that was how I felt at the time, and at times I still feel that way. She has the most amazingly blue eyes, the kind of eyes people have killed over. And she surely is cute, a petite thing, with a perfect smile.
    A few days went by without seeing Her, then I saw Her again…At the time I was dating a real nice girl named Erin, and I wasn’t looking for anyone else. But still, She struck me and struck hard! On that night She was lamenting about how hard her life was, and being the kind and compassionate person I was I pointed out that usually the problems I have are caused by me…nice aren’t I? I was an arrogant prick, but what I said was true.
    My first impression was that She took my breath away…Hers was wishing that I had never had a first breath. I laugh at that now, how young I was, not just in years, but emotionally young. The funny thing is I can still smell the room, feel the chair under me, and I remember exactly where we sat in relation to each other. In fact every time I go to that room I remember that night, those two nights. The last nine years of my life started on those two nights, for good, and bad.

Hart shaped
Walking from THE dream
Like some ass backwards
Nightmare on Elm Street
THE dream can be a fickle thing
Leaving heart shaped craters
Where memories used to be
Sliced up ribbons of soul flesh
Cancerous lesions overwhelm
The natural feel of the love that was
THE dream

Chris McQueeney    7/24/12    9:52 P.M.

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

Any fricking town U.S.A.

Abandoned gas station (s)

Petrol…the way
Of the future
Oh oh oh
The auto Can
Go go go
On that high
Octane petrol

Did you know
They have to dig
Those stupid tanks
Out of the ground
Then remove the
Dirt from around
Them to keep
Us sound

Petrol…the way
Of the future
Oh oh oh
Humans will
Go go go
The way of the
Dodo needing
Mo mo mo
To live off
High octane petrol

Chris McQueeney 7/23/12 10:00 P.M.

Sunday, July 22, 2012

A simply kind of task

Walking the 8

Putting one foot
     In front
            Of the other
Sounds simple enough
            To me
Simply gazing upon
The world beyond
Through a window pane
            A window pane
                     Coated in mud
Glimpses of Infinity
Through mud covered
Lenses can be misleading
          In front
     Of the
Walking the 8
While a deranged Painter
Slashes through you
With manic need
Is no simply kind
Of task for me

Chris McQueeney    7/22/12    6:38 P.M.

Every week, for the last one hundred and twenty seven, The mag has an image for writers to work from, something to create poetry or pros from. This week Tess selected Figure Eight, 1952, by Franz Kline, for us to create from. Please visit The Mag to see what others have done with the prompt.

Saturday, July 21, 2012

In memory to those lost

These two pieces have been written from two prospective's, the first will be very offensive to most, and rightly so...the second may feel very good to others...I can say that it doesn't to me, it was my first reaction. This poetry is a way to express things that wouldn't normally be  ok any other place. Please read both together. Know that the path taken by our country in the aftermath  will show what kind of nation we are and where we need to be. My prayers go out to all the family's of the slain, and injured. 

Pull my pin

Bowling for columbine’s got nothing on me
I’m the one true Lone gunman, really
See how powerful my master play unfolds
Pull my pin Tear gas explodes
On a crowd Of Dark knight watching
Chair bound victims Scream as I’m dropping
Another belt notch thirteen X or more
Pale bodied empty skin bags hit the floor
The whole world sees me lay my claim so masterful

Chris McQueeney    7/21/12    12:32 A.M.

The unick has spoken

Only a coward can claim
Some sick sort of power
And fame from quenching
The light from those souls
Snuffing out life with a click
Mother fucker you have no balls
Your manhood broken
The unick has spoke
With a gun he’s said to me
No man, no man indeed
One day the time will come
He will take that long walk
Into a very shallow hole
And on that day I’m sure I will see
Him blubber like a bitch
On his way to old sparky

Chris McQueeney    7/21/12    1:10 P.M

I hope you were able to make this far, thank you for reading my work :-)

Thursday, July 19, 2012

...Such is life, I guess

All I can do

living in
And sorrow
I had dreams
Of yesterday's tomorrow
But today was sad Instead
Left with lingering Memories
Of the bond between you and me
In this tomorrow's yesterday
All I can do is cry and pray
And hope you found peace
In your end
Good bye to you
Signed with love
Your friend

Chris McQueeney 7/17/12   10:59 P.M.

    I was scared this week. While at work on Monday I got chemical burns on my lungs from atomized particles of sodium hydroxide. I am a painter by trade, and am exposed to chemicals on a very regular basis. The situation was one that could happen to a person in my field at any point in time. That is one of the hazards that I have to deal with on a regular basis.
    The incident was not my fault. I was using the proper safety equipment, and being cautious about the stain stripper I was applying to the outside of the home I was working on. The funny thing is that while I was being cautious another person was not, and I get to suffer because of it…such is life, I guess.
    Immediately upon inhaling the caustic material I started coughing, and soon after was vomiting. After about five minutes of that I was rushed to the hospital by the owner of the company I work for. On the ride it occurred to me that I could die from the exposure…my next thought was what would happen to my children. They would be taken care of, but would not have a father.
    As I’m sure you can tell I didn’t die, but I did get to spend five hours coughing and vomiting blood .I have not been back to work , and not sure when I will . More and more I am being driven to find another field of work…writing
    Thank you to my family and friends for checking on me, and thank you Christopher for driving me around, and Jen and Jason for taking care of me  

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Los tres amigos

We three

We are a motley
Crew we three
him And you

See, George likes to
Stay up late
Robbing banks for tweek
To stay awake

Sally likes
To be on E
And dance so sweet
O so sweet

And me
Then there's me
As you can see
I'm above all that

Nonsense I say
Of this motley three
I am in the middle

Chris McQueeney    7/17/12    3:41 P.M

I had a poem of mine published today over at   

The pic came courtesy of Kj over at .Options for a better world…Kj so fricking rocks, her interview got more views then this little ol blog has ever gotten before J

The poem We three is linked to dVerse poets pub…this is their one year anniversary week. Go check out what they have on the menue…  

Sunday, July 15, 2012

which would you want

So very deep

Who are you to say
What has or hasn’t
Gone away
What ego must wrest
On that hole
So very deep
In your soul
So awfully black
I want to know
Who are you to say
What has
Or hasn’t gone away

Chris McQueeney    7/11/12    9:31  P.M.


blah blah and a la la

With a blah blah and a la la he walked his happy ass down the street ...while walking he looked down and saw a, a nickel isn't much, but it all adds up. So he picked up the nickel, it was shiny, and new. With that nickel in his hand he noticed a whole row of nickels leading to a bush...he thought cool, maybe enough to get a pop. So the man proceeded to pick the coins up. 

When the man got to the bush he stopped. Stooping over, he was startled to see that just to the side of the coin was a note. He picked it up and read it..."this is your lucky day, look up." So, he did. Just then someone swung a bat over the top of the bush and hit the coin toting man over the head.

Dragging the man back to the pile of bodies the woman thought to herself ...they all add up...


Chris McQueeney 7/15/12 10:46 P.M.

The picture at the top artwork by Jack Vettriano has been provided by Tess over at The Mag who every week gives us an image to work with...feel free to go over there to see what others have created.

The lower picture comes to you curtsy of bing image. 

Thursday, July 12, 2012

The other side of the coin

After speaking with the sorely used (or so he thought) farmer I thought I would talk to the other side of the is what she had to say....

Lecherous Grin

This is it
Never again
There he stands
Across the field
With his bottle
And that lecherous
Grin, again

He thinks
To have me tonight
He thinks he sets me
Alight inside, no fright
The light inside has
Never will he

Night approaches 
He and I for the last
Time this spin
Of the wheel of will
He or I win this last time
This bottle of gin
In my hand tilts the scales
My dear
I think with that
Last drink you’ll be
Done in, lecherous grin
Slackened, one swing
Eye blackened
          Bank account
Purse and jewelry
    Farm hand
Luke and I gone
That serves you right
You abusive drunk!
For trying to lay
Your repulsive self
Into me
Never again, that was it
The end!

Chris McQueeney    7/11/12    9:53  P.M.  

Monday, July 9, 2012

Tuesday guest spot, Kj

Interview with KJ from .Options for a Better World

I found Kj through Quiet commotion. I was trying to see who else read wine and words words. At the time I was very new to the blogging thing so after finding Kj’s blog the first time it took me about two months to find it again. I am so very grateful that I did…Kj has a kind soul, and a loving heart. At a time when I needed desperately to hear kind words she offered without being asked and said just the right things.

Welcome Kj

Tell us about the gigantic manor you lived in before your more modest palace came into your life.

That is a story. My friend Debbi moved from Rochester New York to work for me because she was unsure about her marriage. She and her kids moved in with my daughter and me and we had the best time as single women merging our families and sharing dinners. Then she reconciled with her husband and she and he called me one day and said ‘you have to see this house.’ It was a Victorian duplex: three floors and fourteen rooms on each side. It had housed college students for years and was in pretty dumpy shape. My kitchen had three refrigerators and five doorways in it, and the high end pocket doors were used as dart boards. But the bones were good: high ceilings and elegant windows and too many bedrooms to count. We bought the house together and for several years lived beside one another, still merging our families and sharing dinners. It was still wonderful except that Debbi’s husband Jim was a jerk. In time we were all stuck with one mortgage and bad feelings. In order to sell my half and move on, Jim and Debbi had to agree to turning our one house into two condos and they wouldn't.  I tried to sell my side and by now it was a grand and funky house, and I got an offer. But when the buyers met Debbi and Jim, they backed out. The next day the couple called me and said, ‘We love the house, we like you, but we couldn’t live next to them, so how about we offer to buy their side and we will be your neighbors instead of them?” So that's what happened!! I lived there for twenty years and when we sold, we made enough money to feel like millionaires for a gleeful six months.

How did you get into writing?

I wrote a paper on the catholic church and abortion in the twelve grade and got an A. That started it. I’ve always loved journaling and writing poems on napkins, but six years ago I signed up for a weekend writers’ retreat and for the first time I wrote with other people and for the first time I read aloud what I had written. Of the twelve of us five were songwriters. We still meet at least one weekend a year and sometimes two. The group leader is Nerissa Nields who with her sister is the Nields, a fantastic folk group. Nerissa calls her workshops “Writing It Up in the Garden” and stresses that seedlings need sunlight and nourishment. So all the feedback is positive. She teaches the “weeding and pruning’ of work in progress as well, but I’ve stuck with my original group. We call ourselves the Big Yellow because that is the color of Nerissa’s house.

Tell me the hardest thing you have gone through in your life that you are willing to share with the multitude of readers (all 6 of us) ;-)

You know how time really does dim if not heal? Surely my Father’s death and the breakup of my marriage and the betrayal of my first ‘true love’ many years ago should top this list, but the truth is my heart failed to bounce about four years ago, from a horrible break-apart with a woman I had met blogging. Despite distance and differences and loyalties to our partners and families, we loved one another and over two plus years of intensity and exhilaration, we could not  land in some safe place. She has blamed and vilified me and has been very public about that. I keep wishing I could volley back in that way, but that part is not what I wish to remember.

Ok now what about the best.

I am a Mother to a daughter and I know I would unquestionably throw myself in front of a train for her, no questions asked. That is the best.

You are very good at inspiring feelings of wellbeing in others… is that natural, or cultivated?

First, thank you. That is a dear compliment. Honestly Chris, I think this quality is natural but I do work at it. I probably became a Counselor to begin with because I have a genuine respect and interest in people and it is not phony or forced. I’ve learned to listen and I love being able to put words to feelings that are so human and understandable to all of us, whatever our backgrounds. I tend to be an optimist anyway and I am a baseball fan because you can strike out two out of three times and still be an all-star.

What is your favorite book?

Anne of Green Gables (my world in elementary school)

The Mists of Avalon(freed me from Catholic guilt and introduced me to the bonafide Goddess)

Snowflower and theSecret Fan (I love the idea of ‘sames’, women who as young children are paired up by their families to care for and help one another for life)

Who is your favorite author?

I really don’t know. Lately I am (re)reading

because his sentences are so short and direct and he doesn’t rely on big vocabulary words. My own vocabulary is limited so I’m trying to learn from him. He wrote the best short story ever: “Baby shoes for sale. Never worn.”

Who do you respect most in the world…this could be a person in your life, or that you know; it doesn’t have to be a famous person.

My Mother, she is ninety six and can’t remember anything after thirty seconds but she is intact and vibrant in the moment and she is strong and kind and funny. She was a good and present Mother but we didn’t speak for almost nine years because she would not accept my sexual orientation. It is a miracle that we overcame that. It happened because my Father finally had enough. I would take my daughter to see her grandparents on holidays and leave before the family gathering because my partner was not welcomed. One morning my Father’s little tears fell into the Thanksgiving turkey he was carving and he said, “Your Mother’s going to talk to you. This has gone on long enough.” So sure enough, when my Mother walked me to the door she said, “I had a dream that I might be wrong. I asked a priest if it was alright and he said yes. So....what’s the least I can do?”
Hahaha, “Coffee,” I said. So my parents and my partner JB and I had coffee one morning at their house. Then Easter dinner and then everything was okay again. It is a miracle of a story with a miracle of a happy ending.

Tell us about your book.

It is a quick read love story called

 “The Light Stays On.”

 I wrote it mostly on one of two couches over a year's time and it conveys what i consider the easiest and hardest about loving someone. At the time I wanted to know that choosing love and accepting passion, even when painful to someone else, raises all boats. I still believe that.

How hard was it for you to come out?

I had my first lesbian relationship while separated from my husband. I was thirty and building a name for myself in my work. I never felt shame or guilt about it, but at the time it was not prudent or acceptable so I was like so many others: semi-closeted for several years. Plus my little daughter begged me not to embarrass her. I think her greatest fear was that my picture would appear on the front page of the Boston Globe. But that was a long time ago. Her first year in college, she and her friends openly welcomed me and my partner, who was in her life from the third grade on. We are a family in every sense. My Irish masculine son-in-law told me he hopes his marriage is as good as mine.

Now you ask yourself 2 questions that you always wanted to be asked in an interview, and then answer them.

1. Why do you like Chris so much?

Mr. Wander has a raw honesty and a natural talent for telling his tales. He writes his poetry using short powerful words and images that cut to the chase. Plus for some reason I'm just very fond of him and I have been from the beginning.  I'm super glad he's part of my blogging community. And speaking of blogging, the whole experience is precious to me.

2. What is your favorite joke?

There are three kinds of people in the world: those who can count and those who can't.

there is a button on my sidebar to order my book through paypal. that way i sign it before it ships out. it's also available through amazon and barnes and