Punk Rock Phantasm

*Authors Note: This is an excerpt from a longer work titled Letters from the Tomb*

Punk rock phantasm arrives on a spiked wave, a rainbow Mohawk glowing sevenfold in its path.

“Red,” the specter says, “represents the heart spilled by Johnny Rotten in his fight for peaceful anarchy.”

Its bull ring, pierced through ghost nose, clinks against leather and chains.

“Green,” the specter says, “shines for Lemmy’s whiskey-soaked, nicotine-christened invincibility.”

Its guitar materializes white and weapon-shaped as out-of-tune chords ripple across stage.

“Blue,” the specter says, “is Ian Curtis, a beacon failing magnificently, a lost cause worth saving, a diamond without luster.”

The audience shuffles, drains drinks, waits for the departing opening act.

“Indigo,” the specter says, “curves to Jim Morrison’s royalty, his aura roaming deserts and settling inside homeless door frames.”

They throw change at the apparition’s threadbare Chuck Taylors, and a tossed can passes through its body.

“Yellow,” the specter says, “belongs to Keith Moon rattling unseen dimensions with cymbal crashes and snare beats.”

Punk rock phantasm disbands into gray clouds as riotous exorcist gangs chant rhymes petitioning cloaks and daggers, otherworldly matters.

Haiku Tuesday: Skullgrid

Skullgrid is an outlandishly technical and (sometimes) overwhelming album by Behold…The Arctopus, an instrumental/metal/progressive/jazz/avant garde band. Below, you’ll find a haiku corresponding to each song from Skullgrid.

I hope to have captured the chaotic, wonderfully baffling nature of the music.

I. Skullgrid
Sentient canines
trace the opiate chamber
awash in dharma.

II. Canada
Go, fascist Mounties,
toward budding brain glaciers
serrating Quebec.

III. Of Cursed Womb
Bright hive explosion
blisters her tender innards
chilled under Freon.

IV. You Are Number Six
Glory be to Six,
deviant traitor leader
wielding guillotines.

V. Some Mist
Drowning gastropod,
pass through breath, sodium fog
holding shells hostage.

VI. Scepters
Voiceless, dim monarch
condemns defenseless jesters
juggling chainsaws.

VII. Transient Exuberance
Fleeting phantasm,
flicker an anathema,
hated illusion.

Recovery Songs

It’s an understatement to say that Robin Williams’ passing is saddening. He was an incredibly intelligent individual with an unmatchable wit and an uncanny ability to incite laughter. Even though Williams was a classic ‘funny man,’ he lost a battle with demons that consumed and claimed his life. Sadly, the brightest artists often face the most severe challenges with mental disorders.

I’ve been to several dark places in my 28 years, and I’ve fought depression. Unfortunately, it took me quite some time to reach out and seek proper help, and I could’ve recovered much more quickly if I had addressed my problems.

If anyone reading this is struggling with negative thoughts or entertaining ideas of self-harm, please talk to friends, family members, or a counselor. There is hope, and you have the ability to overcome this adversity.

I’m fortunate to have a great support group, but when I’m unable to talk with someone, I turn to music. The following songs have helped me tremendously in troubling times, and if you’re struggling, I hope they’ll help you as well.

Haiku Tuesday: Inanimate

This week’s Haiku Tuesday entry is inspired by “Dig Me,” a song by King Crimson that assumes the perspective of a car trapped in a junk yard. The following haiku pieces look at the world from the ‘eyes’ of inanimate objects.


I. Blender
Feed my hungry blades.
Drain the liquidized insides,
my walls splattering.

II. Frisbee
Hover and rotate.
Land in the fingers outstretched,
pinching my edges.

III. Shoe
To the wall I go,
carelessly loosened and kicked,
bruising leather tongue.

I, always aware,
translate your atrocities,
visual warfare.

V. Knife
I’m not a weapon.
Hang me as an ornament,
a death testament.

The Moon is a Lie

The moon is made from paper and glue. Kubrick, if alive, would explain the fake flag and ersatz astronauts. One giant leap deceives a footprint stuck in soundstage floorboards. A few more minutes with the footage reveals inconsistencies: a director’s chair reflected in helmet glass, a loose backdrop revealing the set’s edge, Jack Nicholson sipping coffee from a crater. Nixon surely wouldn’t lie about these lunar manners? 2001: A Space Odyssey is a truth superior to any government-funded fabrication.

Snowbound: What’s On the Horizon?

Hey everyone, I’m alive and well, and even though my output has slowed a bit over the past month (for legitimate reasons), I want to preview what’s on the horizon for Snowbound.

Because I’ve been working on a creative writing project that I’d like to publish, I haven’t had much time to devote to this blog. However, I will still post content whenever I get a chance. Right now, most of my working ideas are related to music. I’m putting together a 5-volume article called “Nevermind the Black Album” that takes an in-depth look at the strength of the heavy music scene from 1992-1996. I also have a sequel planned.

Haiku Tuesday and the Album Cover Series will continue, and my goal (moving forward) is to post 2-3 times per week. If that doesn’t happen, you have my permission to throw a glass of water in my face while calling me a stupid jerk.