Writing Wednesday: My Book Cover

I just got the Cover Art back from the publisher for my book “Invasive Thoughts”. I really love the foreground with the word “Invasive” coming out of the guy’s head, and the background has some of the elements from the book, DNA strands and the fingerprint. In this picture the reddish-brown doesn’t give much contrast but I’m sure when put on book stock the contrast will be much better and the details will show up clearly.

I am really excited about how everything is coming together. It’s making me eager to actually hold the finished product in my hands.


now #2

this morning at our church,
the gulls are all quite vocal:
they are all quite concerned about You,
and they propose, in their loud caws,
exactly what they think that I should do:
go to Her, they cry,
as they proudly mount the sky,
She is the One in your lifetime,
never again to pass you by;
only this once, when She
needs you the most,
will you be received
as a welcome host,
so go,
find your destiny;
you may later speak
of "the best of me"
is the time,
which will furrow forever
in your mind.

January 24, 2010, for the Wifey.

Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

pass the Kevlar®

memory recedes
and time passes
yet nearly every day
I recall all those fat asses
who put their boots on my neck
and while I would love to be
the best example of
Christianity or humanity,
I just want to get a few
of my bullets back,
for the biggest muthafuckin
final attack.

January 23, 2010, from the forthcoming collection, Spoken Rage.

Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.


so many lives have hung
on that word,
and now it seems
more than a little absurd
that our future
snags on such a curd
as that;
there remain these words:
I love You.

January 23, 2010, for the Wifey, por mi corazón.

Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.


more than a couple regrets

feckless, we have wandered,
through this horrible
pausing, only casually
to note
our fleeting humanity,
as we face calamity;
worst dreams
come true,
face to face,
we face us two;
stagger and stammer,
and clammer
and clack,
we seek just
one, just one way
amnesia, not a welcome tool,
as we look in that mirror,
and recognize the fool.

January 21, 2010.

Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.


I am Yours

about my fealty
under moist,
tender places --
those that have
endured far too much
for any one soul --
and a fire that I never
threatens to scar
what I hold so dear;
a foolish poke of fun,
now can make undone
all the centuries
that we have won?

no, I pray, let ruin
not come to stay,
let me again pledge,
all that I am,
to Your Love
and Your Honor;

that she is part of my
history cannot be denied;
but that love was long ago
lost, if it ever really was:
it is now a forgotten mystery;

unto You, I promise anew,
all of me:
I am Yours.

January 18, 2010, for the Wifey.

Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.


best wishes

aw, hell, girl,
such a whirl of a
swirl, all this life,
what's gonna getcha,
who's gonna fetcha,
who the hell knows:
the garden grows,
and the gardener reaps
whatever the hell that
he sows,
and no one knows,
what still sneaks by
what catches the wind,
and starts to fly;
no one knows
a dirge from a lullaby;
so much left to tell ya,
wish I coulda been enough
of a swellya,
but hey, I was just
makin my way,
wadin' down this thorny path;
wish I coulda warned ya,
bout all the stuff that
would adorn ya,
but hey baby, I sold all
those warnings cheap,
just to keep a roof over me;
but all in all, baby, it's true,
I wish that I had always
been enough for you;
so all that said,
I am happy that you were led
to get hitched again,
on Steak and Blowjob Day.

Best wishes.

Ha ha ha ha!

January 17, 2010, for the Big Fig Newton.

Copyright © Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

A Few Minutes with Betty, Chapter 16: "Fish Spit Dreaming" (or, "I Don't Want Hamhocks for Thighs")

"Happy Tuesday!"

"Hiya, Betty. It's only happy because the rain did not drown me; I fooled it and stayed inside. How are you uber hottie?"

"You are one smart cookie. I'm good. Busy, busy. I had a killer headache, but it's gone."

"Ah, sent him to work in the yard?"

"Ha, ha. Nah, I was chasing the kids around in the yard and suddenly felt like poo."

"Actually, I guess this is when he goes out to sell things."

"He's not my headache. I like him lately. And he's cute. I like hot boys."

"Well that part is not news. You have always liked hot boys. It's in your genes. And your jeans."

"Snort. George didn't come home until 12 last night. I went to bed without him, and woke up to him trying to get in my pants."

"Now that is nice. No wonder you are liking him. I would like him. Who wouldn't like him?"

"I have no idea."

"Well, hopefully the waitresses at IHOP will turn away. Some of them are little hotties. Oh, and Mr. Happygolucky has tried to IM me twice today, but i am ignoring him. My version of Meredith denying him sex. Punishment for a day, before I bitch slap him silly."

"Oh boy fight! Can I tape it and post it on youtube?"

"You are such an effin voyeur sometimes."

"Yeah. What's your point?"

"Ha ha. You are great."

"I know. More people should know it too. Oh, I'm writing a screenplay."

"I took out the ads with Google like you said. A screenplay? Cool."

"It's in response to one of my friends stating that there is nothing original in the movies lately."

"Well I haven't been to the movies since early 2007, so I'm not a good judge."

"She was telling me that she hates me because I loved Star Trek, and that it's just remake crap. So you wanna hear my pitch for a movie?"

"Yes, or for anything; movie first. If you do well with the movie pitch, we can move on from there."

"Slumdog millionaire meets Star Wars set on an 1840s wagon train to Utah between vampires as the main character including lots of sex and violence too. And defiance of authority and some alternate reality."

"I like your idea. Talk about selling tickets."

"I was talking to a friend actually and that's what he and I came up with. Then he told me I was a retarded monkey."

"Artsy-indy space cowboy urban vampy sex bang bang boom boom effyouse mindbender. Tough to fit on the marquee, but still. Artsy-Indy Space Cowboy Urban Vampy Sex Bang Bang Boom Boom Effyouse Mindbender Movie. Short title: Fish Spit Dreaming."

"See, you are a retarded monkey too. Oh, I think Michael is feeling the burn. I just got an IM: 'Why won't you all talk to me? Do I smell of death and moth balls?'"

"Well good, something has to rattle his effin cage and knock it down to the ground. 'Um, you seem pissed at me.' 'Uh, yeah, you moron. You treat yourself like shit, which is your choice. But that spills over to that loving wife and those two little girls, and for that you get no freakin passes, just detention. Or words to that effect."

"I went off on him yesterday, and he feels bad. But feeling bad isn't enough. Hello? hello . . . hello echo echo."


"Where did you go?"

"I forgot you were here."

"Gee, thanks. I'll bet that gets you lots of women."

"I was reading Scott's new chapter for the novel. Sorry."

"Whatever. I'll just sit over here and weep."

"We are past 50K words now."

"Wow. Impressive."

"And boogying along."

"Even if you suck."

"Yes, but I suck well. Check the rest stop walls."

"I refuse to pee in places like that."

"Why? It's just pee."


"Can't you just hover?"

"I could."

"You're young and strong. And acrobatic."

"But why should I?"

"Great video, that's why: 'Dude, look at the thighs on that one! Nothin but effin muscle there, bro.'"

"I don't want hamhocks for thighs."

"'Dude, she could snap you in half. Yeah, sure, dude, but look at los ojos. Man, that is one uber hot mama. She could snap me in half, man. Whatta way to go.'"

"You have too many people living in your head, Shakespeare."

"I know; talk about a crowded house."

"Get a cattle prod and wrangle those people in."

"I don't know if giving them pleasure will prompt them to leave."

"You are so sick."

"Well, I prefer twisted, but still, I get your point. I think it's mostly the way I am unwired."

"They have medication for that. As long as you remember to take it."

"Yeah, like our fallen archangel. He may be under the doghouse this time. She said the last time he pulled one of these he was gone for two weeks."

"Well he dug that hole."

"Which was followed closely by their divorce."

"Yeah, I know that story."

"I was going to tell her that if she wants to off him, that I would move down there and be a good daddy to the girls. Then I thought, no, if she will off him, she would off me too."

"Ha ha ha."

"So I'm going to stay here."


"And I am probably almost as offable as he is. Almost."

"I hate to tell you, but all you men are offable."

"Oh stop it."

"No almost about it."

"What would you do without us?"

"Shall I start a list?"

"Who would there be to make you constantly feel smarter?"

"Stupid girls."

"Okay, how about getting the old 'youknow' taken care of?"

"Should I draw you a picture?"

"I just know it would include a small bunny, so no, I will pass on the diagrams."

"See, look, you men can be taught."

"Taught what?"

"Beats me, Shakespeare, I was just trying to be nice. I'll be right back."

"I won't forget about you this time. You are the only woman on whom I shall focus. I swear it, Mary. I mean, um, wait . . . oh, yeah, Betty. Betty? Betty? Well look who forgot who now. I guess turnabout is fair play."

January 17, 2010.

Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

The Pull

the moon is not full,
it is a mere crescent,
but so strongly
I feel The Pull,
as much as if You
were present;

centuries of desire
course through my veins,
and only more
insatiability remains;

if I were a King,
or a God,
I would bring to rest
this thing,
this odd
feeling that I will have You
this night,
like a frightened cat,
to be in my arms,
held tight;

stark reality
holds no sway with me,
and I vow to come to You,
softly and silently,
and then to simply undo
all that you have not done:
You are, this night,
the Only One.

January 15, 2010, for the Wifey. Only 15 days! I am a most fortunate man to have found you once again.

Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.


hey sista

hey sista,
guess I really shoulda
kissed ya,
missed that chance,
shoulda had a better
backwards glance,
a little bit of you,
a little bit of me;
that rearview's worth
its weight in gold;
babyface we can skip
all that romance,
see I don't even like
to dance, and Imma
not into makin love,
Imma like 50,
into havin sex,
but don't let that vex ya,
I'm really into ya,
so one more time,
sweet lil ting,
let me hear you sing,
let me see you shake
that thing, and then
you call my name, and
hey baby we can play
any game that suits ya;
you walk that way,
and I'll rap this today,
and we'll let tomorrow
pay for our play:
down on the street,
out in the club,
hey baby, back of my PT
I'll let you give me a
back rub, rubadubdub
in your bathtub, you'll see:
on the bathroom floor,
you can show me more,
whatever you please,
but I'm not on my knees,
lil sweetcakes, cause there's
plenty of shorties out there,
up in those trees;
hey sista, look into
these eyes of blue,
and tell me what's got
into you, and Imma replace
it real fast, and I can last;
Imma just here for a fling,
it's a simple little thing,
Imma not looking to change
the color of your mood ring;
there's no palaces,
no Rolls Royces,
just you 'n' me,
and some simple choices;
hey, hey sista
guess I musta missed ya;
dammit I shoulda kissed ya,
I shouldn't have passed ya;
hey, hey sista
who the hell could
resist ya,
I just can't resist ya,
I just can't resist ya.

January 15, 2010. With a hat tip to Estelle and Kanye, and all the rest, and especially the Wifey, who has unearthed the soul that I always had.

Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

Better Know a Gang Rape Supporter: Isakson (R-GA)

In this series of posts I will highlight the Senators that voted against this amendment:

To prohibit the use of funds for any Federal contract with Halliburton Company, KBR, Inc., any of their subsidiaries or affiliates, or any other contracting party if such contractor or a subcontractor at any tier under such contract requires that employees or independent contractors sign mandatory arbitration clauses regarding certain claims.

This amendment is to hold Halliburton liable if they actively try to stop one of their employees from reporting if they are gang raped. Its pretty cut and dry if you voted for this amendment you are against gang rape, if you voted against it you believe gang rape is part of a normal work environment.

The first Senator that I will highlight in this series is Georgia’s Johnny Isakson.

Isakson was originally a pro-choice Republican when he ran for Congress, and served as a moderate Republican.

When he ran for Senate in 2004 he shifted sharply to the right, and became anti-abortion, anti-gay rights, and pro-gun.

Although he claims to be fiscally conservative he championed the F-22 Raptor, a combat jet that can’t go into combat and is sensitive to rain and its duties can be carried out for a fraction of the cost by the F-35.

He originally proposed adding the “living will” provision into Medicaid so seniors could make end of life decisions with their doctors before they are too ill to make that decision. He did call Sarah Palin out when she called it a “Death Panel”.

However he then bowed down to the Palin-bots when they went after him and started calling his own proposal “Death Panels”.

On immigration he was formerly sane and even helped write the Comprehensive Immigration Reform Act of 2007 a bill while not perfect did work to reduce illegal immigration and not just use immigrates as scapegoats. When he was criticized that it offered “Amnesty” he did an about face and voted against the bill.

With his this record and his vote in support of workplace gang rape it’s easy to see exactly what type of politician Isakson is. A man who knows right from wrong but has no problem voting for what he believes is wrong in response to the political winds.

If re-elected he will most certainly cave into the most extreme of the tea-baggers. So if you live in Georgia ask yourself this question before you vote. If Johnny Isakson won’t stand up for what he believes, Why would he stand up for his constituents?

If you would like to contact Senator Isakson and ask him why he supports gang-rape, or why he is fond of attacking his own proposals, you can contact him here: Senator Isakson Contact Page.



flashing a sinister smile,
I come bashing,
lashing out for a while;

you will soon wish
that I really was dead,
when the boot you had
pressed upon my neck
is sticking out
of the middle of your head.

January 14, 2010, from the forthcoming collection, Spoken Rage.

Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.


O Martin

though my pink face declines me,
you and I both know the roots
that define me,
colors not just red,
but hues truly bled,
just to refine me;
and tonight, dear God,
another nation of our sisters
and brothers, are felled by
indescribable tragedy;
we stop short, unhinged
by the magnitude
of what has come to be:
tens of thousands of souls,
now gone upon vapid shoals,
too many to count,
and each one without
a loved one to set them to rest;
this is not the way that
good people find their test,
taken, in the middle of the night,
not so much as a rustle
in the way of a fight, a struggle
to survive, to be alive, to have
just one chance to endure;
taken, in a stroke,
in the blink of an eye,
not even long enough
to say good-bye;
this night, olde friend,
please help each one across,
and help also all those
who have suffered such a loss.

January 13, 2010.

Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.


the earth beneath your feet
ceases to exist,
and there is no firmament,
open space is where
the ground that was there
horror, terror,
darkness and devastation
provide the atmosphere,
while you lie writhing,
wishing that you were
anywhere but here;
O Haiti, mother of so much
that is so important
to so many of us,
we grieve with you this night;
our hearts ache
at the severity of your plight,
and we wish with all our might,
that no more trials come your way,
that tomorrow, while filled with
sorrow, is a better day.

January 12, 2010.

Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.


that fire

this day, the sea is on fire,
and these are just lines on a page,
struggling to keep up with thoughts,
trying to capture my innocence
and my glorious bloody rage,
as I dance with an angel
on the head of a pin
watching everything spill out from within,
drenched in the sorrow
of so many misspent centuries --
time when I could have loved You --
and I mourn myself,
along with this worthless ode,
the writer writing of the horse he never rode:
the passion, the fever,
and the clenched fist;
the seer, the doer, and the dier,
we make a lousy eternal trio,
disappearing into that fire.

January 10, 2010.

Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

no worms

this frozen morning stillness,
broken only by the wren,
fruitlessly digging through a pile of leaves
in search of a worm;
and the background hum
of windchimes mimicking Bach;
and the modern whoosh
of a car passing on the road;
the snow frozen solid all around
with the sun turning it into colors;
a gull screams displeasure,
as I realize that
we are going nowhere fast;
the tide goes out,
but enough of it remains
to drown out all our vanities;
the wind comes up
just enough
to make the sane
seek shelter,
but like the missing worm,
the wren and I
find none.

January 10, 2010.

Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.


we're cool

most nights,
I just want you to go to sleep,
so that I can have the peace
and quiet,
and not have you sitting there:
the ancient sentinel;

but tonight,
I just want you to go to sleep,
so that I do not feel compelled
to spit on your sorry,
mean, loveless, lifeless,
mournful, ugly, racist,
lying, child-hating,
grandchild-hating ass;

other than that,
we're cool, mama,
we're cool.

January 8, 2010, from the forthcoming collection, Spoken Rage.

Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.



bought some rum,
a whole liter, as I
thought I might need some,
just in case I couldn't cheat her;
turned out, tonight at least,
best damn bet I ever made on a beast;
feelin so damned well relaxed right now,
it wouldn't mind me much if she birthed a cow;
noticed just now that these lines are gettin long,
have to stop that now or this will be a lousy song;
so how in the hell do I stop these rhymes,
and still get the point across in less lines;
well it doesn't take a genius,
to figure all that out, to be sure;
just need bare necessities to enure;
now the lines are back to manageable size,
well maybe not that last one, I realize;
bt I knw I cn shrnk lns f I pls,
by jst brngng ll thm vwls t thr kns;
there, that seems to have done it,
and so I can close, and say, that I won it!
okay, not such a great close,
you'll go ahead and sue me, I suppose;
but I know just where to send it, see,
I bounce it off me, and send it back to thee!

January 6, 2010.

Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.



I hear the raspy cackling
of the near-frozen chickadees

as I floor it,
looking for a destiny;

I see her there,
in my sights:

momentarily motionless,
the day's mail in her hand,
as she struggles to see
what is approaching;

but it is too late,
and the collision unstoppable;

and a billion tiny shards
of cruelty and bitterness
fly up into the air
as she disintegrates,
with the shards finding homes
in fertile soil;

sadly, a hundred years from now,
those shards will have spawned
more like her, for another
generation to abide;

but for now, at least,
she is no more,
and the chickadees
start to thaw.

January 5, 2010.

Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.

alive forevermore

She tells me of Her Love,

and I feel it,

no need for language

as it slides into every pore;

I wonder as I wait,

could there possibly be

anything more

grand than this,

the festooned crown

on the head of such royal bliss?

ah, yes, the warmth,

the depth of my surrender

as I feel Her Kiss;

it opens me wider

than I can ever remember,

reminds me of that which

I still miss;

though I never pray anymore,

I find myself preying

on the delightful deliciousness

of the moment ahead,

what's in store

as I lay panting at Her Door,

no longer dead, but

alive forevermore.

January 5, 2010, for the Wifey.

Copyright © 2010, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.