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thirteen

So here I am, having been struck over the head by Inspiration (as well as encouraged by a fellow author and friend named Lynn Tolson), which suddenly compelled me to compile a volume of my verse entitled Poetic Reflections:  Keep The Heart Of A Child.  It's the thirteenth month and I find my brain waxing astutely — well, maybe it's more "ergutely" but I can't seem to find it in the dictionary; not that it's ever stopped me from using a word so all right then, ergutely it is — about everything and nothing, and anything too, but least of all something in particular

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treedom

This is my twelfth and final poetry column.  I shall miss these monthly maunderings.  But will my voice be missed?  It seems I have developed such a small and furtive following in one year that if I spun about suddenly, I might think I was alone.  It's very sad.  Tragic, nearly . . .  Fooled ya!  This is not the last Poetic Reflections, no matter how unread I may be.  (What a relief!  I'm glad to hear it.  I almost tricked myself.)

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Utter Nonsense: Alice In Wonderland 2010 Film Review

Part One:  Anticipation

There is no doubt.  The very thought of combining the wit and "wonder" of Alice, the clever tongue-tangly-tingly "madness" of author Lewis Carroll, with the freakishly whimsical and abstract conjurings of film director Tim Burton sent me straight into a tizzy.  Yes, that's right, an actual tizzy!  When was the last time that happened to you?  I can only describe the experience as a head-spinning spasmodic shiver of delight.

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bewary very

So what is there to be very wary of?  I'll tell you.  Come closer so I can whisper it:  "Everything."  That's right, you heard me.  Everything!  Not that I'm paranoid.  Or maybe I am.  Maybe you should be worried that I am.  And maybe it's contagious!  Maybe the mere suggestion can leap to your brain and burrow into your subconscious where you will be subliminally infected.  Maybe it will spread like germs to every surface, on every breath, until it becomes one big whopping flipped-out pandemic of fear.

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m’friend

I'm writing this poem on the birthday of a friend.  She knows who she is so I don't have to pretend.  It's one of those things that you can't say enough:  "Thanks for being there; I'm sorry it's been rough."

I'm writing this poem for someone in particular.  If the words speak to you, then that's . . . specticular?  (I hope you'll forgive a few bad rhymes.  You have to admit, it's not the worst of crimes.)

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E-Book Versions On Scribd!

Here at Trilllogic Innoventions we have welcomed 2010 with a new venture:  E-Book versions of our literature.  "Dance Of The Chupacabras" and "Out-Of-Mind Experiences" by Lori R. Lopez are now available for purchase on Lori's Scribd Store.  We are also releasing for sale "Ere The Dark Dirt", a short story by Rafael L. Lopez, currently available only on Scribd.  You can check out their samples and download them.  We are planning to embed them on our site as well.  Below are the links:

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