Monday, July 2, 2018

Interview with poet CRAIG MICHAEL by Dave Wolff

Interview with poet CRAIG MICHAEL

In the 1980s you independently published an anthology of poems, The Deathercizer: Headbanger’s Poetry. It was published on a limited basis, mostly for family and friends. What were the reasons you published it exclusively?
At the time, many people were requesting a copy of my book due to my style in writing and the stories within, which gather an interest. I had the once in a lifetime opportunity to please The Deathercizer fans and felt an urgency to accomplish the goal to please their demands before their interests were lost, as human nature usually was in the 1980s, as time kept on ticking into the future.
At the time, I would frequently help my Dad in his office. He was an active human and civil rights activist, pastor and legal law guardian, often appearing on the front lines and on committees. So I was very much blessed in having access to a professional business office XEROX copying machine.
I was an extremely skilled artist and experienced in self-publishing and had the materials at hand to accomplish any exclusive publishing upon request. Knowledge in U.S. Copyright laws and licensing requirements, thanks to my Dad's wisdom, guidance, and my self-education on the subject, I knew how to protect my creativity, which required publications to a mass of people of any materials. Thus an exclusive publishing or mass publishing was required to enter my works into submission into the U.S. Library of Congress as The Deathercizer was accepted into its vast library among the many greater and famous artisans of the centuries, in 1989, along earlier works of mine prior to that time. My earlier works were in cartooning. 

It’s common for art and written verse to be misunderstood. Poets and artists tend to be blamed for reflecting reality while what inspires them is ignored. Any thoughts?
In thinking of what inspires the poets and artists being ignored, would be that no one asked what inspired them, unless they were reporters. But most of the time, it is the artist not boasting enough about what inspired him, for those to learn, unless asked. Instead, people admire the end results of one's creations and how it inspires the one observing another soul's energy, and never asking why, yet still relating. 

Were there any poets or authors who helped to inspire you when you started writing?
About inspirations? Hopefully this will inspire you, the readers, as you get to know me and what inspired me. Please forgive me if I do not answer your questions directly because my "odysseys" were that of both ancient and modern legends, eventually forgotten in my mind, yet becoming the character of my unique personality today.
I became a survivor from a death experience at an early age three after a severe highway auto accident, where I was sitting on my mother's lap, without seat belts, after being bullied by my older brothers in the back seat. My loving Dad, about 34 years old, at the time, was driving the final leg of a vacation journey that extended to California. I was told that I was playing with a toy using the dashboard as a stage, while being held by mother's nurturing hands, who was a survivor of the Nazi invasion as a young girl.
As the old saying goes; "accidents happen when you are closer to home" and it did.
We were within hours of finally coming home, driving along the NYS Turnpike in Albany heading to Plainville, Connecticut at approximately 75 miles per hour, the speed limit back then, when a tractor trailer, traveling in the opposite direction, suddenly decided to make a u- turn, jack- knifing in front of us, just below the line of sight of a rig we just entered over. In a fraction of a second before impact, unable to slowdown, my dad had a choice either to have his entire family decapitated if he went under the trailer, or aim for the cab wheels in hopes of any of us surviving. There were no seat belt laws back then, if there were any seat belts.
I guess I cushioned my mother's impact with my tiny three year old body on her lap, as the car crumbled to a complete stop from 75 mph to 0, as the camping trailer we were towing gave us an even greater impact. My brothers in the back seat were barely injured, although one had to get his neck and head extracted from between the small gap of the front seat back rest, as he looked over the bloody and mangled bodies of his parents and baby brother, as our blood filled the foot wells of the car. He was only four, and of course he went on to become a genius doctor.
We were never expected to survive, as relatives prepared our funerals, taking custody of my two older brothers. The doctors gave up hope on me as my head swelled to the size of a basketball, with one eye hanging out of its socket, laid out on a table naked, until my grandparents demanded that I be covered with a blanket. What saved us all was God's very hands, as communities gathered in prayer and faith for life and healing, using individual members of congregations to portray my dad, mom, and I, as they laid hands on those individuals fervently praying in the name and faith of Christ Jesus. Within that very hour, my parents came out of their death comas. For me, I remained in that death coma, I guess I did not want to leave the serenity of the spirit world. Yet everyone continued to pray, and many days later I was brought back to this world, the doctors even put back my eye, which rested on my cheek until then, while being fed through the veins of both of my ankles.
It was a true miracle what happened to us, as all believed. I was a toddler celebrity in the faith of others, constantly in public's eye in newspapers and churches. That is why I, today, shy away from publicity, always saying there are others who should be more important than I, and they should get all the credit. But this too, inspired my writings.
My father was and is a great writer who inspired me, mainly. He helped change all our lives in society with his heart, writings and actions, as we moved on from Plainville to New Haven. Thus the adventures began.
In my early youth, from the 1960s and beyond, I was exposed to many important biblical and contemporary poets, authors, artists, family, friends, "movers and shakers" of society. So there were many. Too many. I lived in world, away from the world.
I grew up in the college town of New Haven, Connecticut, and often found myself among the geniuses and influences of the Yale University, Southern Connecticut State University, UConn, Albertus Magnus College, and the many more, including the museums, the New Haven Arena, Hungry Charlies, Toads Place, The Yale demonstrations, the Black Panthers rallies, the list goes on and on. Including the once famous "Exit" coffee house where I learned to play chess with then
To enter the gates to the inner city of New Haven, to the "Green" where my Dad's livelihood and missions emanated, we would had to pass through the delightful smell of freshly baked bread filling the air, as we passed the Wonder Bread Bakery factory.
It's a peaceful aroma that never left my senses to this day. As well as the memories of car windows being quickly rolled up by my two older brothers, in the front seats of the car, laughingly staining the atmosphere with their rancid farts as I held my nose, keeping an eye on my baby brother next to me in the back seat, while soon passing through the vast canyons of the Yale University.
I had many influences in life.
As a child, I was inspired by osmosis, always paying attention to the hundreds of literature works and philosophy on the campuses, in groups, or in the home. Receiving a tremendous education with no degree.
I was born into a family who were all doctorate graduates. My grandfather and Dad had their doctorates in Divinity. My Dad also had earned a law degree through Brooklyn Law School. So my influences were through pastors and leaders of the Human and civil rights movements, those of the many Ministries and faiths. I was exposed to the greatest love ever and learned, and then learnt some more. There are so many stories bottled up in me, just waiting to come out. I once had everything documented on paper, but that can no longer be found, except for The Deathercizer.
As my pal, artist and author; Christopher King would say: "to make a short story long," at the time that I started writing, my life consisted mainly of educational, spiritual studies, and daily reading a periodical named "The Upper Room".
Of course with all the power and might that surrounded me, I would seriously fuck up to prove everybody to be hypocrites to the very words that came out of their mouths and hearts, and found myself in the lowest bowels on the earth. Being in the lowest bowels of the earth, you'll find that you've entered a "Turd World Country" with its many fellow citizens. Listening to their ongoing, repeating stories of their deeds and their ruined home life, insults and humor, day after day, month after month, for years. My escapes were through my imaginations when I would sit alone and write, untainted by any other authors’ idealisms, fighting suicidal tendencies. Writing is a great release and good for the soul.
The Iron Horse Biker magazines and Playboy had great authors. Sadly, I didn't have a long enough attention span, due to the noises and hysterics around me, to enjoy many novels, except for Robert Ludlum, Mark Twain, educational and religious studies. Political writings always had the same outcome throughout the ages, as if it was scripted. 

What about Ludlum and Twain did you find of enough interest to read on a regular basis?
Robert Ludlum was great for immediately catching my attention within the first chapter. I am sure that there are many other authors just as intriguing. But at the time, Robert Ludlum had the gift of being intriguing with non-stop action throughout his novels that kept me flipping the pages. Mark Twain, I could only remember as bringing me back to a time long gone. 

Tell the readers about the Upper Room periodical you still peruse to this day.
The Upper Room became my inspiration just to keep on living one more day. It's amazing to find that we are not alone in our struggles and experiences in our "Turd World" lives. I highly recommend it as a gift to others if not yourselves.
The Upper Room is an interdenominational, independent global organization dedicated to helping people grow in relationship with God through regular spiritual practice (such as worship and prayer, Bible reading and meditation, journaling, and participation in spiritual support groups). It publishes a number of devotional magazines and books, and it provides a number of program experiences for in-depth learning in Christian spiritual life. The Upper Room is best known for its devotional reader entitled The Upper Room daily devotional guide which is currently published in 35 languages and reaches people in as many as 100 countries in every region of the world.
The Upper Room has its roots in The United Methodist Church, but receives no sponsorship or funds from any denomination. While The Upper Room's ministry is interdenominational, international, and interracial in scope and character, it maintains a relationship with The United Methodist Church as a unique division of Discipleship Ministries of the UMC. The Upper Room Daily Devotional Guide began publication in 1935, and first published an "other language" edition in 1938. A Braille edition started in 1940. By 1944, circulation had passed the two million mark. In the USA, The Upper Room’s main office and operation are located on Grand Avenue in Nashville, Tennessee. Africa Upper Room Ministries is located in Eikenof, South Africa, just south of Johannesburg on a piece property named Anathoth." For online access visit

What do you mean about political writings that share the same, seemingly scripted, outcome?
What do you mean about political writings that share the same, seemingly scripted, outcome?
It is called "The Bewitchery of law" , which was once best explained by author R.M. Edgar, on the subject written long before our time, approximately 200 decades back, before we bought the very rope that will hang us all by our necks, which is the digital age today, unless we can stop the madness.
I know and understand that many of your readers never bothered to explore such knowledge and readings as I have been exposed to, yet now I have this opportunity to share it with them to give their lives a greater meaning and understanding of what is happening now, in these days, so that you will all know what I mean as politics always having a scripted outcome. Hopefully all will understand. I am sure that the Thrash band Ritual Servant, and others, will soon be putting this to music, if they haven't yet.
Politics forever kicked in the shins, knocked out and taken down from 200 decades ago and beyond, believe it or not....
There once was a man, a high political authority personel in the Hebrew tribe, who went around getting his panties in an uproar because things were changing. He wanted to kill everyone involved in that change, because he didn't understand, he even missed out on the greatest party ever in human history. And he did his best to eliminate everyone, even the women and children involved in this change. He thought that he was serving the very deity that freed the Hebrews from the supremacy and terror of Egyptian slavery, 2000 years earlier, by murdering his own people, spilling their blood on the master's land. Finally that master deity shows up to let him know what time it was, giving him an even greater job to fulfill, basically saying to this individual, named Saul, screw your politics, follow me, I'll name you Paul. And he did.
As we find ourselves today, Paul finds that many years later after the great commandment, to love one another and the commission to go out and preach the good news witnessed by thousands, that in a town called Galatia, the Galatians started following the politics of man's law once again, forgetting that they were freed from it. The were citizens were becoming bewitched as they started falling away from the truths given to follow by this supreme diety's own son, known as Y'Shua, in human form, mankinds Savior and chief. So the Galatians were reminded of the scripted politics as we should be reminded today.
Anarchy? This is the faith of true Anarchy from the original Anarchist "cookbook", outside of this, you might as well go to your closets and start wearing your sheriff badges and Trump supporter T-shirts, because you are not a true anarchists or true punk:
Please pay close attention and allow me as I quote from here:
Galatians 3:1-14 American Standard Version (ASV)
3 O foolish Galatians, who did bewitch you, before whose eyes Jesus Christ was openly set forth crucified? 2 This only would I learn from you, Received ye the Spirit by the works of the law, or by the hearing of faith? 3 Are ye so foolish? having begun in the Spirit, are ye now perfected in the flesh? 4 Did ye suffer so many things in vain? if it be indeed in vain. 5 He therefore that supplieth to you the Spirit, and worketh miracles among you, doeth he it by the works of the law, or by the hearing of faith? 6 Even as Abraham believed God, and it was reckoned unto him for righteousness. 7 Know therefore that they that are of faith, the same are sons of Abraham. 8 And the scripture, foreseeing that God [would justify the Gentiles by faith, preached the gospel beforehand unto Abraham, saying, In thee shall all the nations be blessed. 9 So then they that are of faith are blessed with the faithful Abraham. 10 For as many as are of the works of the law are under a curse: for it is written, Cursed is every one who continueth not in all things that are written in the book of the law, to do them. 11 Now that no man is justified by the law before God, is evident: for, The righteous shall live by faith; 12 and the law is not of faith; but, He that doeth them shall live in them. 13 Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law, having become a curse for us; for it is written, Cursed is every one that hangeth on a tree: 14 that upon the Gentiles might come the blessing of Abraham in Christ Jesus; that we might receive the promise of the Spirit through faith.
Paul, having stated his position as dead to the Law and inspired by Christ, goes on in the present paragraph to appeal to the Galatians to free themselves from the bewitching power of Law, and to yield themselves to the faith in a crucified and now risen Christ, which alone secures justification and its cognate blessings. And here we notice -
(Ver. 1.) Paul here declares that two attractive powers had been presented to the Galatians - a crucified Christ in his own preaching, and the Law in the preaching of the Judaizers; and, to his amazement, the Law had so bewitched them as to lead them to look for salvation to Law-keeping instead of to the Saviour. And yet it only brings out the fact that there is in Law and self-righteousness a bewitchery which is continually leading souls back to bondage. It seems so natural to establish some claim by Law-keeping and ceremony that poor souls are from time to time falling into legal hope and its delusions. The superstition, which is abroad now, and leads so many to ceremonials for salvation, rests upon this foundation. It is the fascination of an evil eye which is upon the foolish votaries; they fancy they can save themselves by Law, and maintain their self-complacency and pride all the time. But it is delusion pure and simple.
ALL THAT LAW CAN REALLY DO FOR SINNERS IS TO CONDEMN THEM. (Vers. 10, 13.) The position taken up by Law is this - to condemn every one who falls short of perfect obedience. No partial obedience will be entertained for a moment. "Every one that continueth not in all things which are written in the book of the Law to do them," is by the Law "cursed." This tremendous deliverance ought to be the death of all "legal hope." The soul who continues to hope in the Law, after such a definite utterance only proclaims his foolishness. One breach of Law is sufficient to secure the curse. The Law maintains its demand for perfect obedience, and, if this be not rendered, it can do nothing but condemn. It becomes the more amazing that any after this could be bewitched by Law. Surely if the Law can only curse sinners, the sooner we look for salvation in some other direction than Law, the better. And to go back to Law-keeping from grace, in hope of acceptance, is clear retrogression.
JUSTIFICATION AND ITS COGNATE BLESSINGS CAN ONLY COME BY FAITH, (Vers. 2-9, 12, 14.) The Law in the nature of things cannot justify sinners. It has no means of doing so. But God in his grace has provided a way of justification. It is through the merits of his Son. And here we must remember that imputation of merit is the commonest fact of experience. There is not one of us who does not get a start in life and a consideration extended to us which are due to the merits of others, a respected parent or some deeply interested friend. We are surrounded with a halo of glory by virtue of the character of others. Their character helps us to a position and opportunity we could not otherwise obtain. It may be called a mere association of ideas, but it is strictly the passing of merit over from man to man. In the same way Jesus Christ has come into our world, allied himself with our sinful race, merited consideration and acceptance by obedience to Law, even as far as death, and this merit of the Divine Man passes over to believers. In the Father's sight, therefore, we are regarded as just, notwithstanding all our sin. We have been justified through faith. But besides, the believers obtain the Spirit to dwell within them, so that a process of sanctification is set up within them as soon as justification takes place. And the indwelling Spirit may manifest his presence and power in wonderful works, as appears to have been the case with these Galatians (ver. 5). So that Divine grace not only secures the justification of all who trust in Jesus, but their sanctification and spiritual power as well. Wondrous blessings are thus the outcome of Divine grace, and the heritage of those who believe. What a change from having to endure the curse of Law!
ABRAHAM ILLUSTRATES THE BENEFIT OF FAITH IN GOD AS CONTRASTED WITH RELIANCE ON LAW. (Vers. 6-9.) The legalists claimed Abraham as their father. One would have supposed that Abraham had been the greatest ceremonialist of the early dispensation. But the truth is that Abraham was justified and accepted by simply believing God when he promised a world-wide blessing through Abraham's seed. The blessing came to the patriarch through simple trust in God. Those who hoped in Law-keeping, therefore, were not the true followers of Abraham. It was only those who trusted God for salvation and blessing who walked in the patriarch's footsteps. Consequently, all the ceremonialism which tried to shelter itself under the wings of Abraham was a simple imposition ] The "merit-mongers," as Luther calls them in his ' Commentary,' have thus no pretence of countenance from the case of Abraham. It was to simple trust in God he owed his standing before him. How needful, then, it is for us to shake ourselves free from every remnant of self-righteousness, and to look simply and implicitly to Christ alone] It is by faith we stand and live. The Christ who became the curse for us by hanging on a tree, calls us to trust him for acceptance and inspiration; and in trusting him we find the promise amply redeemed. *- R.M.E. -*
So now I have reminded everyone of what true Anarchy is, no posers please! The scripted politics you now find yourself in, that you thought you were opposing, but obviously you are all supporting unless you take the only way out of it. It sucks chasing your own tail around, doesn't it. This also inspired my writings.

In recent years, have politics grown more contrived and scripted as you described?
First let me explain to your readers, who don't use such big words in life, what the definition of "Contrived" means, which is: deliberately created rather than arising naturally or spontaneously.
Now we can all answer this together as we have all witnessed the creation of a pending doomsday, which was deliberately created to control the minds of people, giving them no hope. Thus evident in all the recent massacres. If certain individuals get their way to continue this politically contrived plan to make every person suffer, except the elite, who the politicians suck off for a living, the world is doomed. Generals will gather in black masses, and politicians will hide themselves away, because all that you are experiencing and all that makes you suffer had been deliberately created from someone else's mind, so that they can eat you alive, like a rich bastard slurping down raw oysters alongside an Olympic sized pool, filled with the bones of the idiots who thought serving that bastard was an opportunity. Contrived politics.
True life and living is spontaneous and nature.
Need I say, that recent politics is surprisingly less contrived with President Donald Trump in office? What a marvelous accomplishment our president and the president of North Korea agreed upon in resolving the crap that the previous generations shoved down our throats. Everybody needs to start the day new instead of holding onto the past. Such a great example for us all to make it a much better world. All we need now is to wake up in the mornings and smell that fresh bread dough baking in the ovens, prepared by loving hearts, in every neighborhood, knowing we will all get our share, as we come together to the table end of the day.
Yet the political script remains the same, which is "the rich get richer, and the poor get poorer", as taxes get higher for the underprivileged, with no benefits for the poor person's rainy days. A rich person's rainy day comes with government bail outs and tax incentives. So much for equality and justice. 

Why was your anthology subtitled Headbanger’s Poetry and how does it reflect the poems you wrote for it?
While living in the "Turd World Country" within our borders, among other genres, I was Hard Rock, a big metal fan at its birth in my youth. Back then The Sex Pistols, Megadeth, Metallica, Dio, Iron Maiden, Black Sabbath, Judas Priest, Motorhead, Destruction etc. were the gods of metal. It was so rebellious and fun to perform.
I was living in a dorm room with about twelve other people and one scrappy television and everybody too lazy to get up to turn the channel knob. I had never seen cable television ever in my life. Just TV from rabbit ear antennas that sometimes worked, but mostly aggravated the hell out of you. I loved to draw pictures and created cartoons, like "Ivan the Acid Freak & Professor Stainfart" in my free time, just so I didn't have to bother with that damned television set.
Finally, a new television set shows up, WITH CABLE! It was like showing a caveman a Bic lighter. Everybody now wanted to watch soap operas and other shows.
I was always the silent type, until that cable showed up.
I was bench pressing over 430 pounds, protecting all the weaklings from the predators, banging a few heads, keeping the peace by shutting everybody up, creating lemonade from lemon life. Finally I got my MTV, after hearing so much about it. I became the monster, it was all over for other programming. Sometimes they would try to change the channel, but I wasn't having it. They would either get a cold look from me, and back down or flying lessons across the room if they changed to another station. Eventually, everyone settled down as the music soothed their inner beasts. We were all rocking and dancing and just having a great time like we were all in the best place on earth. That's when I threw out the art supplies and began writing.
I was always the last guy to fall to sleep, always writing something new. Then I discovered Headbanger’s Ball on MTV and was a dedicated fan. All the ole school music I would rock out to, now I was seeing it performed.
So I started writing with that influence, subtitled Headbanger’s Poetry in honor of the Headbanger’s Ball, naming the book "The Deathercizer", a poem of which is in the book stating how "Life is an exercise for death", In other words, life is synthesized into death, therefore it's Deathercized by the Deathercizer. The prose is buried in the book even though it was the first poem written that inspired other concepts. I wanted to use a puppy for sympathy in the prose and poems, because face it, everyone cares more about a puppy than they will you. Don't believe me then try shitting on someone's rug, they'll divorce or kill you, But if a puppy shits on the rug, the puppy get hugs, kisses, and taken to a park, then bathed and groomed.
So after being abandoned to die in the cold city streets, it becomes a Hell Puppy, which we all are. Left out in the cold. I wanted to develop that some more but....
There is a mix of about everything that was to become metal. If it wasn't for a couple of bad relations, accidents, loses, and whatever else I could think of to ad, it would have been competition in those days of its birth. I was hoping to make it a living once I hit the streets. 

You told me The Deathercizer was exclusively published for immediate family and friends. How did your closest associates respond to the verses you captured on paper?
Everybody loved it, or so they said. I would perform the poems with my own vocal metallic rhythm as my long auburn curly hair bounced up and down, hiding my face, with the body of a Viking warrior. My closest associates and even strangers loved my writings and encouraged me to find a publisher. They wanted first copies thinking I would make it big. But who would publish poetry like this in the eighties and nineties. The “beautiful people" were trying to eliminate us in those days because they wanted disco. 

There are no “beautiful people” per se, but the so called “beautiful people” failed to destroy the underground scene in New York as it’s still thriving and timelier than ever. Would readers today appreciate what you set to paper?
There may not be "beautiful people" but you got to admit, it's a great song from Brian Warner's Marilyn Manson rock band, thus quoting "The Beautiful People" related to my experiences (Blame it on the Buckeyes!). Would today’s readers appreciate The Deathercizer? Timing is everything and in these days, without a doubt the readers would appreciate the print on pulp. It's everything of life, in life, for life in the punk/metal world. That's why I kept it an exclusive treasure, until you knocked at my senses, as I opened the door.
Punk is heart! To kill punk, you have to rip out your heart and die. Some have tried, but now they walk around with defibrillators, watching us from a distance, wishing they can be in a state of anarchy. Imagine what we are going to be like when we go to the nursing home? "Nurse! NURSE!! N-u--r-s-e? Orderly, somebody... I need me six strings" as the person next to you starts playing the bed pans, with a copy of The Deathercizer next to the pills, as another sings while dentures slip out of their lips. I think God would look at us and say "Okay, you can live forever" because Punk will never die. 

I’ve heard the meaning of punk has changed over the years; from my research I learned the Sex Pistols were not proselytizing Anarchy in the UK but calling to people’s attention anarchy that already existed. If you’ve seen The Filth and the Fury you’ll know what I mean. How often have you seen its meaning change and what do you think it means today?
I wussed out after Headbanger’s Ball stopped airing. I pulled a Tripp Van Winkle and faded in and out of the scene, waking up years later, the Tompkins Square Park concerts, and the Rivington and King Killer Studios after a dear friend known locally as Johnny Rotten,, invited me to hang out with the local musicians, after together jamming at a friend's house in the Hamptons.
I was away from the scene for many years, just chilling on the beaches, looking at the peaches, and suddenly, surprisingly, in the presence of the Cro-Mags, and all the Punk greats, including Spike Polite and Sewage, Iconicide, Skitzopolis, The Shadow Press, Dansedesade, Nihilistics, Universal Truth Machine, Dead Dean and the Living Hells, Jism from Ism, Sea Monsters, everybody, you too. It was like a welcome home party for me. I didn't realize I was hanging with such great musicians, as we enjoyed each other's presence, as Bros and sisters from the heart do. Only to be surprised when they began performing. Meanwhile I would be walking around with a camera filming my experiences for my YouTube channel, acting like the heavy metal comedian. Totally enjoying everyone of all kind and banging to the beats, but never dressed for the part.
So, as a blast from the past point of view, it's gotten better than ever. But I think it means, hey, we are all sinners, so stop putting us down before I make my dog lick you clean.... 

What led to The Deathercizer being added to the Library of Congress despite the resistance its publication was met with?
Maybe they accepted it because I created a new title or word "Deathercizer” But despite the resistance from the many outside our league, my very creative juices went into each page. How could you just throw that away, if this was your work? You don't, you protect it. When you apply for and receive a Copyright license, to claim "All Rights Reserved”, your work becomes published in the Library of Congress. U.S. Copyright laws now protects your works from being used without your permission. Now you have the protections of the U.S. Federal Court System that will defend one's art once published. It is important to protect your artwork, etc., this is a service that our government offers to its citizens, but does not pay for the lawyers and fees if somebody commercializes on your work. And it only costs an hour and a half wage at the time, with easy instructions to follow. I think it even comes in braille if you asked for it. I have a few works in the Library, as anyone who applied and was accepted does. So kids, don't let your mommy, daddy, etc... steal your ideas, get them copyrighted, so you can sue them..... That goes for Moms and dads, etc... too. 

What are the experiences in your life you based your verse on? At least those you care to share with the readers?
Okay, let us start from the top of the page again, as far as experiences. ..
You got to read The Deathercizer to see the experiences, it’s all in there. Every day of it, just spewing out like hot melted lava.
“Happy Graduation Day" page 12, was based on bringing home the reality of the terrorist attack onboard the Achille Lauro, replacing the old people with young graduates. How the day you couldn't wait to experience in life suddenly turns to tragedy because someone didn't get enough love in their lives and wants to make a statement. It's also based on watching a soccer stadium suddenly incinerating on television, watching all those poor souls just fall back into the flaming pit, while another walks out totally engulfed in fire. And then the space shuttle evaporating in an instant before our eyes. So I brought it closer to home, to feel it's horror in another way.
"Any Size Stone", Page 56, was based on everybody wanting something from me, at a time of hearing nothing but rabid noises echoing through moldy prison walls and how I just wanted to escape from its torture.
“The Feast for the Beast" page 36, was based on the people around me who glorified themselves in the wrongs they did, or should I say, we all did.
I could tell you the experiences in each one of these poems and what they were based on in my mind, but perhaps we should do this each time you published a new one because there are 158 poems. Each having its own deep experience reflected. 

Was anyone close to you who read The Deathercizer challenged to look at life from different perspectives?
I really cannot answer this question from another person's perspectives. But I get some challenging fearful eyes looking my way when they hear the name The Deathercizer. It’s as if I just shot someone. Although, after I recite a few poems, their perspectives change.
After publishing The Deathercizer did you go on to publish more anthologies? How many ideas were left over after your first publication was completed?
I have many ideas left over. Perhaps with the right spirit, and people in my life, you'll witness Punk Theatre, the musical. I'll make an ending sequel eventually. Maybe name the second anthology "Rezicrehtaed". Try to Google that word. It’s a title that the makes more sense when looking at it from a rearview mirror, meaning it is Deathercizer spelled backward.
My future as a successful writer dissolved one evening many years ago, when I decided to move five legal sized boxes of years upon years of my life's works of unpublished written materials, along with my original drawings of art, to the safety of my business office.
I had two of my staff personnel assisting me that evening when I decided to fill my car with gas, so that I could surprise them with dinner in the city, once we finished securing these works. After filling the tank and returning to pay the cashier, in an upstate town, I returned to the pump to find my staff standing there in a panic, where my car once stood. The vehicle was carjacked.
Three weeks later, the car was found, empty of all its contents, the suspects arrested, but everything was gone. All of my life's works gone in the blink of an eye, never to be found or enjoyed by others. It murdered my ambitions and goals. It was great stuff, stolen from the world's stage, by somebody who didn’t want to wait for the bus.
I blew it by not listening to that inner voice telling me to get gas later. It is strange that only The Deathercizer survived, after being left behind on the coffee table.

If you wanted to release a new anthology, how many of your poems would you publish in it? Would you publish it independently or perhaps look for a publishing company on the internet?
If you are referring to republishing The Deathercizer, I would put its pages in proper order to show that it is actually a story. Currently I made it a puzzle for its readers to figure out, which I've never told anyone about until now. I would delete a couple, if not rewrite them, if not just leave them as is. Any new publishing, I would do in a continuing series, and find a reputable company. I've never thought of an internet company. But I would do it only if it was to become a career choice, rather than continue starving.
How exactly did you intend The Deathercizer to read as a story? If you did decide to re-release it, how much editing would you have to do to present it as you first intended?
You’ll need the right key to open that locked door. I twisted The Deathercizer around so it’s like a Rubik’s Cube, to be solve by the intellect, but only the author knows for sure, since plagiarism never rests in the hearts of others.
Isn’t it a twisted game of poetry?
It would be simple for me to edit the book to its sequential pattern of flow. But to others, it would be like trying to figure out: “where is millionaire Forrest Fenn’s treasure of gold hidden?” Only Forrest knows for sure! Poetry is a puzzle, once you figure it out, it becomes your treasure, a key of life.

If you were to be remembered as a writer many years from now, how would you want to be remembered?
I would want to be remembered as a great writer with a uniquely creative style, who inspired the return to the Golden Ages, whose writings opened the spiritual consciousness of mankind. But that would be farfetched, since all my earlier works were destroyed by car thieves.
But at this point, I think I would be remembered as a J.K. Rawlings type, who came late but was very successful. However anyone wants to remember me, I hope it would be with love, fondness, that I had in some way inspired them to make their life worth living and create a better world, even a millions years from now, on the newly named earth called planet "C".

No comments:

Post a Comment