Categotry Archives: Poetry


New Poem: “In Winter”

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Categories: Poetry, Tags: , , , ,

In winter, our lives rearrange.

The light shifts

and we scratch away our mange.

In winter, our days shrink.

The light shifts

and we have nary a moment to think.

In winter, our pain expands.

The light shifts

and we struggle to meet demands.

In winter, our hope grows.

The light shifts

and we hear echoes of barbeques in the snows.

In winter, our hearts melt.

The light shifts

and we learn to love the hands we’re dealt.


New Poem: “Veils”

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Categories: Poetry, Tags: , , , , , , , , ,


Veils make the beautiful even more so

and the ugly beautiful

Obscuring flaws and highlighting perfection

The gentle slope of a nose

a mountain.

The rounded globe of a cheek

a hill.

The long, smooth line of a throat

a river.

The fog covers a field

in a thin, silken veil.

The budding plants peek out

like sultry, smoky eyes.

When the veil is drawn

the crop reveals its nurturing bounty.

Clouds cover the eyes of the sky

The sun and moon staring, unblinking

down on the Earth

Wispy, white lace obscuring, but not concealing,

the face of the heavens

The beautiful curve of the hills

matched by the smooth, blue face

of the sky

makes a Hellenic beauty

unmarred, unblemished by make-up

caked and piled high

So many plastic babes in our modern world

the face of the Earth is refreshing

to look upon, yet only through the veil

of mist and vapor


New Poem: “Black Cherry”

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Categories: Poetry, Writing, Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

Yes, it’s about hair dye. Sort of. And yes, it was inspired by a certain Type O Negative song.

Black Cherry

She used to dye it black; she had the blues.
Lacy gowns and scaring all of the dudes.
‘Twas All Hallow’s Eve; we didn’t look back.
Oh, one last time to dye it all black.

Now this phoenix’s rising, it’s still true;
Oh, Lilly Munster’s got nothing on you.
So now you’ve taken on a lighter hue.
That Black Cherry looks goddamn good on you.

Well, if you wanna go out, it don’t matter if your roots are showing.
Yeah, you can go out to remind yourself where you’re going.
Just don’t dye it black.
You can’t go back.

Loving you, ’cause we’re both undead.

Black, black, black cherry, oh.


Moar H8

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Categories: Poetry, Randomness, Rant, Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

While I can appreciate the goals of the NOH8 Campaign, I think they might have it wrong; we don’t need less hate, we need more, and we need to direct it at the right things. Not sure what the right things to hate are? Don’t worry! I’m here for you:

  • Hate intolerance. Having an answer to the question of life, the universe, and everything else is great. Using that answer to treat humans different from yourself like garbage is odious.
  • Hate violence. Animals resolve disputes with claws and fangs. Beating a problem down is a sure sign one is the intellectual equivalent of a beast.
  • Hate gingers. I believe Trey Parker and Matt Stone have done a good job on this topic, so no further explanation from me is needed. See also; Brian Campbell.
  • Hate greed. Enlightened self-interest is OK. In fact, it’s a moral obligation to improve yourself and your situation. It’s not OK to crush the less fortunate under your heel as you climb to the top, however.
  • Hate dishonesty. A hurt delivered immediately is still painful, but far less so than one with months of deceit piled on top.
  • Hate excuses. There is a difference between an excuse and an explanation. Learn to see excuses for what they are, and unleash your ire when given one.
  • Hate hating hate. Those who claim to hate hate are either ignorant of the basics of English composition, or lying assholes. Either way, they should be avoided and shunned.

Of course, with your hate properly channeled, it’s important to remember that other humans are never a valid target of your hate. Hate what they say; hate what they do; but treat the people themselves with love, or at least indifference.

Conveniently enough, I wrote a poem regarding hate shortly before getting the inspiration (a NOH8 twibbon on someone’s avatar) for this post. I’ll finish off, then, with the poem. As always, I appreciate every piece of feedback I get.

Holding On To Our Hate

Because they were whores

who cared not for their kids,

we’ve lost our mothers,

so we’re holding on to our hate.
Because we borrowed more

than we could beg or steal,

we’ve lost our homes,

so we’re holding on to our hate.
Because we weren’t shown

the right way to love,

we’ve lost our wives,

so we’re holding on to our hate.
Call it pain, wrath, or rage,

the answer’s always the same.

When everything else washes away,

we’ve got no one else to blame.
Because our fathers never

showed us how to be men,

we’ve lost our strength,

so we’re holding on to our hate.
Because we played Doom

for hours on end,

we’ve lost our control,

so we’re holding on to our hate.
Because his pain was too great

for antacids to kill,

we’ve lost our Voice,

so we’re holding on to our hate.
Call it pain, wrath, or rage,

the answer’s always the same.

When everything else washes away,

we’re left with nothing but shame.
Because our leaders lied

time and time again,

we’ve lost our trust,

so we’re holding on to our hate.
Because we smoked and snorted

and shot up too much,

we’ve lost our sanity,

so we’re holding on to our hate.
Because our priests betrayed

their most sacred vows,

we’ve lost our faith,

so we’re holding on to our hate.
Call it pain, wrath, or rage,

the answer’s always the same.

When everything else washes away,

we’re holding on to our hate.



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Categories: Poetry, Tags: , , , , , ,

The dragonfly is flitting to and fro! My poem, “Dragonfly,” has now been published in Writer’s News Weekly (first publication), the Fall 2010 edition of Rock Valley College’s Voices art and literature magazine, and at Fictionaut. I’m proud of the little guy!

This is one of my best poems, if I do say so myself. If you have a moment, please give the piece a gander and share your thoughts with me. My fragile artist’s ego could use a boost after the lousy week I’ve had. Thanks in advance.


October Means Win


Categories: Poetry, Writing, Tags: , , , , ,

I’m very pleased to announce acceptance of my poem “Dragonfly” as a featured piece by Writer’s News Weekly. Writer’s News Weekly is dedicated to “writing something worth reading; doing something worth writing about.” I’m honored and humbled the WNW team considers my work worthy of that lofty aspiration. The poem they chose, “Dragonfly,” was inspired by one of those wonderfully random moments that remind me the world is full of beauty despite its ugliness. To read the poem, click the banner below.


I am also featured in this month’s issue of From A Writer’s POV magazine. The article includes my poem “Dagger In The Sky.” My favorite quote from the piece is the very first sentence: “Darius McCaskey sees the world in a vastly different manner than most people…” That’s probably one of the most flattering things anyone has ever said about me. If you’d like to read the complete article, and my poem, “Dagger In The Sky,” click here.

Of course, if you like those poems, you should pick up a copy of my debut poetry book, Angst & Wrath. It’s available in print and electronic versions from all major online outlets, including the iBookstore, Amazon, and Smashwords. You can also add the book to your lists on Goodreads by clicking the nifty widget over there —————————>


New Poem: “Genocide City Zone”

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Categories: Angst & Wrath, Poetry, Writing, Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

It occurs to me that I’ve not posted a new poem in quite some time. As I’ve started running Google ads to promote my poetry writing, it seems prudent to put some fresh poems online. This post does just that.

This poem, “Genocide City Zone,” was originally published in the Voices literary magazine of Rock Valley College. In fact, it was written specifically for inclusion in that journal. I reprinted “Genocide City Zone” in my chapbook, Angst & Wrath.

The name “Genocide City Zone” was rejected as a level name in one of the original Sonic the Hedgehog games on the Sega Genesis. When I read about the name being cut from the game, it stuck with me. Several months later, this poem was produced. The title and theme is very reminiscent of a Rush song (Red Sector A, anyone?).

So, without further ado, I present you “Genocide City Zone.”

Genocide City Zone

Welcome to the genocide city zone

I’m sure you’ll enjoy your stay

We’ve been killing folks here

All the live-long day

If you want to join us

You’ll have to pay the price

Your soul’s the cost, so ante up

C’mon and shoot the dice

Welcome to the genocide city zone

Everyone’s dying to get in

Ignore your guilty conscience

Though Jesus says it’s sin

If you do not join us

You’ll have to pay the price

Sacrifice your life tonight

To our deadly new device

Welcome to the genocide city zone

Check out time is soon

We only stop once a day

To eat our lunch at noon

If you want to join them

We’re happy to grant your request

Just remember this one thing:

We kill ’em with the best


New Poem: “The Soft, Cool Blanket of Night”

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Categories: Poetry, Writing, Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

For the record, I love ancient Greek literature/ mythology. I read Oedipus Rex for what has to be at least the twentieth time the other day. I started reading it again mostly because I wanted to double-check the spelling of “Tiresias,” but once I started, I had to finish the story. Of course, I knew what was coming, but watching the tragedy unfold, seeing the inevitability of it, is what makes the story great.

For your reading pleasure, I present a poem that features some Greek mythological references. I hope you enjoy it. As always, your feedback is welcome and encouraged.

The Soft, Cool Blanket of Night

wrap me in the soft, cool blanket of night.
the moon peers down at me
like the heavy-lidded eye of some cyclops.
and if I be lost like poor Odysseus,
cloak me in the soft, warm wool of night.
and if my eyes fail me like old Tiresias,
stitch the cloth with the needles of the king,
and wrap me in the soft, cool wisdom of night.
and if the trees reach out for me
like the souls of the dead,
blanket me in the soft, cool mists of the Styx.
wrap me in the soft, cool blanket of night.

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