June 15th: Scarred Canvas Release Date Review

The day has finally arrived. Many thanks to Underground Voices, editor C.Powell, and the wonderfully gifted artist Cecilia Ferreiara. All have combined their efforts to help make "Scarred Canvas" a great book. If the book fails on any level, the blame can only be placed upon my shoulders.

Victoria Hooper is the editor of Pulluto, the award winning print journal from the UK. It is known for its specualtive fiction, artwork...and my occasional articles or poems. If you haven't read a copy yet, I strongly encourage you to do so.

I sent Victoria a text of "Scarred Canvas" asking for a review. My only condition was (good or bad) I wanted honesty. I am not sure I needed to say that to someone like Victoria, but I said it nonetheless.

"There are little points of haunting beauty in every poem, no matter how grim the subject, that show that life can be cruel and spectacular at once. I don’t think the poems, grim and hard-hitting as they are, would have meant quite as much without these moments." --Victoria Hooper

Complete Review: Vicky Thinks: Scarred Canvas

"The only reason a man has to write poetry is to hang on, that's how poetry “saves” a poet, tight to the end of the rope, while below us is the maw of oblivion. RC's poetry has kept him breathing, & us listening at that edge of a thread, or needle, thank fucking God." -- Ron Androla 

"Edrington is a distinct voice that could be best described as post-modern beat." -- John Mingay 

"...these poems explode from the page as shrapnel, lodged in the mind for days." --Stephen Byrne, The Ranting Beast

Scarred Canvas

Paperback: 66 pages

Publisher: Underground Voices 6-15-13

Language: English

ISBN-10: 098304564X

ISBN-13: 978-0983045649

Amazon: Scarred Canvas

Promo Page: Underground Voices

Facebook Page: Sarred Canvas Book

Seems a copy of "Introducing The Hobo Poets", a collection of 5 UK poets, and I. Has become somewhat of a collector item. I have found 1 copy avaiable for $39.96 on Amazon.com from the book seller Serendipity UnLtd, in Delaware: The Hobo Poets 

We?

Some of us reach a point where only one thing matters in our life. Our environment goes "poof". People? Gone. There are figments that drift around us. Ghosts that are inseparable from each other. One thing remains.

Some of us are able to start doing a thing because it's fun and walk away when it stops being fun. Some of us do a thing that is no longer fun, yet can't stop. People a hell of a lot more interesting than us write a song about it. They refer to it as the ritual. Some of us just scribble down the phrase then use it so often it becomes ours. We often forget that it isn't. Others refer to it as "the cure". Some simply call it what it has become. Medicine. Not taking it makes you so sick you can physically die from it. Some do. Some need to be "rescued".

Some of us reach a circlular hole.

Some reach a point that they cannot come back from. Some of us are hurt by that every fucking day and can't let go. Some of us are able to understand that the hurt only contibutes to a pathway. A path that leads to a point we don't know why we end up on time after time. With each step we believe we are moving forward. Some of us are actually trapped inside a circle.

Some of us reach a circular hole we spin around in digging deeper.

We are able to drag ourselves out of the circle. We don't know why. We do know we have always returned there. To some it only takes minutes to slide back in. Some of us are able to steal years at a time. We then fall. We don't know why. We do know day after day it will happen. It does.

Crawl out for 3 years. Fall back in. Crawl out for almost 10 years, Fall back in. Pause. It will repeat at any moment. Wait.

Some of us reach a circular hole we spin around in digging deeper. Some of us can see a rope. Touch it. Grab at it.

Some of us need to lose this damn concept that we are dissecting ourselves and are able wave some kind of bullshit magic wand and do it all the time and "poof" we do it again.

STOP! Stop doing that again. Stop hiding behind words, come out and just state the thing you do. ADMIT you have no idea why it happens. Walk the hell away from all that bullshit. All of you get back to the circle. Wait.

no 

Yes

no?

Yes

n...

Some of us reach a circular hole we spin around in digging deeper. Some of us can see a rope. Touch it. Grab at it. Some of us can see a rope. Touch it. Grab at it. Some of us catch a rope. Some of us find ourselfs outside of a circular hole.

Some of reach a circular hole.

Poppy Tinged Kiss

2013 promises to be a banner year for my "poetry". "Scarred Canvas" will be released June 2013 to outstanding reviews. Normally reviews mean nothing to me. These reviews however, have come from people I respect and read. I hope everyone will grab a copy upon release by Underground Voices Press.

I've also just put the fimishing touches on my next book (let's hope the editor agrees) "Poppy Tinged Kiss". It is much too early to announce a publication date, so stay tuned for more information. For a sample, here is the poem from which I took the books title:

Poppy Tinged Kiss


I didn't intend 
to miss you more 
than the few moments 
it took to wrinkle  
2-3 t-shirts 
& a torn pair of jeans 
into a rucksack
  
1000 miles away
& 230 days of memory 
the flop houses 
are just as crowded 
the sex even more 
meaningless 
than the sugar cut 
heroin my veins 
still ache for 

but on some nights Bridgett 
when candlelight bends 
at a perfect angle 
I catch a tiny glimpse 
of your face 
in the Meth glossed eyes 
of teenage girls 
who spread wide 
their souls 
& legs 
before the gods 
of this street life

& wish not 
that you were here 
but that I  
for one final time 
could melt into 
your bloodstream 
like a warm  
poppy tinged kiss