Single Zombie Female

Had a charity event tonight to raise money for the Meals on Wheels program that helps feed the elderly and disabled. Zombie Logic Press and Rockford Illustrating donated art and books for the silent auction, including a copy of our latest book, The Blood Dark Sea, by outlaw poet Dennis Gulling. Our basket did quite well, raising over $200 for Lifescape. I wish we could do that well in sales for ourselves, but it is nice to know at least one’s work benefits someone.

That “Downtown” art seems to appeal to the East Siders

So, here are a few more poems from Dennis Gulling’s book The Blood Dark Sea

HER FATHER

After her mother

Was killed in a car accident

Her father came quietly apart

At night she could hear him

Walking around downstairs

From room to room

Talking to himself and crying

He didn’t go bowling

Or turn on the tv anymore

Just sat in his chair

And looked out the window

She tried to be there for him

But there just wasn’t

Enough of him left to save

One night he drank a big glass of port

Got dressed in his only suit

Put her mother’s wedding ring in his pocket

And walked into Lake Wautoosa

He didn’t leave a note

Just an ace of hearts

Torn in half

On the kitchen table

JACK & KARL

When the cops pull them over

Jack and Karl are both wearing

Wedding gowns with swastikas

Painted on the sleeves

With day-glo orange paint

Calliope music blasted

From the tape deck

And the pig in the back seat

Was banging its snout

Against the window

Squealing to get out

Just before the officer

Reached the car

Jack leaned over and said to Karl

Now remember

Just act like nothing’s wrong

KNIFE

She saw the knife

In her dreams

Weeks before anything happened

It was a non-descript butcher knife

Sticky with blood

Like the one her father

Took in the heart

When he surprised a burglar

15 years before

She was the one who found him first

And was playing with his hair

When her mother came in the room and screamed

That’s all she remembers about that night

But the dreams keep it all alive

She woke up one morning

With a knife at her side

Her mouth was wet with a salty fire

Blood caked her lips and chin

She went into the bathroom

Stuck her tongue out at the mirror

And saw the gash she made

When she frenched the blade

KITTREY

Kittrey was laughing

When Doris pulled

A knife on him

She knew he’d

Just been paid

And had $600

In his pocket

She slashed the air blindly

Till the blade met its mark

He laughed harder then

And slapped the knife

From her hand

He grabbed her

With both arms

And kissed her hard

She could taste

His blood on her lips

And started laughing too

One of The Big Cheese’s favorite movies is The Monster Club, the 1981 Amicus Sword and Sorcery productions classic anthology horror movie from the book by R Chetwynd Hayes. When the movie came out, and for a couple of decades afterwards it was little esteemed, often mocked, and not seen for the gem of horror anthologies it has since become.

The movie was directed by Roy Ward Baker, who also directed The Seven Brothers Meet Dracula and Asylum. It was shown as episode 66 of Elvira’s Movie Macabre. In the movie Vincent Price portrays a vampire named Aramus who coincidentally puts the bite on author R Chetwynd Hayes, who is out for an evening walk. Being a fan, and feeling he owes Hayes something, he offers to take him to a club where his monster friends all meet. There are werewolves, ghouls, and creatures much too revolting for the delicate sensibilities of humans. Hayes is played by John Carradine. The two adjourn to the Monster Club, where Carradine sees a Monster’s Genealogical Chart on the wall and asks about the monsters.

Price answers, and begins to spin the first of the three tales, about a pitiful monster that comprises the low run of the monster hierarchy, The Shadmock. A Shadmock must never whistle. If they do….

It is important in group settings to get certain mental patients to externalize and transfer unconscious traumas and fixations onto the therapist, and in some cases, other members of the group. It will not harm others as it is analogous to a member of another species sneezing on one. Since one is not subject to those viruses the process may be messy, but ultimately harmless. Getting people to write poetry is one way to draw out these underlying traumas and perversions of the soul. 

Poetry has always been a useful diagnostic and therapeutic tool for recovery from certain mental illnesses like kleptomania and nymphomania. It is certainly safer for a nymphomaniac to write a poem than to become prey to an unscrupulous therapist using the old Steely Dan to calm the nerves as was done in ages past. Fortunately we have come a long way in psychiatry and can have patients simply write about their sexual desire to have sex with the therapist rather than engaging in that particularly revolting act.

I experienced sleep paralysis the first time when I was 18. What a horror. To be paralyzed and have the feeling an evil entity was standing there right next to you. 

I recently watched the documentary The Nightmare on Netflix, and although I didn’t feel I learned anything new or scientifically relevant about sleep paralysis, I did identify with some of the descriptions of the phenomenon. I believe whatever horrific entity we believe is visiting us depends primarily on our own inner fears. Some see aliens, some see demons, some see shadowy figures. The response seems uniform, though. Terror. 

Artist Jenny Mathews of Rockford Illustrating has captured that fear in this illustration, done for Halloween.

Issue #1 of Outsider Poetry Magazine is on the shelves. The cyber shelves, so to speak, because this new literary review, like many others, only published an online version. Edited by Charles Krauthammer, Outsider Poetry Magazine is off to a rolicking start with a poem by perhaps the world’s best known outsider poet, Thomas L. Vaultonburg.

For some reason there have always been those who are at odds with society in every way, including art and poetry. Artists and poets that even within the seemingly non-convention acknowledging sphere of the arts can’t seem to conform to any set of guidelines or rules that might inhibit the expression of their work in any way.

These are the kinds of poets and artists Charles Krauthammer hopes to publish as editor of Outsider Poetry Magazine. Himself a non-conformist, Krauthammer once peed into a toilet in a public place with the seat down. He did not apologize for his actions. It’s this type of rebellious spirit that inundates each and every page of this new publishing venture. 

Wikipedia already hails Outsider Poetry Magazine  as one of the pre-eminent arts journals of 2015. And Outsider Poetry Wikia will soon recognize the new magazine as a powerhouse packed full of good things and stuff that is good for you and maybe some nougat. 

Well, the second half of the Bears’ first preseason game is about to start, and I don’t want to miss that. Here’s a picture of Outsider Poetry Magazine editor Charles Krauthammer. 

(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VXLvnJXvjug)

(via https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JXasJMoXy1k)

As well as being the world’s leading Xenobiologist, Dr. Millard Rausch is also an Outlaw Poet. The Dirty Tricks Squad is happy to have been granted access to three of his poems from his book Flesh Wounds, published by Zombie Logic Press in 2011. Here’s a picture of something…

Warehouse

Old Toothless Thinks poetry Is for queers. “That shit You write ever Get you laid?” He asks with Jealousy and contempt. He’s no different Than dozens of Stock characters I’ve worked with In warehouses Trucks and bars. If they only knew How much business Their beer-drugged Cocks and flaccid Humanity sent My way.

The Winter Collection

A collection of jewelry Piles up by the bed- A jade ring, several earrings, A titanium stud I Inadvertantly pulled out Of one’s nipple with My teeth. The bathroom is littered With creams, potions And unclaimed toothbrushes. On occasion one will See another’s socks, Panties or hair thingamajigs Laying around and sniff Like an indignant cat. I make no attempt To hide the evidence. Hell, I’m all set If I ever decide to Become a crossdresser.

Contraband