Open Mic at Art6 Gallery

Open Mic at Art6 Gallery

Tuesday, January 31, 2012


The worst part of writing fiction is the fear of wasting your life behind a keyboard.  The idea that, dying, you’ll realize you only ever lived on paper.  Your adventures were make-believe, and while the world fought and kissed, you sat in some dark room, masturbating and making money.

                                               - Chuck Palahniuk

Here I go again
staring at a blank screen
looking for the next words
to fill the white space.
it’s not what I want to be
doing tonight, but
I don’t have any other plans.
This blank page is my date
and we’ll converse about
anything my mind can conjure.

But solitude is not the way
to live one’s life.
It keeps creeping around
everywhere I go and I’m
finding myself standing in
a space all to myself,
unable to connect with humanity
and just walking around
like I was orbiting personal space
as a distant moon
up in the sky and far away
from the planets below.

So I dream up my own scenarios
and I put them down on paper
or type them up on my computer,
creating my own little universe
where I don't feel so alone.
So what do you do
when you feel that empty feeling
of solitude and your words
don't keep you warm at night?

Tuesday, January 24, 2012


definition - a rooster castrated so to improve its flesh for food

Dad shared with me
a story about my great grandmother
and how she raised capons,
getting money for them every Christmas.
She raised them in the yard,
aggressive birds turned docile
by altering their nature.
They grew and grew
and my dad told me
you could always tell when
the capons were coming by,
the sound of those birds
bounding across the yard,
growing heavy with time,
full of flesh that someone else
would eventually savor.
When they were ready,
my great grandmother
called the market to have crates
dropped off at the house.
She would load the birds up,
and they would be picked
and taken away.
A few days later,
she would get a check
for those capons,
just in time for Christmas

Monday, January 23, 2012


The hell with my diet.
The hell with watching calories
The hell with eating all the “right foods” all the time.
The hell with walking by the snack machine without getting a honey bun and a soda.
The hell with driving by the fast food places and not buying a burger.
The hell with throwing out all the junk food.
The hell with a refrigerator full of fruits and vegetables and juices.
The hell with smaller portions.
The hell with fat listings and carb listings and those other damn health listings.
The hell with all the doctors on TV telling me how I gotta eat healthy.
The hell with the newspaper reports, magazine reports, and Internet reports about how I can live longer.
The hell with exercise programs and TV shows about exercise programs.
The hell with all of that.

My girlfriend broke up with me.
So none of that matters right now.

Friday, January 13, 2012


I asked you if you were happy.
You said you were committed.

I should've told you then
they're not the same thing.

I know what you are.
You are faithful wife
and a loving mother.
But what about
the woman in you?
Is she happy?

Is there still a part of her
that wants to scream,
that wants to be elusive,
that wants to let her hair down
and run wild with
reckless abanadon?

I know you all too well.
That's what you've always
wanted, but something
or some things held you
back from going all out.
Now look at you.

Mrs. Domesticated.
Is there any resignation now
that maybe the freedom
you yearned for
may only be a
thing of the past?

A thing you'll have to
teach your children, hoping
they can feel the freedom
that you once desired,
that they can run wild
with reckless abandon?

Maybe then
you can see by the light
in their eyes that you
can still find the light in yours
and take the time
to dream.

Leaving The Program

In the end,
he felt this is what he had to do.
The ballyhooed high school star
was no more.  Instead stood
a young man looking to move on.
It didn't work out,
the dreams of being the
Big Man On Campus,
playing in front of full stadiums,
in front of TV audiences,
in front of Mom and Dad,
beaming proud that their child
was starring in the spotlight.
But none of that happened.
Instead he spent his time
on the sidelines
signaling in plays.
Sure, he worked hard
and studied
and lifted
and prepared with his teammates.
But the starting nod always
seemed to pass him by.
Now he sees the reality of it all.
It didn't work out,
another boyhood dream
drained of life by the machine
of a big-time college program.
He's trying not to leave
feeling any regrets
for he does have a degree in his hand,
and friendships to last a lifetime,
and is a part of a football family.
But one has to wonder
if there could've been more.
It doesn't matter now.
He's decided to go on with his life.
People back home told him
to not forget about them
when he made it.
Now he just hopes they
don't forget about him
because he didn't.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

25% Savings on "Nice Guys Finish Last"

Posted on my e-mail.  My novel "Nice Guys Finish Last" can be purchased online for 25% off by using the coupon code posted below.  Just go to and check out "Nice Guys Finish Last" by Vernon Wildy, Jr.

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She Can Still Dream (Her Response)

If I could,
I would just run away
and let my hair down.
I would dream my dreams
and live my life with
reckless abandon and
without inhibitions.

But these are things
that I can no longer allow
to cloud my mind.
I have greater responsibilites
that require me to
stay where I am
and be those things.

To be the faithful wife,
to be the loving mother,
to give all that I have
to these roles because
my life has more people
counting on me
to be here.

I know what I wished for
and maybe one of these days
I can pursue those dreams.
But to chase them now
would only be selfish on
my part and right now,
I can't be selfish.

My dream now
is to let my children
dream for themselves,
let them run with
reckless abandon and
without inhibtions.
That will make me happy.

Monday, January 2, 2012

Faceless and Shapeless Beings

In a sea of
faceless and shapeless beings,
your eyes and curves
caught my attention.

and now I want
to say something to
let you know that
I like what I see.

But I find myself
caught halfway between
making a move and
staying a step back

So forgive me if I seem
a bit on the cautious,
But I’ve been burned
on both sides of the fence

and I don’t like the
feeling of fire on my ass.
So maybe I’ll have to send
some sort of signal

or flare or smoke sign
or something to get your attention
to look my way,
to see me swimming

in this sea of
faceless and shapeless beings
and hopefully you can see me
the way I see you.