Daniel N. Flanagan Writing

Flood

& When I set up, sit down,

To write the next great American short story.

I have a drink,

Strictly to get the juices flowing.

& when the river halts, I flood it.

& when the dam bursts & putting paper to pen went in vain,

I celebrate my humanness.

It’s a give and take.

For the river always flows poem to paper;

Rarely story to paper.

But when it flows,

It is beautiful.

Jumper

“The only way you’d fall is if you jumped.”

That’s why you’re afraid of ledges

Because a tiny part of you wants to jump.

And you fear that man inside your head,

Telling you how easy life would finally be.

But I dangle off the ledge, because I’m not afraid.

I’m already dead.

https://www.createspace.com/4979586

Published 10/11/14.

Jumper

“The only way you’d fall is if you jumped.”

That’s why you’re afraid of ledges

Because a tiny part of you wants to jump.

And you fear that man inside your head,

Telling you how easy life would finally be.

But I dangle off the ledge, because I’m not afraid.

I’m already dead.

http://www.amazon.com/Edgar-Allan-Poet-Journal-2/dp/0985471557/ref=as_sl_pc_tf_til?tag=polyphpictur-20&linkCode=w00&linkId=H37YO7BZ556LFSFV&creativeASIN=0985471557

Republished by Edgar Allen Poet 08/30/14.

"Dead Man Writing," "Writer," and "He Who Writes" were published in mgv2>publishing's mgv2_77 "Pen is Envy" issue 06/21/14.

http://www.lulu.com/shop/walter-ruhlmann/mgv277-pen-is-envy-0714/paperback/product-21684472.html;jsessionid=74676973D7E94B055E62A30822A96846

Mental Illness

Ahh..

I love the idea of

Reading.

The author.

I’ve only read half of

The Bell Jar, but yet

I love Sylvia Plath.

The more you read of someone

The less you can romanticize about them

Except for Bud Light & Bukowski,

I’d rather keep their words inked to page.

An editor said,

“It would be more interesting to read about the

Origin of, not the present state of,

Suicidal depression.”

Well…

I’d like to understand the root of it

Too.

But until you pick apart and

Buy my beauties from me,

I can not fund such analysis.

#

How narcissistic is mental illness…

Hours of therapy, premium drugs, and

Thousands to find out 

How badly Mother & Father

Damaged you. While there are

Beaten prostitutes, like my sister Desiree.

Single alcoholic mothers, like my sister Marie.

#

And it’s amazing what the mind is capable of

How much it will repress.

Freud said our conscious mind is like the

Tip of an iceberg. While the subconscious mind is

The other 80%, buried deep down

And it is the forgotten memories which haunt,

Causing anxiety daily, without you knowing.

And that’s what my family is.

Knowing your own sister sucks dick, gets beaten by pimps in order to

Smoke crack &

Shoot dope in order to

Escape her own life, disables mine

Subconsciously. Thousands I must spend on my

Pompous mind just to feel real, while there are

Starving children and

Pretty girls on tv telling me

I should donate to save the crying animals as well,

Well, 10/10 I will choose me because

I cannot control the kittens or the whores

My family is blood but the river steadily streams,

Fleeting.

Hopefully I can fix me before I

Implode.

http://www.pyrokinection.com/2014/02/two-poems-by-daniel-n-flanagan.html

Originally published by Pyrokinection on 02/03/14.

https://www.createspace.com/4760014

Republished by Red Dashboard LLC on 05/17/14. (Available for print purchase.) 

*Photo by Twisted Root Studios

Drive Home

& what if our lives are nothing but a figment

Of someone else’s imagination

Our individual lives are all another individual’s dream

Everyone thinks they are unique though

Esoteric though

I wrote this at a red traffic light 

& it turned green & the sports car honked at me

With fury!

He has yet to realize he is not real.

I drove past picketers with political picket signs

& they were passionate about a dream

& so I honked at them

Gave a thumbs up to support another’s dream

We are all dreaming

But not all of us are dreamers.

http://www.pyrokinection.com/2013/12/a-poem-by-daniel-n-flanagan.html

Originally published by Pyrokinection on 12/22/13

http://www.stonepathreview.org/page/2014-spring-vol-03-issue-10/poetry-drive-home/

Republished by Stone Path Review 04/15/14.

Flood

& When I set up, sit down,

To write the next great American short story.

I have a drink,

Strictly to get the juices flowing.

& when the river halts, I flood it.

& when the dam bursts & putting paper to pen went in vain,

I celebrate my humanness.

It’s a give and take.

For the river always flows poem to paper;

Rarely story to paper.

But when it flows,

It is beautiful.

http://www.pagespineficshowcase.com/148/category/daniel%20n%20flanagan0e5bce7f84/1.html

Originally published by Page & Spine on 03/07/14.

Glasses

When I was a kid, I got glasses.

I chose not to wear them though.

I did not want to see the world as it truly was.

Did not want to see who was reflected

          in the mirror.

My pockmarked friends;

Every broad looked flawed,

#

I hid them in my cluttered closet,

And I rejoiced, reveling in

The life, God intended me to witness.

http://fiftywordstories.com/tag/daniel-n-flanagan/

Originally published by 50-Word Stories on 02/09/14.

$1

My life is like a one dollar bill

Collecting small victories and

Being built into a wad of

Cash. All singles for

All confidence is false. 

When one expenditure, one setback sits itself

Upon me, I am flush

Beaten and broke.

http://deadsnakes.blogspot.com/2014/02/daniel-n-flanagan-poem.html

Originally published by Dead Snakes on 02/08/14.

RawDanny

& I was watching youtube videos by RawSammi

& She was boring me and so

I envisioned my own world

I first thought , how nice it would be

If I had the disposable income to

Tear my house apart, everytime mania hit

Throw lamps threw walls and tv’s out windows.

And then a second thought invaded me

Flooded through me, How lucky I was!

I envisioned what my 1st hospital stay would be like,

One of the mental nature. I have

Romanticized this deeply. Damn you, Vizzini and the likes

I would be wearing dress shirt and tie

As to look more sane than the (in)sane, yes!

To prove them wrong and, mania hit and, I wanted not

To be trapped in there anymore, I shouted

“I’m a grown man! Let me out” to no avail

They rushed me with anvils in hand

I fought them ferociously, verociously, my mind made things up then

I was a fighter then

Punching the black man in the face. I had never punched a

Man before. I awoke later in a bed

Strapped. My panic returned.

It was 9 days later that my release was

Finalized and here I sit

Steady type type typing as the bats steady

Rap rap rap, rip apart my brain matter, as I

Take scissor to bracelet. Dive down and

Slice wrist

Bleeding this to you.

Raw.

http://www.pyrokinection.com/2014/02/two-poems-by-daniel-n-flanagan.html

Originally published by Pyrokinection on 02/03/14.

Tyler Durden

& I was staring and glaring

Glazed over and

Staring still

At my bright computer screen.

I blinked with force!

& she appeared before me

A subliminal message

Slipped into my subconscious vision

Ahh…but she was too slow!

I saw her this time round,

In a chair she sat

Slicing her wrist she was

Showing me she had no fear

I feared her

She appeared in black & white

And so I drained blue & white

Until my liver was black and my piss was

Red.

I turned up the volume and

Let Netflix alleviate my mind from

Life.

http://deadsnakes.blogspot.com/2014/01/daniel-n-flanagan-poem.html

Originally published by Dead Snakes on 01/30/14.

Internal Compromise of an Under-Edukated Narcissist

And I think the nighttime brings about

Promise. In all of us,

Right?

We are all going to compromise,

Capitulate…take that sub-par job; but

Morning comes and

Morning sun run through us, and

We are enlightened, inside as well and

Believe through much narcissism that we can,

And deserve much greater. The walk-on CEO in all us

(men) and it pains us that

Everynight is a repeat of

The night before, well…

Tonight. I think. I might.

Call that gas station tomorrow. And

Take that job.

Right?

http://thecamelsaloon.blogspot.com/2014/01/internal-compromise-of-under-edukated.html

Originally published by The Camel Saloon on 01/23/14.

About A Whore

& writer’s block hit me

My imaginary friends would not speak to me.

& so I drive down Main South in search of

A hooker to inspire me

I pulled up to a heel-wearing streetwalker and

Lured her into my vehicle, once I flashed some familiar faces.

I told her my true intentions, but she did not

Believe me! Eyes were rolled at me!

I gave her a love tap and told her to

Behave. She knew she had been a bad girl.

I asked the going rate for herpes-infused fellatio and

She told me 50, I haggled down to 30, but

She was going to swallow. I said

No! There must be a happy ending to my story!

And so I gave her an extra 10, to blow 10’s of millions all

Over her discount makeup.

A towel I provided, and a poem she did inspire.

http://blindvigilrevue.blogspot.com/2014/01/about-whore-writers-block-hit-me-my.html

Originally published by The Blind Vigil Revue on 01/20/14.

Niece

Cradled in your arms

Drowning

& Am I the only one

           Who feels cryptic at night?

Inspired by twilight downers

           Murdered by midnight demons?

It’s subjective, but

            Objectively speaking

There’s a squiggly line swimming across

            My blurry vision,

And a little girl squatting against

            My bedroom wall.

Laughing at me

My liver burns but,

She stays, staring & starry-eyed

Drowning

            To inebriate her

            Cripple her.

So neither of us can walk

Out the window.

http://deadsnakes.blogspot.com/2014/01/daniel-n-flanagan-two-poems.html

Originally published 01/14/2014 by Dead Snakes.

Dead-Man Writing

They say when you die,

Sobriety

Sneeze in my face and wish me health, wealth & happiness.

Through hell, I will find Heaven

For God has already blessed me

I am alive once again.

Amen.

http://www.original-writer.com/verse/poetrywriting72daniel.html

Originally published by Writer's Haven 01/11/14.

Deaf

And it’s the peace.

When the shower water rains,

And the shampoo invades ear canals

Blocking them.

Deafening me.

Hearing only muffled rainforest

Rain

And soft rock music

For in deafness, I am finally free.

http://www.original-writer.com/verse/poetrywriting72daniel.html

Originally published by Writer's Haven 01/11/14.

Twilight

But, what happened to the, you & me?

Babe,

It used to be…you & me

Now alone

I reach out to you,

Tell you I’ve changed.

But you’ve found another…

Didn’t you know, you were supposed to wait for me?

Alone & without a meaningful bone,

All too familiar to be alone,

The lonely loner every night.

As long as the candle wick burns,

& the page turns.

I will make it through the twilight,

Even with my lost love out of sight.

http://www.original-writer.com/verse/poetrywriting72daniel.html

Originally pulished by Writer's Haven 01/11/14.

Jumper

“The only way you’d fall is if you jumped.”

That’s why you’re afraid of ledges

Because a tiny part of you wants to jump.

And you fear that man inside your head,

Telling you how easy life would finally be.

But I dangle off the ledge, because I’m not afraid.

I’m already dead.

http://thecamelsaloon.blogspot.com/2014/01/jumper.html

Originally published by The Camel Saloon on 01/07/2014.

Hapless

No, not literary literature

There are few hidden meanings.

For why make you work further,

You’re already reading to escape

From your ordinary life, to my, object

I do not feel the need to cup breasts and fondle flamingos in order to analyze intelligence

Re-read and scrutinize me, for you will find nothing

In the recessed gardens of this straight forward, muddied mind

#

Beaver dam thoughts of a

Burst dam and

A man who is not

Still hiding in

#

The notorious shadow of his former

A man who

Need not remain nameless

For he is in front of you

Throughout me, 26 letters eating me.

http://www.pyrokinection.com/

Originally published by Pyrokinection on 01/04/14