Daniel N. Flanagan Writing
Posted on October 22, 2014 at 7:20 PM |
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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.
Posted on October 22, 2014 at 6:45 PM |
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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.
Republished by Edgar Allen Poet 08/30/14.
Posted on June 23, 2014 at 12:50 AM |
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"Dead Man Writing," "Writer," and "He Who Writes" were published in mgv2>publishing's mgv2_77 "Pen is Envy" issue 06/21/14.
Posted on May 17, 2014 at 5:15 PM |
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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.)
Posted on April 16, 2014 at 12:05 AM |
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*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.
Posted on March 7, 2014 at 2:50 AM |
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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.
Posted on February 10, 2014 at 1:40 AM |
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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.
Posted on February 8, 2014 at 3:45 PM |
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$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.
Posted on February 4, 2014 at 12:55 AM |
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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.
Posted on January 30, 2014 at 11:15 PM |
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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.
Posted on January 23, 2014 at 3:55 PM |
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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.
Posted on January 20, 2014 at 11:25 PM |
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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.
Posted on January 18, 2014 at 12:20 AM |
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Niece
Cradled in your arms
Posted on January 15, 2014 at 12:15 AM |
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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.
Posted on January 14, 2014 at 5:50 PM |
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Dead-Man Writing
They say when you die,
Posted on January 11, 2014 at 1:30 PM |
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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.
Posted on January 11, 2014 at 1:30 PM |
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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.
Posted on January 11, 2014 at 1:25 PM |
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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.
Posted on January 7, 2014 at 10:45 AM |
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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.
Posted on January 4, 2014 at 11:45 AM |
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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.
Originally published by Pyrokinection on 01/04/14