Voices – Journal 11/19/18

This month has marked another good turning point in a couple of spheres for myself.

Photography: getting paid for it. Drones? Repaired and able to fly (after demonstrating what is undoubtedly amazing electrical engineering skills by having a battery explode in my hands). Website? On point, with a better layout and more effective front page. A copy of Microsoft Office so I can actually be productive on my machine? What does this mean exactly?

One of the things I’ve struggled to take care of is actually come up with a publication that’s somewhat all-encompassing of my work. Something for the drone side, the photography side, the poetry side, and even the short story side. Since I have an idea of where the Deneb Mythos are going and Reality City is alive on the site and in the airwaves, I can sit down and come up with a publication that at least covers my bases for the big three. Poetry, drones, and photography.

So that’s good. A step in the right direction. That, and another step has been made towards backing up RRC on as much as possible again. Now, this includes Betaflight, and all my drone flash memory files. As well as stuff from professional portraiture. Never before has Radio Reality City been known to have that in its portfolio, but it does now, and I have indeed gotten a couple of gigs here and there.

But there is one phenomenon still looming that I am quite afraid of. My poetry output has waned to the point that ‘one a day’ posting is no longer feasible for the long term. As you’ve likely noticed, I haven’t had a lot of stuff to put up in the name of photography either outside of recent shoots. I still don’t have a super well-defined release schedule for broader lengths of content overall. The ideal is to have a M-T-W-Th-F schedule of content centered around different aspects of Radio Reality City, my setup for it just isn’t concrete yet.

Unfortunately for the site, but fortunately for me, I’ve been able to do a lot day-to-day, so the times that come to pass for being able to focus on content here comes about just once or twice a week.

shrouded edit

Because stuff like this is what I’ve been up to! I’ve gotten much better at overall composition, direction, and editing of photos in the last few weeks. It’s been a while since October, but that’s okay. It’s happening now. I’m doing work!

I hope that’s enough for an update. If you happen to be a regular (or anyone, really), feel free to peruse the writing page and flick through some of those short stories. If you’re looking for some reading material, I am always looking for feedback on execution of these things. In what will hopefully be a slight petering out of content, I would love to see my short stories grow into a respectable side of Radio Reality City.

Thanks for tuning in, as always, and continue to consume reality!

Radio Reality City!





Fields of wheat weave silent
Sitting rooted something thin

Wind threading in and out
Nothing stirs above but when

The war ends

Sits a lone gunslinger
Shell shocked pain reaver

Jacket yellow as the crops
Copper soil but the plots

Where bodies bled out
And brown uniforms turned

To mulch

Overworked by the ruin
Wrought by the struggle

Wheat whips in wind
Around the gun wielder

Had a deathwish that
Ended when he didn’t

Knew nothing but shooting
Now staring at irony

This was the last fight
He needed to fight

Watching the sun set
Over the meadows
Staring at cliché

Alone with the moment that
Came after guns stopped


After all
The guns
Stopped clapping


I haven’t felt so normal
In so long

I guess it only makes sense
That after having you over
I get to wake up to abnormal
When I roll over and you

Aren’t there


Look on and despair
Deep sea serpents
And articulate devils

I am the true

And you will
Understand fear

Ellensberg Omen

You can’t but see the haze
Lung irritating
Trees on horizon hills
Lay cloaked, beyond still

A leak below
Spitting sulphur
Into a crystal sky
To turn smokey quartz

What was once beautiful
Is now still in a different form
Now torn the ground
And make leak the unfound

All the birds call
For any port in this storm
Tracking the air
Like veins in a hand

Reaching with their wings
Through the choking
Air caked with grime

Before the world returns
To a façade of
Smokey quartz
And no sanctuary in ports

Just a burn and purge
Just the cleansing smoke
Snuffing a citrine
Starless sky to silence

Off in the distance
There stirs nothing
For the weak find their
End in an air of quartz

Ancestral Shrines

I’m trying to invoke the spirit of autumn
With you
Trying to tie up all these loose threads
And bind rocks together
In the shrines we’ve built
Out in the woods
To remember what
We’ve left behind

Never dying like
Those falling leaves

Just another place to worship
How we got to where we are
Before we move on

Lake Crescent

Leaves lying on the
Surface of a lake crescent
Floating by in
Nitrogenless currents

Clouds compact
Sky drips into water

Still floating on by
A stem and petal carefree


Hell broke the back
Of the beast I’m fighting
But I can still see
The savage is biting

So if I have to curl a hand
And strike it in a spree
I’ll beat it with my fists
‘Till it’s dead and not dying


Far away from any city
There is but cloth and blood

Under no pretension
But release of such
Orgasmic silence
In being isolated

No rest for the wicked
No comfortable place

Yet so together
The world turns
Without us and
Time flies like

Circling their prey

A domineering call
Over night and day

Radio waves crash unto coast
Forward unto dusk
And burning it all
So drastically away

There is but blood
On the beach

But sand and our feet
But stars we can see

Supernovae all we can hear
Bone conducted
For we have no ears
As that sense has left us

It’s more about what
Scavenger eyes spy

What their feathers feel
What hollow bones sing
As they compress
And torque

So much music
In our bodies
As we
Listen to

Bloodful iron run
And raven suns

Making our
Senseless bodies
Under silent
Mechanisms release

Senseless silence an
Overwhelming way to see