Agreeing to disagree is avoiding the problem. There are some issues that warrant a difference of opinion and others that are absolute in nature. Some matters to be debated: taxes, healthcare, the salaries of politicians. Some matters that are absolute: equal rights for all, saving the environment, knowing that the following performance is mediocre at best, but contains a highly important message.
If you can’t listen, you can’t change. If you can’t change, you can’t move forward. If you can’t move forward, think about where that leaves you.
Enjoy, share, cringe at my voice, but no matter how it makes you feel, listen.
With the start of a new year, I am happy to announce that I’ve got several projects in the works. While a few may take years, others may be out in 2021! It all depends on how busy I remain at my back-up job of bookselling. The first book that might make it to the shelves this year will be another collection of poetry called She Loves Me, She Loves Me Not. This is a poem that will be in the collection and to be honest, one of my favorites so far. Enjoy!
Mother Nature’s Divorce
She’s hopeless, you know.
How many times has She
tried to kick him out now?
He keeps saying he’ll change,
the lying drunk,
the destructive fuck.
“I’ll do better,
I’ll clean up my act,
I’ll plant a tree.”
His flowery language
sure to wilt
by the last breath
of his drastic lilt.
She got mad, sure.
She threw it all at him,
the vase, the heat,
the viral masterpiece.
He dodged left, then right,
then finally brought to his knees,
his face, a mask, of death,
uttered words to please.
“I love You, it’s true,
I couldn’t live without You.”
I keep hoping She’ll change
because I know without a doubt,
She could be surprised
at what She can live without.
©Autumn Siders 2020
Available in bookstores everywhere! Support your local independent stores and get yourself a copy. If you can’t make it to a store, or don’t have a great independent near you, you can purchase a copy here. It’ll make a great stocking stuffer and more importantly, it will make you laugh!
Shake up Shakespeare with this humorous tale of the human reproductive system. You may know the story of “two star-crossed lovers,” but you haven’t heard a “tale of more woe, than this of Juliegg and her Spermeo.” Characters from several different works by the Bard come together in this play that is not only witty, but educational. If you have ever wanted to know more about how babies are made (or not made), there is no better way to learn than through tragic characters and iambic pentameter. This is a tale, truly older than time! *Bonus material from Emilita!*
No one ever means to fall in love; it just happens. Cliché, I know. In all my years roaming the earth, I was always under the assumption that it would never happen to me. But in all those years, I have learned never to assume.
I was born in New Town, Pennsylvania in 1757. I was born a free black man, which didn’t mean much in the mid-eighteenth century. If anything, I had to be more careful. Sometimes, I thought that white men only gave privileges so that they could take them away one day. I guess that’s true of anyone in power.
I was luckier that most though. My mother died in childbirth, and I was taken in by a peaceful Quaker family. This would not have been the case for most black men, but my mother was white and as long as I kept my mouth shut and worked hard, folks would look past my less-than-white skin. By look past, I mean it was as if I didn’t exist at all.
I came of age during a time when revolution was stirring and a new nation was blooming. I longed to be a part of the action, but my adoptive family frowned on violence. They weren’t loyalists, but many of the Quaker families in the area were. They didn’t believe in British rule; they just didn’t want to rock the boat.
Shortly after my eighteenth birthday, news reached us that the war had begun. British troops had attacked colonists in Massachusetts. More importantly, the colonists fought back that day. Tensions were high, and despite my Quaker upbringing and my family’s objections, I wanted to be a part of the revolution. I was one of those foolish enough to believe that freedom from the British would mean freedom for all.
That summer, I joined the associators when they regrouped. It felt good to be involved in the cause, however, I was merely enlisted as the help. All anyone seemed to do was talk while I was busy serving these talking men. I couldn’t have been farther away from the action. This didn’t stop my family from wanting nothing to do with me.
A year went by, and then excitement came to New Town. General Washington made his headquarters in town after a battle at Trenton. Riding on the coattails of victory and finally seeing my opportunity to join the war on the frontlines, I officially enlisted and traveled with Washington’s men to Morristown for the winter.
My three years in the continental army were both exhilarating and disappointing. I had many close calls and almost lost my life to smallpox. I returned home to New Town a changed and defeated man. The excitement I once craved left a bitter taste in my soul. I had seen death and brought death to many, and there was nothing exciting about either.
I got a job on a farm outside town and decided that my Quaker upbringing hadn’t been all that bad. It wasn’t peace with the world that I needed, but rather peace with myself. As it turns out, personal wars can be endless and all-consuming too.
Read the full story in Not My Type, which goes on sale June 9th!
© Autumn Siders 2020
Man killed by man
and no one bats an eye.
Instead, he wipes a tear
while innovating fresh ways to die.
Man starves alone
and everyone turns an eye.
One man’s despair
is another man’s high.
Man faces Her
and it opens up his eyes
as Mother Nature levels
all mankind’s lies.
© Autumn Siders 2020
Long ago, I had a poll asking my readers to choose my next writing prompt. After the winner was selected, “Be not afraid of the dark and a song on the radio will reveal a deception,” I quickly started writing the story. However, I did not quickly finish writing the story. I do make good on my promises though, and the story is now finished (minus a little editing work)! I took a little liberty with the original prompt, but that’s just where the story ended up going; I had no control.
The full story will be published in my upcoming collection this spring, but for now, here is a little sneak peak!
Keep busy, thought Morgan. From her cubicle, she had the best view of her torturer. Slowly his hands ticked, leaving a fresh scar on Morgan’s mind as they carried out their punishment. Only two hours to go until the vacation of a lifetime and he chose now to move the slowest he ever had. These two hours would drag on forever if Morgan couldn’t find something to keep her occupied.
In her excitement, she had been the most productive at work that she had ever been. In addition to finishing all her reports, she had also cleaned her desk and organized all the files anyone might need access to in her two-week absence. It wasn’t often she took a vacation. In fact, the last time she was able to get away was just for a weekend three years ago. Her college roommate had a Vegas wedding and while she was happy to leave the windy city for a while, the booze-filled weekend could hardly be called a vacation.
This would be different for Morgan. Not only was it going to give her a chance to relax, it would also allow her to cross something off her bucket list. Since she was a little girl, she had dreamed of traveling to Ireland. She longed to witness for herself the Emerald Isle and now, nothing would stop her from achieving her dream.
She knew she had to look busy, otherwise her boss would find some project that would take her far longer than two hours to complete. She never used her work time to browse the internet, but at least it would look like she was doing something and she could do a little more reconnaissance on where she would be by that time tomorrow.
If she were at home, Ashford Castle would already be bookmarked on her browser, along with at least another dozen places she hoped to visit while she was in Ireland. Bookmarked or not though, it appeared her plan to waste time looking at pictures would have to wait. Instead of her home page, she was met with a “this page can’t be displayed” notification. She typed in a few URLs and was met with the same response.
She stood up to check with Rose who had the cubicle next to hers. Rose spent most of her day on Pinterest trying to find crafty ideas for things she would never create. If the internet were down for everyone, she would be the first to put in a call to IT.
Rose wasn’t in her cubicle though. In fact, when Morgan looked around the office, none of her co-workers seemed to be there. She’d been so preoccupied that she hardly noticed the lack of usual noise. Even more unsettling, there was rarely a time when the phones weren’t ringing throughout the room and now with no one to answer them, not even one made a sound.
She picked up the receiver from Rose’s desk and was met with silence. That had to be why Rose was gone. If she couldn’t call IT, she would go down to the basement to get someone to fix the problem. Where was everyone else though? Morgan did need a distraction until she could clock out of work. Maybe if she took the stairs, it would eat up a little more of her time.
The heavy door echoed through the stairwell as it slammed shut. The sound alone would have been enough to startle Morgan, but when the lights went out at the same time, the effect was terrifying. Morgan was not one to let her emotions get the better of her, but in that moment, she could have been mistaken for the lead in a B horror film.
She reached in her pocket for her cell phone to light the way but realized that she left it on her desk. She turned around to go back, but when she pulled on the door, it didn’t budge. She was locked in a stairwell, in the dark, all alone, with less than two hours until she was supposed to go on the trip of a lifetime. Her only hope was she would be able to open a door on one of the other floors.
She shuffled to the wall and made her way to the top of the stairs. She grabbed the railing tightly and took a cautious step down, feeling for the step. It might take a while, but this wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be. Just as she was getting the hang of it, she misjudged the distance between steps and before she knew it, she was tumbling down the stairs. She thought the stairs were bottomless and that she would never stop. Then, her head hit the wall.
© Autumn Siders 2019