Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , on May 11, 2017 by bigtuna185

I am substitute
I am somehow lesser
I have more ambition and greater passion
And somehow I am lesser
I replace, I fill in, I take up space
I am matter but I don’t seem to matter
I am required to be more flexible
To take more abuse
Receive less respect
Settle for less fulfillment
And yet what separates me
Other than the thought that I am more while being treated like less
Is a plastic ID badge
A better paycheck
Facial recognition amongst people who don’t care to know me
I grind and scrape myself away
Sharing thoughts and emotions
With an audience that will forget me a moment later
Washing their memories like the tide claiming footprints in the sand
There is one fact that I won’t let myself forget though:

I am substitute
But they will not drag me below who I was meant to be


Happy Accident?

Posted in Random Thoughts with tags , , , on May 10, 2017 by bigtuna185

The short story that I wrote months ago, “A Gathering of Exes” (https://bigtuna185.wordpress.com/2016/09/23/a-gathering-of-exes), is suddenly getting a ton of traffic thanks to a link on Reddit. Like hundreds of views. That’s insane.

I’m not complaining, it’s just odd that my story would be linked to in that thread since I’m not what I would call a “well-known author.” I’m not entirely sure how you would find it unless you were one of the 3 or 4 people that read it (numbers not exaggerated), or you dug deep to find some source material for the post.

I think the most ironic part of all of this is that I wrote the story based off of a prompt that I found on, you guessed it, Reddit. How’s that for a full circle ending?

Anyway, if you’re seeing this and you’re new to the blog, mind the cobwebs from the lack of frequent use, and feel free to give some feedback to my writing. Thanks!


Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on April 6, 2017 by bigtuna185


Someone once said to me
“Marriage is a heavy burden”
That to wear a ring is a weight,
Not something to be taken lightly
And that may be true
The trials of matrimony
Were never meant to be simple
When you fuse two souls together
Pain is part of the process
Pieces of yourself die off
No longer able to be sustained
When your systems need to be redirected
In order to compensate for two being one

We are Siamese now

To support only one is to destroy both
And so it helps to imagine that we were always this way
To condition yourself into thinking this is normal
Until the muscles and thoughts become second nature
And the lactic acid build up from carrying this extra weight
Subsides and dissipates into new strength

The band around my finger no longer feels foreign
The smooth metal which used to constrict
Now feels as though it is vital
That I might not truly live without it

It is Life
And so is she

The Siren’s Lullaby

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , on September 23, 2016 by bigtuna185

*This was my first attempt at ever trying to write a sonnet in its true traditional form. It was a process, but an enjoyable one.*
If only there were other ways to stay

In close proximity for sleeping eyes. 

A cushion left behind, indeed it cries, 

“Come home to me, for I will soon repay

Your company with shelter from the day.”

The bitter sun, with golden hands it pries

My slumber and rest, unwillingly dies. 

This forceful torture makes this poet crazy. 
However, there is more than just this plight. 

This life alone is built for greater things. 

I can’t bemoan my weak and wearied state

While people daily defy their twists of fate. 

For privilege remains common and trite

To those whose only problems are alarm rings.  


A Gathering of Exes

Posted in Short Stories with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on September 23, 2016 by bigtuna185

“Good evening everyone, and welcome to the annual gathering of Dominick’s Ex-Girlfriends!” A voice boomed over the PA system. Applause erupted across the audience. “I’m your host for tonight, Dom’s first love, Rachel.” More stringent clapping now. A few grumbles can be heard. “Hey now ladies, no matter how it ended, we’re all winners here tonight. We’re on the same team.” Pleased with the explanation, the crowd of females clap once more. A few can be seen giving high fives and taking selfies.

“I’m so glad you could all be here today. Before we kick this off, I’d like to hand it over to our keynote speaker, Dom’s mother!” Enthusiastic cheers rise from the audience, with some saying audibly, “Awwww, I love her.”

“Hello to all of you wonderful, wonderful girls. I’d like to thank each and every one of you for the impact that you had on my sweet baby boy. I know that he’s rough around the edges, but little by little you’ve slowly been softening him up…except for you, Arcadia. I’m pretty sure you were just a phase.” Arcadia, dressed in all black, flips off the crowd with a forced smile. His mother continued.

“Who could forget you, Sandra? He loved spending time with you at the beach.” Sandra stood up.

“Uh, obviously he forgot about me. Several times actually. He called me Kendra more times than I can count.” At this, Kendra stands up.

“At least you got a full name. He couldn’t remember who was who, so he just called me ‘Dra.'” Murmuring sweeps across the congregation. Dom’s mother looked horrified.

“Well, you see, love keeps no record of wrongs, and apparently no record of names either. Luckily, I do. Like Tiffany! Your relationship was the most adorable 7 days I’ve ever seen.” Naturally, Tiffany had something to say about this.

“Yeah, that jerk just used me for my beach house during Spring Break. The moment we got home, I never heard from him again!”

“Are you sure you didn’t just change your phone number, dear?” his mother stammered.

“I didn’t,” Tiffany said. “But he most certainly did!” Multitudes of nods are seen in the audience.

“That’s a classic Dom move,” whispers Rachel into the microphone. His mother is speechless once more. Just then, a door crashes open from the back of the room. A petite redhead confusedly walks into the conference hall.

“Hi,” she called out. “I think I’m lost. A car just randomly picked me up from my boyfriend’s house and brought me here.” A hush of sorrow fell across the room.

“Oh, sweetie,” said Rachel. “Come on up here and we’ll get this sorted out.” The girl gingerly made her way forward and onto the stage. “Now why don’t you tell us your name and what happened to you,” Rachel said in a therapist’s tone.

“Well, my name is Miranda, and I’m not quite sure what to say. One minute I’m with my boyfriend, Dominick, who has been wonderful to me from day one. We were kissing in his car in his driveway, I told him I couldn’t wait to spend my life together with him, and then he told me that he just had a lot of things going on and needed a break for once.”

“Did his phone ring?” shouted a voice from the crowd.

“Did he run directly inside?” shouted another.

“Yes and yes,” answered Miranda. “How did you know?” A tall girl with a blonde bob seated in the back stood up.

“Sorry! That was my bad. He was with me after that.” The color drained from Miranda’s face. She looked to be on the brink of tears. Rachel stopped her before it got ugly.

“It looks like he was as inconsiderate to you as he was to all of us.” Her arm swept across the group of girls. “Luckily, we have a panic room filled with ice cream and various items that we’ve stolen from Dom over the years that you can destroy.” Miranda still seemed upset, but perked up at the thought of ice cream and destruction. She seemed to now wield a carpenter’s hammer out of nowhere and nobody knew how she got it.

“I think she’s going to be okay,” exclaimed Rachel. “Mama, do you have any final words for the people?” Dominick’s mother stood there dumbfounded.

“Um…well, I’m sorry for everything that he’s done to you, but now I know you’re all better off.” At these words she received a standing ovation.

“And that’s the reason we have this convention,” shouted Rachel over the crowd. “We are all better off. Now onto a special segment of the night. May I ask the first person who was ever intimate with Dom to please step forward.” Girls from all over the room stood up and started making their way forward, sparking fighting, name calling, and other colorful actions detrimental to the sisterhood. “Still didn’t figure this out from last year, huh?” whispered Rachel to herself. Dom’s mother nearly fainted.

“Okay my lovable crazies,” called out Rachel. “Everybody back to their seats.” The ladies overcame their spell of jealousy and went to go sit back down, complimenting the others on their hair, shoes, and outfits on the way. “I think we may have to cut that segment for next time. But the fun keeps rolling!” Rachel was undaunted by the mishaps so far. It was shaping up to be the most eventful gathering yet. “This is my favorite part of the night, the Wheel of Vengeance!”

A trap door in the stage opened up. A fog machine and laser lights set the mood. The music was pounding and the girls were going wild.

“One lucky contestant will get a chance to spin the wheel and inflict some sort of misery on Dom for the near future.” Rachel licked her lips in anticipation. “I wish it could be me, but I’ve saved the fun for all of you. If you could look under your seats, then we’ll find out who the winner is!” The ladies frantically flipped their chairs. Cries of anguish could be heard. One of the chairs caught fire somehow, Arcadia laughing maniacally a short distance away. Finally, a shrill voice.

“I GOT IT!” The girl made her way to the stage while everyone else clapped politely. In reality, they were just eager to know what tragedy would befall Dom. On the wheel were many options. One sliver read that you could have medical documents falsified to say that Dom had an STD (which, given who he is, might not be false). Another read that you could have a copy of all of his keys made for you. Still another was for the passwords to all of his social media and Internet accounts. Damage could most certainly be done here. The women he had wronged had used their struggles wisely, breaking into many different walks of life, which made all of these choices on the wheel possible.

“What’s your name, sweetie,” Rachel asked the lucky winner.

“Myra,” she replied in the same shrill voice from before. Her excitement was getting the better of her.

“Well, Myra, are you ready to spin the wheel!?” She nodded eagerly and gave a great big heave to it. Round and round it spun, the TLOK-TLOK of the ticker hypnotizing everyone into a trance. It seemed to not slow down for many minutes, but in actuality it was only seconds. Finally, it began to ease up, little by little, until it came to rest on a yellow slice of the wheel.

“Wow!” shouted Rachel. “You sure got a great one! Develop a pathogen to make Dom allergic to all of his favorite foods! Non-lethal, people. We aren’t murderers here. Congratulations Myra!” Myra walked away more than pleased. She had been the one that Dom gave mono to, then dumped her when she got sick. This would be even retribution in her eyes.

“Well ladies, it’s about time to move on to our sing-a-long portion…” Rachel stopped midway through her sentence. The back door was flung open once again. “Not again,” muttered Rachel. “Two in one day? That’s low, even for Dom.” However, upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a man who walked through the doors. It was Dom’s best friend, Bryce.

“Bryce, what are you doing here!?” demanded Rachel. A host of boos and hisses came from the crowd. Bryce had been responsible for many a girl being ensnared in Dominick’s web. He had a dumbstruck look on his face.

“I don’t know what happened,” he started. “I was hanging out with my boy, Dom, doing guy stuff. Next thing I know he’s kicking me out of his house and there’s this blacked out car waiting for me. Now I’m here.” He stopped to ponder his surroundings. “Man, a lot of you girls look familiar.”

A chorus of “Oh’s” escaped the crowd, in sudden understanding of who Dom really was. Rachel was quick on the draw.

“Oh sweetie, why don’t you follow those girls to the back to get some ice cream.”

Bryce was puzzled, but went along with it. “Okay, yeah. That sounds pretty good.”

“That about wraps up our annual gathering of Dominick’s Ex-Girl…sorry, Dominick’s Exes. Stay tuned for the newsletter coming in the mail with changes about next year. I hope you enjoyed yourselves. Be sure to take your complimentary gift, a book detailing all of Dom’s strategies for getting to women called ‘Dominating Dom.’ See you all next year!”

Wash your Hands

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 3, 2016 by bigtuna185


All we are is mud and I don’t always feel dirty

With the caked dirt falling from off of my hands

I am falling off of myself

Every day rising out of filth is a new day to wash myself

I am a part of the earth and the earth is in me

Pushing me out of my cocoon

Metamorphosis ripping the old me to shreds

Organs and bones shifting

My exoskeleton keeping me from harm

Please don’t touch my wings for I want to fly someday

Soaring over mountains and valleys and landfills and sumps

Rolling around the grass with childlike ignorance of all that is coming

What is coming, I don’t know

But they’ve told me it’s bad

Unless you’re good

Then it’s good

But there’s no measurement of good to keep you from the bad

And of course I am dirty and so I don’t want to be dirty when the bad things

Wait, I mean the good things, come my way

And it’s so hard to be clean when everyone else doesn’t want to be clean

The faucet is drip drip dripping down the drain

Keeping me awake at night and I can hear humanity drowning drop by drop

And all I can think about is the mud on my hands and the blood in my veins

And the blood on my hands and the mud in my veins

Because you can’t escape the curse of your ancestry and so we would all be doomed

If it wasn’t for His blood shed for my muddled affairs

We are all blind as the clay has hardened around our eyes

We try to mold our own destiny and shape our lives the way we think is best

But we have cut off our own hands

And we have no feeling

So we die

Song of Myself

Posted in Poetry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 4, 2016 by bigtuna185


When I think of the groanings of the earth
And how she murmurs and whispers life that springs up
Through the firmament, cracks and fissures
Tectonic plates shifting beneath my feet in constant change as I am
I wonder at the sameness of it all
About how I too can split apart at the seams
Continents drifting, Pangaea lost
The world forever changed
About how earthquakes cause tremors along the fault lines of the heart

I stoop down to pick up the pieces
The tiny trinkets that make up me
That have fallen out of their proper place
And try to rearrange them so that they won’t be so easily moved
But I might as well try to chop down trees so that they won’t be destroyed
And store them away somewhere safe
While ironically being the cause of their demise
For you see if you want to be safe then you must accept a loss of control

Safe is not always best.

Roots must be allowed to spread in unsafe places
Dangling off of cliffs
Dangerously tethered to unstable ground
Should the foundation fail
The seed will still spread
And most likely in better soil

I cannot live life tying things down
Hoping that things will not shift out of place
When the world moves, so do I
And we have both learned to live with it