Friday Blog Review Week 26 ~ Week 25~A.B Thomas

Welcome back to the world of Friday Review. We have been on a break for two weeks and I am sure we all had a blast in the break from writing, but if you all are like me I am sure you kept on writing when the muse came to visit you all.
This week I am highlighting one of the officials and also a well known blogger name,AB Thomas .

About The Blogger by the author


What’s there to say really? Write and occasionally doodle.  I hail from the province of Alberta, Canada, born in the badlands and have gone out of my way to live up to being ‘bad’ – not in the Michael Jackson sense but a far poorer Russell Crowe sort of deal.
Surprisingly, the above original “about” page wasn’t enough for the few who have stumbled upon this much abbreviated input of information.  The stray tendrils of demand to formulate a formal introduction behooved me to sit down to pen such a result – mostly because I really dig the word “Behooved” so when the occasion arises that I can slide it into something I invariably do so…which coincidentally seemed to be the path that my dating life led to for a certain period of time.  To those who mistakenly have requested that I expand the ‘about’, you’re about to find out how I can walk into the bar with a twenty and come out liquored up and sixteen in change…
The ‘splash’ of this could be said to be I was born two years after the Summer of Love within the bosom of the Alberta Badlands.  My influences are many but the few that seem to stick out would be Oscar Wilde, Sir Winston Churchill, Tom Robbins, Lord Byron, Shakespeare, Truman Capote,Tom Holt, Anne Rice, Stephen King, Mary Shelley, Bram Stoker, Dave Barry,Elvis, Barry Allen, Bobby Curtola, The Beatles, The Sex Pistols,Teenage Head and The Ramones – in other words I’m an egocentric megalomaniac punk with politically conservative views that have no linear evolution…kinda, sorta, but not really.
An accurate portrayal of how I see myself is as a disgruntled refugee from the netherworld of academia; against my better judgment I continue to think. I contend that there is a surmountable chasm between thinking and thinkin’ – with thinkin’ being the proper and advantageous way of having consciousness.  Thinking implies that it is the rules that matter, that there is an established methodology to how things are to be done, opined or dismantled.  Thinkin’, on the other hand is turning one’s attention to the apostrophe and having the options to decide what said apostrophe commutates. I don’t have faith in those that rely on a slick looking certificate hanging on their walls informing all that this person has a higher sense of validity because they were good little learners and handed in material that concurred with their professors and teachers beliefs; that and the fact that I made a bit of cash on the side writing the material for those who have those slick looking certificates hanging on their walls. So how was that for an ‘about’?  Now you know why people buy me drinks at the bar – if I’m a drinkin’, I ain’t a talkin’!


The Blog

His Poetry

If’t Broughten Miled Death be a God

A story in 55 words
In witness harken not
Who wouldst proclaim “lesson taught”
For a away far strike to kill
Tis but in naught tenured skill;
For though blooded shred
Of tissue organ bone
A part by part in strewn lie
In gether hast they die
Whist faceless Grimms
Had their try
Left are none to bemoan in cry

Say I

Upon these sheets stuck to intertwined flesh
Stickened with slick sensual sweat
There is but a pause,
A hesitate in a mere whisper,
Yet of note just the so
Sayest I:
Of this moment
Prayst do not begat a stranger’s distant,
Mayhaps in the morrow
Shalt we recant
From the seed of yearn
The actions taken
In this night of plant
In the now let these sensations slide
Become swept away
In the swell of passion’s riptide –
Hold back not
To fantasy’s abide –
Drown in the tsunami of molten excite,
Let the scorching want emanate
Out from our shared inside.

I am Chimnese, the author of My Poetry & Writing hosting Friday Blog Review along with Robin, Write It .  Till next time & wishing you all good week ahead.

Poetic Reflection Week 4-A. B. Thomas

Welcome to poetic reflection week 4...let's meet a fabulous blogger/poet/writer/cartoonist A. B. Thomas...He  has been an authentic fan to Jingle Poetry Community, and his poetry touches a wide range of topics, his cartoon creations are always funny and witty, he also writes short stories, his reflections on writing and blogging are very inspiring, honest, and beautiful.

Tell us about yourself.

If you were to ask my boys’ former principal and school board, my mother, and my mother-in-law I am the ultimate embodiment of all that’s evil in the world. Ask the company’s general manager, salesman, and most of the crew, I am the most arrogant know it all who happens to fluke out and be right 99% of the time. Ask most of the women I’ve dated they’d say that I must be the biggest camping enthusiast in the world because I am always trying to pitch a tent.  My friends would say that I’m a guy who really should be wearing pants more often.  Me,  I’d describe myself as just an ordinary cat cruising along life who just happens to like writing and doodling. 

Tell me about your blog, the name, what does it mean to you?

Mutter Fluka, other than sounding much like an iconic slur used in describing me in many situations (though if one were to factor in my age and the latest teen pregnancy figures I could away with putting “grand” in front as well) does have some meaning. FLUKA (Fluktuierende KAskade) is a software simulation meant to calculate mathematical probability and theoretical derivations of particles with an indeterminist algorithm, or in other words, a mathematical“yeah but if” based on a scientific formula to factor in chaos. Mutter is speaking in such a way that those around you cannot with 100% certainty identify the content, tone or context of those words. Put the two together and you have the concept that anything can make sense as long as you mutter it low enough that people, not being able to make out most of the syllables, will fill in the blanks based on their assumptions to reach the conclusion that I have to be making sense when the reality is that I’m the guy pantless on the corner arguing with a street light over who’s going to get out of the way.

When have you started blogging?

I started blogging back at the end of 2005 when I was working on the road a lot more than I do now, more as a cheaper method of rambling to a couple of friends rather than phone calls. Initially I did not consider it as a forum of creativity that folks who didn’t know me would have any interest in but I guess the idea of looking at the carnage of an accident has a broad appeal.

Your first poem? Remember?

My first poem – yikes, a nightmarish scenario. My first official poem would have been written when I was eleven, after the winter had ceded the ice rink to our swimming hole. A group of us had gone down to take a swim. There’s something magical about cold water and what it does to a person’s body, though negative on the male anatomy, a bonus for the female anatomy. The summer before she was naught but a flat prairie, but somehow the parka Debbie had worn over those cold months had fertilized her chest to blossom like the stink weed we walked through to get to the swimming hole. Debbie was far more sophisticated than the other girls, after all, her dad was a lawyer so I knew that the only way I was going to be doing any harvesting in her fields, I’d have to get quite classy, so to woo her, I wrote her a poem about how she made me feel. Unfortunately I had listened to my cousin, at the elderly age of sixteen was wise to the world, who told me that what women wanted from a man is to be flat out honest. So honest and descriptive I was. Debbie’s mom, who intercepted my luv prose, was not impressed, nor was her father, who rather than handling the situation in a sophisticated manner, impressed upon me that if anything that I written were to come to light, a certain part of my body would be tacked on the barn door for the cats to bat around.

What are your writing inspirations?

It would be much easier to name some things that don’t inspire me.  Awake or asleep, there’s something always unique in the experience that urges me to write out something. Heck, once when I was building a door I wrote the steps out in prose.

When did you start writing poetry? Do you write fiction as well?

I write all sorts of things, depending on my whim.  I have written articles for Subversify Magazine on the practice of bride burning in India, the lack of ethics within the local school board, the issue of horse meat, homelessness, but then have written short stories and knocked out a few “Dr. Phal” cartoons to boot.

Do you have a favorite author or poet?

Hands down, Lord Byron.

Favorite quote?

One night Bessie Braddock said to Sir Winston Churchill, “Sir, you are drunk.” Churchill replied, “Madam, you are ugly. In the morning, I shall be sober.”

It may sound like a cruel sort of quote to be comforted by but in a round-about way it shows the depth of Churchill or that I have had far too much time to over analyze a quip.  All my life I have never been content with anyone saying, “because that’s just the way it is” so “you just have to suck it up and go with it” – I will not let myself believe that there is anything in the world that is not dynamic in nature; change is necessary to grow. I take Mrs. Braddock as the “WE” or “THEY” of society and Churchill as the what could be.

Any advice to poets who wish to blog or write poetry?

Look at your blog like sex – if you’re doing it all for someone else then you are denying yourself the pleasure that it should bring. Don’t be afraid to experiment, find out what you like and if there are others who enjoy it, all the better, The space you use is your stage, the spot light is on you, bring out your best.

what's your plan for your future writing?

It’s hard to say at the moment, there are so many ideas floating around in my head that it’s hard to pick just one. Ideally I would love a publisher to say “here, we love your stuff so we’re going to throw this wad of cash at you”, but with a virtual mountain of rejection letters over the past couple of years, I know that is not going to happen.  It would be interesting to go the self publishing route but if I were to spend that kind of money, I would rather do it with my three boys doing something that we’d all enjoy – until the sugar rush they’d all be on for x amount of days finally crashed and for a week they’d go through withdrawals and I’d end up with some sort of hallucinogenic addiction to escape. The only reasonable course of action is to write when I can on what I want and be satisfied with that. 

Please feel free to read A. B. Thomas here: http://abthomas.wordpress.com/