MAJOR TOM TO GROUND CONTROL

hey guys,
i just wanted to take a second to say
that i haven’t been posting online for
a few months, really.
i was spending all my free time on the computer
and it was eating away at me
but
i think i’m back.
i know from time to time
i get on here
i post a new piece
and then i disappear again.
i’m gonna try to not do that again.
i get a lot out of posting.
i can’t promise it’ll be poetry.
i can’t promise it will be good
but i will do the best i can
to keep it coming.
whatever it is.
it could be anything really
a commentary on post-capitalism
and the cyclical nature of society.
it might be a just-waxed red hot rod.
it might be a video of me performing
beethoven’s fifth symphony
impromptu on an out-of-tune harmonica
while under the influence
of twelve and a half pounds
of pure mexican black tar heroine.
i guess mostly
i’m just saying sorry for the poor communication
but i’m back.
in some weird way where i’m still afraid to commit
but i’ve found that running away from the blog
isn’t gonna fix the problems i had with it
so i’m ready for battle
got my warpaint on
and a whiskey bottle full
of adrenaline and testosterone
so bring it on, bitches.
bare knuckles
like always
love,
brice.

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2014

READ “WATERING THE WALLFLOWER”

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WATERING THE WALLFLOWER

is it a crime to be a wallflower? am i not allowed to sit and listen to the wallpaper listening to me? must my name be known? other people isn’t always the answer to a bad case of lonely. i can breathe with my mouth shut. my ears open like a great gramophone to the everything we are. we are we are. great big clouds melting and billowing and motioning omniscently across the sky. try and grab us and we disappear. i do not need my name 13 stories high over a grand old theater because every time i look up at the stars, i see my name in lights. i sway like a pendulum on a great grandfather clock. i sway like a dvd menu loop. like the electronic waves in a cheesy youtube meditation video. let me be. i let you be. do not grab me by the neck and throw me into the mosh pit. do not push me. i push myself. i pull myself. i water my kneecaps, i turn my palms up to the sun and wait patiently. an ancient dying man sitting at a closed down bus stop. desert dust and broken bottles of old granddad. let me be. please just let me be.

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2014

READ “A POEM BY HAN SHAN”

CALL FOR BLOGGERS

Hi Everyone:

First off, thank you all so much for your support of 02.2013. In my opinion, it was a great success. It was very interesting forcing myself to write something each day, and doing something I really like to, which is trying to widen the spectrum of my poems as much as possible.

Now, I’m beginning work on a new project, which I’m going to give a working title of ANT Magazine, until I have an official title.

I am looking for motivated to people to work for this blog and I am looking for a wide variety of things.

I have decided to drive this blog/ online magazine from the idea that bloggers can post what they want/ when they want. I want my bloggers to have the freedom to do as they please, because I want them to have fun, and in turn, for the blog to be fun. Thus far, I have a couple poets signed on, photographers, artists, and even a pair of guys who are going to write about bad b-movies. Here’s some ideas of what else I’d be looking for.

  • Reviewers (Music, Movies, Book, Calendars, Gyms, Restaurants, Starbucks locations, I don’t care)
  • Artists (I don’t care if you make GIFs,or intricate water paintings or digital art, I could be looking for what you have. I’d really even like to have a talented doodler.)
  • Alt Lit People (If you don’t know what alt lit is, this one doesn’t apply to you. If you do, I want your poetry, I want your memes, I want your short stories.)
  • Film (I am really looking for good youtubers to post videos to the site. Once again, open-minded to what you got. I would love some funny videos.)
  • Photographers (I would love photographers whose pieces stand alone and I would also love photographers who if I said “take me pictures related to “night” or “fourth of July” could deliver them in about a week. Experience does not matter. Talent and motivation do.
  • I would really like to have someone to write on feminism on the blog, as this is a topic that is very important to me.
  • Anything else. If you hula hoop, and want to post instructional hula hoop videos, I’d like you to apply. If you sing and play guitar, send me your videos. If you are a badass list maker or nutritionist or tech geek, I’d like you to apply.

IMPORTANT NOTE! You do not have to be American. I want this blog to have a global community and other cultures and countries are not only requested to apply, but I insist they do. I do have to ask that you can write English though. I’m sorry.

Most of all, I want people sharing their passions. I’m trying to make a community out of this. I want my bloggers interacting with our readers. I want people to have a reason to come back, and I want this to be a blog about sharing with the world, not making money. (haha… blogs making money.)

If you are interested, please send me something about yourself and an example of what you have to offer to bricemaiurro@gmail.com.

I hope everyone interested will apply.

Thank you,

Brice

2000 FOLLOWS TODAY!

Thank you all so much! 2012 has been a good year. Here’s to 2000 more in 2013!

A few things:

FOLLOW ME ON FACEBOOK

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WENDOVER, UTAH

i was behind the wheel of a car
in the warm fall of utah
and the hood was down
and the wind was blowing through my hair
and all around me were these great wind turbines
like monsters in the middle of nothing
and the radio was the perfect volume
and on the side of the road
was a sinister looking cop
in red aviator sunglasses
and as soon as i passed by
he flipped on his lights, his siren
but then he just drove right on by me
the highway was endless
the constant birds on the telephone wires
turned their heads as i drove by
and i just keep going
it didn’t stop
i knew that this road never ended
there was no great city that it lead to
there was no lover on the far end waiting for me
this was the everything i had
and i could grab it in my fist
but some of the petals slipped by
and they just became fragments of me
lost and lost and lost and lost

i closed my eyes
and fell asleep on a hotel bed in wendover
i turned the television on
and the room sounded quieter
the sheets were stale
and i’m pretty sure it was just me,
the hotel manager and a few scattered souls
floating around the casinos

there was a mark in the road where the state line was
and when i passed it the next morning
i don’t know that i felt anything

i don’t know what i’m getting at
and to be completely honest
this is just flotsam and jetsam
of the american highway
and i’m tired and i’m bored
there’s no land left to discover
and there’s empty houses
that no one can afford

i’m sorry
i keep trying to describe this
the problem is there’s nothing to describe
but i’m smiling

COPYRIGHT BRICE MAIURRO 2012

READ “DEAREST HIPSTERS”

VOTE FOR ME

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Also, give some love to Pattie Flint, the Featured Guest Poet of the Month. Read her poem, which beat out dozens of entries HERE.

CONNECT WITH ME ON FACEBOOK, TWITTER and TUMBLR.

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, VARINIA RODRIGUEZ

Right now, I’m sitting with Varinia and she is reading me her compilation of people’s answer’s to the question, What does God collect?

She just asked me if God has back dimples.

When I said “Does he have back dimples?” she stopped me.

“You can’t gender God.”

Touche.

About a month ago, I posted a poem, “THE PSYCHOLOGICAL WARFARE OF VARINIA RODRIGUEZ”:

her words are semi-automatic rounds fired from her metal gut
do not fuck with her
this girl knows how to say “cunt”
emphasizing each consonant like a brooklynite biting his tongue
she stands like a soldier
on stage she sets herself on fire and its the audience who are left with third degree burns
leather jacket and heels
a camel hanging off her red lipstick
her red lipstick a soapbox
for the symphonic neurotic urgent purging of the psychological warfare of varinia rodriguez

(CONTINUE READING POEM HERE)

I am lucky to get to be the one to tell you the psychological warfare of Varinia Rodriguez is now available online through her WordPress blog: Pack Rat’s Daughter.

(Varinia keeps interrupting me while I’m trying to write about her.)

Anyways, case-in-point, Varinia is an incredible writer. Her honesty makes my honesty look like shit. Her poetry is innovative and comes from deep deep down in the bowels of her soul. Trust me. Follow her. You won’t regret it.

PACK RAT’S DAUGHTER

WHY YOU SHOULD READ MY BLOG

hi. my name is brice maiurro. and i am here to tell you why you should follow my blog.

i will begin my something-part argument by saying that i may or may not be a little inebriated, thus making me easy to relate to. whether or not you are a little inebriated right now, or care to lie to yourself on said matter, i think you’ll find we have a lot in common. other things we may have in common: i love Love, some people, and music. my favorite kind of music is… all of them. if you don’t like music, you need not apply, unless you still feel a strong desire to do so. i write poetry. for those of you out there who went to high school, common to what’s been crammed up your mental asshole, poetry is not a bunch of pretentious white british assholes commenting on the existential nature of butterflies and the consequential consequences that may thus incur from the artificial conscientious beauty we craft of nature in our bloody mindholes. poetry is about honesty. it’s about being willing to admit that you’ve had a half a bottle of wine and are sitting in a shit t-shirt in a basement apartment in an unimportant city in littleton sweating balls as you write this rant that you may not have had the tenacity to write while you are sober.

which brings me to my next point. did i mention i am devilishly handsome? i won’t post a picture, but just imagine, my hair that falls as gracefully as doctor who’s and my six pack abs and my pearl white smile. that’s me. sorta kinda. which brings me to my next point. i am here to break down the walls of anonymity. i want to crash into the glass walls of museums and ride the taxidermy bears into the dawn of ecstasy. join me. follow my blog. hear my rambles. see my dearest friend of a doodle, Rant the Ant, and the situations I force upon him, whether he likes it or not, because isn’t that exactly how we should be living our lives?