Greetings Faux Poets and Writer Ghosts! It is I, the bold podcasting personality who is a more discrete poet on the sly.

"Where the coffee would be warm even if the welcome wasn't." Clive Barker The Forbidden

"You can only debilitate, devour and destroy perfection upon additional inspection; instead, bask in the infection of perceived perfection rather than engage in intense flaw finding introspection." Falsetto Prophet

People don't change. You know this is a fucking fallacy. We oft see people fall from grace, grow worse, more intolerable. We know it is a mortal fucking fact that we can get worse and let ourselves go. That is a change, is it not. If we can decay, disintegrate, demoralize ourselves, then it stands to reason brilliantly that, so too, can we improve, enrichen, embolden and take our humanoid leopard spots, mix them, erase them, rebrand, recolor into an unrecognizable tapestry of human emotions, pursuits and fucking preferences. This is key in artistry, keeping an open mind and always allowing an out from narrow inclinations. As intense introspection can rob your words, your performance, your artistry of any affection, produce your very best literary crop and leave its fate to the metaphorical wolves, followers, fans and determiners through natural selection.

Here is your appetizing, not fully satisfying, teasing but not entirely pleasing vignette of what is aurally present today and what is yet to come.

Easel of Havoc (Paint Till You Faint) (Last Two Stanzas Only)

Now, you rush your brush

Lacquered layers baptize me

Intense gaze melds immense craze

My lifeless eyes cry colors…

Frenzied, focused fingers smudge my skin

Your struggle intensifies,

Exhaustion swells too soon

Deft dabs, harsh stabs slow;

I sense your wrist waning--

My half-finished eyes see all of you

Coming soon, to an ear canal near you, perhaps even your own, your very venerated voice for sore ears, Faux Poe with a fresh Lecture of Faux Poet! Remember: Lecture 5: Faux Poet: Perfection…Upon Further Inspection; Reflections of Imperfections, Intense Introspection, Can Rob Your Poem of Affection--How to, Perfectionism, Silence Through Poetic License

Remember to silence the painstaking pen marking, regretting, correcting and perfecting through poetic license. You might have more to write, but if you are not pleased with your product, it is an endless, uphill, remorseless fight.

Write to creativity ignite and, the readers' passions, incite!

Faux Poe OUT!

(Procrastinated Statement)

Greetings Faux Poets and Writer Ghosts,

Every single social interaction can be a fruitful transaction, a frictional detraction or a frivolous distraction. -Falsetto Prophet

"Be wary of those who cut your hair, into their barbaric barber eyes, it's best not to stare; sometimes your initial fallacious thoughts are not beyond repair--this scissor brandishing slasher, for you, might actually care." -FP

My guest today makes me grateful to have befriended her and confirms that being kind to a stranger, one who wields a pair of scissors close to your ear lobes and eyes, that is, can pay future dividends and just might save your goddamn life! Sweeney is a creative and uncaged thinker, a devoted listener, a magician when it comes to finding the right hue for the right hair, winning over the minds and hearts of those who treat her properly and slashing the throats of those who agitate her and test her better benevolent nature.

She is a former hobby plasterer, now she actually uses that lost art to cocoon and suffocate her Sweeney victims before disposing of them unceremoniously. She is so innovative with her former pursuit of  3-dimensional artwork, including  most mediums, she is not picky on her libations of choice, but irrefutably enjoys a fancy top shelf one--if you can grasp that contradiction--and when she is not celebrating her birthday in style or traveling to Europe on secret missions, she can be found getting a psychic prophecy reading or attending thrash/mosh pit/rambunctious concerts. Lastly, her favorite color is fucking periwinkle! No nonsense there!

I call her Sweeney as that is such an apt appellation, but her name is Hayley, she is a cosmetologist with a proficient focus on hair coloring her insta is @hairmontress.

I'm a Rogue Poet, my poetry format is counter vogue, in case you didn't know it.

I am Faux Poe, your igniter host, you are my writer ghosts. WELCOME! you wired, inspired, miles from retired writers to: Lecture 4: Faux Poet: Proofreading Their Minds, Nevermind the Proof-- How to, for Your Reader, Write, Excite and Delight (Auditioning for Your Audience); (Gracious GuestLecture with Sweeney)

I'm a Rogue Poet, my classical poetry approach is counter vogue, in case you didn't know it. Do not concede the fight in your quest of writing to ignite!

-Faux Poe out!

(Procrastinated Statement)

*Wait Wait... Don't Tell Me! NPR's weekly news quiz hosted by Peter Sagal.

*Perfectionism is the refusal to accept any standard short of perfection, and as the American novelist John Updike noted: “Perfectionism is the enemy of creation.” Why? Perfectionism breaks your creative flow while your creating something new, be it a new column or a new product.

*Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street (often referred to simply as Sweeney Todd) is a 1979 musical with music and lyrics by Stephen Sondheim and book by Hugh Wheeler. It is based on the 1970 play Sweeney Todd by Christopher Bond. The character of Sweeney Todd first appeared in a Victorian penny dreadful titled The String of Pearls.

*Gladwell's father noted that Malcolm was an unusually single-minded and ambitious boy. When Malcolm was 11, his father, who was a professor of mathematics and engineering at the University of Waterloo, allowed him to wander around the offices at his university, which stoked the boy's interest in reading and libraries. The University of Waterloo granted Gladwell an honorary doctorate in 2007. In the spring of 1982, Gladwell interned with the National Journalism Center in Washington, D.C.[17] He graduated with a bachelor's degree in history from Trinity College of the University of Toronto, in 1984.

Greetings Faux Poets and Writer Ghosts,

Every single social interaction can be a fruitful transaction, a frictional detraction or a frivolous distraction. -Falsetto Prophet

Do enjoy this Faux Poet teaser episode preparing your senses and your sensory perception for the subsequent full episode of Lecture 4: Faux Poet: Proofreading Their Minds, Nevermind the Proof-- How to, for Your Reader, Write, Excite and Delight (Auditioning for Your Audience); (Gracious Guest Lecture with Sweeney, the Hypnotic Barber of 9th Street)

Write to ignite and awaken new fstars insight!

-Faux Poe

Greetings Faux Poets and Writer Ghosts,

For those of you who doubt your ability to write, your own artistic kindling you must ignite, fight to write tight and the reader's emotion…incite. But are you true? Are you the sole, unadulterated author and architect of your own words? Are your words borrowed, reused, misused or outright stolen, pilfered, filched or purloined?

How do you know if you should rue and subsequently feel blue for your own words are erroneous, fraudulent, inauthentic…otherwise not true? I sincerely surmise that if you are honest with yourself, your external actions and activities shall follow suit. The slight distinction between a muse and wholesale copycatting is likely as nuanced and subtle as the difference between cocky and confident, ignorant and uneducated and grossly negligent compared to cleanly nefarious!

I'm a Rogue Poet, my poetry format is counter vogue, in case you didn't know it.

I am Faux Poe, your igniter host, you are my writer ghosts. WELCOME! you wired, inspired, miles from retired writers to" Lecture 3: Faux Poet: Strict Imitation, the Politest Form of Plagiarism--How To Perfectly Mold a Model of Perfection (Borrowing Isn't, the Law, Breaking)

Write to, creativity, ignite and the readers' passions fstars incite!

Faux Poe OUT!

(Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song, Time to Spare, courtesy of the artist, An Jone.

Greetings Faux Poets and Writer Ghosts!

Welcome to your lecture 3 teaser episode.

The most subtle and surprising places, people, muses and inspirations, our writing affected, possibly perfected, on those inexplicable innovations, we have reflected, such strange insights from films, scenes and places unexpected.

Master Chief John James "Jack" Urgayle (From the film G.I. Jane) reciting the poem by DH Lawrence titled Self-Pity:

"I never saw a wild thing sorry for itself. A small bird will drop frozen dead from a bough without ever having felt sorry for itself."

You can achieve two feats: you can invent, or improve upon, you can create or correct, you can make or master. I will not even pretend that my poem, very much inspired by this one improves upon, corrects or masters Self-Pity, but I did have the courage to take a work of art and take it in a different direction, color it in different chalk, transform the takeaway. What was a solemn, introspective, profound poem is now humorous, darkly sarcastic, but no less true. Plus, I believe my title to be far more original than a hyphenated term that is rote and derivative by comparison

Impolite Primate (by Falsetto Prophet)

I never heard an animal apologize.

I've seen a gull drop a crab,

then peck out its eyes,

a badger's blood-stained claw, 

spoors of its slashing spree;

I've heard primal caterwaul,

but not one apology.

Coming soon, to an ear canal near you, perhaps even your own, your very venerated voice for sore ears, Faux Poe with a fresh Lecture of Faux Poet: Lecture 3: Faux Poet: Strict Imitation, the Politest Form of Plagiarism--How To Perfectly Mold a Model of Perfection (Borrowing Isn't, the Law, Breaking)

Toodles, for now...

-Faux Poe

"All it took was a mislaid spark

To burn, to the dirt, the park:

Should you smell smoke after dark--

It's from a cigar--his trade fucking mark."

Do the right thing and you'll stay free, steal Zeebo's goddamn nose and the punishment will be weighty, so call up your boy Weegee and apologize for being pissy!

Like Blake and his leper colony in John Carpenter's THE FOG, By Campfire, We Conspire-

Tonight, one will choose to partake in ill advised pinball, the other fucks with a house of mirrors in the Laughing in the Dark clown cursed hall.

If you lose the game, you lose your life, if you steal his nose, you'll invite such strife.

It may feel foolish to play an endless game, but if you steal a clown's goddamn nose, it is your red headed a-hole self he will blame.

It is time to stroll the floors of an ominous mall; make Weegee wear Zeebo's nose though Josh will take the fstars fall!

Good Evening, Match Scratchers!

"When midnight chimes, we both will meet,

Podcasting slick, sick tales to scare;

Master your fear, stoke dying heat--

Embrace the coal's glowing orange glare."

Welcome to CAMPFIRE SCARYTALES, where our campsite will affright till morning light.

If you once enjoyed, still enjoy or will enjoy henceforth, and in perpetuity, Nickelodeon's very own Are You Afraid of the Dark? broadcast that terrified tot and teen alike in the early 90's, then you will feel right at home on the forsaken rocks, atop the speaker's stone throne while occupying temporary, nocturnal space in this chillingly convenient clearing where fellow match scratchers meet to pour tales of terror upon an open flame. These terrifying testimonies are far from tame, the most unnerving, unsettling and upsetting scarytale wins the game and striking matches, along with striking deeply into your core fear gland, proves their aim.

If you're soon too frightened or anxious to sleep, if you intend to scream but can nary muster a peep, if your once spry movements retard to a lumbering creep, in becoming a slave to your fears, you have but yourself to blame.

Between midnight and first light we meet, our appetites prepped for delicious tales of fright, in your own unease, crawling skin, tingled spine and sweaty brow we take delight, it will be hours before you can see anything beyond our proximal campfire light, our weekly night light, we cleared, constructed and consecrated this campsite, in our Match Scratch Society we revel in delight, it is both our sacred and unholy duty to, your fears, incite, this cold cord of wood ignite--your amygdala affright, if, by some miraculous design, you survive the scarytale of the night, then it is your solemn Campfire Scarytale duty to find your Match Scratcher ass back to this haunted hollow with your own flashlight!

Today, you are tricked or treated, depending on your point of voodoo with our thirteenth submission tale of terror. Strike a match and, a new batch of dismaying, fears and anxieties not allaying, tales hatch; the goal is to, the last told tale, outmatch and leave the loser, to the victor, begging for a rematch…with that Match Scratchers, sleep deeply and remember to, your bedroom window, latch.

Podcasted for the Auditory Approval of the Match Scratch Society, we whisper, through the mic, our fireside submission, sometime between midnight and first light of Campfire Scarytales: Submission 13: Dark Pinball Laughing Wizard Society--An Unlocked Door and a High Pinball Score (Cigar Smoke at the Park and a Broke Pinball Shark); (Pinball Wizard/Laughing in the Dark)

-Your host: That's Falsetto, No Mr. accent on the to and co-host: Dr. Red Devil with a REH REH REH

Until next time, Match Scratchers!

(Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song, Surrender, courtesy of the artist, Asher Fulero, with a medley of sound effects added for, you guessed it, effect.

Hello Faux Poets and Writer Ghosts,

You can construct a perfect poem on occasion and you can write, more frequently, with enough infectious style and enlivening energy, your readers might mistake those pieces for perfection, but rarely will your own raw recognition of your work sincerely coincide with theirs. -Falsetto Prophet

Do politely take, not forsake, an inspiring muse, you can use it, or refuse it, so do wisely choose.

In my second guest lecture, a gracious guest of mine and I decipher and discuss the values both to organization and reveling in the pleasures of keeping an open mind, closed, of course, only when we know we have concocted our best version of our best

Today you are gifted another lecture rife with brilliant notions and off the cuff conjecture: Lecture 2: Faux Poet: Discomposed

Remember: "Every new voice you encounter might be a better medium for your words, a superior choice; should you keep an open fucking mind, in that accepting approach, you may receive a gift from a Greek god/goddess and rejoice."

Technically it ends I hope. But in my mind, as the hopeful reader, it is an ellipses.

Stay Composed Writing Prose, but embrace the frenzy of a poetry spree.

Her First Name backwards is Asset, this is better than a palindrome, it is a lifelong and inexhaustible compliment.

Wednesday is her favorite day of the work week, but she's never been Wednesday for a social soiree or during trick or treating.

If murderous monsters come from Ohio, but altruistic angels live in Michigan, well, which are you? I asked her this and I don't know if I buy her response. = )

Of the 5 Great Lakes, which is the deepest; of your 5 great friends, which is the shallowest? Lake Superior! She has no shallow amigos.

Callipoe, kuh lai uh pee, beautiful-voiced, goddess of music, song and dance, epic poetry. Conferred the gift of eloquence on kings

Greetings Faux Poets and Writer Ghosts,

For those of you who doubt your ability to write, your own artistic kindling you must ignite, fuel the fight to write tight and the reader's emotion…incite.

I find that writing is far more idiosyncratic than

Clever and Creative CHEERS!

"Here's to looming dark truths and lingering white lies, to knowledge already known and that which might still surprise." CHEERS! -Faux Poe

"Here’s to words written and even more words

Write to, creativity, ignite and the readers' passions fstars incite!

Faux Poe OUT!

(Procrastinated Statement)

F.C.F.U. Same Direction! Not Wrong Direction is the name of the song by Hoobastank

F.C.F.U. #2 VISUAL POETRY is the proper name for the poetry style mentioned.

"You'll dine, in delight, on one soup a night;

Sanguinary Nicks and Scary Flicks

Spilling Popcorn and Blood

It knows what tears at, wares on and repairs you.

SUNLIGHT AT MIDNIGHT!

Like Blake and his leper colony in John Carpenter's THE FOG, By Campfire, We Conspire-

Tonight, the soup may be green, the gargoyle personifies mean and Neve shows such promise as a young scream queen and owns the screen!

This is an old theatre with an older vampire, can they swap the reel or satisfy Vink's twisted deal before they expire?

He may or may not be a nut bag, but his deals are a red fucking flag and on your soul, fear, theatre he puts a steep price tag.

There is both a fear-laced aftertaste and a film reel goddamn misplaced!

Good Evening, Match Scratchers!

"When midnight chimes, we both will meet,

Podcasting slick, sick tales to scare;

Master your fear, stoke dying heat--

Embrace the coal's glowing orange glare."

Welcome to CAMPFIRE SCARYTALES, where our campsite will affright till morning light.

If you once enjoyed, still enjoy or will enjoy henceforth, and in perpetuity, Nickelodeon's very own Are You Afraid of the Dark? broadcast that terrified tot and teen alike in the early 90's, then you will feel right at home on the forsaken rocks, atop the speaker's stone throne while occupying temporary, nocturnal space in this chillingly convenient clearing where fellow match scratchers meet to pour tales of terror upon an open flame. These terrifying testimonies are far from tame, the most unnerving, unsettling and upsetting scarytale wins the game and striking matches, along with striking deeply into your core fear gland, proves their aim. If you're soon too frightened or anxious to sleep, if you intend to scream but can nary muster a peep, if your once spry movements retard to a lumbering creep, in becoming a slave to your fears, you have but yourself to blame.

Between midnight and first light we meet, our appetites prepped for delicious tales of fright, in your own unease, crawling skin, tingled spine and sweaty brow we take delight, it will be hours before you can see anything beyond our proximal campfire light, our weekly night light, we cleared, constructed and consecrated this campsite, in our Match Scratch Society we revel in delight, it is both our sacred and unholy duty to, your fears, incite, this cold cord of wood ignite--your amygdala affright, if, by some miraculous design, you survive the scarytale of the night, then it is your solemn Campfire Scarytale duty to find your Match Scratcher ass back to this haunted hollow with your own flashlight!

Today, you are tricked or treated, depending on your point of voodoo with our twelfth submission tale of terror. Between midnight and first light, strike a match and, a new batch of dismaying, fears and anxieties not allaying, tales hatch; the goal is to, the last told tale, outmatch and leave the loser, to the victor, begging for a rematch…with that Match Scratchers, sleep deeply and remember to, your bedroom window, latch.

Podcasted for the Auditory Approval of the Match Scratch Society, we whisper, through the mic, our fireside submission, sometime between midnight and first light of Campfire Scarytales: Submission 12: Dangerous, Soupy Midnight Massacre Society--Panic Prone Appetit/Recoil the Gargoyle (Fear Laced Aftertaste; Film Reel Misplaced); (Troubled Creature/Double Feature); (Dangerous Soup/Midnight Madness)

Your host: That's Falsetto, No Mr. accent on the to and co-host: Dr. Red Devil with a REH REH REH

Until next time, Match Scratchers!

Remember, only you can prevent forest fires, call out Campfire Scarytale imposters and disloyal match scratcher liars!

(Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song, Surrender, courtesy of the artist, Asher Fulero, with a medley of sound effects added for, you guessed it, effect.

Greetings Faux Poets and Writer Ghosts,

If you are not exhibiting the concept of promptitude for a sightly, stood-up date, a docile creature who eagerly awaits both your arrival and the corresponding tale explaining your tardiness, listen no further than to my poem Pledge From a Passerby: the end all, be all, see all, know all of sterling excuses for said unpunctuality!

Are you in store for, of these Faux Poet teasers, more? Let us, new projects and novel pursuits, explore as my creative mind takes flight and shapes its wing into a a graceful, gliding soar.

This 'twill serve as your third Faux Poet teaser where my moving, inspirational, and an idyllic excuse to use when tardy for a coveted date, poem: Pledge From a Passerby is read, with elevated eagerness and the moving, melodious voice of Athena, Warrior/Writer.

Enjoy, Faux Poets!

Coming soon, to an ear canal near you, perhaps even your own, your very venerated voice for sore ears, Faux Poe with a fresh lecture of Faux Poet!

Tune in excruciatingly soon for your next prized lecture titled: Lecture 2: Faux Poet: Discomposed Prose, Composed Composition--How to Find the Time to Rhyme (Gracious Guest Lecture with Athena, Goddess of Warfare, Wisdom and Writing)

Write to, creativity, ignite and the readers' passions fstars incite!

Faux Poe OUT!

(Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song, Time to Spare, courtesy of the artist, An Jone.

Like Blake and his leper colony in John Carpenter's THE FOG, By Campfire, We Conspire-

Tonight, an old lifeguard, a highfalutin bitch and the bookworm of the school tread deep fucking trouble in the shallow end of the pool.

Here you can sip on bottomless coffee, stay up late and await your own ocean bottom bed made up by the un fucking dead.

Can you sense the undead calm, or is it dead calm leprosea, either way there's a water wraith and a school pool drowning spree.

Good Evening, Match Scratchers!

"When midnight chimes, we both will meet,

Podcasting slick, sick tales to scare;

Master your fear, stoke dying heat--

Embrace the coal's glowing orange glare."

Welcome to CAMPFIRE SCARYTALES, where our campsite will affright till morning light.

If you once enjoyed, still enjoy or will enjoy henceforth, and in perpetuity, Nickelodeon's very own Are You Afraid of the Dark? broadcast that terrified tot and teen alike in the early 90's, then you will feel right at home on the forsaken rocks, atop the speaker's stone throne while occupying temporary, nocturnal space in this chillingly convenient clearing where fellow match scratchers meet to pour tales of terror upon an open flame.

These terrifying testimonies are far from tame, the most unnerving, unsettling and upsetting scarytale wins the game and striking matches, along with striking deeply into your core fear gland, proves their aim. If you're soon too frightened or anxious to sleep, if you intend to scream but can nary muster a peep, if your once spry movements retard to a lumbering creep, in becoming a slave to your fears, you have but yourself to blame.

Between midnight and first light we meet, our appetites prepped for delicious tales of fright, in your own unease, crawling skin, tingled spine and sweaty brow we take delight, it will be hours before you can see anything beyond our proximal campfire light, our weekly night light, we cleared, constructed and consecrated this campsite, in our Match Scratch Society we revel in delight, it is both our sacred and unholy duty to, your fears, incite, this cold cord of wood ignite--your amygdala affright, if, by some miraculous design, you survive the scarytale of the night, then it is your solemn Campfire Scarytale duty to find your Match Scratcher ass back to this haunted hollow with your own flashlight!

Today, you are tricked or treated, depending on your point of voodoo with our eleventh submission tale of terror.

Between midnight and first light, strike a match and, a new batch of dismaying, fears and anxieties not allaying, tales hatch; the goal is to, the last told tale, outmatch and leave the loser, to the victor, begging for a rematch…with that Match Scratchers, sleep deeply and remember to, your bedroom window, latch.

Podcasted for the Auditory Approval of the Match Scratch Society, we whisper, through the mic, our fireside submission, sometime between midnight and first light of Campfire Scarytales:

Submission 11: Dead Man's Floating Salvage Society--Oceanic Panic/Undead Calm (Bottomless Coffee/Water Wraith Set Free); (Old Salvor Bloke and Her Butterdie Stroke); (Water Demons, Dead Man's Float)

 -Your host: That's Falsetto, No Mr. accent on the to and co-host: Dr. Red Devil with a REH REH REH

Until next time, Match Scratchers!

Remember, only you can prevent forest fires, call out Campfire Scarytale imposters and disloyal match scratcher liars!

(Procrastinated Statement) *Intro/outro song, Surrender, courtesy of the artist, Asher Fulero, with a medley of sound effects added for, you guessed it, effect.