Praise for Jess C Scott’s poems
“I abandon all ‘insistencies’ I’ve ever had regarding formal poetry.”
-- editor of The Moose & Pussy literature & art magazine
“Really complex, interesting writing...I look forward to reading more from this author.”
-- mim06290, LibraryThing.com
“...each word [Jess] writes is exactly what she wants to say and as a reader, it is very natural in terms of comprehension and flow.”
-- loafhunter13, LibraryThing.com
“You pack huge volumes of experience and information into your life. You’re impressive, I’ll say that, and edgy and interesting. And mildly scary.”
-- T.D., via e-mail, 2010
Other Books by Jess C Scott
EYELEASH: A BLOG NOVEL
(teenage memoir)
4:PLAY
(a contemporary cocktail of erotic short stories)
THE DEVILIN FEY | WICKED LOVELY | NEW ORDER
(novellas in 4:Play)
PORCELAIN
(writing/illustrating portfolio)
BUSINESS PLAN: BUILDING BRAND IDENTITY
(non-fiction)
1: THE INTERN
(Book #1 in “Sins07”serie)
THE OTHER SIDE OF LIFE
(upcoming cyberpunk/urban fantasy series / Winter 2010)
TROUBLE
Jess C Scott
TROUBLE
Published by Jess C Scott, Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 1995-2010 by Jess C Scott.
Cover art © by r e n a t a @
http://www.flickr.com/photos/renatamotta/.
All rights reserved.
First Edition: August 2010
1. Poetry/General 2. Poetry/Contemporary
Summary: A poetry collection by author/artist/non-conformist, Jess C Scott. Trouble showcases Jess’s penchant for “bending the rules”—read with caution.
Notes:
‘The Boy at The Train Station’ and ‘Trouble’ were originally published in Conceit Magazine.
‘Playing the Flute’ was originally published in Unleashed Online.
‘Wired’ was originally published in The Battered Suitcase/Vagabondage Press.
‘Grotto’ was originally published in Word Slaw.
‘-quote me-’ was originally published in ITCH Magazine.
‘Avalon’ was originally published in Mirror Dance.
‘Haiku Humor / out Of control / Your Best Face (And Body) Forward’ were originally published in Madswirl.
‘Death of a Lion King’ was originally published in Every Day Poets.
‘4 Fib Poems’ were originally published in AlienSkin Magazine.
‘Slates of Grey’ was originally published in AMULET.
Excerpts of ‘Appetizers’ were originally published in Clean Sheets; UnMasked Online; Yellow Mama; The Battered Suitcase/Vagabondage Press; and Side of Grits/Rural Messengers Press.
An excerpt of ‘Tongue-Tied’ was originally published in Nefarious Ballerina.
Most of the poems in Trouble are available in Porcelain (Jess’s 2010 writing/illustrating portfolio).
. . . CONTENTS . . .
The
Boy at The Train Station
Slates
of Grey
Skating
to a Halt
Slow
Acidifying
All
People
Pretty
in Plastic
paperchase.06
Your
Best Face (And Body) Forward
Effects
of A “New, Fast, and Easy Solution”
Storm
I
Look
Touch
Poems
Death
of a Lion King
Red
Dragon
Ravenous
Appetite
The
Tattooed Girl
Guardians
Dragons
of Ice
Sleeping
Dragon
Death
Dragoness
Autumn
Piety
Avalon
4
Fib Poems
Grotto
Drowning
Disillusioned...Misguided
Trouble
-quote
me-
I
Think I’m Idealistic
Haiku
Humor / out Of control
::Oxygen::
Christmas
List
/Not
the Only One/
Light
& Dark
Smile
-tears
from the stars-
-of
love and lovers-
I
fell in love with a nobody
I
think of you and me
This
is Free Fall
black
ice
1000
[peace.]
[
You Idiot ]
the
one
-whiteout-
God
Bless
+ BOOK EXCERPTS +
3
Poems from EyeLeash:
A Blog Novel
Appetizers
(poetry in 4:Play)
+ MANIFESTOS +
+ [AUTHOR Q&A] +
POEMS / PROSE POEMS
~ Jess’s Note: I really did see someone at the train station / I don’t know whatever happened to him
The Boy at The Train Station
I only saw him for two fifths of a second.
I wish I had for longer.
He was seated on the floor, against a wall.
Nobody saw him.
He remained unseen as commuters streamed out.
People were rushing, talking on their cell phones,
laughing with their friends and colleagues.
Station officers.
Students in uniform.
Business people with their laptops.
Fashionistas in their heels and make-up.
No one looked sideways or turned their heads for
a backward glance.
He wore a baseball cap back to front.
An oversized black T-shirt, battered Vans sneakers.
His fringe had streaks of faded red.
His head was bowed low; his arms circled round his
propped up knees. He was alone, he was quiet, and he
was crying.
Boys cry, but it’s not often that I actually see them do.
He seemed oblivious to the crowd, to the endless
stream of people stepping and moving out of the train
station. He could have been there for hours, or he
could have just gotten there.
I wanted to ask if he was all right. I wanted to go up to
him and ask, “Do you need any help?”
I had the time; I could listen.
I might not be able to fix the matter (or matters)
down to the last detail,
but I knew how important it was to simply
have someone,
be there.
Like the rest of the human traffic, I didn’t stop.
I made a turn to go up the escalator,
to the world of more traffic and people,
outside.
I moved on without ever letting him know that
I had
seen him.
That I did care.
That if I could make a difference,
I would have been happy to do so.
But I’ll never know.