Life | Updates that Suck

Hey ya’ll,

Sorry I’ve been so quiet these last few months — a lot has been going on in my personal life, couple that with an overall lack of motivation and I just haven’t felt the urge to write. Unlike most, I’ve learned not to force my hand (literally) if I’m not feeling inspired. Nothing good ever comes of it.

289904406_10228711574273636_2089309395231046952_nAs some of you may know, I graduated with my Master’s this past May. It’s a surreal feeling to finally be done with this incredibly intense portion of my life. I am intensely grateful for the downtime that I’m able to have; I’ve spent a lot of time with friends and am starting to remember what it is to have a social life.

There’s also a feeling of failure; I’m back working in a call center, a place I never thought I’d return, rather than working in my field. I’m trying to stay positive about it, to view it only as a resting place until I get my strength up to begin the search for the job I want…. or create the shit myself.  That requires a little bit of mental space — which I just don’t have right now until I settle into my schedule.

I also miss my friends and our conversations. Most of them will be gone if/when I return for the start of my second Master’s (I got the official nod of acceptance in April). I’m still gunning for the PhD, so I need to begin looking at programs and writing applications soon.  Clearly my last idea wasn’t interesting enough for the schools I applied to, so I need to rethink my plan of attack.  I’ll keep you guys posted — the season begins December.

In other news — the one that I’ve been quiet about both on the internet and in real life — is that I’m divorcing. I don’t think many of you knew that I was married, which was intentional on my part. I never wanted to be defined by my marriage nor dismissed because of it.  Either way, it’s ending.  We’re in this weird roommate phase – me living in my purple office surrounded by books and and my collection of dead things – and him in the master bedroom.  It’s a strange living arrangement and complicated to navigate — but the housing market is so terrible now that it’s impossible for me to find a place. I keep looking though.  

In more exciting news — THE WAIT IS FINALLY OVER! Song of the Sister was released yesterday morning, and I am… fucking STOKED it’s out there. HUGE thanks to Cody Sexton for taking a risk on this absolute beast of a genre mash-up; part biblical studies, part dirty realism poetry, part photo book.  I am insanely proud of it…. and very glad editing is finished. 🙂  Here’s a few reviews: 

“This is quite an achievement.” — Justine Jones, editor

“In Song of the Sister, Leia John fuses together flesh, desire, vulnerability, and lived reality, with the songs and symbolism of ancient voices burning with passionate familiarity. The result? A remarkable work of human experience that tattoos itself upon your soul.” – Joe Haward, author of Heresy

Song of the Sisteis a tender, lyrical, beautifully rendered portrait of the conception, death(s) and rebirth of a romantic relationship. At once a celebration and an elegy of a fraught love affair, this is a quietly devastating collection of linked poems that almost reads as a novella-in-verse. The language is gorgeous throughout, each poem shrewdly uttered in the frank and formidable voice that we’ve come to expect from Leia John. Presented alongside equally stunning visual imagery, these are poems that both sing and scream. To paraphrase the poet, ‘I could spend all my nights in awe / of this beauty Leia John, and consider it a / life well spent.’ Song of the Sister is a revelation of the highest order, I adored it.” – HLR, author of History of Present Complaint

Erotic/elegiac/lamentatious poetry that reads like some of the hippest/disruptive Trash Fiction U wanna read.” – DuVay Knox, author of Pussy Detective

If you’re interested in snagging this lil beauty you can buy it here (and I actually get a percentage of the sales! I’m moving up in the world, baby!!) 

 

Sometimes | Poems that Suck

We were toxic as fuck,

and there are times I wonder

if our connection was more a sickness

of spirit, rather than something cosmic —

But sometimes,

when the moon looks just right,

and the night air is a certain humidity,

I miss you —

The scathe of your fingers nails on my scalp,

sharp enough for me to wince beneath them,

the low rumble of your voice, which always caused

me to lean into your mouth,

the sound of your laugh, which is etched inside my brain,

the curve of your fingers, and the impossible largeness of your hands,

the deep, earthy smell of you that always made me feel like I was at home,

and the feeling of when our heads touched – like it was always us, had always

been us, and would always be us.

Even if it was a sickness,

at least it was shared.

(A)Mused | Poems that Suck

Hold me close and kiss me –

 – then text her from ‘our’ bed.

Call me by the names that only you know –

– as you simp for her half naked photos.

Blow smoke, talking about keys, growing old,  meeting your mama and babies –

-while you plan to take couple photos with her.

‘Make love’ – never fuck – me –

 – while visions of her dance in your head.

Use me when you want to cum –

-then talk to her for hours, lying to me by omission.

Just say the truth –

I’m the Bargain Basement clearance rack version

of what you always wanted, but could never get.

Tell me –

You’re not in love, but

love my attention

and

will keep cumming in me

’til something better

comes along.

Amazing News | Updates that Suck

Hey ya’ll,

Just wanted to drop some AMAZING news that I got a few days ago (it hit Twitter first, of course. If you’re not following me, you should @suckasspoetry that’s where all the shenanigans go down).

I know I’ve mentioned that all last year I’d been working on a poetry collection called Song of the Sister – this is the one that’s a hot take on the Song of Songs (Song of Solomon) that is only a woman’s voice, set in a contemporary urban environment. It takes what I love – dirty realism and biblical studies – and mashes those two together.  It sounds weird, but I promise.. it works. I spent all this past summer putting together the book – editing, layouts, etc – and began submitting it to a few pubs. No luck, no dice – but after 3 or 4 rejections, Anxiety Press looked at this fucking monstrosity and took it!

So – this is a combined photo / poetry book – meaning, for each poem there is an accompanying picture that captures the mood of the poem itself. There are a total of 24 poems in there – which doesn’t seem like a lot, but – trust me – it’s a journey. It comes out July 10th of this year, and will be released on Amazon! I feel like this last portion will make life a hell of a lot easier for all of you.

Check out this cover!  I’m in love with it!

9nmnRvv1

Kept | Poems that Suck

“Can I keep you?” I whispered against your lips.

Not whimsy, but a real question.

“Yes,” you murmured into my smile.

Our bodies pressed against each other,

Like two halves trying to make a whole.

“How long?”

How long will you stay?

“As long as you want me.”

And I sunk into that pink, hazy bubble

of bliss that I’m always in when you’re near.

“Ok. I’ll keep you for good.”

I meant forever, but didn’t want to scare you.

.

.

.

.

.

Five heartbeats, before I ask.

“Will you keep me?”

Will you really stay?

Do you really want me?

“Mmhm”

.

.

.

Three heartbeats before..

“How long?”

.

.

Two heartbeats.

As if the answer is obvious.

“Forever,” you said, your cum dripping down my hips.

“Ok, forever,” I agreed, kissing you with eyes wide shut.

Some New Shit | Poems that Suck

Hey ya’ll,

Sorry I haven’t been posting a whole lot – just a lot of ups and downs in life right now, and I’m trying to sort my life out – ala Shawn of the Dead.

Also been trying to focus on writing more flash fiction and submitting some more places this year. It’s been a busy month for me! If you’re interested you can find two new flash fiction pieces; one over at Terror House Press and another at A Thin Slice of Anxiety. Let me know what you think. Also, I got to hang out for a lil bit with the Bastard Sons of Oedipus over at their podcast… talking about sex, true crime, serial killers and some light politics. Check it out! So …yeah, that’s what I’ve been up to.

I’m finally seriously considering writing a short novella … a little dirty, a little dark, a little funny. A lot of people have been encouraging me – or outright threatening me if I don’t write one – so I thought, maybe I’d give it a try. I’ve got a few ideas on paper but haven’t really written anything yet. I’m not going to lie – I’m hesitant. I know where my strengths and weaknesses are …and the truth is I generally can’t hack long format… and I’m absolute shit at dialogue. But… I’m gonna give it a try and hopefully a few editor friends of mine can help me make it better. Fuck it, right?

Hope ya’ll are having a good new years. I’ll post some shit soon!

Filthy love to ya all,

L

2 POEMS BY LEIA JOHN

Punk Noir Magazine

My Bloody Valentine

I want to live with you.

Inside of you.

To stretch myself under

your ribcage and

wrap my nervous system around

your spinal column,

to kiss your tarry, smoke-

blackened lungs,

croon to your liver,

caress your spleen.

I want to love you from

the inside.

To wear your flesh as

my own

and to appropriate

your eyes

so that I could see the beauty you do.

I want you.

For your blood to

be my own, and to be connected

with you forever.


A Love Poem Told in Hair

I want you to find

my hair in your bed;

a rainbow of reds, pinks,

browns, blues, greens, blonde

and maybe even a little bit of gray.

I want you to find

it wrapped around the

base of your cock when

you take a shower, and

between your ass cheeks, in

your mouth when you eat lunch,

View original post 38 more words

Outcast Press Episode | Updates

Hey ya’ll,

I just wanted to post the link to the podcast I was on last night. Heads up: if you don’t like hearing about cocaine, BDSM, ass eating and cocks …..this might not be the episode you wanna hear.

Fourteen | Poems that Suck

I wonder what I'd be like
had you not smelled my
daddy issues like, like a
shark scents blood in 
                                         the water.

What kind of life I'd have
if you never whispered
obscenities down the 
phone line into my fourteen
                                                 year old ears.

What I'd think about 
love, and sex had I not
given up my virginity 
in a one night stand 
                                    so you wouldn't
                                    be disappointed.

Or even if I hadn't learned
from you that love, sex, and
the person you're fucking are
of no consequence so long as
                                                         I get mine. 

It's no wonder that I
am terrified by love and
find sex to be hollow, and
have an overwhelming fear 
                                                 of abandonment.