The Poet-Super Sonnet Sunday: All Under Control

Delirious he,
Delirious she,
Delirious me,
Delirious thee.

Mania and Dementia,
Manic and Depressive,
Twins on the same coin, hallelujah,
Yet suddenly compressive.

Bi-polar disorder, you old fiend,
Or claim you Sheogorath be,
From thee the Joker has many things gleaned,
Constant accursed companion you are to me.

Mental health is not a joke,
Trapped in this monster’s eternal yoke,
My brains spill out little more than yolk,
And, I’ll feel as if I never woke.

On paper, it’s easy to be mad,
The audience merely thinks it’s an act,
In reality, I’m not all that bad,
I’d say I’ve got plenty of tact.

Negative thoughts, self-deprecation, all under control,
I’ll at least let you think I’m playing that role.

Ryan S. Kinsgrove


Follow along with my peculiar brand of insanity:

The Gunslinger

Based on The Dark Tower cycle by Stephen King.

The man in black fled across the desert,
The gunslinger followed,
Randal Flagg intends to divert,
Yet Roland Deschain remains stolid.

Go then,
There are other worlds than these,
Jake’s life ends at the tip of a pen,
The Tower stands as a great black disease.

A singular object,
Of the truest obsession,
His guns are drawn to protect,
Lives forfeit without any question.

On and on the wheel turns ever slow,
The Tower its center, and there he must go.

Follow along with my peculiar brand of insanity:


Skyrim’s Dragons Aren’t Dragons, a Sonnet

Look, out there, along the horizon,
Tis mighty Alduin come to pillage,
Fear not for this seeming threat rising,
Alduin isn’t even a dragon, no threat to our village.

His wings and teeth doth make you a liar,
Scales and fire all these things a dragon make,
Wings and teeth yes, merely makes him a flier,
Four limbs and two wings doth a true dragon take.

A true dragon for Shor’s sake man,
It breaths fire and flies, with scales like steel, that’s all I need to call it a dragon,
But it is a wyvern, more like a caveman,
A dragon he is not, get yer head outta the flagon.

But my friend, Webster doth agree,
A wyvern is a dragon with two legs I doth swear it be.

Read the partner post at: Skyrim’s Dragons Aren’t Dragons

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Poem a Day: Waiting + Announcement


Is it going to be today?
What about tomorrow?
God, I need the pay,
So I do not have to borrow.

Cold Lunch is coming,
Long have I waited.
Lucien’s ever cunning,
Renfield’s thirst is sated.

Nervousness surrounds me,
Choking with anticipation,
Will they even like thee,
Can this be my occupation.

None can quench my thirst,
Cold Lunch comes on May first.


***Author’s Note***

So, my debut novel Cold Lunch is going to be released on May 1st and I am so on edge right now. XD

I’m filled with such a wild mix of emotions right now, and I don’t know which direction I should be going.

And, part of me is depressed, because I know this isn’t going to be a miracle moment. This release is going to change things for me, forever, but it’s not the miracle cure I’ve been dying for. I’ll still have to have a day job after the 1st. I have a long uphill battle with marketing coming up on the second. I put the book out there. I built it, now I need to let people know about it so they can come.

That being said, if you would be so kind, I’ve just started setting up a mailing list of like minded individuals. I thought I’d call you all my Kinsgrovians, and my newsletter will be the Kinsgrovian Press. Now, if you would, I’d like you to click right here, and sign up on my mailing list. That way you won’t miss an ounce of Kinsgrove.

Poem a Day: My Poem of the Day

Now I sit to write,
My poem of the day,
Writing it at night,
So the lantern makes it pay.


My pen scratches against the page,
Music to my ears,
I find it has no age,
I could listen to it for years.


Now the day is done,
The time for bed grows nigh,
Gone has the sun,
In my dreams I will fly high.


Today the worst occurred,
I wish it had deferred.

Poem a Day: Horror Thrives

Zombies moan throughout the night,
Vampires arise at break of twilight,
Werewolves howl the moon’s delight,
The fey, the strange, myths alight.


Dead Cthulhu in R’lyeh sleep,
All the children he makes weep,
Nightmares run all filled with sheep,
Bah ram you, my soul to keep.


The horror genre strongly thrives,
Living out a thousand lives,
Filling deep and darkened dives,
Making me break out in hives.


The nonsense is strong with this one,
That’s how we know our poem’s done.

Super Sonnet Sunday/Poem a Day: Tech Support Woes

It’ll be just a few more minutes,
I’m sorry for the wait,
I say that to so many tenants,
It fills me with rage and hate.


I want the other department,
To just pick up,
Make it work at their apartment,
So they can shut up the pup.


Tech support woes,
I do declare,
Digital foes,
Try not to stare.


I’m not sure what else to say,
So, I’ll just turn around and say yay.




***Author’s Note***

If the poem seems broken and disjointed with no clear direction as to the imagery and language, that’s because it is. It’s taken over a week to write, each time I’ve sat and stared at it for an hour or more without really being able to move forward with it. So, as a final act of desperation, here it is. I’m not sure if it’s going to be worth having thrown the poem together just to have a post, or if I’ll come to find some worth in the poem in time. I dunno. For now I’ll let you decide.

Poem a Day: Blade of the Destroyer

Blade of the Destroyer,
Blood of the Demented,
Eternity’s employer,
Everything lamented.


How the half demon howls,
Fear of fallen angels,
Drug through the hell’s bowels,
Crying for the archangels.


I was once alive,
Flying through the skies,
Though I could never thrive,
My soul, the sin, denies.


Now the time is gone,
Fleeting like a fawn.



***Author’s Note***


I would like to thank Andy Peloquin for writing Blade of the Destroyer, book 1 of The Last Bucelarii. It has been a fantastic read. Every last word of it.


This poem is, in fact, dedicated to Andy Peloquin and his talent. Just saying, this guy’s going places. 😀


And… that is all.

Poem a Day: A Shakespearean Sonnet

Oh blank page,
How I loathe thee,
Filling me with violent rage,
Knowing I will never be free.


Haunt me you will,
Till my dying breath,
I’ll fill you with swill,
No better than Macbeth.


Alas poor Yorik,
I knew him, Horacio,
Find someone named Hendrik,
I’ll hide him in the palacio.


Shakespeare you cannot beat,
Alas, I’m afraid, I can’t compete.


***Author’s Note***

So, this week has been rather productive, even though I’ve missed quite a few days of poetry. With that you have my apologies. I’ll try to work in a couple extra poems in the week to come, but I make no guarantees.


I have finished the short story, Dobhar-chu is its name. It’s a historical/fantasy short story set halfway in the land of Eire, and halfway in a world I call AllHaven. I need to hear back from my editor (read: wife) before I call the work on it fully complete. Once it’s got her seal of approval, then I’ll wrap it up in a nice little package and send it off on submission.


Anywho, it’s past time this cat crawled into bed. Yawn.

Poem a Day: Insurance is a Scam

Insurance is a scam,
You don’t believe me,
Just ask Sam,
The truth he will tell thee.


Doctors and proctors, just big business goons,
All for the money,
Let the poor have the loons,
With a little dab of honey.


No cures will be found,
If Big Pharma has its way,
It’s not business sound,
They want you to pay.


If I disappear I’m having a lark,
With my good friend old Tony Stark.

***Author’s Note***
Woo Hoo… Today’s my birthday… And yeah… Happy 31st.