Tag Archives: after-hours poetry

Six Ft. Swells Press wants to give it to you…

Book Giveaway

Send us a poem or two that is 20 lines or less about the one who left you OR if you were the lucky one to leave them, to http://www.sixfootswells@yahoo.com with SUBMIT in the subject line and if chosen, you will receive A FREE signed copy of Six Ft. Swell’s new release, The Girl Who Left You by Amber Decker!  As Al Swearengen says “Free Fucking Gratis!”  The deadline is extended for your pleasure to midnight Monday October 27.  C’mon all you poets out there…give us your passion or pain in 20 lines or less and you just might get something in return. We, at Six Ft. Swells Press, believe in returning the favor.

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Filed under break up, Contest, Giveaway, lost love, Poetry, Publishing, Small Press, The Writer's Life

The Girl Who Left You Giveaway Contest

Book Giveaway

Book Giveaway

What’s better than an open tab on someone else’s bill? A FREE signed copy of Six Ft. Swell’s new release, The Girl Who Left You by Amber Decker!

THE CONTEST

We are looking for a short poem–10 lines or less–about The Girl/Guy Who Left You, in true after hours poetry style. The contest is open to anyone, and all entries will be considered.

You can see how the crew here at Six Ft. Swells Press defines after hours poetry on our submit page, and you can read some of our favorite Six Ft. Swells poems on our poetry page.

Click here for GUIDELINES and contest details on how to submit your entry.

The deadline to submit is Sunday October 19th at midnight.

THE GIVEAWAY

The winner will receive one personally autographed copy of The Girl Who Left You, and the winning poem will be featured here on afterhourspoetry.com, and on our Six Ft. Swells Facebook page.

A Nip of Inspiration from The Girl Who Left You

excerpted from the poem, Camouflage:

… Tucked against your chest, it took hours
for me to fall asleep, so afraid
I would wake in flames
or as ash in a blue dish at your feet.

Hush, you whispered
like a shepherd to his flock
on a full-moon night.

Or the wolf, under his breath, who answers
I’m here. I’m here.
***

Now go write! We look forward to reading your entries!

Bottoms up,

Julie & SFS Crew

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It’s Official: “The Girl Who Left You” Has Just Arrived

Top Shelf Poetry Series #4

Top Shelf Poetry Series #4

Hello Mates!

Today, we at Six Ft. Swells are proud to announce that our newest title, The Girl Who Left You by Amber Decker, is now available!  Grab a coldie, find someone you want to know intimately, turn the lights down and open the book up to lines such as:

“Sleep never comes soon enough

to those who suffer

in the arms of the ones

they do not love.”

It is a rare book that you will devour from cover to cover in one sitting like a bag of potato chips. It is a delicious, naughty, feels-so-good affair without guilt–brought to you by Six Ft. Swells Press, who always gives it to you real good.

Our co-conspirator, Todd Cirillo, says, “Amber writes with unmasked bravery, a fierceness followed by sexy, followed by sadness and then strength. Poems of Dairy Queens, cornfields, backseats on backroads, the starting of something new and the holding onto what once was.  That sound of the first button popping off, the zipper going down, and the way the shadows hit the space all around.”

Mmmm, can’t you just taste it already? The Girl Who Left You is #4 in our “Top Shelf Poetry” series, and is available on Amazon.

Bottoms up,

-Your friends at Six Ft. Swells Press

 

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Filed under Poetry, Publishing

New Book on the Horizon

Hello Mates!
Yes, we are sailing in the summer breeze, frosty brews in hand, smiling up at the sun. We haven’t just been kicking our feet up, though, there is work being done after hours that is causing all the smiling. We are happy as New Orleans clams (wait, there are clams in NOLA, right?) to announce that we will soon be releasing a new book of poetry!

Poet Amber Decker

Poet Amber Decker

This is exciting news in itself, but when you see this collection of poems by the amazing Amber Decker of West Virgina, titled, The Girl Who Left You, everyone will be raising their mugs to her talent and ability to knock us on our asses with one phrase. In true After Hours fashion, Amber’s poems are so visceral and rich, we can almost drink them.  And if they were whiskey, we’d drink the whole bottle, loving the way it burned all the way down.

Here is what we’re talking about:

AT 7PM
by Amber Decker

You board a plane to Las Vegas
bound for a supporting role in a wedding
you do not believe has anything to do with love.
Earlier, we’d made love on an old mattress
on the floor of your best friend’s apartment,
the hard shell of your suitcase banging
into my knee, your mouth wet
with the harsh scrape of my name.
There was little romance in it,
only the frenzied unleashing
of the not-knowing,
the possibility of unhappy endings, cutthroat desire.
I do not love you.
Or, rather, I love you
as I would love a deck of cards
while waiting for a train or a bus.
Our goodbyes fly across a crowded room
like small white birds.
At the ticket counter,
you kiss me with lips smooth as Carey Grant.
In the car, the radio plays songs to name
every sort of love
that does not bloom
in my heart for you,
and the long white lines of the road,
like dark-haired college boys
with bodies pale as ghosts,
take me home to bed.

***

So, friends, pour yourselves a coldie, grab your nearest sweetheart, and kick your feet up (for us). The Girl Who Left You will arrive shortly, and you’ll want to receive her properly.

Be back soon…

Julie & and the SFS Crew

 

 

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I too, am a total Sucker…

“Got this fantastic book of poetry today. I must say it couldn’t have arrived at a better time. With all the tears I’ve cried the past few days it was nice to laugh a little. Todd Cirillo totally love this. I’ll be rereading it later tonight with a nice glass of wine or a couple shots of rum or maybe both.
I to am a total sucker.”  –April Barlow, Oklahoma Six Ft. Swells fan

True Testimony from another satisfied sucker!  You all can pick up your New Years copy of Todd Cirillo’s “Sucker’s Paradise” on amazon.com along with all other illicit Six Ft. Swells titles; “The Distance Between” from Julie Valin and “The Coast is Clear” by Matt Amott.  http://www.amazon.com/Suckers-Paradise-after-hours-poetry-Cirillo/dp/0985307528/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1388721444&sr=8-2&keywords=todd+cirillo

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Filed under Drinking, Poetry, Publishing, Small Press, The Writer's Life, Uncategorized, Writer's Block, Writing

Last Call, California

Pirates roam.  That is fact.  And that is what is happening with me.  Time to sail and take Six Ft. Swells Press national.  Julie will hold down the home base, Matt will woo the late night waitresses in the Northwest , and I will stomp into uncharted waters.  Six Ft. Swells will continue across this land.  Please continue to support us.  Exciting times.  This is my love letter to California…see you down the road…catch ya on the flip side, xoxoxo Todd

Last Call, California

I had heard about you
from across the mountains
and over the plains
on the shores of Lake Huron.

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I listened to the songs
and stories
that filled the record players,
books, poems and minds.
Everything cool started
in California.

You had free love, drugs,
muscle cars, Hell’s Angels,
movie stars, hippies, homosexuals,
earthquakes, surfers,
illegal aliens,
trees as big as the sky,
organic food and beach boys.

When I was thirteen,
I announced to my Ma
that I was moving to California
and more important than the announcement
was that I meant it.

That golden land
was the place for me.
I believed the promise
of picking fruit right off the trees,
a land of plenty for all.

Birthday Road Trip July 18-21, 2009 057

I hitched a ride with Tom Joad
and headed West
once my boring midwestern obligations
were complete.

I arrived in your arms
and immediately
fell under your spell,
everything I had thought,
read, felt or heard was true.
Even the giant Hollywood sign
was there.

The golden west,
end of land sadness,
end of land gladness.

I was a hay seed,
fresh off the bus,
who believed the first man I met
that told me
I had something special,
could really make it here
and had pretty eyes.

I walked right up
to your front desk
where you told me
I could check in any time I like
but could never leave.

Welcome to CA sign

I entered California
for the first time
at your northern coast border
backpacking with my two
best friends
in freakishly sunny weather.

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Since that day
I have spent nights
shooting out your stars
and getting my lights
punched out
underneath them.

I have passed out
on your beaches
and puked in parking lots.
Ran up tabs
I could never pay
in country bars in the Trinity Alps
and paid $70
for a six-pack
at 4am in Los Angeles
because that’s what
the city of angels called for.

One Christmas day, I drank tallboys with bums
in Ocean Beach, San Diego,
laughed with illegals
while playing pool
and drinking Budweiser
in Downey,
chased bears in
Sequoia National Park,
met best friends everywhere,
some of which still
talk to me,

IMG_0913
insulted hippy kids
in Arcata
when they demanded Carey Floyd and I
give them money
to feed themselves
because they were
“just being, man”
and we suggested
if they were that hungry
they should eat their dogs.

NOLA07 113

I hallucinated in the goddamn desert
after being lost for four days
on the suggestion of my friend
who told me I would find answers there.
Instead, I found hunger, heat
and border patrol.

Birthday Road Trip July 18-21, 2009 076

Hitchhiked your northern highways
in sunshine and rain.
I was your Jack Kerouac
and became your Neal Cassady
stealing everything you had
on our Highway 99 adventures.

Broke hearts and streetlamps
in the foothills
laughed at Elephant Seals
and Sea Lions,
watched your orange poppies
grow each spring
and camped under
your 8,000 ft Buttes
completely happy.

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Got stalked by a mountain lion
in the Ventana Wilderness
outside of Big Sur,
met Will Staple
in Nevada City,

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lived with Buddhist monks
in Tassajarra
but skipped out on
too much work
to stay,
got stoned under Mt. Shasta
and slept in a landslide
on Highway 1,

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fought and fucked
my way
north, south,
east and west
within your 900 miles.

Your Pacific waves have crashed
upon my heart
more times than
I can count
and some moments
I thought
I would drown
in your depths.

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I’ve stood in roadways
in the middle of the day
in awe of the rolling hills
around me
in every direction,
breathed in the left coast air;
cool and crisp in mornings
filled with ocean spray
and hills lined with gold,
been completely directionless
but always found my way.

Birthday Road Trip July 18-21, 2009 002

Your sense of humor
has placed me in twisted positions
like one girl
that I have been with,
sitting at one end of the bar
and another,
that I have also been with,
seated at the other end of the bar
with the only one seat left
right in the middle,
thanks.

I have fallen in love
in the shade of your Sequoias,
on the 101,
cabins in the woods,
condos in San Fransico,
canoe trips on crystal rivers,
kissed underneath your Redwoods,
hell, I even got head in Bakersfield.

Sequoia's & CSN 022

I have broke up
and broke down
everywhere from
Barstow
to Redding,
and can tell you
that both towns suck;
break ups or not.

I’ve had one night stands
that lasted three months
and one night stands
that didn’t make it through
the night.
Cheated on you in a Safeway parking lot
and been cheated on
at the Yuba river.
I swear to christ, You must have more insane
women than any other state,
but hey,
I wished they all could be
California girls,
and I got my wish,
I took them in
and slept with all of them
because that’s what
I thought you wanted me to do
and they were so beautiful,
just like you;
plus, I’m, how do you say?…
a slut.

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I have blacked out
from Chula Vista to Crescent City.
Written my poems
on your streets,
in the dirt,
on mountaintops
and ocean piers.
I’ve stood on your stages
and tried to give you something
extraordinary
with words and soul
as golden and eternal
as those writers
before me;
Steinbeck,
Kerouac,
Synder,
Jack London
Allen Ginsberg,
Annie Menebroker,

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Hunter S. Thompson,
Julie Valin,

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W. S. Gainer
and of course
Bukowski.

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My black boots
stomped the same ground
as theirs.
Some nights it worked,
others it wasn’t even
a love story–
just a train wreck.

Your eternal promise
always held out
just beyond reach
but hey,
the sun always shines
here in California
so who cares.

Now, I say goodbye California
to all of your thousands
of god-awful poets
and millions of horrible poems
each longer and more spiritual
than the last.

I’m getting out,
leaving,
it is not you
but it’s not me either,
I’m pretty much the same
as when I arrived;
just years of
too many drugs,
too many deaths
and divorces,
in between
and too many bars
are closing early,
the city of lights
have dimmed.
The music doesn’t
play as loud
as I need it to.

To you I leave
multiple broken bones,
bottles, poems,
marriages,
pieces of my heart
scars
and lost loves
everywhere,
and even my best friend.

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I want you to know
that everything
I ever heard about you
was true;
the beauty,
the freaks,
the love,
the surfing
and now that Last Call
has been shouted,
give me
one for the road,
but who are we kidding,
I’ll need a sixer
at least
to get out
on an early morning
while the sun
comes up over
your golden hills
and my truck rolls toward
the state line.

And on my way out
I will see many more
coming in
and I will wave
and blow them a kiss.

Maybe we are not leaving
on the best of terms but
California, I still believe in you,
you are just as beautiful
as when I met you
and more importantly,
I still love you
and hope that you
will still love me
even though it was I
who decided to leave
you
behind.

—Todd Cirillo, 5/4/13

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Filed under Drinking, Poetry, Small Press, The Writer's Life, Uncategorized, Writing