FINALLY: PUBLISHED

Z Publishing House recently released the Maryland, Carolinas, and Virginia edition of their Americas Emerging Poets of 2018 series, and I WAS PUBLISHED IN IT!

It’s truly been an incredible journey, and one full of disappointments and thoughts I might not ever reach this goal. Since I started writing at the age of 13, I hoped to have my words in a book. Through my own personal blog that I’ve run for nearly three years, countless writers groups, endless books, and hundreds of poems (many of which were terrible), I’ve discovered and re-discovered a part of me that I never knew I had. Now i never knew how I lived without it. For those that follow me on here, Instagram, and other venues that have published my words (SpillWords, Teen Ink, Blood Into Ink, Go Dog Go Cafe, and many others), thank you for always supporting me and encouraging me to keep writing. Even when it was hard, even when I didn’t know what to say or how to say it. If you don’t mind taking a look, and maybe even buying, I would greatly appreciate it!

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Scintillating Memories

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During the weekend, I put out a call for writing collaborations to pass the time during what’s been a fairly wet and somewhat dreary time of year. I haven’t done too many collabs (although that’s something I really wanted to change). Fortunately, I know a few good writers not only here but through my Instagram page. One of my favorites, Emily Hayes (who goes by E.R. Hayes on her insta), was eager to join forces. We wound up writing three distinct pieces, and I was thrilled to write and discuss words feedback. Her bio is short but poignant, as she states I’m just a 17 year old trying to make a positive impact on the world through my writing. I always applaud fellow young writers who want to leave their mark through words, especially when they’re as talented as Emily. You can find more of her fantastic words here Emily Hayes. This piece is the second of a three part series. You can read the first here, Death Plays a Quivering Chord

(Emily)

Someday we’ll realize the
Children are our future so
Instead of sheltering them we’ll
Nurture their curiosity and
Teach them the world is cruel
In more ways than one
Life is cruel
Love is cruel
All of this cruel but
There needs to be pain and sacrifice
In order to achieve
Newfound respect and
Gratitude for those little moments of
peace

(Me)

Maybe I’m too young to appreciate the sun
Ever as it sets, so do I sometimes forget
Maybe I take everything for granted
Or I take nothing, afraid to leave my mark
Rest assured one day I set my face to Mars
Inside of my mind I’m ascending ladders
Ever as we orbit, I make plans that ignore it
Space is a fraction of what we see, and I
want it all

Death Plays a Quivering Chord

During the weekend, I put out a call for writing collaborations to pass the time during what’s been a fairly wet and somewhat dreary time of year. I haven’t done too many collabs (although that’s something I really wanted to change). Fortunately, I know a few good writers not only here but through my Instagram page. One of my favorites, Emily Hayes (who goes by E.R. Hayes on her insta), was eager to join forces. We wound up writing three distinct pieces, and I was thrilled to write and discuss words feedback. Her bio is short but poignant, as she states I’m just a 17 year old trying to make a positive impact on the world through my writing. I always applaud fellow young writers who want to leave their mark through words, especially when they’re as talented as Emily. You can find more of her fantastic words here Emily Hayes. This piece is the first of a three part series.

(Emily)

I take the stairs two at a time

The library is desolate, the power is out

I reach for my bag and pull out my

flashlight

It flickers (my soul flickers back)

You flicker (I remember our past)

I run my fingers up and down the spines of

Worn books with frayed edges

These books and I, we’re one in the same

Gently used and loved, then tossed aside

To gather dust

I guess I’m not enough so I take up

Residence on the highest shelf

The flashlight dies, I flicker off

Time marches on, I carry on

Your love is gone, the light is gone

(And yet I know your flashlight flickered out

a long time ago)

(Me)

Some will win, some will lose

But your forget of me

Will never be news

The agony of peeling my skin back

Watching us dance to a new morning

Now a sky always storming

And bruises with so little oxygen

They’ve gone black

Blacked out, like the night you took my heart

Blotted me out of your story

Cast from your symphony, am I ever to play

The part of your lover, your friend

Come back to make our worlds peaceful again

These tears and I, we’re one in the same

Hidden behind the collusion of wit and will

Exploding into vibrant life when we’ve

Had our fill

I guess I’m not enough to fill your glass

So I’ll remain half-full

The tears come to an end, I take a bow

Time rushes on, I sink along

Your love is gone, my sorrow is not

(And yet I know you poured out what I left inside of you a long time ago)

WWW.

Before I get to the poetry, I’d like to share an assignment I had for my college spring semester: interviewing someone in my field to learn about the field and how to succeed in it. Of course, I had to many people to choose from, so I picked on that I’ve loved for a long time…

“For this assignment, I chose to interview a fellow WordPress blogger and writer friend of mine, Kindra Austin. To start, she introduced herself and talked about her upbringing. I asked her to name some writers that were an influence from a young age, and she named quite a few. Sylvia Plath, Edgar Allen Poe, Virginia Woolf, and Emily Dickinson were some of those that inspired her, and it was Plath who “incited her love affair with confessional poetry”. We then talked about her books, Magpie in August and Constant Muses. Magpie began as a diary about the relationship between her mother and over the course of a year or so expanded to encompass other family members. Her mother died in October of last year, and since she’d been working on a collection of poems and prose since the release of Magpie, she included more writing dedicated to her mother and dedicated Constant Muses to her. In addition to talking about her writing process, which includes her beloved cat and photographs of herself, her sister, her mother, and daughter, we also went over the literary collectives she’s a member of. As writer/managing editor at Sudden Denouement, Blood Into Ink, and Whisper and the Roar, she has come to know “savagely talented individuals who inspire me to challenge myself”. Most importantly, we talked about making it as a writer. She even gave me tips, detailing dedication, experimentation with different forms, building relationships, and sharing knowledge and experience. Finally, she named some of her favorite writers (I happened to be one!).

While some of what Kindra and I discussed was already known to me, I learned a great deal about what it takes to become a published writer. Kindra is extremely informed and a passionate human being, and it’s not hard to see why she’s so successful. I felt extremely honored to hear her views on our profession, and touched by her energy. This interview didn’t necessarily alter my plans; publishing my own poetry collection is still the main goal, but insight from someone who’s actually done it is quite invaluable. I feel encouraged to try different forms of poetry, and continuing to not be deterred by rejection letters.” 

Kindra has always struck me as an incredible writer who combines a warrior’s passion with a mother’s grace. Some of her recent poems reflecting on her childhood inspired me to write this (and no, I don’t do her work justice, but…)

My high school years were short on sweethearts
Just like middle school
Pre-school
None, actually
I was never the romantic soul
I’d console emptiness with full pages
WWW’s leading to poems and paragraphs
She was the only girl (*woman) I actually cared about
Because she wrote about the things I felt
Manipulation, inner strength, being a warrior
In spite of everything that has been done
And would eventually take place
I found consolation in poetry and prose
That stuck with you, despite the woes
Thrown to the wolves, no real father
In and out of your life as the alcohol
Drained from bottles upon bottles
You discovered what drugs were, even touched
Yet you never took part, and found offense
In the things that kept you from sleeping
And kept breakfast short, dinner shorter
And summer’s in hundred degree heat
Taught you to create your own destiny
Be your best self, your only self
I learned that here, first, and it’s because
Of them, that I found words to come to me too
I could write just like her, I could convey
Just like her
I never thought I’d be as accomplished
But if I could find my real self
Then the journey would have been worth it

Let’s Collaborate!

Just wanted to say how excited I was to be interviewed by Ericka Arthur last week as part of her #WriterCrushWednesday feature. Taking the time to answer her questions was quite the pleasure.

You can read the full interview here: https://authenticiteespeaks.com/2018/05/16/meet-poet-devereaux-frazier-an-aspergians-chemical-romance/

Back in February, I teamed up with the Brianna, daughter of the fabulous Michelle Cook, to write “Running to Who from Where” (https://herwritinghaven.com/2018/02/12/running-to-who-from-where/).

Then in March, I joined forces with Christine Ray, Basilike Pappa, Eric Syrdal, Nicholas Gagnier, Megha Sood, Sarah Dougty, Kindra Austin, Michael Erickson, Steven Fuller, and John Leys in a poem after the Parkland Shooting (https://braveandrecklessblog.com/2018/02/20/we-cannot-look-away-not-another-17-not-another-one/).

They were two of my favorite poems I’ve written this year not only because I felt strongly about my part, but that I got to do my favorite thing with people who enjoy doing the same. Writing can be seen sometimes as lonesome, but that’s only if it make it so. This past year, I’ve been expanding my writing content and trying new things. One of the these is collaborations. I’ve only done a couple, but I’m really purposing to do more. A lot more. I feel like I make stronger statements, and connect better with writers and purposes I care about.

So, this is pretty much me saying “If you want to collab with me, here’s your chance!” I’m open to writing about any sort of topic, and if you choose to collaborate I’ll post it on both of my blogs and all social media.

Don’t everybody reply at once 😂😂😂😂😂

We’re Playing Dress Up and Democracy Is Our Chains

Take me from this church, I don’t belong to life

Humans shattering bones with blood

And taking life with a million knives

Ingrained in our society the absence of rights

Despite aged documents we claim to live by

Ingrained in our food, flowing in our water

Chemicals and poisons that shove us farther

Into the ground, tightening the chains

Into our ears the sound waves of slaves

We build walls around our brothers

Encourage mothers to terminate births

Tell men they have little worth

Tell girls they’re not pretty unless they’re white

Tell boys they’re the reason women have no rights

Tell whites they’re the reason blacks suffer

Tell blacks they will always suffer

 

I need a respite

We missed something, that’s right

 

And what’s wrong is that nobody knows right

Opposing views are shot down

The mob rules the country, drowned out

In their screaming into the air

Or taking up city streets in protest

Of what they can hardly spell or explain

I ask them what’s fascist, they can’t explain

I ask them what’s so sexist, they can’t explain

How can you hate yet have no reason?

You’ve gone insane!

 

#FuckTrump becomes a beacon of light

Only for those to ignorant to see the path

They tread the darkness, they are near to die

They’ve lost humanity, the breath of life

And while #MeToo rightfully encourages

Speaking out against violence and abuse

We are quick to discard men and uphold women

Who speak quite little truth

Emotionally immature, vocabulary quite fictional

Our short term dreams are whimsical

Social media distorts reality, and we crave the lives of others

Main stream media controls reality, but we’re okay with that

 

If you are fine with that

You were probably already dead

But I can’t be

And won’t be

 

 

Versatile Blogger Award: Thanks Christine!

I was nominated for this award by Christine Ray over at https://braveandrecklessblog.com. Christine provides the internet with some of the most elegant and vibrant poetry I’ve ever read, and I encourage you to check out her work.

The rules for this blog require you to name seven interesting facts about yourself and then pass it along to fifteen of your favorite bloggers.

1. I have over a thousand pages of poems by Emily Dickinson that I’ve collected over the last few years

2. I eat mangoes and kiwi whole. Skin and all.

3. Due to my sensitivities, I got rid of all but one hoodie and practically every sweater I’ve ever owned. The fabric is extremely itchy and the cause of too many panic attacks.

4. I got lost in California once, and it nearly led to the police putting out a search party. (Highly embarrassing)

5. The next bike I get on will be the first.

6. I don’t know why, but I’ve always preferred reading the poetry of a woman. (Female poets>Male poets, IMO)

7. I see in my comments people say “Dev”, but that’s technically not my nickname. It’s actually DR, as my name is spelled DeveReaux. But…people normally struggle with it, and since I don’t say “oh yeah, the R is capitalized” it kinda gets forgotten. That, and I never actually capitalize the R 🤷🏾‍♂️

And for the nominees…I hate doing this, because I hate picking 15 people out of thousands. That, and I’m not sure who does and doesn’t do awards. So, if you’re reading this and feel like participating, be my guest.

Thanks again, Christine. You’re a light to us all.

The Things I’m Not, We All Are

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First things first
I’m not a writer
There’s nothing special about my profession
Everyone writes everyday
Even when they’re not thinking about it
Communicating information is centuries old
What makes me so bold
To share it with the world
Is the power and passion that flows
Inside these veins, borne of a brain
Taught to hate the plain, chase the days
Long into the night, resting only
Once I’m on top of the pile
Second things second
I’m not a poet
Speaking powerful words that inspire
There’s nothing special about that
People do that everyday, even when
They don’t know they are
Doctors, nurses, police officers
Bringing forth life with a touch
That’s real power
That’s real change
What makes me so bold
To share it with the world
Is the emptiness I find in breath
The space between our eyes
So many humans are dead, rotting inside
And it’s up to us to bring them back
Inside these veins, borne of a brain
Taught by guilt, molded by pain
Never ready to give up, I get up again
Last things last
Writing doesn’t make me a writer
Powerful images doesn’t make me a poet
None of these things define me
Because humans create powerful images
Humans write words of love and peace
So I guess
I’m just human
I guess
We’re all human

Potent Poets

Fingertips glazed with potent

pictures of the fray

presidential missteps punch

humans out the person

poets ride like the cold winds

striking blows and leaving fast

the mangled guilt leaves a trail

for the universe to see

even the strongest eyes

will tear when stripped of belief

hope is wrong in the minds of some

choice allows something to be done

when the snow comes down

the cries go up

sounds of crashing content

demolish any source of common sense

railway tracks take lovers back

shoulders bearing caskets

tell us we won at last

Some Good, Some Bad, Mostly In Between

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Hello WordPress. Coming to you in my (very awesome) Fall Out Boy Bomber Jacket (I’m not walking around with this on, it was just for this pic), I’ve been more or less tired as of late. Mentally more than physically.. the days have really started to become blurs. Maybe it’s just the season, just the cold, but it’s a mildly oppressing moshpit of activities. Thanksgiving Week will be weird since Mary’s Gourmet be open Tuesday and Wednesday, which are days I usually spend reading and writing at home or at a park/coffee shop somewhere. Anyway. I’m an aspie holding a customer service job for nine months. Kinda crazy, but it’s humbling and a reminder of how far I’ve come. Customers are always telling me I’m such a wonderful presence, and that I’m always fast of my feet and finding solutions. Heh. Guess I blend in better than I thought I could. Or the gluten free diet is working. I haven’t been exactly GF though. I did order a gluten free pie from one of my favorite vendors at our farmers market for thanksgiving, so #Progress.

Registering for college next year. Now that my dad isn’t around to fuck up, I can actually get the school my tax information. Can’t believe he cost me a year, and way too much embarrassment. Haven’t really done anything school-related, which has allowed me to write a ton. Also, reading. I read Catcher In The Rye over the summer (hated it), but it was nice to have so much free time. It feels good to be writing, but not poetry. Been feeling down lately. Mostly upset with the lack of response from publishers about my book.  Blog views are down. Also having a hard time integrating at my Teen Arts Council. I was there last year but this year I can’t get there on time (work), so I miss about half a meeting. I felt like this year would be better, but I actually feel worse. I just can’t make friends. And none of the girls are interested in me. (Asks someone why). They’re gay. That’s news. I’m not upset, but it does explain the…I dunno how to put it. 

Been published twice in the last couple months on SpillWords….

http://spillwords.com/failure-for-all-to-see/

http://spillwords.com/dear-her/

Here’s my interview with https://mademoisellewomen.com

https://mademoisellewomen.com/2017/11/12/blogging-for-business-with-devereaux-fraizer-of-maryland-poet-blog/

You Were Meant To Know The Night Writing Prompt 

https://braveandrecklessblog.com/2017/10/13/you-were-meant-to-know-the-night-writing-prompt-challenge-devereaux-frazier/

Letting Go for https://tanyatale.wordpress.com

https://tanyatale.wordpress.com/2017/10/27/poetry-with-devereaux-frazier-letting-go/