I’m pretty happy and excited right now, because I just submitted my first e-book to Amazon for publication. It’s my latest volume of poetry titled (you guessed it) Blue Star Poems, and this is the cover I came up with in about 2 seconds (can you tell?). If you want to know where I got the idea for the title, you’ll have to ask me. It should be available for download (only cost ya a buck!) in the next day or two – I’ll keep you posted!
The best gifts are the ones you can tell needed a lot of thought and effort. This usually translates into presents that are made instead of bought. Today, my nephew gave me this poem that he wrote, typed up, and illustrated. Thanks again, buddy. I love you, and it’s going to be hard for Santa to top this one! I’m feeling very lucky to be healthy and surrounded by such a loving family – hope everyone else is, too!
Since today marks 23 years since I was diagnosed with Crohn’s Disease (see my medical records here), I thought this poem would be a good scan for today. It must have been a bad Crohn’s day when I wrote it, but I was trying to convince myself that there were worse diseases out there (cancer, for example?).
I’m glad to report that I feel more in control of my Crohn’s than when I wrote this. And since my diagnosis 23 years ago (when they removed 1 ½ feet of my intestines), I have not needed any more surgery and I’ve only had to be hospitalized once (in 2008).
Crohn’s
Even though I never asked,
I accepted you in my life.
You made me rot away
And I had a hospital stay,
From before Christmas
To New Year’s Day.
The scar on my side
And toxic air I can’t hide
Remind me
You are still with me.
I turn you into a joke
As much as I can,
But your embarrassing ways
Hit me now and again.
I’ll calmly sit,
Then have to race into
My office room,
Like a cat I run
Sensing immediate doom.
The laws took away
The best medicine
I had for you,
The closest I came
To convincing this relationship
Was through.
Don’t let these chronic lines
Go to your head,
You don’t even win a medal
For all the diseases
In my bed.
In some ways
You are just a result
Of all previous conditions,
Your name needs explaining
For most who will listen.
Ironically you were and are
The easiest to digest,
You may not be
The easiest to cure,
But you will never
Be the best.
I haven’t kept my rejections a secret. Henry Morrison, the BC Stylus, McIntosh & Otis, and the Massachusetts Film Office all rejected my submissions. Those days are always tough, and today was another one of them.
But, it wasn’t the Boston Review rejecting me today; I got this letter a few years ago after submitting poetry. Today I found out that the Crohn’s Advocate magazine didn’t use the picture I submitted, and I didn’t win the $5000 myevent.com video contest. I know I’ll get over it; it’s just a little tougher when it comes twice in a day. And just like all these rejection letters I’ve saved, I use it as fuel to better myself and keep going after my dreams.
So, thank you, rejecters. I hope someday sooner rather than later you’re contacting me and I’m the one who gets to choose.
Last Dip
The fall is here
Upon the shore,
A step once tried
To take before.
The water buzzes
Like salt water to mouth,
The haze of sunset
Toes feeling it out.
The summer is gone
Like Ceilidhs in PEI,
A need to give this wave
A best try.
The air hints winter
But veins are warm,
Creating their version
Of the ideal dawn.
A time for goodbye
Upon this last dip,
A ripple takes over
And makes a new trip…
Wrote this one right before the playoffs started last season. Hope the B’s are ready to get serious like I am seriously getting ready to publish another book. Glad hockey is back…
Hockey Girl,
I long for you
And your late 3rd period
Nails
Digging in my leg
Counting down
A one goal close lead,
Just like a goal
Predicted seconds before.
Even though Pearl Jam dominated my ears when I was in college, the band Live did leave an impression. When I went to see them with my “lawyer friend” 4 years ago, they did not disappoint (Collective Soul was pretty damn good, too).
A couple of days later, I wrote down these words that came to me during the show. I haven’t written many poems like this recently, which is a good thing because I usually use poetry as an outlet for the darker emotions. This poem made it into my third volume,III Sides to Every Poem. Hope you enjoy…
This is what I wrote in my journal four years ago.
Farther and further away
From the tattoo day,
But the ink never dries
When it’s a soul that cries.
Moments of silence
For the pointless violence,
As the blood needle burns
From too late lessons learned.
See the red rain inside
A loss flowing from those who died,
A condition now part of the skin
Making pores that can’t be filled in.
It’s owed to those who lost
To always remind of the measureless cost,
Still farther way
Never forget this tattoo day.
Now ten years since it happened and four years since I wrote this, I’m still haplessly trying to figure it out. How could anyone think that killing thousands of innocent people was the right thing to do? How would families, fire departments, friends, and co-workers ever move past losing someone? Has our military response made the world a better place?
It took less than five years since the attacks for the number of US soldier deaths to surpass the number of people who were killed on 9-11 (see CNN article). Will our military presence in Iraq or Afghanistan ever result in an end to terrorism? I have passes to go visit the 9/11 memorial on September 30th. I doubt this will help answer any of my questions, but I feel (like writing this poem) it’s a way I can honor those who lost their lives 10 years ago.
Let’s hope and pray for less local and worldly violence over the next ten years…
Along with Clavin and Hobbes, Deep Thoughts, The Far Side, Eddie Vedder, and Cam Neely; I had these quotes up on my college room door. Not sure if Aerosmith came up with that quote, but that’s where I heard it. Enjoy…
Five years ago I published my first book of poetry, Poems from a Tragic Comic: Surviving cancer, drinking, and women.
My idea for the cover was almost a precursor to this blog, and my sister Carolyn made the idea a reality.
I wanted the cover to be a smorgasbord of events and emotions that captured the kinds of feelings contained in my poems. There are medical things, drinking things, dating things, and sports things.
The BC hockey pieces demonstrate this wide range of emotions in particular. I wanted to include a BC-BU ticket because that rivalry is near and dear to my heart. The BC hockey pictures define the Wide World of Sports tagline “The thrill of victory and the agony of defeat” – they are the sign on the Mass Pike after BC won the championship in 2001, and a picture of the players after they lost the championship game in OT in 1998.
Most of the other items I’ve blogged about already:
Eventually, I’ll have to make one huge collage of everything I scan.
More on BC hockey tomorrow…
Last night at the Worcester Magazine’s Best of Worcester party, I ran into a friend of mine, Alex, who I had not seen in a while. Alex and I went to St. John’s and Boston College together, and he was there for winning the Best Poetry Series.
Although he had invited me many times to the Dirty Gerund Poetry Show he co-hosts, my schedule at Hope Lodge usually has me working on Monday nights. Luckily I had someone covering me for the Worcester Mag Party, so I was able to go last night
So, after all the awards had been presented, my girlfriend and I headed to Ralph’s Diner for our first night of Dirty Gerund Poetry. We hung outside for a bit with Alex and the featured poet Marc, who had flown in from Baltimore for the show, and headed into Ralph’s.
Even though I had never been there, I felt really comfortable at this diner. I don’t know if it was the hamburger being grilled in front of me or the funky décor, I just felt like it wouldn’t be the last time I visited this place.
When the poetry started, I was really blown away. Even though I have published 4 books of poems myself, I had never been to a live poetry show. I figured the poetry would be different than what I had written, and I was right. All full of energy, most of the poets exploded with verses about sex, religion, and politics. The poetic vocalizations were full of emotion, funny at times, and captivated the audience. I think my favorite was titled “Election Night Sex”, an anti-Republican rant written about the 2008 presidential election.
Marc Marcel mastered the mic with his poems about how religion divides us, how money is meaningless, what he needs from a woman in bed, and how he disagrees with one of his friends about how to treat women. When he was sharing his verses and views on religion and money, I was all smiles and knew I would be emailing him my t-shirt blogs that shared the same opinion – this guy understands what is really important in life. I’m looking forward to his next visit to Mass.
The night concluded with a Superhero Haiku Game Show (What, you’ve never heard of one before?). Haikus were read that gave clues to different superheroes, and contestants “buzzed in” (hit a different body part of Alex’s co-host, Nick) as soon as they knew who the poem was about. With my girlfriend as my witness, I would have won and taken the $15 gift certificate to That’s E.
I don’t know when I’ll have enough confidence to be part of a Dirty Gerund show, but I definitely want to give it a try at some point. It was a great job by the Dirty Gerund hosts, bands, and poets last night. Easy to see why they won Best of Worcester. Looking forward to the next Monday night I can have off…
It’s weird when I look back on things I wrote years ago. Sometimes it takes me back to a feeling, situation, and place that I’m very glad I have moved past. And, it reminds me to be thankful for what I have rather than complain about what I don’t have. Poetry has always been an outlet for me to use for any emotional low I’m going through. I’m happy to report that I haven’t written any poems like this one lately…
I see the teachers’ whispers transfer
Down an undefended operator’s line,
It’s the only vision that
Completes these lessons
Of cross-curricular tragedy.
Not a call from any cell
Tells me this disease
May linger
Like my ears ringing of
Faculty room groupthink.
My classroom walls
Are now narrowed to 4 bedposts,
And into this corner
All these words
Have painted me.
Well, I thought I had written my “Twinkle” poem exactly 5 years ago today, but I was a day off. Here is the original draft of that poem (I didn’t really change much other than give it a title) which can be found in my books Poems from a Tragic Comic and Episode IV Play – it’s one of my favorites. Also, here are a couple more poems that I did write on April 5, 2006. Enjoy!
Twinkle
If really these are
What count,
Look up at a
Clear night sky,
Across borders and
Plains and
Atmospheric reigns
Runs the shooting silvery
Trail of my limitless
For you.
Unconditionally out
Of control,
Lay back and the sky
Will show,
The unbelievable
Every twinkle
Can add up to...
I wrote "Crepe Place" on this one because I was waiting for my friend Glen at this place by his Beacon Hill apartment when I wrote it. . I believe we watched Josh Beckett's first game playing for the Sox that night, too.
My birthday has been a lot of things over the years. It’s been fun, life-changing, sad, lonely, snowy, exciting, sporty, drunk, sick, awesome, surprising, and memorable.
Mostly because of my 18th birthday, March 31st has become a day that I cherish more than most and one that I try to remember no matter how many years has passed. Here are a few of my birthday memories from over the years:
When I turned 11, one of my presents was tickets to see Wrestlemania (yeah, the ORIGINAL) on closed-circuit TV at the Centrum in Worcester. This was before pay-per-view cable TV, so you went to the arena and watched it on a big screen. It may not have been watching wrestlers in the flesh, but it was Live TV and I was very happy to watch the Hulk Hogan and Mr. T tag-team match!
On my 13th birthday, I got my first Bruins jersey (#7, McGrath) – awesome.
When I was 17, my dad took me to a Bruins-Whalers game that was one I will never forget. Chris “Knuckles” Nilan set an NHL record with 10 penalties in one game! Also for my 17th birthday, my girlfriend and my friend Mike put together a surprise party for me at my parents’ house. We went out to eat at some resturant in Marlboro before, and I really had no clue what was waiting for me. They also invited two guys from Grafton to come and sing an Extreme song at the party, and my cake was a (go figure) hockey rink.
Just a year later was my life-changing birthday. I was turning 18, and was excited about not having to worry about the under 18 curfew rule for Massachusetts drivers. However this birthday didn’t include any late-night driving. Instead, it featured massive headaches, double vision, and a eventual diagnosis of a brain tumor (read more about my story at 15-40.org). Thanks to my family, friends, doctors, and nurses, I made it through in one piece.
Although it took me years of drinking, rehab, therapy, and writing to figure it out, my birthday and early April became times of “Dark Anniversaries” after my cancer diagnosis. It seems so obvious now when I look at poems with titles like “Sad Deathnight!” (see poem published in Poems from a Tragic Comic and card signed by Freshman year friends), but that also began a time that I used writing to fight back against the negativity cancer reminded me of during this time of the year.
For my 22nd birthday, we held a bash at Mod 40A, and I’m happy to report that I’m still friends with a lot of the people that were in attendance. It was the last big party we had in our Mod, and no one had to talk to any of the kind BC police officers.
When I turned 23, I was working as a teacher’s aide in a special ed/residential school. That night, we got a blizzard and I knew that night that there was no school on April 1st – a perfect excuse to break in the Playstation I had just bought!
My 24th birthday was exciting because the BC hockey team had just made it to the Frozen Four and my roommate got us tickets to the semi-finals and championship game which were in Boston.
For my 25th birthday, I was student teaching at a special ed school in Boston. Karen, the awesome lead teacher of the class, said for my birthday we could have a “Fun Dave Day” in class. We watched a movie, played video games, and ate McDonald’s. And my girlfriend at the time got me tickets to the Bruins and a guitar!
My 29th birthday stands as the only one I was engaged during. My family and friends all gathered at the Green Briar in Allston for some celebrating, Irish music, and to see the Sox choke on Opening Day.
My 30th Birthday was another surprise one – at my older brother Jon’s house. There was a Star Wars room, a BC room, and (I think) a Bruins/Red Sox room. A lot of love and planning went into it, and it was a great time (there are more stories that involve board games and uncontrollable laughter, but you’ll have to read about those in my book!).
My 31st birthday was the Focusin CD release show.
The birthdays of my late 20s and early 30s were fun ones, but the process of turning this time of year from dreary remembrance into total celebration was still happening.
When I turned 33, I went to NYC with my parents to see my sister Megan doing a wonderful job in one of her shows that my dad most likely didn’t understand.
My 34th birthday I had awesome birthday pancakes with my friend Kerry and co-celebrated at Hope Lodge with a guest who also had a late March birthday.
Two years ago, I went to see the Bruins play the Lightning with my dad. My parents also got me very Bruin-like black and gold Livestrong sneakers that year.
Last year, I played some guitar at the special ed school I was volunteering at, wore my “Fuck You You Fuckin’ Fuck” t-shirt, had cake at my parents, and game night at my cousins. All were filled with laughs. I also got a postcard sent to me all the way from Germany!
This year, I am going to the Bruins with my awesome girlfriend and my wonderful parents. I have recently set the date for my Skating for Hope event, and now have 4 months to get ready for it. I think dreaming of something and knowing it’s finally going to happen is a good indicator that I’ve changed this time of year around (19 years, about f’n time, right?).
Cancer may have been something that temporarily gave me periods of darkness, questioning, and guilt during a time of year that I was supposed to celebrate. But, the rewards it has given my far outweigh those years I struggled to be happy around my birthday. Cancer has taught me that birthdays are precious, and people should celebrate no matter what their number is. It has given me a job that I love. It has made me realize that to have a happy birthday, presence of awesome family and friends is what matters, not presents. Cancer has made me realize that what I think on any given day (especially today and these days that follow) is up to me, and not something that happened all those years ago. Finally, it has shown me that if you think something and believe it, you can bring it into your life.
So, I wasn’t planning on scanning two poems in a row, but I wanted to include this one. I also wrote it five years ago, and this one was included in two of my poetry books – Poems from a Tragic Comic and Episode IV Play. Although this poem isn’t specifically about the Celtic band I love, Great Big Sea, I did use them for some of the emotions I was trying to convey.
Great Big Sea
Calming blue,
Caress my skin as
I dip in.
I taste your salty tears
And hear the cries
Of your up and down waves.
Let my hands
Nurture your nature
And relieve
Your surface tension.
I sit on the beach
With only a guitar,
Singing your songs,
Hoping they soothe
As well as your
Hypnotic Celtic
Iris ripples.
Great Big Sea,
You create my favorite island,
A place without
Fears, cares, or horizons.
Strum my soul strings
And reflect the Sun you bring,
Take me to that place
And leave this all behind…
I thought about including this one in a book at some point, but I don’t think it made the cut. I must have written it before going into work, and I’m guessing it was still wintry out. I’m hoping to publish another volume of poetry soon (in ebook form), so stay tuned!
The frozen ground
Amplifies the sound
Morse code of a
Soul’s breaking point.
A forecast of snow
Will bring a new low
Powdery problems and
Blood on the nose.
Slipping on the black ice
And hollow advice,
Making circle after
Circle until it’s clear.
The Sun can only relieve
When one truly does believe,
That there can be
Ultimate control of
This life sentence
Of winter…
At the end of my freshman year of college, my English teacher read some of my poems and suggested I submit some of them to The Stylus at BC. I did my sophomore year, but didn’t quite get the results I wanted:
All of my dorm buddies had my back, though. They all thought it was crap that I didn’t get published, and were ready to “protest” with me. When the Stylus Spring ’94 came out, I took a bunch of copies back to the dorm, ready to shred them ritualistically in front of my supporters. One of my peers took it a step further (Roncalli Hall was not known for having the highest GPA that year), and burned them in the wastebasket. The fire alarm went off, but no firefighters were needed. It was awesome.
Still, I kept writing poems and used the rejection as fuel. Since, I’ve published four volumes of poetry: Poems from a Tragic Comic: Surviving cancer, drinking, and women, Poetry Volume II: Swirls of the World and More on the Flavory Girls, III Sides to Every Poem, and Episode IV Play: 40 Selected Poems. Thanks to all those who have inspired and/or been supportive of my poetry over the years!
It was 9 months after my last round of chemotherapy for my cancerous brain tumor, and I had just finished my first year of college. After receiving the invite in the mail, my doctor (Molly Schwenn) invited me to be one of the speakers. She had just been one of my strongest allies in my battle with cancer, so it was easy for me to say yes.
I love the lineup of speakers in the program. MD, MD, MD, Dave, MD. It would have been even better if they just wrote “Dave” instead of David McGrath. I was only 19, but I knew those letters didn’t make them better speakers. I doubted any of them were going to talk about being an 18-year-old with a cancerous brain tumor, and that’s what I did.
Like the article says, I opened with a poem I wrote, What She Is, and then started to talk about my diagnosis and treatment at UMass. I talked about how I was also went o UMass for my Crohn’s Disease, and how confident I felt with their treatment. The doctors and nurses at UMass made me feel at ease, well informed, and as comfortable one can be in a hospital setting.
Even though I realized how important my top-notch UMass treatment was, I went on to share what I thought was the reason my chemotherapy worked. The love and support I received from my family is the reason I was able to beat cancer. They knew I had to do it my way, and they were behind me every step of the way. They could tell I wasn’t afraid, and made sure not to show any of their fear in front of me.
My friends were the same. I then talked about a 10-year-old I had met while in treatment. His name was Justin, and his tumor was on his brain stem. This kid was 8 years younger than me, and had even more courage. He had been in treatment for well over a year, and had a few remissions and relapses. Still, I saw the same attitude with Justin and his family as I did with me and mine.
We had cancer. But, we still laughed. We still watched the Red Sox. We still did things with our family and friends. As much as we could, we didn’t let cancer interrupt our lives. This is the lesson cancer taught me:
If you can’t live life with love and humor, there really is no point. Life is always going to throw you sucky days. Sometimes you get a flat tire or in car accident. Sometimes you throw up a lot from chemotherapy. Sometimes a person at work drives you nuts. Sometimes your team loses the big game. Sometimes your best friend sues you. But, you make it through and go onto the next day. You watch a funny movie or hang out with a friend, and you feel thankful. No matter what kind of day you had, you still live, laugh, and love.
The most important thing in life is the people you have in yours…
Damn, I’m lucky.
It wasn’t until I was a freshman in college that I started writing on a regular basis. Most of that writing was poems and most of those poems were about girls I met at BC. When that poetry didn’t get me the results I wanted, I started to look for other subjects to write about. Having just beat cancer, I thought I would write a poem that personified my disease and capture my experience. This is what I came up with:
This poem appeared in my first poetry book Poems from a Tragic Comic (cover design by my sister, Carolyn!) and my most recent volume of poetry, Episode IV Play. It didn’t change much from my original draft, but here is the latest version that I published:
What She Is
First time I felt her,
I knew she was trouble,
Without my knowing
She was under my skin,
I was seeing double
With her
Literally on my mind.
My brain hurt so much,
Thinking about her,
She grew on me
So, so fast.
Our of control,
I needed drugs to stop this.
Alcohol, cocaine, even LSD
Not strong enough to
Get her off my brain.
VP16, carboplatin, bleomycin,
Dr. Love’s orders to rid me of this-
A case of infatuation so strong
I lost my hair over her.
An obsession so rooted,
She owned part of my mind.
Family, friends, and drugs
Did the trick,
With the hope she’ll
Never come back…
…She won’t.
She can strike anyone at anytime
Because of what she is:
She’s anything but benign,
Even though she’s gone,
For good, I will
Never forget her
And the lessons she
Taught me…
Look for my 5th (holy crap!) book of poetry coming out in the next few months…
