Hello everyone! I am honored to be a guest poster on this blog!

I got my start in writing at about age 15 but did not start taking it seriously until age 18 when I realized I had a following outside of my friend base at that time. I am now 23 and have self published a book of poetry and written a full-length novel. I’m not here to plug my work, because that is tacky.  I am simply here to share my experiences with you all and if you can connect with me, that is great!

I grew up in a non-religious household for the most part, until my mom decided to become part of the church when I was about 14. At that point, my moral fibers were well on their way to becoming developed and I had no room for Jesus or anything associated with him. You can imagine the scrutiny when I came out at age 16. I went through a very dark and suicidal time, which lasted about two years, and if it weren’t for the undying love and support of my best friend Ashley, I would not be here today. It was she who pushed me to write and enabled me to push my creative boundaries, whether she meant to or not.

Like most writers, I thought my work was absolute genius and that no one could top me, but looking back on my early works, that theory was completely deranged. I took some time and dove into my psyche, not being afraid to embrace the darkest and most raw parts of who I was/am. With that, I finally formulated my first poetry book, “Skin: A Collection of Poems” which was released in October of 2010 through CreateSpace. Being a first time published author like Jacob, I had no idea of where to look or who to use as my potential publisher. I had no money to pay up front, so I knew I would not be shot into stardom on my first poetry book, but I went for it anyway. I will share two poems with you from my first collection, and I can only hope that you like them!

Walk With Me

©Kyle J. Anderson, 2010

Father tell me what I’ve done wrong.

Are you still proud

That your little boy has gone astray

From the vision you hoped for?

Mother will you be there to see

The happiest day of my life

Or turn away in shame

When my future walks down the aisle?

Brother do you look at me the same

Now that the truth has been told?

Will you still call me

When I’ve got no one to talk to?

Sisters please understand

The lifestyle that I’m living.

Will you stand up for me

When I’ve got no fight left?

Family will you walk with me

Down a road you’ve never known before?

Family will you walk with me

Stain

©Kyle J. Anderson, 2010

I hope the pieces of my heart

Lay to rest in your palm

And stain it a lustful red

That reminds you of my face.

I hope the lies you told

Surround you in fear

Like ravens lurking in the sky

Waiting for the kill.

I hope you can taste

The salt of my tears

As they burn through my retinas

And fall on my pillow.

I hope you can forgive yourself

For taking control

When you knew I was fragile

And may your soul be saved.

I hope the pieces of my heart

Lay to rest in your palm

And stain it a permanent black

That reminds you of my face.

Both of those poems are from “Skin: A Collection of Poems” can be interpreted in any way that you want them to be. Okay, the first one really can’t be interpreted in any different way, but the second one can be. I will let your own creative distinction ponder on that one for a while.

I would now like to share the prologue to my first novel, “Sins of Birth: Welcome.”

»Prologue»

            It’s the feeling you get once you realize you have been walking down Main Street completely naked. It’s the instantaneous feeling of rushing to find covering so no one will see, yet you hold back because you are intrigued by what might be said about you tomorrow. It’s the feeling of knowing you have total power while remaining innocently vulnerable and mind numbingly fragile. Having all these feelings can cripple a person.

            But not me.

            I thrive on the possibility of breaking someone’s moral makeup with just a glance. I’m the antichrist to a jarful of the inhabitants of this town. I don’t attend church. I don’t wear camouflage during the hunting season. I don’t support my hometown sports team during Homecoming . . . or at any other time for that matter. Not doing any of these things makes me an automatic outsider, yet I’ve lived here for nearly 23 years. I guess there are just some people so infatuated with my personal life that they feel the need to save me and push their views onto me. My business becomes their business and they know nothing about me.

            I mind my own business. I keep my head down at the grocery store and get out of there with my Doritos and diet coke before anyone has the chance to realize I’m there. It’s a shock that I used to work for this same grocery store that tightened its diaphragm every time I was in its vicinity. I guess this monstrous place of some ten odd aisles only accepts adulterers and perverts. The owner is known for seducing the underage female workers while going home to his wife at five pm like nothing is wrong. He’s also been seen rubbing his growing bulge at his desk while watching the pre-pubescent workers bend over in their skin tight jeans. He makes sure to train all new female employees extensively and reassures them that they can take off their sweaters to feel more comfortable.

            And they call me the sinful one.

           

            Me, the sinful one. If half the people in this town kept their stones to themselves and closed the drapes on their glass houses, we would all be better off. If half the people took a look at their own lives instead of worrying about others, they’d come to find that they aren’t so perfect after all. They claim to be hard asses, but when I enter their blind spots, they lose all focus and sweat profusely at the palms. They create more problems than resolve them and use religion as their means of warding off anyone who is different. Not just me, but anyone. They were the first to embrace my sister when she was staying at home but were also the first to reject her when they found out she was pregnant out of wedlock. It’s amazing at how different people act when they find out things like this. It’s even more amazing at how they try to avoid believing anything outside of the Bible yet pry and pry until their satisfaction is guaranteed. 

            Guaranteeing satisfaction is like telling someone the perfect lie. A perfect lie is like prayer. You can think about or do the most awful thing known to mankind, but if you pray for forgiveness after the fact, it’s like it didn’t happen. If people can keep praying for forgiveness and commit sin after sin, then why is there such a pressure to be sin free? Why is there this fabricated and mystical world that we all try to get into without actually knowing of its existence? We all seem to try so hard to fit into one idea of right or wrong while we lose our humility in the process.

            The only thing I can guarantee is that I’m not going anywhere. If I have to face the gun squad every time I want to run errands in town, then I will. If I want to hold hands with my significant other while renting movies, I will. If I want to hate you every single day of my life until one of us dies, I will, but it’s easier to forget about you entirely.

©Kyle J. Anderson, 2010

I hope you all enjoyed the reading, and if you felt a connection, I invite you to join Kyle J. Anderson Writing on Facebook and follow @KJAWriting on Twitter!  Thank you!!!

-Kyle

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