Author of the suspenseful, paranormal romances in my Stranger Creatures series. Also writing poetry, science fiction, and fiction. Sharing info about new book releases by different authors, poems, contests, and more
Image description – The sun is shining on a partially frozen section of the James River. Sections of ice are thick in outer areas and broken and thin towards the middle.
I have to keep reminding myself that there’s always a light shining. Even when the sun sinks into the sky, the moon will still rise, and when clouds block her brilliance, there are still lighthouses on distant shores. And if we can hold out a little while longer, we’ll see the sparks of fireflies that risk their lives to light the night with the hope and truths that fuel our reason.
Image description – photograph is of the night sky. Clouds are on the left side, the moon is in the middle, and clear dark sky is on the right side of the photo. Barren branches rise from the bottom of the photo.
I don’t really have adequate words for the sadness and fear many of us feel about the orange mistake taking place today. I’m still in shock and trying to process how this could happen and what the fallout will be. Taking a moment to rest and gather strength is the kindest thing we can do for ourselves, but after we rest, we rise and we won’t relent until equality and decency prevail.
I’m thrilled to have three poems (Salt, Garden’s Revenge, and Transformation) in Querencia Press’ anthology, Unstable!
This anthology was inspired by a bunch of asshats on social media being jerks. In response to that behavior, the creative team at Querencia Press asked contributors to send in our most unhinged work, and out of that, they put together Unstable. Read with care.
If you’d like to read more of my poems, find about my latest book release information, read excerpts, get book recommendations, and other fun stuff, you can find me at:
Image description – a photo of a small tree that has fallen and become partially submerged in the muddy water of the James River. Surrounding shrubbery appears unkempt and somewhat unhealthy.
What inspired this poem?
The broken system of unchecked corporate greed and wage theft in the US was weighing heavily on my mind when I wrote this poem. In a country with relatively few protections for employees, there is no real incentive for business owners and corporate executives to pay their workers a living wage or ensure that employees aren’t overworked. One particular tool of misery currently being utilized to lower employee pay is the customer satisfaction survey.
Though the original intent of the surveys was (possibly) to make businesses aware of how to improve the quality of their service, that is rarely how the surveys are applied. The results of customer satisfaction surveys are tied to frontline employees’ bonuses. In many cases, their actual pay rate can be contingent on their survey ratings. What makes it difficult for employees to consistently achieve good scores is the fact that the questions employees are evaluated on are often out of their control, which gives employers a way to sneakily cut costs without having to expend much effort.
The problems customers complain about on the surveys won’t be fixed— more people won’t be hired, equipment won’t be updated, prices won’t go back down, quality of the product won’t be restored, not until the business is financially ready to make the investment. But since employees are usually the scapegoats for bad management decisions and corporate cost cutting strategies, employees impacted by negative surveys will be the ones who have to apologize to the customer, grovel for forgiveness, give free merchandise or discounted services, and beg for better ratings on the next survey.
Every time I see a customer satisfaction survey in my email inbox, I’m disgusted that politicians have allowed businesses and corporations to design a system that keeps employees constantly in fear of losing their jobs along with their health insurance. It’s time to fight back against the corporations that have refused to pay proper wages while forcing workers to sacrifice their physical and mental health.
Image description – a photograph of the night sky. The moon is visible and shining bright above several trees.
The initial shock and numbness of the previous day has worn off and now, I’m livid. Now, I’m gathering strength and screaming the truth. Many rules aren’t created to keep us safe, rather, they’re passed by those in privilege and power to keep people quiet. Their main objective is to shut questions down and make it too hard, too dangerous, too costly to object. My voice gets louder every year. My teeth get sharper.
We have to come together in anger and find ways to tear down the system that tries to silence us. We can stand and hold signs, write and call lawmakers and demand they give us an audience. We can run for office in record numbers. We can write about the truth, whether in fiction, Fahrenheit 451 style, or as journalists reporting the truths we see. We can continue teaching our children to be decent human beings and we can reach out to people who need a hand. We have to fill the time and space with our presence and with our voices. We have to be unrelenting.
Competing strangers mow lawns and try not to drown
in rain that burns
and mortgages that sit like cinderblocks
on heavy chests
Keep moving in the circle
Don’t stop working
Don’t breathe
Don’t ask questions
The banks want you to hold on tight
to their dream that stops
everything from singing
Image description – photograph of snowy forest of barren trees. In the center of the barren trees is one small, bright green tree.
The county where I live is becoming more and more overdeveloped. Each month, a new cluster of expensive houses, condos, and high rises appears. The amount of forestland and waterways that have been destroyed in the last ten years is astounding. The traffic is an ever-increasing nightmare, and the air isn’t fresh and crisp anymore. The haze of funk is spreading and thickening. It’s harder to breathe. There are shops everywhere but nothing good, or strange, or weird, or unusually fun, just phone stores, vape shops, coffee places, and chain restaurants- the same old thing up and down the main road.
Did we really need more of the same? Was this necessary? Was it a good idea? I guess it was for the banks and real estate developers, but there are so many other ways to increase revenue to a county or city. There were other options. One of the best options, of course not the most beneficial to developers, would have been to help the people who were struggling with employment and with home maintenance and with feeding their families- on a scope beyond just the basic crumbs that barely suffice. When people are able to do more than just barely survive, when they have hope, there’s prosperity within the community. I guess it’s just cheaper and easier to ignore the people who need help and ignore the people who could use a few steps up the ladder to lift themselves into better circumstances, and to build new, expensive homes instead.
The people living in those new, high-end homes have their own share of problems. Some live in constant fear of losing what they have so they spend their lives working but not living. Others have so much, they forget to see and care about the struggles that people below their income bracket face, and instead become the monsters that eat the rivers and pour concrete over the truth.
Hope everyone is having a fantastic month full of all the scary stories, horror movies, macabre decorations, and haunted sight-seeing tours. May your Halloween costumes be as gory or ethereal as your hearts’ desire! Here’s another scary poem to enjoy. I may get the chance to share some flash fiction horror stories too before the month is over.
Yesterday’s Delight
Yesterday’s delight
grows teeth
and shifts into a callous skin
bristling with chaos
Screams choke the air
seeping into the fabric
of the future
(poem appeared in Feral Feline Literary Magazine’s issue 2: Forbidden Fall on November 28, 2022)
Image description – picture is of the roots and dirt clinging to an overturned tree. Within the mass of dirt and roots is a hole that looks like a mouth.
Image description: a picture of a large green and black spider climbing down its web in front of a window. The close-up photo shows the spider in detail, including the hair on its legs and the translucence of its green and black body.
For Halloween month, I will be sharing spooky, creepy, haunting, and strange but lovely poems, pictures, and posts throughout the next two weeks.
Image description – photo of the James River which is mostly obscured by a rusty transmission tower, the view underneath railroad tracks, and an expansive building. The blue afternoon sky is slightly hazy and grayish.
What inspired the poem Slow?
Promotions and promises of better pay, and maybe, just maybe, a chance to rest and take proper vacations- these are carrots, pulled on strings by corporate executives who profit off the backs of employees who give up so much of their lives yet receive hollow promises and inadequate compensation in return. People are asked to do more work than their bodies are meant to perform and once they manage to meet harsh deadlines or produce an outrageous amount of revenue, even bigger results are asked of them, all while employers use the common tactic of decreasing the number of workers available to perform tasks.
Workers are being shamelessly exploited and underpaid in the United States. Where does it end? What must employees give up in order to produce the results that should never have been asked of them? For some, the answer is to slow down and take care of themselves, to take time off instead of giving all their time to a corporation that doesn’t care about them, and to fight back against ridiculous deadlines by decreasing their pace to one that doesn’t feel like it’s pulling them into an early grave.
could help save the world which was gasping for air
and grasping for another chance
The animals that survived
all hid in the shadows and pulled knives
when we tried to outsmart them
And not many things grow in the soil
where our hatred exploded
Factories followed the lead scientist’s careful specifications
to produce quiet, profit-sized, edible squares
that don’t sleep or eat or bleed
Manufactured meat slabs would never dream
of breaking free
They were infused with extra proteins
and something else, it seemed
The manufactured meat
had secret teeth that sank venom
into our veins
and drained away the people
they were meant to feed
Save the world
Save the animals
And the perfect meat
infused with secret teeth
found new houses
and ate and slept and dreamed
but they never once
made the earth bleed
Image description – photograph is of the skeletal frame and empty inside of a burned-down house
I wrote this poem after reading that scientists have found a way to grow meat in a lab from stem cells of animals. This meat production method sounds like it could be a good idea. Maybe it’s a good idea. Maybe nothing will go wrong, but so many things could. What if the manufactured meat wasn’t soulless cubes that would just willingly allow themselves to be consumed?
Christina Lynn Lambert 