WIN FREE STUFF and help me with a Social Networking/Blogging experiment

BP Oil Protest Song!


I'm interested in seeing if how long it takes a video to 'go viral.' I've seen some really stupid 'viral videos' aired on CNN, so at least this isn't another baby dancing.


So help me out and forward this, tweet it, like it on facebook and youtube, and then leave me a comment telling me what you did. Leave your comment here though--not on facebook or twitter.


If it's played on CNN's viral video segment, one lucky commenter will be chosen by random drawing to receive a copy of his next CD (which will be released in July).


A review of his last album, can be found here, at iberkshires.com,

Just a reminder that it's still happening: on June 7th, the war in Afghanistan became the longest war in US history.

The Grown-up Me

Feb. 2009

Growing up taught me there are no gallant steeds.
White horses, though they exist,
just aren't commonplace around here.
And though I could fill my rooms with round tables
the knights I hoped would visit
all died in the plague.

I understand that sleep can not be cast by spell;
a kiss can not restore the tragedy of death;
a frog is a frog, or more likely --
a mistaken toad. And warts are caused by virus.

I've learned
wicked witches aren't always ugly,
the bad guys don't always wear black,
and poisoned fruit is sold in darkened doorways
by scruffy fallen boys.

Growing up taught me that crystal slippers slice my heels;
ball gowns suffocate;
wolves don't take the time to huff and puff
(nor are they limited to forests);
and mirrors only talk in whispers
to those who listen.

I have learned there is a genetic law:
once born a duck you'll never be a swan.
And while the mallard is a fickle lover,
it is the swan that mates for life.

Growing up taught me, most importantly,
that fairy tales are absolutely never shelved
with non-fiction
between biographies and history.
Which is where you will someday find

the grown-up me.

~mnh

Censorship Advice to the Drunk

Censorship Advice to the Drunk

(Not taking my own advice about turning off the computer after Irish Coffee on a Friday night. Drunken poetry is especially bad. ~Mari)

When a writer has toasted with too many shots
and pounds out a rambling missive,
clicking 'send' isn't wise, but there aren't many sots
who can separate wise from derisive.

There's something about whiskey that forces the truth,
that makes one decide to tell all.
In the earliest hours it's gin and vermouth
I blame for the indiscreet calls.

To those women dialing three sheets to the wind
or sending tomes to long-gone suitors,
Take my advice before you hit send:
turn off your phones and computers!

~Mari Nichols-Haining  - 2006