Regret's Demise

By Scott Vanya

How does one go about regretting nothing?

From one perspective - Not Possible!, yet from another isn't it true it just takes pure strength of will?

Regret's Demise is the period in my life, when I, by posing it as that question, decided to Kill Regret. The poems included in it, are the representation of the experiences I went thru to achieve that end.

In other words, Regret's Demise is how regret died.

This was not an easy process, but one I suggest to anyone who might want to live without regret.

Peace, courage; EXIST. Freedom. release

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scott Vanya
• Release date: May 11, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310598593

Scott Vanya

I've been writing for a very long time, what seems like my whole life, taking it seriously from the time I was about 11. Now, at 46, I think I may be starting to get the hang of it: Say what you feel, as passionately as you can, but always with an ear turned to those who are listening.Most of my more serious work is done at live performances, which i do totally extemporaneously, channeling the mood of the room as my fingers play on the guitar. You can see some of that if you go to "my" website. (Open Mics Austin is a platform I created to showcase the Spoken Word scene here in Austin, TX. Only a small role in which i play.)As far as I can tell what makes good writing is LOVE. Love ,plainly simply, and with no strings attached.I put these words/books before you, not so much because I want something back from it, because I think and feel like I feel my bones and my soul, if you were to see the world, experience it like it do, for even a brief moment, you would walk away from that happier, more alive, compassionate and in tune with all those around you.Peace, good will, and harmony. Let those be your guiding light.Agape forever,Scott VanyaPublication Credits:Stepping Stones Magazine, The Main Street Rag, www.carcinogenicpoetry.com, Texas Art Initiative, Phoenix New Life Poetry, Walt’s Corner, Manna, Perigee, Chicago Literary Review, Mobius, Cosmic Trend, Pitchfork, Romantics Quarterly, Artisan, Pegasus, The Neovictorian, Red Owl, The Story Teller, The Blind Man's Rainbow, Atlantic Pacific Press

Book preview

the impetus to move

Randomesque pulsation

points beyond departure

I hang a map of Europe

beside my head

dreaming of universal nonmotion

insobriety's tease

a neglige of black satin

resting over the arm chair's back

so she speaks to me of longing

I have heard of other liqueurs

to no avail.

streamless longing across

her grave

can she hear the raindrops

six feet above her head.

why so deep when the ants

would do the job?

---

Previous:Next

Kristin said

I don't love you anymore

the pool we used to kiss in.

the bed & floor

not a hundred yards away

we use to make love in

poems written later

on moon lit walks

tears, laying myself to sleep

old cigarette butts

same song

many verses down the line

when will this song begin again

never to make a mistake

Mozart's reminiscence

Sweet Jane forgetting

who am I, beginning

tonight

---

Previous:Next

Footprints of Sand

sand-castle ma

do you hear my call

across the waves

the beckon of these birds.

Forgive me my ways,

Everlasting was not a promise

I wished to keep

merely my feelings for the way

I felt bought the light

upon her cheek.

Between shore and sand

I will forever stand

the ebb & flow

I bask in between glow.

---

Previous:Next

Matrimony

waiting for mother

or her dentist

to fill in their holes

I have seen this room

since I was a child

But never did it feel so fearful

the reminiscences could be better

if I weren't holding myself

in check.

It's a daydream meant for someone

the night terror, holding my heels

My soul bleeding from the glass

I removed from Tanya's soles

and placed in my own.

---

Previous:Next

At Whose Offense

fog banks

seeing through both sides of the issue

unlike trees or eyes or spines

the inner light everywhere reflected

sweat on the skin

lips on the nipple

milk along the cheek

true conversations

on pause 'til the departure

when confessions come out.

who can fall out of love

and can we trust them

once they've spoken?

such words need to be saved

'til the echo ends

as if nothingness.

---

Previous:Next

Dogdays

summer sizzling along the brow.

flowers exhausted from the trying.

leaves wilted

lying about nothing but the stem.

darkening clouds startling the savior,

his own voice not yeilding to whisper.

tire tread and horns, ambulance's

terror in the late of the evening.

between tongue and bite

my aroma scalding the eyes

pipe smoke throught the belly

lies unbridled for the last time.

the stem salt

the tears puddle

palms never touched

in the anonymity

of allowing the strangeness

to pass.

soft shoulders and semen

can not be seen when within.

eyes closed, orifice open

wastage for whom but you.

sitting with back toward bark

the moon and sun both up and at 'em.

It is I

whom stares back at you

through the lids you close

for a brief respite

from this lack of wind.

---

Previous:Next

Lost in words

patterns on a tablecloth

beer being removed

leaving rings

cigarettes left out in the rain

all wound up

to go outside

needing a breath of aridity

Forgetfulness should never be

remembered. -

Lost friends have already

found someone else -

the only hope are these

pineneedles becoming pinecones.

---

Previous:Next

Folktales

legends without wizardry

snowflakes on black paper

dandelion spores

on the wind.

does anyone remember the begining?

shrimp in nets

fish on the line

moonrises

conversation on the bus,

Humdrudgery

by-gone-days

we will not forget you.

postcards, long distance calls.

the lightning comes

whining

to the foot of my bed.

---

Previous:Next

addiction unsweet

each day at work

when i stand before the register

and smile, I suppose.

i look down at the check

she is signing

and see her hand flickering

each a diamond large

i am aghast at its size.

will our fingers touch?...

as she returns the pen,

i am dowstage

and beyond the light.

had i directed that play

i might have been more full.

flaming speech, words afire

she says ?Have a good day?

and at night i do.

my palm is open

now it is closed

That is death.

---

Previous:Next

Cessation of Expectancy

sitting across from myself

not like

in the mirror

before which I ate earlier.

the weather is a sickness

flushed and feverish,

needing care.

we can crestfallenly

revive its embrace,

when sweatily headed.

colorless sky

rippling evening

not quite cold but tired

I wait for retirement.

fully occupied by this distress

tomorrow past

God is the undulating stomach

fiery, the science of epistemology

bellows before me.

my name, my scrawl

I wish to unknow myself.

Art

Afterward

Collapse

We pull apart our nuzzling cheeks.

---

Previous:Next

with a chisel, i break up my own monotony

emerson eye buddha

seem lengthy drying

on paper in unique gestures.

water as eyes

and smoke as flesh

it is a small distance

to correct the spaces

between words, Dante knew.

hatred stops the blood,

when awakening movement

slumbering in a hut.

for giving a sign

I was sent to you.

---

Previous:Next

Sandstone Dust

Between these palms

Sifting, the sound of