Less Than 24 Hours to Submit to Blood Pudding Press!

By Juliet Cook

A little less than 24 hours left to submit samples from your poetry chapbook for Blood Pudding Press consideration.
This submission period ends right after midnight Wednesday March 15 (when Wednesday turns into Thursday).
See the details in this previous blog post – http://bloodyooze.blogspot.com/2017/03/blood-pudding-press-is-now-accepting.html
ALSO, tonight I sent a small group email to everyone whose submission has been received so far – so if you didn’t receive that email, that means I didn’t receive your submission yet.
I will send another email a little after midnight tomorrow, to those who submit tomorrow.
Thank you for your interest in Blood Pudding Press.

Source:: Blood Pudding Press

Juliet Cook reading “House on Fire” by Susan Yount

By Juliet Cook

Thank you very much to Pretty Owl Poetry for inviting women to read poems by other women in honor of Women’s History Month.
Blood Pudding Press editor Juliet Cook chose to read “House on Fire” by Susan Yount, the title poem from Yount’s Blood Pudding Press poetry chapbook of the same name.
***
In honor of Women’s History Month, we asked our contributors what feminism means to them. For Juliet Cook, it means “That I’m more than just a body part and should be able to make my own choices in regards to my own body and mind and spirit.
Listen to her reading of Susan Yount’s, “House on Fire” from Blood Pudding Press –

Source:: Blood Pudding Press

3 Days Left to Submit to Blood Pudding Press!

By Juliet Cook

3 days left (Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday March 15th) to submit samples from your poetry chapbook for Blood Pudding Press consideration.


Read the details in this previous blog post – http://bloodyooze.blogspot.com/2017/03/blood-pudding-press-is-now-accepting.html

Source:: Blood Pudding Press

NEW in The Rising Phoenix Review – “This Body is a Blooming Corpse Flower” by Juliet Cook

By Juliet Cook

“Sugar skulls turn into embryos.
I shove them down my throat
in order to abort them again.”
from the poem, “This Body is a Blooming Corpse Flower” by Juliet Cook, now up at the Rising Phoenix Review
HERE – https://therisingphoenixreview.com/2017/03/10/this-body-is-a-blooming-corpse-flower-by-juliet-cook/

Source:: Blood Pudding Press

Bone of My Bone (a photo from a recent acquisition)

By Juliet Cook

Eileen Murphy’s wonderful comments about and photo of the Blood Pudding Press poetry chapbook, “Bone of My Bone” by Nicole Rollender
“My new chapbook arrived, Bone of My Bone by Nicole Ross Rollender from Blood Pudding Press.To me, the fuzzy purple yarn serving as binding trails out of the book like mysterious violet vapor. Beautiful artwork, haunting poems.”

You can take a closer look at and acquire your very own copy of this chapbook HERE – https://www.etsy.com/listing/244912275/bone-of-my-bone-by-nicole-rollender-2015?ref=shop_home_feat_2

Source:: Blood Pudding Press

Rooting Thru the Past (Found Poem) by Azriel Johnson

By Writing Knights Press

When I was in 2nd grade:
School was not very fun.
I liked best math.
I liked least writing. (handwriting)
I thought that books were stupid.
I liked to read about nothing.
I didn’t like books that were fun.
I wished my teacher would die.
I wished my classmates would be ‘absit.’
I was glad I was free.
I wished I could kill Kevin.
I thought the capital of Hawaii was Samoe.
And it was where I thought I could go and be happy.
Someone telling me I couldn’t play niteno scared me.
but
Pummeling someone
or
putting someone in a cage made me happy.
I was remarkably good at creative writing.
And mathematics.
I packed a BB gun.
Rules were “good” because they are not boss.
I always said Heck.
I got up at 6.
I went to bed at 8.
If I could do anything I wanted, I would be the dad.
If I were president of the United States I would help people who were poor.
And make a fodation for old people.
I would have given a Valentine to Wendy because she was my girlfriend.
And I wished I had a horse.
I was a Cub Scout in Den 3. I liked to embarrass my mom.
I was in Scouts with a sarcastic little kid and a future sex offender.
I was in speech therapy for stuttering.
They suspected I had a handicap.
I wonder why it took me so long to get my verbal proficiency.
They consistently miswrote my address as 7208 instead of 7408.
In first grade I pledged to be part of a smoke free class of 2000.

***
I was quite incredulous as I read some of the stuff I had written at such a young age. I mean, I hated books. I hated reading. I thought putting people into cages would make me happy. Pummeling people would make me happy. Moving to Samoe in Hawaii? I wanted my teacher to die? I wanted to “kill Kevin”?

At least I was free I guess.

*sigh*

Source:: Writing Knights Press

(working title: Toys – Erotica/SciFi/Horror) by Azriel Johnson — Fiction

By Writing Knights Press

Part 1

Tim Harding had a long day of work. His computer programming firm was working a project for MasterCard to update their data reserves. There had been talks of breeches of security. The boss had been working him 80 hours a week for the last four weeks. At last, the ordeal was over. The system was updated.
Tim collapsed on his couch with a yawn. His muscles stretched. He kicked off his shoes. He was off for the weekend. He could have planned a night out, but being around loud music and people was the last thing he wanted.
No. Tonight was Tim’s night.

The store clerk was a tattooed woman with large breasts, black hair and a stomach that jutted out like a shelf. She smiled at Tim when he walked in. Her high, pleasant voice said, “Welcome to Sinister Sex Toys. What do you need to rock your world?”
Tim smiled at the clerk. He wasn’t sure what would rock his world. The clerk reminded him of Krissy. Krissy was skinny, blonde, small breasts, but a great ass. No, the clerk looked nothing like her, but at this point anyone with a vagina reminded him.
Tim was horny. His smile was awkward. He said, “I bet YOU could rock my world.”
The clerk smiled. “You are like the 80th guy today to say that. You all know it would be illegal. What are you looking for in a toy?”
Tim scanned the sales floor and met eyes with the clerk. “I actually don’t know what I want. I mean… I want… Stimulation. Do you have any recommendations?”
The clerk guided Tim to the male toy area. She pulled one from the wall and explained, “This one vibrates and has a real skin feel when you use it. Here, you can touch the material.”
Tim ran his finger over the lips of the Randi Rose stimulation device. It gave him a bit of a shiver and he looked into the eyes of the clerk. “That feels interesting. Are there a lot of men who prefer it?”
The clerk nods. “It is our best selling male sex toy.”
The television in the store flashed the words, ‘Randi Rose’. A woman with short brown hair, clear complexion, hard blue eyes, medium sized, barely covered breasts, a lace thong and nothing else walked toward the camera. Her sultry voice said, “Hey there. I’m Randi Rose.” In the background there was an echo after her name, the echo continued as she spoke.
“Are you looking for a toy that feels like heaven wrapped around your member? Try my new stimulation device. This new toy is patterned after my own Randi Rose, ready to expand and contract around you just like I would with you inside me. When I finally bring you to your finish you will never want another toy. What are you waiting for? Get my Randi Rose now.”
Tim’s pants got tighter and he had to adjust. “I’ll take it.”
The clerk smiled with a wink. “You made a good choice.
With the transaction made Tim left and couldn’t get Randi Rose out of his mind. He didn’t even notice as he passed George, his best friend from the office.
“Hey! Tim!” George called.
Tim turned and shook his head. “Hey, George. Sorry. I had Randi Rose on my mind.”
George nodded vigorously. “Yeah, that commercial is hot. I got one of her toys in my collection.”
Tim said, “Collection? How may do you have?”
George laughed. “Well, I’m a collector of sorts. I have all the major celebrities. Emma Knightley, Scarlette Seyfried, Paris Lohan. Though the Paris one is fairly loose, no real grip to it. I’ve been collecting First Ladies since the beginning. You should come over and try a few out.”
Tim wasn’t sure how he felt about using another guy’s toys. He wasn’t a prude, he had his own collection and in general felt liberal about the acquisition of toys. He really missed Krissy’s toy though. She had a cast made of her vagina and it was outfit with the sleekest real feel skin she could afford. More than that, Tim was happy she went through the trouble to do that for him.
Tim even went out the next day to make a cast of his penis for her so they could pleasure themselves at the same time. Krissy looked upon his present for her and licked her lips. Almost immediately they kissed, Krissy nibbled at his lips and stripped off his shirt, nearly popping the buttons.
Tim slipped her shirt over her head and reached behind her to unhook her bra. Her breasts rested free for the staring. It was illegal for him to fondle her breasts and for her to caress his thick manhood. They heard of other couples being interrupted in the middle of actions as simple as French kissing and charged with a misdemeanor.
Tim applied some lubricant to Krissy’s toy in his mind and Randi’s toy in his empty bedroom. The pussy clinged to Tim as he fucked it slowly at first.
Krissy used his erect toy in her wet vagina at the same pace as he pumped her. His mind saw the first of her multiple orgasms as she rubbed her clit, thrusting the toy up into her G-spot.
Randi’s toy clung to Tim as he worked it thinking about Krissy. Tears started falling as Tim watched in his mind’s eye as the other man used Krissy like she was there only to be fucked. Tim cried out as the man finished inside Krissy as Krissy had an orgasm with the man’s cock toy. Tim saw his toy on her bedside table. She grabbed it and fellated it as she came again. She moved Tim’s cock to her ass and slid it up and in as she came again with the double penetration. The other man cried in his own second orgasm.
Tim worked Randi’s toy ferociously, but held onto his orgasm. His mind replace Krissy’s surprised gasp as Tim stepped into the room. Tim’s toy popped out of her as did her new beau. The other man gasped and turned, landing on the floor. Krissy’s goy slid off of his cock, dripping with white.
Tim’s mental self yelled silently for them both to leave and take their stuff with them. He never wanted to see her again. Krissy quickly grabbed her clothes as Tim ran to the bathroom and slammed and locked the door, afraid of what he might do.
It took 10 minutes for Krissy and her lover to leave. Tim’s tears stained his shirt.
Randi’s toy gripped Tim as he stroked back and forth. Faster and faster. His heart hammered against his rib cage. Tim released his seed as his memories heard Krissy shut the front door to his apartment.
He collapsed, spent on his back on his bed. The toy stayed cinched to his cock, but released as the blood flow returned to the rest of his body.
Tim’s mind drifted off to sleep, Krissy off of his mind, now thinking about Randi Rose, until he thought nothing, but sleep.
An hour later, Randi Rose’s toy rustled and moved on it’s own. The hole over the toy’s entrance closed and the sides fo the toy sprouted legs. The toy scampered to the end of the bed and launched itself to the nearest wall with the open window. The feet of the toy stuck into the wall and it climbed over and out of the window. There to meet it was an identical toy. This toy launched itself onto the bed and rested exactly where the first had been, between Tim’s legs, resting against his perineum.
Randi Rose’s full toy scampered down the side of Tim’s house and to the ground. Sticking to the side walks and the shadows.
As it reached the edge of town, the octolegged sex toy walked with other used toys in the same direction. Randi Rose toys converged with Peter Hardy manhood replacers. They were the only toy that could automatically ‘ejaculate’ when the user experienced her orgasm. The liquid spewed into the female user just like semen. The user didn’t feel the sentient liquid climbing up into their uterus and capture her ovum and pull it back into the toy.
The Peter Hardy toys and Randi Rose toys collaborated as they ran miles and miles to the outskirts of Central City to a factory.
Standing in the center of the factory were Randi Rose and Peter Hardy inanimate, surrounded by the forms of the biggest celebrities also inanimate. Even a figure of the President and First Lady stood staring lifelessly into space.

Source:: Writing Knights Press

The New March Flock of Thirteen Myna Birds is here!

By Juliet Cook The new March flock of Thirteen Myna Birds is here! http://13myna.blogspot.com/Poetry by Ariana D. Den Bleyker – Eileen Murphy – Jessica McKenna – John Burroughs – Robert Ford – Michael Grover.
“Pins impale thumbs – one of his hands attached – To one of his ankles by thread – flesh resting on disintegrating bones – We are in a transition period – The body reaching the point of rot – We live to consume until we are consumed – a lollipop wrapped in plastic – Her breasts, filigreed with silver stretch marks – Titular typecast orange tapioca – The cracked plate remains – car-crashes in the bathroom, unhelpful dreams – someday I’d figure out – That reality is just too sad”

Source:: Blood Pudding Press

Or: Part 3 by Azriel Johnson – Fiction

By Writing Knights Press

The elders taught the children basic skills including, cooking, cleaning, building, hunting, foraging, caring for children, combat and much more. The children learned everything which they might need for survival in a harsh circumstance. Every day was a new lesson with the intention of being well rounded and an able contributor to the society.
The boy really showed no aptitude in any of the skills taught him. It wasn’t that he didn’t try, it just turned out the other children were better than he. The boy could eek out the bare minimum of requirements of the projects the elders would teach, but nothing more.
Surprisingly, the boy wasn’t frustrated by this as he continued to do his best. However, even younger children passed him in aptitude in some skills. A contributing factor may have been his tendency to space out or maybe a lack of mental acuity. He wasn’t stupid. Maybe his talents lay elsewhere.
The boy was most interested in girls. One girl, Riv, was his age and he liked her. Her black skin was showing signs of becoming a Water, which would make sense because she came from a whole family of Waters. Her father was the current WaTem (Water Ring Master) and his father before him. She had older brothers who were also Waters, so she didn’t expect to follow in her father’s footsteps, but it was a good lineage.
The boy didn’t know where his family came from. No one knew, or would tell him. He even approached the MaTem (Matriarch) of his village. Her creaky voice was kind, but she didn’t reveal anything that the boy didn’t already know.
The last battle between the WhiTem and the Guardians raged outside this very village. A young man dropped a baby boy off in the doorway of the MaTem and asked for forgiveness of the burden, then left. The young man was never seen again, the mother remained unknown.
There was no one else the boy could ask. The MaTem had every scrap of knowledge in the village in a book and in her head. It was her job to make sure everything she knew was written down so her successor could pick up where she left off, as successors had done for generations.
At last came the New Dark’s Day was upon them. This was the day the children who were of age would make their choices. They would take their steps towards becoming adults in the society.
Most children would choose from the basic: Water, Fire, Air, Earth. Fewer children chose: Sun, Moon, Plant, Lightning. Only one child, Slee, a girl, chose Dream. Only one child, Hum, a boy, chose People. He would very likely become VilTem when he got reached the age where he could best the current VilTem in skills aptitude.
When it came to the boy’s turn. He looked left. He looked right. The teacher asked him, “What element do you choose? Earth, Wind, Fire, or Water?”
The boy took a deep breath and said, “Or.”

Source:: Writing Knights Press

Blood Pudding Press is now accepting poetry chapbook submissions!

By Juliet Cook

Starting NOW! From March 8th until March 15th, Blood Pudding Press will briefly be accepting submissions. Read the details below.
Blood Pudding Press will be accepting bloody frosting nozzle tidbits from Wednesday March 8th through Wednesday March 15th, Eastern Time.
Blood Pudding Press is being pretty nitpicky and nozzle-icious this year.
We recently published our first poetry chapbook of 2017 (“Cutting Eyes from Ghosts” by Ariana D. Den Bleyker, available here – https://www.etsy.com/listing/494588398/new-cutting-eyes-from-ghosts-by-ariana-d?ref=shop_home_active_2) and are now looking for one or two more (to be published in May/June and then possibly August/September).
We are seeking unique individual or collaborative poetry chapbooks consisting of 13-23 poems.
BUT, during March 8th through March 15th, all I want to receive from those who think that Blood Pudding Press might be a good fit for their creative work is 3-6 poems from your chapbook manuscript, to help me determine if I want to see more.
I will respond to your submission by the end of March, letting you know whether or not I would like to see the whole chapbook manuscript.
I will likely only choose a few handfuls to read more of – and from there, I will choose one or two to publish.
I’m not specifically narrowing down the style of content I’m willing to read, but some content of extra-special interest to the Blood Pudding right now is – menstrual blood, PMS, peri-menopause, bodies that are not just sex toys or body parts, body issues, health issues, mental issues, identity issues, political issues, gloom, doom, haunting, ghosts, clowns, quirks, carnivorous plants, parasites and other abnormal insects, cosmetic surgery, fear, self-hate, love, strength, and individualism.
I recommend that you purchase/read a previously published chapbook by Blood Pudding Press (available here – https://www.etsy.com/shop/BloodPuddingPress). We all know that poetry is not a money making business, but selling some of my little hand designed chapbooks gives me the money I need to make some more little hand designed chapbooks.
If your chapbook is selected for publication by Blood Pudding Press, you will receive 13 free copies of your chapbook.
If you’re interested in having your chapbook possibly considered, please send your name, email address, a small bio, and 3-6 poems (either in the body of the email or attached as a doc. or docx) to Julietcoo@gmail.com in the time frame of March 8th-March 15th, Eastern Time.
ALSO, even though this year’s chapbook reading period is not a contest per se (and there is no reading fee this year), I am planning to include thirteen “runner-up” poems within a forthcoming issue of my Thirteen Myna Birds (most likely, the April issue). If you don’t want any of your poems to appear in the Myna Birds for whatever reason, please let me know that under your bio.
The Subject line of your email should read “Blood Pudding Press poems from (Your Name) – (Date).”
Sincerely, Juliet Cook/Blood Pudding Press


Source:: Blood Pudding Press