1955 -   
Jeffery Massey, Sr. is a 54 year-old author who also writes under the pseudonym of “Poor Richard’s Son.” He is a native of Chicago, Illinois and a Viet Nam Era U.S. Air Force veteran. Massey, a graduate of Dayton, Ohio’s Wright State University with a 2000 bachelor of arts degree in English-professional writing, is the author of the cross-genre, Sci-Fi speculative fiction novella “COLD BABY: As If Through A Glass and Darkly” written in the tradition of Raymond Chandler & Dashiell. Hammett’s Noir-driven, Hard-Boiled “Black Mask” writers. He is also a playwright who has authored the contemporary work “The Return of the Prodigal Child.” Mr. Massey has written more than 20 short stories and as a former journalism intern-reporter penned and had published several front-page stories and interview articles for the Columbus, Ohio Call and Post newspaper. Mr. Massey has also been published on “Dark Planet” webzine as the author of PBS’s “Einstein Revealed” media review.
Jeffery Massey, Sr. is a 54 year-old author who also writes under the pseudonym of “Poor Richard’s Son.” He is a native of Chicago, Illinois and a Viet Nam Era U.S. Air Force veteran. Massey, a graduate of Dayton, Ohio’s Wright State University with a 2000 bachelor of arts degree in English-professional writing, is the author of the cross-genre, Sci-Fi speculative fiction novella “COLD BABY: As If Through A Glass and Darkly” written in the tradition of Raymond Chandler & Dashiell. Hammett’s Noir-driven, Hard-Boiled “Black Mask” writers. He is also a playwright who has authored the contemporary work “The Return of the Prodigal Child.” Mr. Massey has written more than 20 short stories and as a former journalism intern-reporter penned and had published several front-page stories and interview articles for the Columbus, Ohio Call and Post newspaper. Mr. Massey has also been published on “Dark Planet” webzine as the author of PBS’s “Einstein Revealed” media review.
Jeffery Massey
Oct 3, 2013

SMILE by Elizabeth June


Sunshine beaming on my lidsstreaming through my blindsdreaming of a time in our mindswhen we could see clearlywhen we could hear yearlythe auld-lang-syne of happy timesresolutions new solutions to oldproblems of race, religion, creedproblems we face, admonition, greedwhen we could feel dearlythe cal-a-mine lotion soothing the poison ivy of hate to make a happy, though persecuted, person smile

SMILE BY ELIZABETH JUNE copywrite 03/2013
Jeffery Massey
Oct 3, 2013      Oct 3, 2013

SURELY A REFLECTIVE TRUTH

By Poor Richard’s Son © September 2013

How certain-there appeared whispered pronouncements which proclaimed the utter emptiness of his lonely state.  Such a place where he dwelled, propped upright by an inherent absence of self-knowledge that fleetingly explained and defined his reality.  A whispering reality, it seemed, that cried out to the god of raw truths regarding bitter human nature and yet, a sublime presence presented by all he would ever encounter.

An unsettling serenity tasted of a sweet and sour paradox of which he was possessed, captured by the strangely beatific attraction that lay deep within all things grotesque.   Astonishingly, flotillas of startling enigma had emerged from within his memories of youth. They came, flowing with the bitter tide of unfulfilled promise.  For always there existed a rather twisted reality. And that was all he really had; a sojourn through the veil of an eternal gratitude which had not served him very well at all.



Thus, he quietly peered thru the windows of his pristine prison-once more reaching without reason for yet another promise unfulfilled.  There, he stoically stood as a monument to reaching after the unreachable, standing there, halfway through this trial by fire-on his way toward a collision course with failure perhaps, vetted to try once more to survive this proving ground of academic acceptance.

His participation was a living testament to the folly which only the fool would ever really know.  Yes, he knew all too well the absolute denial of his ongoing failure to thrive, a failure fueled by the utter blindness that befalls those with the purest of faith.  A faith that one fine day his ship would finally roll into the bay;  success would surely be within his grasp at last .


So passionately he watched the desolate streets outside the college, through the immaculate window like a tiger in the rain, knowing the thunder and lightning he can’t explain…can never contain…could never retain.

Jeffery Massey
Aug 30, 2011

August 29, 2011
Sorrow's Formation

Sorrow's Formation

The Source of sorrow bears a treacherous form
Morose with such a solemn look
Deep disdain for those who keep
Misery for what past blows they took

And so despise the countless hours where lay
Some soulful feat to come what may;
And trespass through the broken gates
Where sorrow dwells and lies and waits.

Awaken all! Redemption's near.
Bring along hope that won't borrow fear.
Hypnotic realms we trespass on
Seek to tatter our dreams before the dawn.

Sweet embrace of tender light,
I look up to see your face;
To brighten up with warm delight
And leave the gloom without a trace.

Malea Renee Miller

Jeffery Massey
Apr 23, 2010

Why did they do that; I can’t tell
Blows so fast I was down before I fell,
Friends & Lovers all said they were true
But when loyalty came to collect, no payment was due

Cause those who had my back were far & few.
As it all hit the fan, it was then that I knew
I couldn’t love me cause I gave it all to you.

So I stared at that crater where there was once my heart
Brimmed with the bitter thorns left behind by promising false starts
Trimmed with sparkling tears as my hope departs,

Rimmed by golden angelic halo’s
Foretelling a future good and true
Skimmed off the top of a fantasy love affair,
My betrayed hope turned blue,

Choking, gasping & grasping
For sight of the oasis promised in this desert;
I remain marooned, touching so sad a life,
Holding onto the promise that was you.

So why Did they do that?
I will never know
Cause the blows came so fast
I was still too busy giving myself credit
For escaping my fate to reap what it was I sowed.

So now I face my fate
As I collect my gate
For the show which became my life of late
As I get exactly who I paid for in hate.

Swimming with the Sisters of sin,
Heartache & Strife.

Copyright March 2010
Jeffery Massey
Apr 23, 2010

Would you ever hold the night
With just a single hand?
Would you ever let me go,
And make me understand?

Would you ever kiss me softly,
As if that kiss meant good-bye?
Would you hold me, oh so closely,
If I was to start to cry?

Would the tears I cried for you
Make you feel my pain?
Or would you not care for me one bit,
And my hurt would be in vain?

Would a simple question,
Remain unanswered?
Or if you were asked who you love,
Would I be your answer?

Would you keep your word
Of being always together?
Or would this lonely life of mine
Last forever?

If I told you I felt sad
Would you come be by my side?
If I was to get you mad,
Would it hurt you deep inside?

Don't ever tell me you don't care
Because I just know that isn't true.
If your heart decided to love someone,
   ...Would I be the one for you?

Unknown Poet
 
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