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   PSA: Poetic Service Announcement - written 05/01/2017
                                              
   Please feel free to share with established and future
   authors on FB.
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One of the toughest decisions, an author has to make, is the selection of a reliable publisher. With more than six months of personal experience, I have painfully learned that PBP (Published By Parables, headed by John Jeffries) is NOT one of them. For decades, I’ve listened to ministers tell me that “Mediocrity is not a hallmark of Christianity; it’s halfway between success and failure.”; and yet, the shoddy workmanship of transforming my manuscript into a usable PDF (that would produce the book) failed to even reach the level of mediocrity. I extend an apology to those, to whom a premature recommendation of PBP was given by me. Don’t repeat my mistake! Please. You’ll be grateful and thankful for heeding my warning.
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This company engages in deceptive practices and doesn’t operate with complete transparency. For example, it advertises that it will publish your book for free. While this is technically true, you will have to make an initial payment of $185; $35.00 for the copyright and the $150.00 for the ISBN-Barcode. In addition, John will subtlety lecture you, regarding why he won’t cover this expense and why you should.
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Before I began writing poetry seriously, I acquired 30 years of IT experience and 20 years of desktop publishing experience; so I understand conceptual ideas, the need for high standards and the importance of having a solid, but flexible framework. In addition, I was taught the criticality of working with a mindset of excellence- a topic taught by most ministers. One example is Titus 2:7-9, which states: In all things shewing thyself a pattern of good works: in doctrine shewing uncorruptness, gravity, sincerity, sound speech, that cannot be condemned; that he that is of the contrary part may be ashamed, having no evil thing to say of you.
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Computer templates, used in today’s bookmaking operations, are not meant to be static; rather they set an initial foundation from which work can begin. Given the style of my writing, PBP had agreed to modify the template being used, as to minimize the impact of my having to change my writing to accommodate the shortcomings of said template. I understood that this would possibly extend the timeframe to get my book constructed. I was okay with this and never rushed PBP in its efforts.
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With each iteration of manuscript changes, new random and unexpected problems began to appear; so I was blamed my project’s lack of progress, since the errors arose from PBP’s ongoing modification of my manuscript’s template. It’s unimportant to realize that ALL modifications to the template were made solely by PBP. PBP never reviewed an updated PDF before sending it to me; therefore, it became my responsibility to identify issues that resulted from the technical incompetence of PBP. So what if titles lost their boldface attribute, while the text of poems were inadvertently made boldface. So what if poems were displayed to the left of the left-hand margin, pages numbers were lost, or randomly displayed in boldface, or that page headers would be missing or cut in half- it was my fault for desiring a template customized to meet my personal need. So what if the page numbers were corrupted within my index of poems, from PBP inserting new pages into the beginning of my manuscript. So what if I was concerned that the index’s format was changed from the way I desired. Stuff happens and I need not concern myself over such details. Apparently I was delusional in thinking that I was responsible for the vision of my new book.
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And if that wasn’t enough fun, PBP would ignore some of my changes, such as inserting the occasional blank line, as well as making unauthorized modifications that included adding, replacing and deleting PBP graphics. One graphic I was fond of, PBP removed because its intended purpose is meant for “internal company use only”. Guess I’m just an unruly rebel for wanting to use it. Since he originally inserted it into my PDF, using it must have been initially okay. This incident is one of many that shows John’s lack of attention to detail.
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In addition, I was unreasonable for wanting my legal name displayed properly (so I can differentiate myself from the other “Joe Breunigs”; no offense guys!) That correction alone took John SIX MONTHS to address; my book’s title also created angst for PBP, since it contained an ellipsis. Twice I e-mailed instructions on how to insert one because he misplaced/lost the first correspondence. And so I was unreasonable once more, since his option of using three consecutive periods was deemed unacceptable by me. An ellipsis is my favorite punctuation mark; if he couldn’t handle my previous instructions, he could have COPIED IT DIRECTLY FROM MY MANUSCRIPT.
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John constantly complained about updating the template and the slow iterative process of making my book. At one point, John made the remark of how he had published two other titles during the timeframe my book was being worked on. As Christians, we get in trouble when we compare ourselves to others, since everyone’s journey is unique. So it’s clear that PBP’s intent was to manipulate me into feeling bad, regarding PBP’s lack of progress. Supposedly I was out of line for suggesting that he remember James 1:2-3, which teaches us: My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations; knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience. In discussions with PBP, I indicated that I have 15 complete and unpublished manuscripts of poetry. In addition, I stated that we would have the most hiccups during the creation of my first PBP, since we had no experience working together. Nor did PBP understand that this process of creating a personalized template for my work would save time during the construction of future titles- both for me and other poets. Should I apologize for forward thinking?
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Given the problems I was forced to face, doubt became evident in my selection of PBP; so I decided to ask more questions, to step up due diligence on my end; NONE of my follow-up questions were ANSWERED. I had the audacity to ask for a contract, how much I could expect to earn per copy sold, why PBP didn’t request my SSN and other questions of concern. I wanted to understand how to stop PBP from making unwanted changes or ignoring the ones I desired. One would like to think that a publisher would be appreciative of a proactive author, seeing that I have one title already. At one point, I had the false hope that my book could be completed by December 2016, but not in time for Christmas. Now we’re into May 2017.
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Nor was I ever allowed to see the prepared book cover- FOR MY BOOK! I was informed that I couldn’t be allowed to see it because the image MAY need to be re-sized. IMO, this is a ridiculous excuse. Since I never saw the cover, I was unable to either review it (for mistakes) or critique it. Supposedly the cover was made three months earlier; since I’ve not seen it, I must assume that PBP is not lying to me. And it was crazy of me to imagine using the graphic (OF MY BOOK) as a marketing tool to create excitement and interest in my latest title or possibly generate pre-order sales. When a publisher intentional decides to play games like this, does anyone else see this issue as a “Red Flag”?
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Caught between his impatience, unrepentant attitude and ability to be easily offended, John refused to apologize for his technical ineptitude and unwillingness to press forward; instead he chose to hide behind his spiritual authority (which I do not fall under); he essentially demanded that only I had the onus of forgiving him. After a weak and failed attempt to bully me into accepting substandard work, he later announced that he was quitting my project. In a phony letter of apology, John even implied that I needed to accept responsibility for the failure to get this book made, since I HAD CONTACTED PBP. In addition, he reiterated that PBP is a ministry; if that’s true, then why didn’t he demonstrate patience, perseverance and humility towards me or ensure quality of effort… as unto The Lord? Should PBP want to dispute my account, John should be reminded that I’ve retained a copy of various PDF iterations of my unmade book with the aforementioned issues.
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I took no pleasure in composing this PSA, but felt that it was my duty, to share my poor experience in dealing with a difficult publisher, to my writing communities. This notification could have been prevented, if John had repented, swallowed his pride and pushed forward to get my books made. Instead he chose to become an irrelevant part of my journey as an author, which is sad, since he acknowledged that I have a gift for writing poetry. IMHO, we the writing community, must be willing to stand up to publishers, since the responsibility (of the vision for our books) lies with us. We should be able to freely ask questions and have templates modified to suit the individuality of our books. Let your voice and concerns be heard. Please share this message with the writers you personally know. We should not be forced to accept shoddy work! John can be reached on FB at https://www.facebook.com/john.jeffries.33; the PBP website can be found by searching its full name. Please feel free to share this PSA on John’s page, so he understand the ramifications of his actions.
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I wasn't there when you died.
Though its clear now that it was your time
You were 14 and had dementia, half deaf, and half blind.
Not to mention the arthritis.
Still doesn't hurt any less

I still feel your soft black and white fur
The feeling when you blessed us with a kiss
Your chocolate brown eyes

When you were a puppy
I remember you losing your teeth
Except you didn't have a tooth fairy

I remember you climbing onto the widow seat
I still have that picture.
No idea how you even got up there.

One week before Fudge died,
It was a normal friday for me
I went to work, had a great day.
I came home and wondered where you were.
My mom had put you down and taken Fudge to the vet hospital
December 9th, 2016
I didn't realize that morning was the last time I would see you.
F**k. I love you Cleo
December
2 pm
We drive up to the building
It seems solemn now
We came to see you for the final time

December 15th
2:05 pm
We gather our courage to get out of the car
I open the door
Its heavy

December 15th, 2016
2:10 pm
We're ushered into the room where you are
You try to get up to reassure us
We know you're in pain

Thursday, December 15th, 2016
2:11-2:16
I'm holding you now
I have your favorite stuffed animal

Thursday, December Fifteenth, 2016
At 2:20 pm
The vet tells us to tell him that you are a good boy
"You're the best dog I could have ever had, Fudge. I'll love you forever."

On Thursday, December Fifteenth, Twenty sixteen.
At 2:24 P.M.
You died in my arms.
The happiness and relief you had in your eyes.
You were in so much pain.
I love you. Forever
Fudge was 6 years old, he was going to be 7 years on March 8th of this year. He died December 15th of Peritonitis. Fudge was in training to be my service dog and help me out when that wire was in his intestines, he was the one who really needed help, but he didn't want me to worry. He was in pain for months and didn't try to tell us. He was the best dog I could have ever had. I love him.
Àŧùl Apr 2017
I am happy that she freed herself,
But disappointed with her as well.

'Cause I had limited her she feels,
While she was her own delimiter.

I am happy that I had my fidelity,
But hurt with her eternal docility.

'Cause she was so docile overall,
While having such a crude ear.

I am happy that I am not with her,
But sad that I am very lonely now.

'Cause she was so close to my heart,
While keeping me close to her own.

I am happy that I did love her a lot,
But weeping that it is, after all, past.
My HP Poem #1497
©Atul Kaushal
Àŧùl Apr 2017
If I were a girl,
I would write poems of hope.

If I were a girl,
I would fly high with the wings of eternity.

If I were a girl,
I would enjoy my superior existence.

If I were a girl,
I would respect the future mother in me.

If I were a girl,
I would help the helpless get education.

Even though I am a boy,
I still write poems of hope.

Even though I am a boy,
I still try to fly with my wings.

Even though I am a boy,
I marvel at my uncanny existence.

Even though I am a boy,
I respect the caring future father in me

Even though I am a boy,
I have helped the helpless get education.
My HP Poem #1492
©Atul Kaushal
preface: this isn't cohesive, and it's mostly a side effect of having too much free time while stuck in traffic - lots of thoughts can pop into your half-awake head when you choose to start your 1 hour, 45 minute commute at 5:30 every morning and 6:30 every night.

these are some of those thoughts:

how many car accidents and concussions will it take for me to just move closer to where i work? apparently, more than five.

driving on a california freeway, especially in the rain, is like getting a free ride on the world's most dangerous slip n slide. or like playing roulette and praying you and your precious car you have had since high school don't fall victim to the misfortune of a collision or sink hole or only clear radio station being the one that won't stop playing adele songs that compel you to hit up your ex boyfriend again.

but you're a smart driver who doesn't text on the road or date men from new jersey anymore.

i like to map out new ways to tell my family that i'm actually kind of really gay because they've been having a really hard time accepting that, despite the fact that i've tried to make it as blatantly obvious as i could by dressing like chandler bing from friends, dying my hair rainbow, and listening to more fleetwood mac than any straight girl should.

i have even walked up to my mother and outright asked her, "hey, what's it like having a gay daughter?" (not that it should be any different than having any other kind of daughter), and she said, "i don't have a gay daughter", and i'm like, "oh my god, mom. yes, you do. she's 5'8", looks just like me, and is constantly talking about how gay she is."

a lot of people have given me unwarranted "advice" on how to make myself more appealing for jobs or romance, and i'll mull it over in the car, but not for too long because women aren't empty suggestion boxes just waiting for your input.

if anything, i'm more like the receptionist at the DMV. i'm only listening to you a third of the time, and the other 2/3, i wish you weren't there to bore me with your problems because it's not my fault that you need to pay off a ticket you got for texting your ex boyfriend from jersey.

people in college frequently asked me "what are you?" and i never really knew how to respond because i wasn't clear or pleased about the question's context or purpose. i would half-seriously respond with "i'm a sophomore" or "i'm a capricorn" or "i'm a sociology major who just realized gender isn't binary and taco tuesdays are a real and exciting thing".

i knew that being ethnically ambiguous meant i would be subjected to guessing games, but i thought if people didn't know what you were, you could dodge judgment and racism. but no, i actually just found myself treated like an ice cream flavour people had never heard of or tried before and weren't sure how they felt about it.

and i, myself, had been in this phase of dating exclusively white men for years, and it only recently occurred to me that that was probably because subconsciously i knew: "this is the closest i'll ever be to having white privilege".

then, i started working in schools where almost all the students were black and brown, and for the first time in my life, i saw myself in people around me.

small people, people in progress, with big brown eyes and clenched fists that i would spend months prying open

with love.

enough love to raise a hand,
hold a pencil,
braid my hair on days when it was so frizzy
- "oh my god, miss sangha, let me do it"

up until then, i had never chosen to be brown or queer or a woman. not until my students demanded i learn spanish because i already got the skin tone, now i just need to learn the language. not until my students asked me why the school made them line up boy girl, and one of them started the third line with pride that took me nearly a decade to find myself. not until i stopped letting people label me an angry ***** just because they lacked the vocabulary to say "wow, jaswin, you have really assertive leadership skills and i'm going to respect you and the space you take up and not at all be threatened or bothered by the fact that you have two X chromosomes to the point of harassing you to make my insecure self feel better."

i became someone who got "do it for the kids" tattooed on the left side vein that leads to her heart, someone who chooses her students every day to the extent of being terrified of having her own kid one day because if she can love someone else's child that much, her heart might just burst from locking eyes with someone whose existence she is actually directly responsible for.

clearly, i'm not going to let a little traffic slow down that kind of radical love.
Atoosa Feb 2017
Ignite!
But tame
Your flame
Within the lamp
Shedding its light
Invite, and arrange
The room, the hearth,
Lace the food with love
Cage your tears with calm
And center yourself on Him
Trust that the words will come
The hearts will open and fear
Will be displaced by truth
Careless of self offer
Effort and intent
Confirmations
Will come in time with patience
Transformation time is near
Inspired by this beautiful prayer :

O my Lord!  O my Lord!  This is a lamp lighted by the fire of Thy love and ablaze with the flame which is ignited in the tree of Thy mercy.  O my Lord!  Increase his enkindlement, heat and flame, with the fire which is kindled in the Sinai of Thy Manifestation.  Verily, Thou art the Confirmer, the Assister, the Powerful, the Generous, the Loving.

‘Abdu’l-Bahá
Baha'i Sacred Writings
Julie Grenness Feb 2017
Self service is exactly that,
Change is supposed to good, that's that,
But where are our checkout chicks?
This technology gives us the blip!
Now self service is more advanced,
It leads us greys in a merry dance,
If change is supposed to be so good,
Is there a kind human hand here? Touch wood!
Feedback welcome.
Mane Omsy Oct 2016
Risk your life out for the crowd
And you get nothing
But more rebels and jealous people
And you get trapped

Controversies made up from nowhere
You still lonely and cry inside
When you try to hear from positive sides
You get stalled by lots of advices

If you respect your people
Don't expect anyone bless you
Just do what is necessary for your people. That's how you become a part of the society. The one you must keep in mind is that you might or might not get a result or attention from your services. So, don't regret doing good for the people.
Steve Page Oct 2016
When tested with power how do you fare?
Does dialogue fade by decree?
When given the chance, does your heart say, "share"?
Or prompt inadequacy?

Do you run to your fall, pride staining each step?
Or do you season your words with good grace?
Do you pray for each soul you're able to serve?
Or do you treat the whole thing as a race?

Will you grasp for the comfort that comes with position?
Or like Jesus see it your call
To forfeit self interest, preferring others,
So to serve them first above all?
Inspired by a Sunday preach at Redeemer London.
Matthew 20: 25-28
25 Jesus called them together and said, “You know that the rulers of the Gentiles lord it over them, and their high officials exercise authority over them.
26 Not so with you. Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant,
27 and whoever wants to be first must be your slave—
28 just as the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”
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