From Lyrical Puzzles

I remember my youth,

devouring polymers
and processed sugar,

learning that there are people
who suffer in different ways
than you do

and that’s okay

no food is safe to eat anymore
my grandparents said
and I tended their Zen garden

with a knife and fork.

the sky was filling with pepperclouds

I put on a coat.

I grew used to everything

I grew up.

I fell in love because it was something
I was told I could do.

I didn’t have to turn to face the sky.

ambient dusk struck the land

I was trying to be artful,

I was trying to write it all out
in a tiny garden

I crushed the pepper sand

My self-published digital chapbook, Typographical Imperative, is now available through Gumroad at the link below:

https://egowham.gumroad.com/l/typographicalimperative

The poems in this self-published digital chapbook call into question objective understandings of morality by showcasing the effects of subjective experience. The philosophy contained within these pages may be obscure, but the poetic narratives are meant to be relatable and revealingly human. This is Matt Maday’s first published book. 

I will update this list as I make my choices and hopefully never make another “top-ten list” ever again.

My Choices for Top Ten Metal Albums of All Time

1. Corrosion of Conformity — In the Arms of God
2. Iron Maiden — Somewhere in Time
3. Sister Sin — True Sound of the Underground
5. Anthrax — Sound of White Noise
7. L7 — Bricks Are Heavy
9. My Dying Bride — The Ghost of Orion

I.

For a

red-blooded,
white,
blue-blooded,

American pup,

life is rough

because he's
bought and sold,

and still,
mall puppies

grow up to be
mall dogs.

What do we
make of this?

II.

A

red-headed stepchild was blessed by a
white owl in the true-
blue

wilderness, and both were
cured with
cold fusion;

we all seemed to benefit.

A lactating rat bought at a store
will sometimes feed a wild
weasel child, even though they
are natural enemies.

The market 
economy and
ecology determine
the value of
animals to each other.

III.

It was a

red-letter day for a
white,
blue-haired

woman

when she got
the right to
vote, yet

it was
decades before

the ballot

included an
opportunity

for us all
to
donate to

the animal
shelter,

where the
mall
puppies and 
mall dogs
end up

after their 

previous 
owners

make a 
difficult decision.

Link 80

17 Reasons

When I was in middle school, you had to have a band shirt, and it had to be punk rock. The first shirt that I was able to buy using my lawn-mowing money was a Link 80 shirt from Asian Man Records, ordered through a mail-order form that came with an Asian Man CD I bought at a record store. I would have worn that shirt every day if I could have; I probably tried. 17 Reasons, the band’s first full-length album, was stuck on repeat on my stereo, on continuous rotation until the CD started to scratch and glitch, no matter how careful I was with it. Unlike my classmates who listened to mainly punk and ska, I had settled on hardcore punk as my preferred subgenre, and Link 80 delivered from all sides: punk and ska with a hardcore flavor and a couple cameos and hardcore breakouts that left no room for posers and defined all the punk rock subgenres for me. Looking back, 17 Reasons was an album that got me through one of the most difficult, trying times in my life. A formative album for my formative years.

One day while my mom was grocery shopping and told me to wait for her, I went to the book section of the store and noticed the Nick Traina biography, His Bright Light: The Story of Nick Traina, written by his mother, Danielle Steel. As I perused the pages and cover, I realized a different side to Nick, a much more vulnerable persona than his rebellious, punk rock, Link 80 one. I also began to see the tragic aspects of his story, his life cut horribly short by mental illness. As a teenager with my own struggles with mental illness and as a huge Link 80 fan, I instantly and deeply identified with the subject and subject matter of the biography, even though the events of Nick’s life were to end up differing drastically from my own.

Music Review II

Raised Fist

Ignoring the Guidelines

I guess I was going through a time when I had way too much structure in my life, and I didn’t know how to deal with it, when I discovered Raised Fist’s Ignoring the Guidelines, their 2001 album from Epitaph Records. I considered this album to be my essential high school anthem; the heavy, slamming, sometimes pleasingly discordant music and the screamed lyrics in a style of hardcore growling I’d never heard before resonated with me as I struggled to navigate societal pressure to fit in without compromising my unique individuality. The lyrics communicated a surprisingly compassionate and thoughtful approach to developing a moral code, while the music paradoxically suggested a brutal stoicism that was comforting to me. When I listened to Ignoring the Guidelines, I was immersed in a world somewhere between classic and contemporary hardcore punk, somewhere between theology and secular moralism.

I was raised Unitarian Universalist and was active in that religious community throughout high school. I believed in God, which was acceptable in that religion; not believing in a god or gods was also acceptable. Raised Fist did not, apparently, believe in God: “If there was a god, I’d pray for you.” Strangely considerate, though. The lyrics have a humanistic and Zen sensibility but also veer into the territory of heavy-handed moralizing: “Do you buy your computer games at the store or do you rip them off? You probably rip them off.” This album made me consider the duality of the world, the gray areas of morality that have to be navigated in order to live a complete and moralistic life. And the drumming and hardcore breakdowns are absolutely insane. This is an album I could groove and nod my head (or headbang) to while at the same time confronting harsh truths and gaining introspective and social awareness.

What do I know about Raised Fist, from a biographical standpoint, though? Not much. They formed in 1993; they’re from Sweden; and I haven’t been able to catch a U.S. show even though I consistently listen to any of their recorded work. Also, they’re difficult to research, and I have yet to establish any substantial connections in the underground hardcore community that might assist with that. Yet again, “researching” underground artists is sort of an oxymoron as a concept, same with the idea that there’s a cohesive underground music “community.” Still, I like reviewing underground music because the obscurity removes the distractions posed by New Historical criticism, allowing the words and music to speak for themselves. I’ve taken a paradoxical-hybrid “close reading” and “autobiographical” approach to reviewing Ignoring the Guidelines. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t love to see Raised Fist on tour. When I follow Raised Fist on social media, watching clips from their shows and waiting for my next chance to see them, I’m just a fan.

I don’t care about the Grammys until the Grammys care about all the people I care about.

College (Matt Maday)

It’s about how I viewed a film
like Easy Rider on

a DVD borrowed from the
college library

I watched Peter Fonda
on a laptop;

now I have a TV
and a better understanding.

sometimes I talk to God, ask

Him why
I’m a nihilist; He tells me that

I’m not, and I really have to
smile
at this possibility:

I was most wrong in my
moments of doubt
like when I was at the bar
drinking just a
little bit

sliced open a blister on
my thumb

in the
bar
bathroom

looking in the mirror
as I washed it.

the alcoholic soap
made a hiss
like the

VHS

sounded when

I watched Timothy Leary as he spoke
to my college
on video cassette.

I was there watching with ear cover

headphones;

I was alone.

“Choose your soft drink
and get free”

‘Caffeine Control Group with Nicotine’

or

‘Psilocybin Psychology Philosophy’

I was just thinking about
how these might
have been my most
formative years,

how I was at the bar caught a glimpse
of myself in the mirror

and realized
that
this form of
prayer is not the same and means
something totally different when

intoxicated

like the sting
when my new skin was exposed
at times I still feel it.