Indie Blu(e) Publishing Announces the Release of We Will Not Be Silenced

An honor to be part of this piece of power and strength. Please consider purchasing a copy. By doing so, not only could you help yourself by understanding the emotions and points of view behind those who have experienced this first hand…but also you could help someone who is desperate need of assistance.

Indie Blu(e) Publishing

We Will Not Be Silenced: The Lived Experience of Sexual Harassment and Sexual Assault Told Powerfully Through Poetry, Prose, Essay, and Art is the brainchild of Kindra M. Austin, Candice Louisa Daquin, Rachel Finch, and Christine E. Ray. The four indie writers and survivors felt compelled to do something after the strongly triggering Kavanaugh Confirmation Hearings. Ultimately, they decided to advocate, educate, and resist through art.

They opened submissions for only two weeks to women and men around the world. The response from writers and artists was overwhelming: the final anthology includes 166 pieces of writing and art from 95 contributors around the globe.

The editors decided early on that this was a project of passion and compassion, not profit. 70% of the royalties raised above the publishing and promotion costs will be donated to organizations that provide services to sexual harassment and sexual assault survivors. The editors have prioritized…

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Ms. Georgia Park We Are With You

Take some time and read. Donate if you can.

Sudden Denouement Literary Collective


Sudden Denouement is a community of special people. I don’t know if we would have made it without you. Collectively, we are working on how to be of assistance to one who has brought such joy to people all over the world. We have your back. More details will be forthcoming on how we can help be of assistance to Georgia in her time of need. Material things can be replaced, luckily you and your dog survived. Our thoughts and prayers are with you.

Jasper Kerkau


We have established a GoFundMe for Georgia to help her right now as she has lost the majority of her belogings to this fire. Please do what you can to donate and if you can’t, please share our GoFundMe

A number of SD collective writers and members have stepped up to donate the next 3 months of their royalties to the rebuild efforts…

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Tattooed – Eric Syrdal


Screenshot_20181024-084822_ChromeI want this…

want to spend hours
reading the pretty pictures
on your skin
The stories they tell
of the landscape of your heart
and the arcane protection
they provide your soul
teach me the language they speak
the syntax they manipulate
to strike flame from open air
and rain down raw beauty upon my eyes
my tongue hungers to read you
like a blind man
your goosebumps will be my braille tome
though I shall work for minutes or hours or years
to produce this involuntary response
to feel a shiver run across your aphrodisian arches
close my eyes and feel the difference
as I wander the fields of your body
explore the smooth and sweet
interrupted by the warm, wet and salty
your sounds will be my sign posts
and will satiate my ravenous soul
on the poisoned honey within your hollow bones
though I shall return

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Book Review: Eric Syrdal’s Pantheon, by Mariah Voutilainen

Humbled by such a wonderful review!

Indie Blu(e) Publishing

Eric Syrdal’s Pantheon takes readers on an epic journey through time, space and emotion

By Mariah Voutilainen

As a keen reader of sci-fi and fantasy novels, I was very impressed by Eric Syrdal’s Pantheon.  For me, the title alone recalled deities of myth, promised encounters with larger-than-life heroes, and set up an expectation of sweeping verse.  Syrdal, a self-proclaimed romantic and sci-fi and fantasy enthusiast, does not disappoint:  He deftly weaves a tale of adventure, his protagonists crossing paths with virtuous Goddesses, who coax them toward their destinies.

As I read the first section, I worried that Pantheon was a little too heavy on the usual themes of fantasy and fairy tale:  Warhorses champing at the bit, armored fighters, swords at the ready, the proverbial dragon looming over the embattled heroic Poet.  Despite this, I continued on and was glad I did, for Syrdal quickly demonstrates that his story…

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when I first met her
it was on the road to our homeland
the sun shone bright
and the birds sang praises to the gods
she and I shared words
of beauty
written on the pages
with our blood in the ink

when next I met her
she cupped her hands
around an ember of my heart
and breathed courage across it
a flame danced and flickered
in the dark of my doubt
and so lit the way for my dreams to walk

when last I met her
it was on the road to war
I stood by
as she leaned upon a shattered fence
I attended her wounds
while she caught her breath
and it was my honor
to hold her shield while
the pain of battle ebbed
in her weary limbs

and while tears dried upon her cheek
I renewed my oath
and I
will walk with her
toward home

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bright angel
hear me
though i know
the world has bent
thine shoulder
thou art an incandescent flame
upon a black world
thy spirit passes beyond
the gloam that would suffocate
my heart
yea it is a rising star
that ever lights my way
back to the familiar passages
that doth so enfold my soul
to compress these troubled thoughts
and under the crushing weight of love
so produce a ruddy spark
to leap and jump among the twisted bows
of my cold oblivion
and thus to make a conflagration
that warms my core
and breathes life into my tired limbs
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Christine – an honoring

My sword Sister, honoring another amazing warrior.



You don’t know this

But if there is a warrior

That warrior is you

If anyone blazes the way and holds the torch for the light to get through

That woman is you

Because you feel the fear and do it anyway

You set fire to yourself and offer your ashes to the Phoenix

You are unstoppable even as they come at you with everything and more

You’re the wind in the willows, the avalanche, the fucking heartbeat of ten thousand voices

You are Boudicca

Riding your chariot through the Roman siege

You are the woman in ten-year old sweat pants making me laugh until I weeze

Who can smell an idea and rip the world in half with your passion

And when you think you’re just some old bird biding her days

We’re here to remind you of the shine you’ve bequeathed so many

Before you, those things weren’t…

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Review of Pantheon by Candice Louisa Daquin

Pantheon by Eric Syrdal

Reviewed by Candice Louisa Daquin

“When the ones I protect are worth less than my own life”

“If gods and goddesses/ look down on our lives”


Poetry has reclaimed its prior popularity with the easy access of the internet; anonymous and known poets can write on any subject in any style and find an audience and succor. There are those who do it for a career, those who write because they must and if they sell a book they sell a book but that’s not the purpose of their art. When I met Eric Syrdal I was struck by his uniqueness among this spectrum of authors, his work simply doesn’t fit into a category. I could be kind and say any original author makes their own label or better still doesn’t require one but it would be unrealistic to believe people don’t categorize writers they always have and they always will even the sub categories and the rebels have clichés and recognizable styles.

Is it possible to be completely apart from such distinctions and write something truly unique? I have read some authors who have achieve this but never a poet. This is the greatest distinction about the Heraldic Code of Honor meets Outside Time Space Opera work of Louisiana Native Eric Syrdal and it’s quite remarkable how this man has given birth to his own universe not as a fantasy writer, because surely they all do that (even if paying homage to common and recognizable forms and emblems) but as something utterly new that I cannot put a short description to. I admire this in a time when so much has been overdone and over produced and originality is scarce and what we deem original is usually taken from history.

For a creative to be creative today is a greater challenge than it was when there were less of us doing more of the same. With our burgeoning populations even if a tiny fraction writes poetry we’ll find within that sub-set so much similarity. And yes, within Syrdal’s work I could point to a lot of homage and recognition of prior and modern style and type but when put together in entirety he has managed to form something that I have never experienced.  At first glance a novel in the form of an epic poem telling a story may not appear so unique, although less used today than 600 years ago. It is however, the ability to juggle much homage and create from their mixture, something quite different that lends Syrdal’s work an unforgettable quality and depth.

I confess I am not a huge fan of heraldic verse or epic poetry. I read The Highwayman, Beowulf and Shakespeare at University and felt more simpatico with Anne Sexton and modern confessional poets than the removed fantasy of knights and maids. That said, it’s like anything, when it’s done right, you find yourself going back for more. I compare it to any preference, I may like brunettes but if a redhead or a blonde is truly unique, she’ll surpass my bias. This is how I can best explain my appreciation for Syrdal’s body of work.

Having read his astoundingly beautiful and romantic poetry for years I found it hard to imagine how he could engage the reader with an entire collection in semi-epic poem form. It wasn’t that I thought him incapable I had already known he could surprise me with his keen observations within the mêlée of ancient times, futuristic visions and intense romance, but I just couldn’t picture it until I received an advance copy and frankly, was stunned by the craftsmanship and sheer voice of his craft.

There comes a time that confessional poetry, political, angry, cause-related writing can burn itself out. And one may think an epic poem using the ancients, classics and futurists as its backbone would bore a typical reader and there you would be wrong. I read Syrdal’s book in one sitting, few poetry books contain that kind of engagement which makes me aware of how this is neither a book of poetry nor strictly prose or even prosetry, but something indescribable and yet I want so badly to describe it in hopes others will reach for it and discover for themselves. On the other hand it seems almost sacrilegious to put into short description the intention Syrdal had for this book or what it’s about, it’s like taking one part of a beautiful thing that is that beautiful only because of its composite pieces and expecting it to speak for the entirety. Like any powerful experience you really have to experience it for yourself.

Instead I will say a few general things that help locate my impressions as a reviewer. For the feminist or the woman or man who appreciates equality and the equal treatment of women, you will be glad for Syrdal’s treatment of women, he has always been an advocate and uplifter of women, that’s just his heraldic nature, he literally lives and breathes this both as a human and a writer. It is rare to find within those genres writers who treat women with equal respect and Syrdal never waivers.

His vast knowledge of the classics and the varied mythologies is quite astounding in modern terms and yet because his language is so accessible without being trite, it’s easy to appreciate something that is at once, ancient and timeless.  “Upon the face of this shield / all the names my soul has been called / over the ages of time / are written”

On a very personal note, I appreciate that for a man dealing often with beautiful leading females, his writing isn’t overly sexualized and all about unrealistically beautiful women and the ravishment of them, without some further storyline. This can get tired and you’ll often find it in novels by men, and it is possible to both appreciate beauty and give that character more than just a gorgeous face, which Syrdal does by the sheer force of personality of his heroines (and heroes it goes without saying).

There is a powerful vein of unapologetic passion within his writing, as well as both homage to reimagined fairy tales and their originals and a mixing of modern heroines wearing jeans, space men talking to computers in the future and ancient warhorses. Syrdal’s women are not the faint hearted weak minded sort, but often the strength behind the warrior. There is a universe slipping in-between another, and the voices come from both sides.  “It’s not the absence of fear…it’s acting in spite of it.”

The sheer wield of Syrdal’s imagination is quite something to behold, this is a saga of mankind, both we who read it and the characters who appear more real than our own lives. The book is divided into subj-sections; Back to the Beginning, Pantheon, Warsong, The Dragon and the Damsel, Amor Vincit Omnia, Time and Again, Light Speed, Daughter of the Phoenix and Back to the Beginning (again). One theme directs all sections;  “Love begets Courage / Love directs Karma / Love inspires Mercy / Love speaks of Grace / Love is the basis for Hope.”

There are concepts within each step, you’re not just reading about two people and their desire for one another, or the heroes need to protect her, or be with her at any cost, you are not reading about a strong woman or a shape-shifting, time-shifting man, you are reading on other levels too, simultaneously about morality, goodness, evil, concepts of right and wrong, death and life, love and hate. Equally there is an undercurrent of poetic appreciation, whilst not a poem or prose instead a river of multilayered experience seen through the eyes of the hero who remains frustratingly anonymous. This story isn’t simply set in the past or present, it transcends into the future, not simply a space-opera or feat of imagining, but all genres packed tightly together and exploded into starlight.

“You know all that is really necessary to change Fate’s mind, don’t you? All that is ever necessary for one person to make the most difference that they can? It’s being where you are supposed to be…when you are supposed to be. The right person, place and time is worth a thousand assassinations.”

In that sense this may not be for everyone, if you liked American Gods by Neil Gaiman you’ll adore it,  the book  demands your attention and you won’t appreciate it if you delve into it randomly or expecting individual poems. Just as you would not attempt to read Beowulf casually, be mindful the same applies here, you’re entering a world that is not your own. Syrdal’s heroines are; Courage, Fate, Karma, Grace, Hope, Mercy, The Queen of Hearts and you will recognize many of the concepts as creatures worthy of your attention and extended consideration.

Fortunately I was familiar with the poet Tennyson when I began reading and I use his work as the closest comparison to anything I’ve read before, in that he was so capable of writing an epic or longer poem with the passion of a modern world in the setting of an ancient or even fantastical one. Tennyson too had a love of courage, bravery, knights, warriors, and the tragi-possession of that era that may have existed more in our imaginations than literally. He too could illustrate with words the rapture and intoxication of a time before us, filled with beauty, suffering and intensity, urging us to open our imaginations to this and let the magic in.

I appreciated the blurring of ancient with modern, that worked really well for me, I liked how Syrdal brought the romantic words of the past (damsel, dragons, knights) into a modern world and how it still applies because so much of what we know and think is formed around these symbols and stories and fairy tales, it makes you wonder what is real and what is not and how ultimately if you let go and enter your imagination the world is far more than at first it appears. I also liked the challenge of wondering if those modern characters ‘needed the dragon’ and how ultimately we all need it. I loved how  heroine wise; “She is the warrior / she’s been seeing when / she plays her music.”

The idea of modern people carrying this underneath their contemporary clothes a true merging of the ancient world and today’s world seems to exterminate the blandness of today and reintroduce wonder. “But what does / a day mean / to someone / or something / that might exist / outside of time as we know it?” Imagine if you are a beaten up woman of today and an ancient warrior appears to you, showing what you were capable of and can be again. Returning us to the forsaken but not entirely lost notions of the past, where courage and strength existed in more palpable ways. I thought it was very clever to use a modern landscape to achieve this. Truly if a woman had written this you’d probably call it a polemic call to women’s ability to fight back against oppression. The fact that a man wrote it should alter that in no way. Few men can write from a woman’s vantage point realistically and Syrdal is able to mutate between genders as fluidly as water.

As well as knowing many of the classics and the ballads and stories of old that inspired the chivalric age, I also am an ardent consumer of Sci-Fi fiction and it stunned me when the novel takes a turn into the future and becomes an intense Sci-Fi driven story. I can compare Syrdal to many of my favorite Sci-Fi writers in that he shares their deft handling of infinite complexity, their ability to weave worlds and mix time and place, he’s a Doris Lessing of 2018 and the dystopian doesn’t spoil something incredible, love that cannot be broken and carries on in a multitude of forms, even creating a new life out of a machine, a machine that can now feel.  “Hiroshima / 911 ground zero / Hurricane Katrina” Nothing, not even time or flesh and blood can ruin love. In Syrdal’s universe it is forever. The nightingale’s song has stopped/ The only sound that comes is the gentle wind/ in the tops of the bamboo.”

Equally there is the concept of Fate personified, and the only one omnipotent and thus, able to see what will unfold even before it does. This provides almost a predictive voice to the unfolding storyline that shows us we are both able to change our destinies and grow, as we are bound to the outcome of fate, which at first may appear an oxymoron but speaks more to the notions of what our individual responsibility is and how far we are willing to go to be all that we can be. “It was like sitting / in a boat / on the surface of the ocean / with something / like a leviathan / ancient and massive / sitting below the water / underneath you.”

Imagine if you knew your responsibility and acted upon it, instead of either leaving everything up to fate or believing yourself immune to it, imagine if you took seriously the part you play in the world rather than thinking you simply existed and there was no greater meaning? More than being saved in the hero sense, what if you could save yourself? And what if as tragic-hero you rise above the staid notion of fate and become something as yet unimagined?

Is the tragi-hero in fact alive because he possesses the heart of fate and can see through universal eyes, the weft of all existence? What if you see them all, and you are all? Then how would you be? What if you died and were reborn, living through millennia, unable to connect fully with mortals because you are outside time. What if, as Fate, the Tragi-Hero cannot stop the woman who goes to the Twin Towers on 9/11 what if he can only watch lives unfold and perish and do nothing to change the outcome. If Fate loved you and saved your life by giving you her heart, what would your life be like afterward? Think of The Time Travelers Wife on fire and triple it.

I won’t spoil the brilliant conclusion of this novel, suffice to say, if it is your desire to read something astoundingly original, from a writer who is not only a truly breathtaking author, deft with supernatural words and ideas, but a dreamer of worlds, who will blow any preconceived notions you have away and leave you shell shocked by the sheer power of his mind, then I cannot recommend Eric Syrdal and his novel Pantheon more highly. “I built this beach / and the stars / and the moon …. I turn back the wheels of heaven / and make time stop and rewind / over and over ….. Because I don’t know how to tell him / A machine had a wish.”


Candice Louisa Daquin

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Cendrillon A.D. 4037 – 3rd Terran Dynasty

It’s cold out here
starfields and solar radiation
rumble of the sublight engines
stale air and canned heat
hate this scratchy material of my uniform
can’t stand to raise my arm to salute

I crave the open Air

To see the stars by natural gravity
in the open sky instead of behind
pressure compensation class

No Vertigo
No Spinning
No damage Reports

My thoughts drift back
to last night

The Imperial Palace
mandatory attendance
the dna in my blood drags me to it
and makes me a VIP

Standing in the receiving line
wanting to eat my shoes

Anything but this
handshaking on auto-pilot
Engage, Dock, Undock, Disengage

What was his name?
Fuck it

Commotion at the gates
heads turning but I can’t see
over the sea
of human ornamentation

My chance to light-jump out of line
No course-plotting
Steady as she goes

She goes…
whoa! who is that?

Tap my infonode, left ear, near lobe
Facial recognition:
database failure:

No File found

She’s lost in the shuffle
Skirt the edges of the crowd, listening for chatter and intel
She’s instantly popular, but no one has seen her before
Don’t believe if I ever met her
that I could have forgotten her

They’ll be looking for me soon
to recall me back to the line

Reengage Diplomatic Protocols
back to the boring
smile, nod
handshake auto-pilot
engage, dock, undock, disengage
fuck that

She’s on a approach vector
intercept course plotted

She moves like a wisp of cloud
Anti-grav? Repulsers?
nah… 4 inch heels, most likely.

Proximity Alert!
Steady now!
Her accent?
No, wait…Victory Station, FarReach?
Pay attention, you moron, this is it!!

Take her hand, light kiss on the top
her smile the size of Jupiter’s spot
white opera gloves
Flesh at the top
pink in her cheeks
dimple, left side

Is that jasmin or cardarrian lotus?
Diamonds at her throat, like ice on her skin
moves with her
Lips parted, like she’s got something to say
Eyebrows slightly raised

Fuck! Did She ask a question?
Focus you moron!

Music is starting, slow driving beat
Reverb bouncing back off the courtyard walls
She light-jumps in
closes to a few inches

Her hand out to the right in mine, palm to palm
The other on my upper arm, fingers getting tangled
in my epaulets

I hate these damn things!

My arm around the small of her back
1 2 3 – 4….1 2 3 – 4
Don’t snag her on your medals!

She’s strong, biceps have definition
Not Money
Not Military
Not Nobility
Not My Concern…….

Her eyes are singularities, I keep getting sucked into them
draws the lights from the walls

Easy, watch her feet!

Shots fired, port side
Those are fireworks you idiot
Replicas, high explosive yield
Reds, Blues, Greens, Yellows
Her face is a rainbow

She’s smiling so fully, did she move closer?
Proximity Alert!
Captain we’ve got a blush leak on both cheeks!
Easy, back off
Maneuvering thrusts at station keeping

Song’s ending…sustained note on guitar…hums to quiet
Chronographic display, upper end of the great hall
faint booming of chimes

Her face goes flat, the color light-jumps out of her cheeks
She curtsies
To me?…Why?
Let her hand go, you moron!
another light-jump and she’s across the courtyard

Pursuit course?
Are you kidding?….

Almost fell on my face
Stepped on Something….
Recovered nicely, bend over and get it
Hmmm…4 inch Heel….made of….glass??

Now I wonder if a genecode scanner can get me a match?
Scan Status: 85%
Guess I’ll know in about 30 minutes

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That time I was on the Radio…

Got a wonderful experience last night! Through an invitation from some good friends, I was able to go on a local Radio show here in NOLA!

The Week in Geek, hosted by Dave Ducorbier and Brian Held, were wonderful hosts and I owe them a debt of gratitude I can never repay for giving me this chance to talk about my book.

If you’d like to listen, the podcast copy of the show can be found here

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