Homeless poetry

I went to a show on Thursday night - music. Thollem Mcdonas and an amazing drummer, improvising. Really incredible. See his site. Fingers flying and such a grasp of music.

Outside the venue there was a homeless woman selling Street Spirit - "Justice News and Homeless Blues in the Bay Area". So I bought one.

The whole issue is poetry, and some is pretty damn good. I'm going to periodically post some.  Here's one:

Scapegoats
by Joan Clair

"Their transgressions, even all their sins...he shall put upon the head of the goat and shall send him away into the wilderness."  -- Leviticus

I feel the weight of collective sin in the soup
kitchen, not to be escaped on the crushed
shoulders of those eating silntly there,
eathing the lie they have nothing to share,
a bread so heavy it hasn't the leaven
to lift thier souls to a new have.
I smell wafts of scapegoats in the air.
And there are those who would do more
than allow a few to feed
the bodies and souls of those in need.
To solve the plight of those they want unseen
they'd drive them entirly out of sight
from their solitary ghettos
into the wilderness
bearing all our sins.

That's Life

I just finished reading Keith Richards - Life. As in Keith Richards Rolling Stones Keith Richards. I was very sad to see it end. It's excellent - really brings across the voice and you learn a lot about music. For instance, I had always heard the line in Sweet Home Alabama but never understood or looked up: what I heard as: Mussel Shoals has got the Swamprush. It's actually Muscle Shoals has got the Swampers. Muscle Shoals is a town in Alabama where many legends recorded, including the Rolling Stones. Swampers is a rhythm section for hire.

It was/is a crazy life. But you can tell he's a songwriter. Poetry just kind of jumps out. M hadn't seen it when he read it, but I couldn't help but notice things like:
-- Sometimes a kiss is burned into you far more than whatever comes later.
Or
-- My feet were soaking from walking through tears.

Needless to say, read it.

Three cheers for the red white and blue

'cause a duck could be somebody's mother...
Oops, joined two different lyrics. ;_0

It's July and the bushes are blooming.

Honeysuckle bush
Sort of, not quite, but fragrant
Lingers in the air

Off to Pt Reyes National Seashore tomorrow. It should be great weather. Now I need to not get burned..

Enjoy yourselves!

Shake a finger at me

Down in dumps today.
Ate chocolate, felt better.
Worth the calories.

Rainku

driving rain and gray
the wind blows strong and mighty
snow builds in the east

here comes billy boy
say hello, ask for some food
or some attention

Mewku

Let sleeping cats lie
As they are not meowing.
Food! Play! Treats! Petting!

Hum-ku

Nature in plastic and glass
Hummingbird feeder
Share and share alike? No way!

Tuesku

the fog is lifting
little tendrils still remain
but the sun shines through

Recipeku

Recipe for love:
Equal parts warmth, lust, intrigue.
Mix thoroughly. Serve.

Tuesku

Painting window sills.
First cleaning. Then caulking.
An easy job. HA.

Waking up early
Again. No brain, no gain. Ugh.
Time for some caffeine

hoo-koos

Wish I had something
interesting, exciting
to say, to do. Hey.

These random, scattered
Thoughts, actions, emotions, words
Soon will all add up.

I can't believe it.
Me? American Idol?
Oh, the shame. (sort of)

Post

I had an inspiration on the way home today but it is gone now. Here's a haiku.

Nodding off at work
I don't give a flying fuck
I need a new job

Oh boy, that's pretty bitter. Here. I'll make up for it.

Riding in the rain
Take one slip and you will fall
You! wear a helmet.

I did that on Tuesday. Riding away from the gym. No helmet on. Thank goodness I had big bike bags because the bike did not go completely horizontal and I could get my feet out and land sort of upright. Screamed of course. Hmm... I still could be more upbeat.

Now the heat is gone
Now summer slips into fall
Now the crickets chirp

So, a little bit better. I love having the windows open and hearing the crickets. And the birds in the morning. For some reason the blue jays are back and I love listening to them. I guess they don't like hot weather?

The season changes
A new life is being built
One brick at a time

I'm trying to gather energy to build up my new life. To have the energy to go out and meet new people. New climbers. New friends. I'm allowing myself to be kinda a hermit for a little while though. As long as I don't get sucked into self pity and depression. Trying not to. Patience, grasshopper.

Brian Andreas

There is nothing more I ask, she said,
than this moment, exactly so
& she looked at me & my heart danced
& forever suddenly seemed too short a time


Brian Andreas writes and illustrates Story People. Beautiful stuff.

Twittering Lunch

--Went out and laid in the sun. Listened, and over or under the sounds of the cars and people, there was a consistent whine of insects buzzing in the heat.

--Decided Wednesday might be Haiku Humpback Day. Here's a haiku a day early.
If you think you can't
breathe, eat, sleep, move, live, love, dream.
Let go. Just do it.

--Firefighters on the corner holding out a boot for Jerry's kids. Wonder if they'll give a percentage to the homeless people whose spot they took.

--My friend decided to name the climb The Gray Matter, in deference to the guy who had originally thought to bolt the line and allowed my friend to do it.

Life, the universe, and cougars

Small Town Girl a while back talked about a thing that's been going around the internet, that I believe I've seen other places too. Six word autobiography (oh yeah, Churlita did it too). Although I'm a woman of brevity, for some reason that didn't strike a chord with me. But Small Town Girl opened it up to haikus too. So I was all over that. Here it is:

Searching for meaning
having fun along the way
(At least trying to)

I have seen news of Ivana Trump's marriage. One headline read "The Cougar Pounces." I'm thinking it might be nice to be a cougar for a little bit...once I get my life sorted out. At what difference in age do you become a cougar? I've dated guys 7 years younger, but that doesn't seem to be enough. Ten years or more? Or does it need to be two decades away? Of course, not sure it would work in real life since he'd have to be a pretty mature youngster because if he opened his mouth and spouted out nonsense, not sure I could go through with it.

Received via email - Love after Love

Love After Love

The time will come
when, with elation
you will greet yourself arriving
at your own door, in your own mirror
and each will smile at the other's welcome,

and say, sit here. Eat.
You will love again the stranger who was your self.
Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart
to itself, to the stranger who has loved you

all your life, whom you ignored
for another, who knows you by heart.
Take down the love letters from the bookshelf,

the photographs, the desperate notes,
peel your own image from the mirror.
Sit. Feast on your life.

--Derek Walcott

Rimbaud poem - first evening

first evening

Her clothes were almost off;
Outside, a curious tree
Beat a branch at the window
To see what it could see.

Perched on my enormous easy chair,
Half nude, she clasped her hands.
Her feet trembled on the floor,
As soft as they could be.

I watched as a ray of pale light,
Trapped in the tree outside,
Danced from her mouth
To her breast, like a fly on a flower.

I kissed her delicate ankles.
She had a soft, brusque laugh
That broke into shining crystals -
A pretty little laugh.

Her feet ducked under her chemise;
"Will you please stop it!..."
But I laughed at her cries -
I knew she really liked it.

Her eyes trembled beneath my lips,
They closed at my touch.
Her head went back; she cried:
"Oh really! That's too much!

"My dear, I'm warning you..."
I stopped her protest with a kiss
And she laughed, low -
A laugh that wanted more than this...

Her clothes were almost off;
Outside a curious tree
Beat a branch at the window
to see what it could see.



This is from an album called Sahara Blue, an album inspired by the poetry of Arthur Rimbaud, produced and arranged by Hector Zazou. This particular 'song' is spoken word, with music, and some breathing.

From a site: Structurally, SAHARA BLUE is all over the proverbial map. Spoken word dialogues reverberate over gentle ambient atmospherics and glacial guitar ("First Evening"), crunchy tech-hop ("I'll Strangle You"), tribal pop-funk ("Youth"), and gentle, world-pop lullabies ("Black Stream"). It's a deliciously eclectic stew, magnificently composed and played, with Zazou as the ringmaster expertly corralling his troops for optimum sonic pleasure.

Risks

The below poem is something I kind of lived by when I was in high school, and beyond I guess. It helped move me from a shy, nerdy, pimply, glasses-wearing, Farrah Fawcett-styled hair wearing, awkward teen to the person I am today... Thus, it's been around a lonnnng time.


To laugh is to risk appearing the fool
To weep is to risk being called sentimental
To reach out to another is to risk involvement

To expose feelings is to risk showing your true self
To place your ideas and your dreams before the crowd is to risk being called naïve

To love is to risk not being loved in return
To live is to risk dying
To hope is to risk despair and,
To try is to risk failure

But risks must be taken
The greatest risk in life is to risk nothing
The person who risks nothing... does nothing, has nothing, and becomes nothing

He may avoid suffering and sorrow
But he simply cannot learn and feel and change and grow and love and live
Chained by his servitude, he is a slave
He has forfeited his freedom

Only the person who risks is truly free.

Sweet Potato Fries Haikus

Sweet potato fries
horseradish or sugar sauce
your taste is divine


Pile 'em up, real high
Plate, bowl, whatever you got
Sweet potato fries


Sweet potato fry
touches my lips, not my hips.
I can dream, can't I?