poMotion poetry

Archive for April 2010

Where I’ve gone, Where I’ve been.

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For Connie

The golden car shines in the driveway
Arnold wants me to come with
The space ship is calling

Instead I sit inside and think, and contemplate, and wonder
motionless
frozen

my eyes bloodshot from all the shit I keep rubbing in them
Bob Dylan keeps telling me:
“There’s no black and white, left and right to me anymore; there’s only up and down and down is very close to the ground.”

so I lay on the floor
I lay there so long I forget all about Mr. Friend outside
He says the numbers on his car are magic
but then I remember my Tarot cards and get lost in the design of a man hanging upside down
the phases of the moon
the distance between retrograde and upgrade
the time I thought about nothing for so long that I actually thought I was nothing, only to be pulled back to the floor
the wood planks cold and dirty
I need to sweep
I need to sleep
I need sheep
I can lead to the slaughter

Sensory D
tails
stories

Oh Arnold Friend
why must you always take the pretty ones?

by Brian Feist

Inspired by the short story “Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?” by Joyce Carol Oates

Written by lickmypoetry

April 28, 2010 at 12:35 pm

Posted in poem, poetry

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Write On!

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PoMotion: production of poetry has launched a new page on the blog:  Write On!

It is here that we will feature the ‘first’ poems of artists, of all ages, in the hopes that their love of writing will flourish and they will know what it feels like to be heard.

The first post, A Young Child, is the work of a young, Native American writer, Vivica Goodlance.

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Written by lickmypoetry

April 27, 2010 at 10:23 am

You

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Can’t stand You.
You make me angry.
So many of You.
You are the heart and soul.
Everywhere You go I’m there.
You are in my every thought.
Can’t stand You.
You are here with me.
I cant stop thinking of You.
You left me!
Dead to me is what You are.
You’re just gone and why?
I miss You so much
Cant stand You.

By Ruby Holt

posted by Sue Zalokar

Written by lickmypoetry

April 27, 2010 at 9:31 am

Posted in poem, poetry

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Outlaw Academics

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Apparently, there is a rather large rift in the poetry world—a chasm that spans such a great distance that whenever the two sides try to communicate, the meaning is lost in the echoing of voices vibrating across this canyon.

It’s funny.  I don’t consider myself to be an ‘academic’ poet, and yet I’m ‘highly’ educated  [Insert joke here].  I don’t consider myself to be an ‘outlaw’ poet, and yet I ride with the posse of free verse, free style, and open ended poems, whenever I can round one up.

I suspect there many other other poets who share these feelings.  I know there are.

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Written by lickmypoetry

April 25, 2010 at 2:19 pm

Posted in Random

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Home (less)

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Home(less)

We smoke.

Nighttime.

Bridge line.

A man sleeping in the doorway offers his opinion
I listen carefully
He has only the truth to say
I go home to shelter
He wrestles cardboard on concrete
All meaning seems to splinter
The deep end always lingers.

by Israel Bayer

Written by lickmypoetry

April 25, 2010 at 10:17 am

Posted in Uncategorized

SEDITIOUS CITIZEN

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Sedition is the condition
the citizen is in
when the state is the enemy
and the citizen becomes
the enemy of the state

I’m an enemy of the state

Jesus was an enemy
An enemy of the state
Muhammad was an enemy
An enemy of the state
Gandhi was an enemy
An enemy of the state
Harriet Tubman was an enemy
An enemy of the state
Jefferson was an enemy
An enemy of the state
Rosa Parks was an enemy
An enemy of the state
Malcolm was an enemy
An enemy of the state
Jean d’ Arc was an enemy
An enemy of the state
Daw Aung San Suu Kyi is an enemy
An enemy of the state
6 million Jews in Europe
in the 30s and 40s were enemies
All enemies of the state
Tens of millions of Soviets
under Stalin’s regime, were enemies
Enemies of the state

Sedition is the condition
the citizen is in
when the state is the enemy
and the citizen becomes
the enemy of the state

I’m an enemy of the state

by Artis

Written by lickmypoetry

April 24, 2010 at 10:30 am

Posted in poem

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A Young Child

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One stormy night
A young child had got into a fight.
All of his hoping and praying did not do him right
They had failed on him that single night.
He was hoping and praying that someone would come before
that nightmare would return.

As he sat on the ground
Letting the blood roll down his cheek
As that one child was yelling and whimpering

He had seen this man

He was yelling and screaming.

Scaring those boys and seeing them run like kitties.

By Vivica Goodlance

Read by ‘Tookie’

Posted by Sue Zalokar

Written by lickmypoetry

April 24, 2010 at 9:21 am

Poetry news you can use…

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A poem written 237 years ago by a lab worker may be the first written expression of the animal rights movement. A unique poetry anthology reaching back to the 1700s is highlighted in Black Nature: Four Centuries of African-American Nature Poetry.

Poetry over advertising — only in the City of Roses.  Technology rocks. A 100-year old woman in Oregon writes poetry on her new iPad, and Urban poets mix spoken word and film. Check it.

Posted by Israel Bayer

Written by lickmypoetry

April 21, 2010 at 8:43 pm

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[Music is] Poetry

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Written by lickmypoetry

April 17, 2010 at 4:31 pm

Posted in lyrics, poetry

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Poetry news you can use

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A poem written by a teacher in Turkey spurs an investigation by authorities for criticizing a number of top Islamic scholars. W. B. Yeats poem, “Death,” a clue in a 13-year old murder of a French filmmaker. Rare interviews with Ted Hughes and Sylvia Plath are released by the British Library, and the Godfather of rap Gil Scott –Heron releases new works, “I’m new here.

Plus, Natalie Merchant’s sets 26 poems from various poets to music in, “Leave Your Sleep.” It comes out today. Listen to Merchant talk about the five-year old project, and check out some of the poets from times long gone. The project looks very cool.

Posted by Israel Bayer

Written by lickmypoetry

April 15, 2010 at 12:09 am

The conflict

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Where’s the conflict, you have to have conflict
your readers are going to get bored, wander off to their own lives of mundane activity described with the words in their heads
you have to bring them in
you have to have a hook
you can’t say:
The woman looked at her exquisite watch made of gold and diamonds that shines with all the glory of the sun,
no
you have to say:
The woman looked at the watch her first husband gave her
now the audience is interested, curious
they want to know why she is on her second husband
“did she cheat on her first with her second?” they ask
or maybe her first died in some sort of crazy explosion and the town is still not sure if she had anything to do with it
or even better:
the woman sighed as she carefully unwrapped the watch that had been a gift from her first husband
emotion in words; sighed, carefully
these make people cream themselves
conflict, action
use action words:
running, chasing, screaming, stabbing
create drama
is the watch a metaphor for time and the impending death of all of us
longing, wanting, yearning
“What does your character yearn for?” She asked me in her office, light streaming in the windows bringing out the blue in her eyes
“That’s why I usually write poetry.”

by Brian Feist

Written by lickmypoetry

April 14, 2010 at 7:29 pm

Posted in poem

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A MOTHER, MIND YOU

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“You’ll have to disassemble that stroller
while you’re on the bus”

“Ah. Come on”

“. . . or get out, here”

“OK”

A few minutes later
Half a mile from the stop
She unfolds the stroller
Driver stops the bus
Reiterates to “Disassemble the stroller
or get out
or I’ll call the cops”

“Call ’em!”

It’s 11:30 late night
Cops come
Bus leaves
Mother and 2 offspring
one a baby
one a young woman
All three red
No ID
Not necessary
Allowed to leave
Then
‘on second thought’
Harassed
Arrest is eminent
All three flee
Daughter with sister in arms
Mother captured and detained
5 days without charge
Swollen babyless breasts
Hog-tied, pepper sprayed in jail
Her baby’s grandfather walks the streets
Peripatetically
with a cane
Permanently pained
by the same police brutality

By Artis

Written by lickmypoetry

April 14, 2010 at 8:12 am

Posted in poem, Random

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Rae Armantrout wins the Pulit Surprise!!

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The wonderful poet Rae Armantrout has won the Pulitzer Prize. It really was unimaginable two or three years ago that someone associated with experimental poetry would win this.

What does that mean? I don’t really know, the history of the avant-garde is that it gets absorbed into the mainstream…so…

Do these prizes even mean anything to anyone but the winner? Probably not.

But hey, the most important point is that she is amazing and deserves the accolades, the $10,000 and (hopefully) the wider readership.

Congrats Rae Armantrout!!!!!

The following poem first appeared in Veil: New and Selected Poems:

Manufacturing

1
A career in vestige management.

A dream job
back-engineering
shifts in salience.

I’m so far
behind the curve
on this.

So. Cal.
must connect with
so-called

to manufacture
the present.

Ubiquity’s
the new in-joke

bar-code hard-on,

a catch-phrase
in every segment.

2
The eye asks if the green,

frilled geranium puckers,
clustered at angles

on each stem,
are similar enough

to stop time.

It has asked this question already.

How much present tense
can any resemblance make?

What if one catch- phrase
appears in every episode?

Does the language go rigid?

The new in-joke
is a pun

pretending to be a bridge.

-Rae Armantrout

Watch Armantrout read from “Versed” on the National Book Foundation’s Web site.

Posted by Noah West

Written by lickmypoetry

April 13, 2010 at 11:35 am

Posted in news, poem, Random

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Hissa Hilal’s ‘Message in a Bottle’ is heard across the sea

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Hissa Hilal took an unprecedented, third place in"Million's Poet" competiton She stands here with the other finalists, including Nasser al-Ajami who took first place and runner up, Falah al-Mowraqi

Hissa Hilal did much more than take third place in a poetry competition, she blew through a previously indelible line in the sand.

Hilal was out ranked by her Kuwaiti male counterparts, Nasser al-Ajami who took first place in the Million’s Poet competition last week followed by runner up, Falah al-Mowraqi.  The Saudi poetess took third place, the furthest a woman has progressed in the poetry competition, now in its fourth year.

Hilal criticized religious extremism in her poem, “The Chaos of Fatwas” (translated here by blogger-editor, Nina Alvarez) which she read in the second round of competition.  In doing so, Hilal gained million’s of fans in the blogosphere.  She also received threats on her life.

Most of the acclaim that celebrated this brave woman’s journey was spurred from reports in the news and social media, like this podast on NPR’s Morning Edition or the following video from ABC news:


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Written by lickmypoetry

April 12, 2010 at 11:20 pm

It’s not the size that matters, it is how you use it

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It’s not the size of your brain that matters it is how you use it
do you ever think about magic
or math
or the place where they converge and condense into something solid
like the rain drop on my finger, condensed out of thin air
hydrogen oxygen hydrogen, air, water bonded just so

it’s not the size of your wallet that matters it is how you use it
like Andrew Carnegie
that pinkerton-hiring, union-busting, steel-baron, capitalist
gave money to the arts and music, gave us the “Hall”
or Peter Kropotkin
the anarchist prince who reminded us
from his seat of power (freely held)
“anarchy does not mean no rules, it means no rulers”

It’s not the size of your time that matters but how you use it
all day shut in watching the city drive through puddles
wondering, writing
engaging in projects freely
meditating on
the ace of cups
active female power, root of the power of water
little bits of chemical attraction

by Brian Feist

Written by lickmypoetry

April 12, 2010 at 1:01 pm

Posted in poem

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Last thoughts on Woody Guthrie, and Sony Music Entertainment

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Last Thoughts On Woody Guthrie may be the best poem ever read aloud. Dylan read the poem 47 years ago today tomorrow on April 12, 1963 at The Town Hall in New York City.

I was hoping to post the video content of the poem here today, but Sony Music Entertainment has blocked the video on YouTube of the poem due to copyright grounds. Sony Music Entertainment is pushing back against groups like YouTube and other social media with its artists. And while I appreciate having to protect the rights of artists, the game has changed and groups like Sony need to recognize the power of promoting their artists in ways that generate more interest, instead of less.

It appears that Sony has now blocked all Bob Dylan songs from YouTube. You can still go on and find a flurry of live material, but not the songs recorded and distributed by Sony themselves. Instead of thousands, possibly millions of people accessing Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie today collectively through blogging and other social media venues, no one gets to enjoy the poem read aloud on that day. Because of its greed, Sony loses out because those viewers are potential customers who may have purchased the song in one form or another if they had viewed it on YouTube. Dumb. It’s the same ignorance that will eventually lead to the collapse of the publishing and newspaper industries if they don’t pull their head out of the sand.

So, instead of watching and listening to Bob Dylan’s Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie, and in honor of Sony Music Entertainment, PoMotion will give free advertising to social media sites like YouTube through this very cool video. Old thinkers, and teachers of the arts, pay attention. The revolution is upon us, and that goes for poetry too.  If you want to make a living as a humble artist, poet (never happen), musician, author, etc., than you best come up with a plan that includes the people, and making your content available in other mediums. Because like it or not, the times are a changing.

Update: If you search today in Google, “Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie,” guess what pops up? YouTube videos that have been blocked and this post. For better or worse, an example of social media playing a role. In this case, it’s to bad we can’t listen to the poem.

Posted by Israel Bayer

Written by lickmypoetry

April 11, 2010 at 12:39 pm

Get on your horse and ride— Cowboy Poetry is alive and well, up and around the bend

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Cowboy poetry is alive and well in the West. According to Wikipedia (You didn’t? I did.), “Cowboy Poetry grew out of a tradition of extemporaneous composition carried on by workers on cattle drives and ranches. After a day of work, cowboys would gather around a campfire and entertain one another with tall tales and folk songs. Illiteracy was common, so poetic forms were employed to aid memory.”

From what I can gather, most Cowboy Poetry is read accompanied by an instrument, but not all.

Cowboy Poetry Week is coming up, April 18-24, in celebration of National Poetry Month. (Sigh.) Still, those lonesome wranglers over at the Western and Cowboy Poetry Music & More at the Bar-D Ranch don’t mess around. In 2003, the group help pass a Senate resolution declaring the week of April 18, National Cowboy Week. The group is currently asking Governors and Mayors to get involved. Throughout the month of April, there’s Cowboy Poetry events from Tennessee to Washington, Alaska to Texas. The Western FolkLife Center has also packaged an array of multimedia Cowboy Poetry, and puts together an annual gathering for poets and musicians in January.

Check out the video: It sure looks like they know how to have a good time. Being an urban creature myself, it made me feel all fuzzy inside knowing that poetry and community was happening on this scale, out on the range…

Posted by Israel Bayer

Written by lickmypoetry

April 10, 2010 at 3:43 pm

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