Paul Simon

Paul Simon – one of my non-literary inspirations recently released ‘In the Blue Light’ a new recording to celebrate his 77th birthday. He’s taken some of his older songs & reimagined them as pop jazz. I would have liked him to go even further back to his Simon & Garfunkle work. It is a fine set of songs all the same. Listening to it made it clear to me that some of my influences weren’t the dead poets I was forced to study in high school or even the literary poets that ‘real’ poets cite as inspirations so that can sound educated.

 

Simon’s lyrics weren’t necessarily that complex. I Am A Rock spoke to my teenage sense of isolation. Little did I realize ‘I am an island’ was a John Donne reference, nor did I need to know in order to be drawn into the words. It had alliteration, evocative imagery – things that became a part of my own early writing style. It was so simple & direct that it made poetry accessible & seemly easy to write.

So I wrote endless poems in imitation of Sounds of Silence, Old Friends, For Emily. I actually still have some of those high school explorations somewhere. His longing for love was never dark – like, say, Jim Morrison; nor was his search as wordy or complex as Bob Dylan. His music itself was sunny. Even my sexually explicit poetry maintains, I hope, the sense of innocence than runs through his lyrics.

Later Simon became more personal to him yet never felt forced, overly bitter or oblique. He used humour to express some of the difficulties he was going through as he got older, as his fame became less rewarding or as his reputation stood in the way of his just being a guy who wrote and sang. It’s only looking back now as I think about my inspirations do I see how much I owe him.

Why I Want To Be A Clown

the clowns enjoy 

making babies cry 

the highlight of their day 

is when they get a good scream 

out of a baby 

elated when they scare a child

say around 9 or 10 years old

into crapping his pants

 

oh they can’t get enough 

of the shame on a kid’s face

as bowels let loose

because of their crazy 

smeary greasy faces

they would plunge surge

surround an innocent kid

huge mouths agape

with broken teeth 

speared with reds and greens

from the make up they ate 

to get them geared up 

to charge into the ring

 

stumbling bumbling drunk

pretending to vomit in a bucket

throw confetti at one child

then real puke on the next

to the hilarious roar of the audience 

 

when they found the one 

preferably a boy 

because girls were no challenge

the older that boy the better in fact 

one who acted uninterested 

invite him into the centre ring

mock him with garish faces 

bray till he ran out crying

made that little fucker 

shit shit shit his pants

they slap each other on the back 

as they exit the ring

 

sniggering 

at the the lion tamer

who relied on whips

not on wigs

https://wp.me/P1RtxU-2f6

http://buddiesinbadtimes.com/event/hot-damn-its-a-queer-slam-feat-janice-lee/

http://www.queerslam.com

every Tuesday

October 5/6/7 – Gratitude Round-Up

https://www.facebook.com/TorontoGratitudeRoundup/

September or October but to be confirmed – feature – The Art Bar, Free Times Cafe

June  – Capturing Fire 2019 – Washington D.C.  capfireslam.org 

Hey! Now you can give me $$$ to defray blog fees & buy coffee in Washington at 2018’s capfireslam.org – sweet,eh? paypal.me/TOpoet

Like my pictures? I post lots on Tumblr

https://www.tumblr.com/blog/topoet

 

Cirque de #NaNoWriMo 2014

Imagine my surprise to find a new, to me, genre of music that turns out to be perfect for my Nano project this year. The climax of Picture Perfect take place in a circus museum that I’ve imagined on the east coast. The museum is a desperate attempt by a small New Brunswick town to create a tourist attraction -as tourism is the prime industry in many parts of the east coast.

rollercoaster rides are in my blood

So I did a search for calliope music to see if that would put me the mood – it put me over the moon – what better invitation to sit down to the computer to write that a great circus march. A little goes along way mind you but the relentless fun of this music is hard to resist as it gets my imagination really flowing and flowering.

ridestea cup rides are so scarrry 

I also grabbed some fresh beta binural beats (as suggested by Chris Batty) for my iPod to tune my creative frequencies when I’m out for my morning walk. The walk falls after I’ve done my first couple of pages where I get the scene started. getting out give that start time to develop in my subconscious. I may know how things start & where I want them to end up but the thinking often changes how they get there.

clown but not scarrry as clowns

Over the past few months I read the various NaNoWriMo books – no plot no problem etc – nothing new to me in them but a nice confirmation that much of my creative (as opposed to structural) approach is a good one to get the job done. One thing I learned in improv is that pushing fast can take you into unexpected and sometimes brilliant directions. Nano is a written improv in which I try transcribe without editing or telling the brain to slow down. When I do that I lose all fear and can find myself on the tight rope without intending to be there.

So I’m stepping into the big ring tomorrow.

soon

November 1-30 – participating – NaNoWriMo 2014 –nano02 http://nanowrimo.org

Calliope

 

there is this circus of flesh

that moves faster

than the blood can pound

that over rides all cautions

lessons learned  go out the window

when that pandemonium opens

cotton candy balls of fun

for the ones who surrender

to take give take give

rise and fall

expectation and delivery

the fierce red flush of ginger hair

that surrounds the heave and heft

of the the timid and free

fleeting and heavy

melt of the stars

into a mouth

into the sudden rise

shape fall

stomach churning moment

when a glance is returned

take this button popping opportunity

slow stroke of zipper

happy slide of pants

shirts

sweaters

shoes socks

fly through the air

merry go around

in the middle of the bed

sheet strewn masses

wrinkled rivers of dim corner

vibrant and frightened

tongue chasing twists

I know the promise

I take this opportunity

to chase the roller coaster

to sharper shocks

higher highs

all dips hips slips

the rock solid rocket

twist and tumble

the grazed knees

the bruised knuckles

the wet dry hot cool

sweat sweet breath to catch

running faster lunge

the weight of one on the other

that pulls each to the earth

accepts shares

separates courses

through the veins

beat pulse

throb shudder

seek the chance to get back on the ride

I know the circus

will pitch another tent

but I am reluctant to leave this one

so sweetly pitched

so well enjoyed

employed spent dreamy sleepy

in this gift of satisfaction

this blank slate surrender

for a few blinding seconds

when we played each other

like a big rolly polly

steam calliope

that never runs out of steam

circusboy

not porn!!