Wednesday, August 10, 2011

POETRY ON DEMAND: THE FIRST FIVE

 Before the typewriter I wrote poems out by hand. The first years of "poeming", I gave em all away. These days I take photos of them. The following five poems are the oldest ones I have copy of.




TEMPLE OF JOY


Sitting on a rainbow
drinking gold
and the doves fly out of my head
a gray tickle wind
a laugh and a mighty
and angels did awe
to see such joy
as the belly took off
with the moon


fire of sight
eyes of the sky
breathe in the light
and never to die




     So let's start with a confession. This poem was originally written backstage at the Fox Theater in fall of 2001, not on the Temple of Joy 2002, as the common story would have it.
     In 2002 I spent six weeks in a tent building Black Rock City (Burning Man Festival) with the DPW. I was out on the Playa with the first truck load of wood for the Man. The place was empty. Over the course of the next four weeks, I watched the city grow.   What really caught my soul though was David Best and crew building the Temple of Joy.   I walked out to the temple when ever we had time, to watch em rise it up. An admiration for David Best naturally ensued. During the event, probably Thursday, I walked up to the Temple and Mr. Best was standing there talking to a couple of ladies. I walked up just to listen and be there with him, a silent "I know you did this and I love ya for it", bearing of witness. He was talking to the ladies about a friend who had cancer and was dead or dying. I then walked into the Temple and found the only blank space left, at the bottom of a post, and wrote this poem. The last line of which was just above the playa dust. I then walked out and up to Mr. Best and said, "David, would you do me the honor of coming in and reading a poem I wrote for you?". He put his arm around me and we walked back in. I pointed to the poem at the bottom of the post and he got on his elbows and knees to read it, he then stood up and said "Who's it for?", and I said, "For you man...every word.", "It's gonna go up.", He said, "Like a Motherfucker.", I said.   Then he gave me a big hug.
         It felt real, and certainly it was.  I then went an wrote the poem on Jhon Barlow and Mountain Girls RV.  I made like I had just written it for the first time on the temple, even though I originally wrote it a year and a half before.  I was rather haggard spiritually and physically, pretending I had just written it made me feel better about myself somehow.
         Originally it was wrote at a party backstage of the Fox Theater in Boulder.  I had pen and pad on me when someone said, "...sitting on a rainbow...".  I, very spontaneously wrote the poem.
        Writing this was an experience I never had before, and have had only one time since.   I was lit with an energy so enthralling and exhilarating it was hard to remain focused; I was on the verge of jumping out of my skin. When I was done I gave it to Karen Steed (Sp?).  She still has the original.  I wrote three other poems for people that night. It was the first night I ever "poemed". The night all this began.



Myself, Mountain Girl, Jhon Barlow, Jamie Janover,  Amie Deluca
         The Temple of Joy in the background, Burning Man 2002












SUPPORT

So oh the tide and tumble
and they do fall
a crumple
a masher
a living disaster
a heart throb
on a knee
all to alight
the sweetest delight
of sniveling
on your sleeve




      Support is a relic of the first night I took the poem game out as a shtick. It was new years eve 2001.  I had some fun clothes and a pocket full of confetti.  Under my top hat I had a buncha cards I'd made and decorated, half of them had jokes or sayings on em and the other half were blank. I'd take off my hat and have people pick a card, if they picked a blank card I wrote a poem, read it to them, and tossed confetti. This one was for Amie Deluca and has a long story of poetic justice attached to it. One day I may tell it.







                                 Myself       Harry       Jael
       Micheal Sammet     Amie Deluca     Sabrina     Micheal Kang
                         Jack Mento       Jhonny Dwork           
                                        Nick Morgan
      New Years Eve 2001, Bill Graham Civic Center, San Francisco                                  
                               My first night out poeming





             New Years 2001, Bill Graham Civic Center, San Francisco








SEX


Well them bellies do whirl
and galaxies twirl color from dust
and a pumping red thumper
pumps an Ocean of red wonder
splashing fits of fire
to tongue and fingers
and tingle like stars
all the bones of this wondering
belly to belly
eyes to eyes
sparks the purest light
becoming everything
being a thing
every coming
comes to see




Sex was for a women who blew my mind
























THE POET


Oh what a knuckle
and a Buddha besides
Anit no flower power
petal pussy
Great balls of fire
roaring like a warring loin
The fiercest silence is my name
The roiling waters my abode
Born of these apparent colors
the breathing evidence
of a nothing parent
I whirl in a word
of my creation
Shouting music
to speak a dream
I touch skin to skin
atom to atom
pen to paper
and prove the glory
no man has ever seen




The Poet was from the time I worked for the DPW.
 I was aiming to impress a women














LAWYER POEM


I can tell your lying
cause your lips are moving
and your brokerage shank
partitions sky
fences ocean
You own the underwear
on moneys sweet ass
In the pawn shop of illusion
you own the junk
 the monkeys need
to believe in evil
But you my dear
your heart will melt
to a puddle of love
under a blazing heat




I was having food with Chris Berry and Maurizio Capparelli at the Kraft (sp?) restaurant in New York City.  Flirting with the waitress, I wrote, and read, a sexy poem for her.  Her body, standing there, humming and warm, was responding. The lady at the table next to mine got excited at the mention of poetry. So I joined her and her lawyer friend, a chief attorney for Intel, her friend wanted a lawyer poem, I wanted her.  This poem showed me that poetry will get you laid.

2 comments:

  1. Bill, I stole a move from your book (or the book of all romantics past, and hopefully future) and wrote a poem for a girl I was very in love with. I must agree wholeheartedly with your final anecdote (PLAYA haha) ;P
    All the best, please keep sharing the gift. -Ego

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    Replies
    1. Anonymous, that was my playa name in 2002, when I worked for the DPW. Anyway, I only just this evening, realized that i have never checked comments. Sweet dude, women love, right? Believe it or not I forget that sometimes.
      keep loving
      peace out

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