Bukowski in the Dark

“For those who believe in God, most of the big questions are answered. But for those of us who can’t readily accept the God formula, the big answers don’t remain stone-written. We adjust to new conditions and discoveries. We are pliable. Love need not be a command nor faith a dictum. I am my own god. We are here to unlearn the teachings of the church, state, and our educational system. We are here to drink beer. We are here to kill war. We are here to laugh at the odds and live our lives so well that Death will tremble to take us.”
- Bukowski

We read Bukowski in the dark.
His words, spoken,
shown brighter
than any fluorescent bulb.
His words, uttered,
were the soundtrack
to the nihilistic nights of our youth.

We found
liberation
on the page,
answers
in the text,
and death
in the spaces between.

You asked me if I was scared
to exist
-free-
I said yes
You asked why
And I replied,
Because I am never as strong
as when
I speak
his words,
and I am never as fearless
as when
your hand
is in mine.

Thanks, D-lishus

How To Be a Poet

BY WENDELL BERRY

(to remind myself)
i

Make a place to sit down.
Sit down. Be quiet.
You must depend upon
affection, reading, knowledge,
skill—more of each
than you have—inspiration,
work, growing older, patience,
for patience joins time
to eternity. Any readers
who like your poems,
doubt their judgment.

ii

Breathe with unconditional breath
the unconditioned air.
Shun electric wire.
Communicate slowly. Live
a three-dimensioned life;
stay away from screens.
Stay away from anything
that obscures the place it is in.
There are no unsacred places;
there are only sacred places
and desecrated places.

iii

Accept what comes from silence.
Make the best you can of it.
Of the little words that come
out of the silence, like prayers
prayed back to the one who prays,
make a poem that does not disturb
the silence from which it came.

Indian Summer

Indian Summer,

Your winds
warm
from the tip of the branches
To the core of the trunk,
Whose rings showed signs of
seasoned frost,
Until your summer
spread itself like thick, much-needed
heat
Blanketing the chill within,

But the roots are firmly embedded
In a soil
dense like basalt;
The invasiveness of your heat
Might risk
tearing from the root

Or yielding the sweetest fruit.

tonight, tonight

we have partaken in yet another poetry exercise.

Here are my bits:

Pressure:

Under Pressure
Bowie said it best
But Mercury sang it best
It weighs down
Pierces, even
Liberating.

We are liberated.

Zoo:

You crow
And you leech
And you fish
Like tadpoles
In the spring

We were whole
In the open

But caged
In the heart.

Inchworm:

You inch while I mile.

For so long
I questioned
I presumed
I made guesses

I attempted to
Coalesce
But

You inch and I mile

And that will just have to do.

Burnt toast:

Awoken
From dreams by the permeating
Scent
Of your burnt offering

I am not pleased

In fact,
I wish to return you
For a George Foreman grill.

Inert Gasses:

You lie dormant.

You encapsulate
And encompass
My whole.

But then I am merely a part
To the whole.

This hierarchy asphyxiates
And freedom isn’t an option.

Application:

Theory here
And theory there

And theory up
Theory down

Theory from the West
And theory from the East

And after all this time
I just want
A bit of
A tinge of
A smidgeon of

Some Application.

Unfortunate Events:

In the case that I
Forgot my umbrella
I left a poncho beneath the seat.

But when the rain came
The poncho was glazed
With 2 month old Coke Zero
And the umbrella

Blew away.

Belief:

What I know is what I know is what I know is what I know
And then
I’m a year older
But then
I’m five years older
And in ten years
What I know isn’t what I know isn’t what I know isn’t what I know
Or
Believe
Anymore.

I am in flux.

Bliss:

Bliss was
Cotton candy spun
And woven into
Billowing chaos
Encircling
A sacred stick for my consumption

You dissipated on the tongue
Encompassed by the saliva
That was your demise.

You reappear at the bottom of the latrine and
No longer do you taste as sweet.

Caulk:

Seal my crevices
With your strong,
Hard,
Pristine white caulk.

I thought about you

I thought about you
and the way your fingers grazed my lips
your fingertips
tasted of saline
and the sway of my hips
matched the slow rhythm
of Miles Davis’

I Thought About You
and the way your tongue
Accelerates
positively and negatively
in my mouth.
Your strength berates
my inhibitions
I’m in transition
for a new disposition
and

I thought about you
with your “I’m so cool
without even trying” hair

I’m lain bare
In despair
for pressure
More
pressure
please
I can’t take the lightness
of touch
It is not enough
I’m not asking for it rough
I
just need you
to break through
I
knead
you
hard, not light
Despite
The love that is here
Do not have fear
of Breaking me
I won’t break
I know what I can take
But
I am ready to
test the threshold

Satisfaction

Dawn awaits.

We travel toward the horizon,
but with each step closer,
the destination doesn’t appear any nearer.

Our sun is looming,
stirring beneath the blanket of night;
its clock is
not our clock; our sacred times
are not synchronized.

Shall it then
be used as a reference point?
Its worth is in the light is provides us.
But its curse
is in the annual reminder
that we’re one year closer to an end.

If desire is ‘sin’,
then the greatest human sin
is the desire for more than what we have
in this corporeal form.

The greatest tragedy for one who believes in an afterlife
is the realization that there is no more than what is housed within this world.
I am sorry for all those that live their lives based on what might be after physical death,
because there are no guarantees,
and they may miss out on their one opportunity for happiness.

If there is an afterlife,
then I do not fear, because I don’t believe in one absolute path to access it.
Our world’s cultures and beliefs are too
beautifully discrete
to believe only one has the correct answer.

Right now I am thankful.
I love and I am loved.
I am still working out a solid plan of action for my future, but I think it gets easier with each day. And with my initiative, I hope things will fall into place more easily, as I have had the opportunity to see happen before.

At a point like this, I would want to thank some higher power for all the good things in my life. It seems the custom of most folk, which I’ve witnessed on all sorts of award shows. But instead, I’d like just like to thank everyone I’ve come across. Every entity that had something to do with my being here right now as well as every choice made to get here.

Taken

It seems like I only ever come here to write when I am troubled. Well, so be it. I tried to sleep but the sleeping was more like sobbing into my pillow and if you know anything about that, you know it’s really impossible to sleep on a sopping pillow.

I’ve encountered a new feeling lately. I try not to think about it much because it brings about an awful feeling in me and it’s difficult to shake off. I have this goal I’ve been working toward for just over a year, you know (if you’ve been reading along). I will finally be completing it next summer, which is wonderful, but now I see my future after it completely black. I feel like there’s just a very dark precipice ahead of me. It’s discomforting.

I feel like I’ve lost my will to keep moving ahead of that. I don’t know what to do with myself now.

I’ve been feeling really weak as of late and I haven’t been able to focus on work. I have this nervous feeling that makes me sick to my stomach.

I want to plan for grad school but my desire seems to have disappeared.

I wish I wasn’t this sad
and that it didn’t ache so much
I want to ask Santa for an Off switch for my tears.

~

Beneath the canopy of luminescent
white linen the outer sphere is obscured;
We keep looking toward the edges, but
become blind within our beloved domain.

I planted seeds in the garden,
but it was autumn and no one told me.
I planted seeds in the garden,
but I only saw the soil.

What is life without a bit of poetry?

“We liked people of any race who smoked incessantly, drank liberally, wore complexion and morality as loose garments, and made fun out of anyone who didn’t do likewise.” – Langston Hughes

We need a voice

Could it be Saul Williams’?

To Whom It May Concern:

I’m used to sharing my opinion, but sometimes when it comes to politics, especially in regards to voting, I’m hesitant. This is primarily because my goal has always been to inspire people to think for themselves rather than simply inspire them to think like me. Yet, at the same time I realize the power of example and do my best to be my best whether the spotlight shines or not. I would not plant my faith in any government if I believed that history was entitled to govern the future. What has been was and went. At present, I am slave no more, and my freedom to speak my mind and share it with you is, in itself, an inspiration and a testimony of the beauty of our times. Yet in these times when the creative labor disputes in the film industry, the transformation and disbandment of the music industry, the collapse of our misappropriated economy (while oil profiteers celebrate the biggest year of profit in US corporate history), the ongoing war, the expansion of environmental consciousness, the resurgence of racial hate crimes, and the penalties exacted upon sportsmen who practice brutality off the field, all convene under the heading of NOW, it is essential to draw connections between each spinning record, to note times’ signature, and acknowledge that our world could transform in a drum beat. We are in desperate need of a remix. As a musician and fan of many I have always noted the power of music and art, especially amongst the youth. Before complacency and jadedness take shape, we are alive with dreams and insight into what could become of the world if the old would simply die young and allow new harmony to exist beyond antiquated conceptions of race, nationality, and tradition. We are subject to the world we are born into, without choice nor reverence. The dogma instilled by our social study books and well-meaning parents do little to affirm the truths that we know possible. The future is truly in our hands, yet most feel empty handed and ill-equipped to be the change they wish to see, while others have already been taught to clasp their empty hands in prayer, nod their heads, and surrender their power to the unknown, the angry, the jealous. I do not trust the government, I have no faith in politics. Poetry is president. We are the root of change. Yet, I have even less faith in cynicism. When negative expectations rule our perspective we shift below the radar and become the resin stuck to the tires of the passing tank, whose driver is tired and feels unthanked. He fights for nothing more than rank. We are the root of blame. Cynicism is ammunition pressed against the temple of the imagination daring it to not be. It is an excuse of the unimaginative, a tool of the tool, a weapon of the dreamless and sleep-deprived, it is far, so far, from music. What we need is a song, a melody to inspire the wind to change direction, a hybrid of genre and innovation, something worth the dance. The tar spangled banner that waves low, beneath the surface, is the dancefloor of a generation finding voice to sing. And though every generation has found ways to marry rhythm, none has sampled breakbeat science to distort how freedom rings. History is not King. And the present has offered some promising leaders…For the record, I’m voting for Barack Obama tomorrow. Saul Williams Songkeeper

I’m on Saul Williams’ myspace friend list and he posted that letter as a Bulletin. Anyone who knows me is aware I am often moved by Saul Williams’ works. His recent collaboration with Trent Reznor will hopefully broaden his fanbase. Although I know rhythm and beats are a major focus for Williams’, I hope that his listeners don’t lose themselves in the hard rhythms and heavy beats because his poetry is powerful. I’ve seen how easy it is for individuals to repeat catchy hooks completely unaware of the message it’s sending, whether it’s positive or negative. It’d be a tragedy to have listeners treat his lyrics just like any other beats and hooks they dance to/recite such as “Supersoak dat ho” or “I’m a Barbie girl in a Barbie World” glossing over the profound message it’s expressing with a vacuous look in their eyes.

I understand Williams’ letter is about politics, but that’s a subject I’d rather not touch. I registered as a voter last August when I got my driver’s license, but I never got my card in the mail and I haven’t done anything about it. I haven’t done my research and I am not about to vote for a candidate because of how popular he or she is. I also don’t trust myself currently because I am afraid I would vote for someone just because I want to see the first woman or black man sworn in as President. And as badly as I want to see some drastic change in history, having a woman or black man in office doesn’t guarantee real change.

The point of this entry is to put Saul Williams on further display. He is an eloquent writer and a moving speaker who uses his words and rhythms to his benefit. He has a voice that can move the masses. I just hope the message follows suit.

I am so envious of the generation that had Martin Luther King. I desire a great cause to fight for. I want a leader to back. Who will be our next MLK? My vote’s for Saul Williams–no one else has impressed me as much.

(That last link was to Saul Williams’ myspace artist profile.  I recommend Black History Month–particularly 2 minutes into the piece)

And by the way, happy Black History Month

Organized Chaos

Upon the cessation of a private review session I had with a fellow classmate before World Religions class, I realized I was really pumped for the midterm we were going to have.  I walked into the auditorium thinking “I’m totally going to ace this!”  Around question 61 I realized the GTA lied when I specifically asked if there would be questions that weren’t covered on the crib/review sheet.  Fortunately, those incredibly specific questions regarding obscure passages in the readings were quite limited, so I have no excuse for not receiving an A.  The first 90 questions were multiple choice and the last 10 were short answer.  I left one answer out of 102 blank because I couldn’t for the life of me recall what important figure brought communism to China.  It was not on my review sheet and it was part of a reading that was not mentioned in class.  I sat in my chair for 5 minutes mentally scanning names of important figures we learned about and couldn’t even conjure up some semblence of a good guess.  I was quite ashamed for leaving an answer blank, but, I had to get over it.  So, I attempted the bonus questions.  Of course, one just had to ask what family Ganesha was a part of.  Since I know Brahma is generally overlooked, I narrowed it down to Vishnu and Shiva in the Trimurti.  And being such a fan of the counter-culture, I chose Vishnu because Shiva is so blasted popular.  Curses! I was wrong.  I could have hung myself, but the second bonus question asked to explain how Buddhism rejected Upanishadic and Vedic Hinduism.  Thankfully, I knew that answer.  I just hope it was what they were looking for.  I found myself trembling whilst testing and at some points I thought I’d go mad.  At first I thought it was just my desperation for the grade, but several hours later I remembered I had about 18 ounces of coffee earlier in the morning. 

I walked out of the exam with a lot less arrogance, realizing the exam had humbled me.  But I respect DeChant more for it.  This class is not an ‘easy A’ and if I eventually attain it, it will because I put forth the effort.  At best, I’ll find out my grade on Thursday, but most likely it’ll be Tuesday before I know. 

I walked my anxious self to the library after class, as I regularly do and worked on some Anthropology homework.  I completed my readings for tomorrow but have yet to complete my project.  It shouldn’t take too long.  A 3 to 5 page essay and a kindship chart should take but 2 or 3 hours of my time? 

On my drive home my head swirled with what I still have to accomplish before this week is over: a kinship project, Russian homework, completion of the eastern religions reading, and a couple poems for a certain Poetry Jam to be had on Thursday evening.  My mind wandered from school to recreation and contemplated what my compositions’ focii would be.  I thought of incorporating my studies into the poems.  And an idea to express music as a religion was born.   I hope to work on this tomorrow after classes.  But it, of course, will take a backseat to my studies.  And with all that I still have to make it to the nearest computer with a decent internet connection and headset tomorrow by 5PM BST to hear Shardcore’s interview.