"Poetry of Witness"

Poet Carolyn Forché gathers 500 years of suffering in new anthology

Poet Carolyn Forché gathers 500 years of suffering in new anthology

(Click on "Poet Carolyn...gathers 500 yea..." to see video, and read post)

Carolyn Forche explores writing 'as an outcry of the soul' in 'Poetry of Witness' | NewsHour Poetry Series | PBS NewsHour | PBS

Carolyn Forche explores writing 'as an outcry of the soul' in 'Poetry of Witness' | NewsHour Poetry Series | PBS NewsHour | PBS

(Click on  "Carolyn Forche expl..." for post, and videos.)

"Frosty"

Right...on top of everything else I have a tooth ache. I can't believe this. I'm fucking batting a thousand here. The only thing that ain't happened to me this winter is demonic possession...I think.

Pains puking headaches tunnel vision hemorrhaging weird ass dreams can't bleeping walk especially up them long subway stairs damned rashes from who knows where hearing voices antarctic weather ghosts spirits cobblies whatever in the house, and that good kosher pizza place won't deliver in the snow.

Granted none of this is as bad as being in a concentration camp in South Sudan or anywhere in most of the wretched so called "Developing World". Aw hell I want to go back to 1962 when Good King John was on the Throne, and you could buy a split rear window Stingray coupe for less than two grand!

Yep there I'd be 11 bleeping years old sitting at the wheel of a candy apple red "Stingray" doing 90mph down route 66! American was Boss, and everybody knew it! We had a zillion H-Bombs, and scads of shiny brand new B-fucking-52's to shove them up anyone's butt that gave us a hard time!

Hey when I'm in this sort'a mood I morph into a wing-nut Curtis Lemay hardliner...Google'em.

Here we are in a sea of frozen solid slush with more on the way "Let it Snow Let it Snow Let it Snow!" I need a new damned coat gloves the works. All my stuff is suited for them warm winters we been have around here forever.

Climate change has gyrated around, and finally given us the other side of the game frigging Arctic Vortex's all over the place. Swell just swell. It's been 12f or lower for weeks...mind you if I had to choose between this, and them killer heatwaves I'll take the ice age we're getting

I'm funny that way.

Btw in world news everybody out there is still slashing each others throats, and impaling each others babies. Remember all the toddlers slaughtered at the beginning of the Syrian War. The maniacs that did it put out a video saying they were doing righteous jihad or some such baloney.

Get this then a counter video from a bunch that said it was them that did it, and wanted the credit. ????!!!!! 

Okay the not so new century has given us feuding mass murderers fighting over who gets bragging rights over the bloody slaughter of babies. 

TAXI!!!

Take me back to the Planet Earth, and step on it!

Stay Tuned.

'Холодный Дождь Теплый Чай'

                                        "Cold Rain Warm Tea" 

"A Day in the Park"~'День в Парке'

"Frostbite Falls"

I had nothing to do after the storm so I went to the park to look around. I froze my fingers taking these pictures. I really must buy new gloves...boots a new coat, and a better camera!

Я пошел в парк после шторма, чтобы озираться. Я мерз мои пальцы, делающие эти фотографии. Я действительно должен купить новые перчатки!

"History"

There's the History they taught you at school. Then there's the real deal that you always suspected was going on...more next time.

Stay Tuned. ...if you Dare!

"Peace~Мир"

You folks be good to each other. I'll be back in a few days.

Stay Tuned.

"Angels~Ангел"

"A Reasonable Response"

Above is a young revolutionary militia women in the first days of the Spanish Civil War. The early days of Revolution are the sweetest. Before the blood, and betrayal.

"Sky"

Full disclosure. If I had pointed the camera just a few feet to the right I would have got an old brick wall to the left apartment houses.

To see the sky in the Emerald City you have to stand in 'jusssst' the right spot,...and that spot can change from day to day.

Stay Tuned.

"What We Carry With Us'

This was my Grandma’s sewing box. She kept various needles, and small sewing tools in it. I remember first seeing this when I was perhaps three or four.

I also remember the shooting star that streaked over my Aunt Josey’s house out in the country. The memory of this box, and that star are commingled. At this time in my life,..I’m pushing 60. I’m fascinated with family stories. Both mine, and others.

As every writer knows family is a rich source of material. Long time fans will have read the many stories I’ve written about my life, and family here, and other blogs.

Well ‘this’ is my grandma’s little sewing box. She bought it in the early 1920’s just before my mom was born. In 1972 when Granny passed away the box was passed on to me.

For most of the years between then, and now I’ve used it as a medicine pouch.

Native Americans or as most of you call them Red Indians use these pouches as protective talismans. One puts personal scared items in a skin or cloth bag. It’s then “blessed” or in some way consecrated by your shaman.

You then wear it or keep it very near for life. It will protect you,…or so tradition sez.

Unlike Grandma I can’t pass the box/pouch on. One doesn’t. You take your pouch with you to the next life. So in my case It’ll be cremated with me.

(The above is a repost from years ago. I just read it again, and thought it would would be good to share it again.)

"You're Beautiful Dammit!!"

Everyone is Beautiful! You're Beautiful, and never ever let any of the bastards say you ain't. Every damned thing out there is trying to sell you crap to make you look good. Most of it will probably give ya cancer, and acne!

You fine just as you are you're fucking Beautiful as Hell. That's that that's all she wrote. Throw away all them damned devices that lie to you'n say you're stupid ugly, and useless. That's all them things do. It's what they're deliberately designed to do to you!

Out da window with the lot!

Go into the bright sunshine, and show off ya beauty to the world!

"Where I Live"

"...what a time it was"

"Cultural History"

Pokey, and Gumby have been dear friends, and companions for over fifty years. Gumby, when asked what what was the secret to such a long, and loving relationship said, “…fast cars, and hard liquor.”


"We was both too stoned, and confused ever to know where we were or what we were doing."
"…the green bastard snores" commented Pokey.

Our two heroes live comfortably off their TV residuals, the DVD bootleg movie mill in their basement, and what they make from their ice cream route.

"My Model Subway"

As a New Yorker a hardened citizen of the Emerald City I have a love hate relationship with our subways. It gets us all where we need to go, and gets us there mostly alive. 

No so during the bad times in the 1970's through the early 90's when you had good odds to be robbed or outright killed in the tunnels. However these daze so far so good.

Btw that was the 'only' time In my life I voted Republican. Rudy Giuliani saved our collective butts back then. Yeah sure I loved Dinkins, and voted for him the first time, but hey.  The City was dying, and we needed a Tough Guy to save our asses,...and old Rudy did.

Dinkins was a Peace-Time Mayor, but we were at War, and losing. So I voted Republican, and Giuliani.   ...I'd do it again too. It was 'that' bad back then.

'But to trains!

Back in the day when I was a kid they didn't make subway electric trains sets...yeah you could have one made, and rich kids did, but that wasn't us. My Dad was a train fan, and filled our basement from one end to the other with a giant Lionel layout.

It was seriously cool.  

We weren't well off just regular working class folks which back then meant we had a good life. 

We could afford the things that made life worth while. That btw included electric train layouts all over the basement with drove my Mom nuts...but that's another story I'll tell sometime.

Don't get me started on what became of that former class. The backbone of the country..."The Working Class". They went from working class to working poor to underclass.

There needs to be a fucking Revolution in this sad country.

Still...about the trains. My dad made a kind of subway for me. He constructed a lower subway level to the layout. For subway cars he used regular Lionel passenger cars with a diesel engine pushing them. He even made little subway stations with the names of our local stops on them.

Whadda Guy!

Dad loved trains because of my Grandpa whom I never knew...he died before I was born. He worked on the railroad. We had a farm, but my Grand-uncles ran that, and  Grandpa did trains.

So Dad did Lionel's, and I do HO Subways. Dad would've really dug them...I miss him.

Listen to the clicks of the wheels on the rails on the video below. This is the music we all grew up with. It put us to sleep on long runs. 

It's actually one of the tourista attractions of this town. That, and all the damned steam that's always shooting out of our streets, and sidewalks.

"Rabbits on the Moon"

I found this art piece on the web the other day. It really appealed to me. A tribal lad painted with river mud, and dye from tropical flowers. All this to be properly decorated to greet the crescent moon.

I remember, long ago. Back when cars had fins, and everything was in black, and white. I remember my grand aunt telling me that ‘rabbits’ live on the moon. That if you looked real close you’d not only see the “Man in the Moon”, but quick rabbits as well.

So our hero here is all painted, and ready to fly with the moon’s rabbits.

Maybe it’s my meds, but I find this surreal idea pleasing. Quite pleasing indeed. If only I could go back to grand aunt Josey’s house as the lad I was. Go back, and ask her to paint me like an Indian boy. Like an Amazon boy.

Then we’d wait for moon rise. At just the right moment I’d leap, and be caught by the Selena’s tides. The Luna winds, and I’d run, fly with the wild rabbits of the moon.  

(This is a post from some years back hope ya like it.)

"The Good Guys"

(Above is my model P-40, and Flying Tiger pilots.)

The thing about boys raised in the aftermath of WW2 is that we're romantic for that era. Our fathers, and Uncles, and the father's of our playmates, and school pals all fought in that war. One way or another everybody we knew teachers neighbors relatives all were part of that Great Trial that decided our futures our fates.

Imagine a world where the Axis Nazi Germany Imperial Japan, and their pals now ruled the world. Not a happy picture. Them guys make the NSA look like Franciscan Friars.

So there we all were building model Spitfire, and Flying Tiger airplanes. That, and re-enacting Normandy, and the Battle of the Bulge in the streets parks, and beaches from one end of 1950's early 60's America to the other. We were the 'good' guys. We saved the world from a new dark age.

Then came the National Security State Vietnam the endless propping up of murderous right wing tyrannies through the whole of the Cold War. This, and assorted other crimes, and misdemeanors that betrayed everything our fathers, and uncle's fought for.

However despite that, and now even into our elder years we still love the old America that did the right thing when it counted when it mattered more than ever.

It would be such a wonder if some of 'that' American came back to us. The America that the world loved, and respected. The America we as kids loved, and wanted to carry on into the future.

Stay Tuned.