Quotes like I don't dictate, you don't...

I don't dictate, you don't dictate to Stevie Wonder, not successfully.

quote by Spike Lee
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Related quotes

Fingertips Part 1 & 2

Fingertips Part 1 & 2 6:24 Trk 2
(Clarence Paul and Henry 'Hank' Cosby)
Little Stevie Wonder (Steveland
Fingertips Part 2 -Pop Chart #1 June 22, 1963
Recorded: Live at The Regal Theatre Chicago
Tamla (Motown) Records #54080
Album: Stevie Wonder Early Classics
Spectrum CD 544211-2
Part 1: (bongo drum background)
'Yeah'
'Yeah'
Spoken:
Ladies and gentlemen, now I'm going to do a song
taken from my album, 'The Jazz Soul of Little Stevie'
The name of the song is called, umm, 'Fingertips'.
Now, I want ya to clap yo' hand, come on.
Come on!
Yeah!
Stomp yo' feet
Jump up and down, do anything that you wanna do!
Yeah!
Yeah!
Stevie harmonica begin .40 trk>
<> (3:15 approx. on the track)
Ev'rybody say, 'Yeah'
(Yeah, yeah!)
Say, yeah!
(Yeah!)
Say, yeah
(Yeah!)
Yeah?
(Yeah!)
Yeah! Yeah! Yeah!
(instrumental & harmonica)
Just a little bit-a so-whoa-whoa-whoa-oh-oul
Yeah-yeah, yeah-yeah-yeah-yeah
Clap your hands, just a little bit louder
Clap your hands, just a little bit louder
(harmonica & instrumental)
Stevie sings:
I know that ev'rybody had, yeah
Ev'rybody have a good time
So, if you want me to
If you want me to
I'm gonna swing a-song
Yeah, just-a one mo' time
Be sure I'll come back
Just-a one more time
Will I come back
So, good-bye

[...] Read more

song performed by Stevie Wonder
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I Wanna Talk To You

M-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m-m
Lord, lordy, lordy
Standing here on my own side
Waitin fo the floor
Your worlds movin fast
But still ends up a bore
Come on give me a little room na
Do you have to take it all
Yeah thats the way it is I guess
Then youre born with nothin at all
Uh- uh- uh- uh- uh- uh- uh
I wanna talk to you
I wanna talk to you
Hey boy dont feel my worlds untrue
Yeah, I wanna talk to you
My world can be true
I wanna talk to you
Pick up my life at the table
Read about the way I could be
But I know I just aint able
So I read about the real me
Who can I blame
For the way I am
I aint never had one soul to help me
So I dont give a.......
Uh- uh- uh- uh- uh- uh- uh
Watch that boy, watch that
I heard you thinkin
I wanna talk to you
I wanna talk to you
Dont feel my worlds untrue
Yeah, boy I wanna talk to you
My world can be true
But you gotta find out what to do
I wanna talk to you sonny beau
Gotta woman that lov me
Feed me beans evry night
Twelve babies look up at me
Wid big grey hungry eyes
Oh but I just cant complain
You see ya, said I aint allowed
Oh but pretty soon will come a change
When I gain the biggest mouth
Uh- uh- uh- uh- uh- uh- uh
I wanna talk to you
I wanna talk to you
Dont feel my worlds untrue
Yeah boy , I wanna talk to you
My world can be true
Im a show you what to do

[...] Read more

song performed by Stevie Wonder
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To Wake Up In A Time Where There Is Love

*'When will there be a time to love? '
Stevie Wonder wants to know.

No one arrived here,
Without the making of love.
Whomever disputes this...
To present it opposed and suspiciously denied,
Has more than denial on their unbelieving minds.
They also have a limited point of view and life,
Lived!

The time to give and manifest love is now.
Even if the acceptance of it is regarded as art.
Love has to start,
To be shown and expressed.
With the elimination of every disorder manmade,
On Earth reversed.
To witness the glowing of pride.
And thirsting to be released from mental stagnation.

'When will there be a time to love? '
Stevie Wonder wants to know.

And so do I.
I want to feel and know what it is like,
To wake up in a time where there is love.
Without the persistent wishes of an imagination.
I have got to witness this!

Note:
*'When Will There Be A Time To Love'
is a 'wonder'ful composition performed,
produced and written...
By Stevie Wonder

'Thank you, Stevie'
~lsp~

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Stevie D Jimmy And Melodie

Melodie adores Stevie D,
she compliments his style of dress to a T.
She has the memory of going to City Place
Stevie goes on the Improv comedy stage
Stevie does comedy and entertains.
Melodie laughs with Jimmy Dean,
it is one funniest acts they have ever seen!
Then Jimmy is next to go on stage,
his act is funny it's all the rage.
Melodie is then to be seen,
she is with Razel puppet and me.
Lighters light up in the air,
wild whistling everywhere,
Razel yells without a care,
'You know why I have no pupils? '
right before Melodie can jump in-
Razel has finished her line and committed the sin.
People are shocked and begin to talk.
Lights go out and Razel starts to shout,
I bow with the girls before I walk out.
What a time in 2005, where the Improv Stage comes alive.
Sharing the stage with Stevie D, Jimmy, Razel and Melodie.

poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Wonderful

You are the sunshine of my life another shakespeare of your time
Your like a ribbon in the sky you are a poet's endless rhyme
You take me to a higher ground then you knock me off my feet
Lately i been thinking bout you, cause you been creeping in my dreams
You inspire me the way you make me feel inside is amazing
Your honesty your artistry is engaging
You are everything i hope to be
You have touch my soul i want you to know you are my hero
You got so much soul to put it plain and simple you are wonderful
I am the woman in red, i am girl blue, i am the black or i am a golden lady too
You bring the music of your mind to elevate human kind
That's why i share my emotions with inner visions i explode
You inspire me the way you make me feel inside is amazing
Your honesty your artistry is engaging
You are everything i want to be
You have touch my soul i want you to know you are my hero
You got so much soul to put it plain and simple you are wonderful
Bridge
You so beautiful
Yeah
You are wonderful
You are beautiful
You are powerful
You have touch soul
And i just want to say
You have touch my soul
In such a special way
Stevie wonderful
Stevie wonderful
Stevie wonderful
You have touch my soul, you're so divine, you're so sublime
You're wonderful
You have touch my soul, to put it plain and simple you are wonderful
You have touch my soul, you're so devine, you're so sublime
You're wonderful

song performed by India Arie
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We Are The World (demo)

Written and Composed by Michael Jackson and Lionel Richie
There comes a time when we need a certain call
When the world must come together as one
There are people dying
Oh, and it's time to lend a hand to life
The greatest gift of all
We can't go on pretending day by day
That someone, somehow will soon make a change
We're all a part of God's great big family
And the truth - you know love is all we need
( CHORUS )
We are the world, we are the children
We are the ones who make a brighter day
so let's start giving
There's a choice we're making
We're saving our own lives
It's true we'll make a better day
Just you and me
Well, send'em your heart
So they know that someone cares
And their lives will be stronger and free
As God has shown us
By turning stone to bread
And so we all must lend a helping hand
( REPEAT CHORUS )
When you're down and out
There seems no hope at all
But if you just believe
There's no way we can fall
Well, well, well, let's realize
That one change can only come
When we stand together as one
( REPEAT CHORUS AND FADE )
------------------------------------------------------------
There comes a time when we heed a certain call (Lionel Richie)
When the world must come together as one (Lionel Richie & Stevie Wonder)
There are people dying (Stevie Wonder)
Oh, and it's time to lend a hand to life (Paul Simon)
The greatest gift of all (Paul Simon/Kenny Rogers)
We can't go on pretending day by day (Kenny Rogers)
That someone, somehow will soon make a change (James Ingram)
We're all a part of God's great big family (Tina Turner)
And the truth (Billy Joel)
You know love is all we need (Tina Turner/Billy Joel)
( CHORUS )
We are the world, we are the children
We are the ones who make a brighter day so let's start giving (Michael Jackson)
There's a choice we're making we're saving our own lives (Diana Ross)
It's true we'll make a better day just you and me (Michael Jackson/Diana Ross)
Well, send'em your heart so they know that someone cares (Dionne Warwick)

[...] Read more

song performed by Michael Jackson
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Baby

I wanna thank y'all for coming to see the preacher's son tonight (thank you)
Fellas, hold on to your girl right now
Yeah right now we're gonna slow the whole dancefloor down
Oh yeah, take it back to the old school, let's go
Baby, let me holla at you
You know there's no greater love
Than a woman who loves a man
And a man who loves a woman, ah yeah
I wanna love ya
And I ain't talking trash neither, ey
This is something that I can feel deep in my soul, oh, oh
We gonna listen to some Marvin
We gonna listen to some Isley
We gonna listen to some Teddy Pendergrass (Pendergrass)
Ooh, once I got you in the mood
I wanna introduce myself to you
We gonna listen to Smokey
We gonna listen to Stevie
We gonna listen to Donny Hathaway
Ooh, would you please lay your body next to mine, ah yeah
Doggy, and I ain't talking bout my pitbull neither
I'm talking about the first lady
That was there in the beginning when your daughter wasn't with it, oh yeah
I wanna love ya
And I ain't talking trash neither, ey
This is something that I can feel deep in my soul, oh, oh
We gonna listen to some Marvin (Marvin)
We gonna listen to some Isley (Isley)
We gonna listen to some Teddy Pendergrass (Pendergrass)
Ooh, once I got you in the mood
I wanna introduce myself to you
We gonna listen to Smokey
We gonna listen to Stevie
We gonna listen to Donny Hathaway
Ooh, would you please lay your body next to mine, ah yeah
Yeah, I'm a young man with an old school, girl
But then you told me a good woman
Is worth more than diamonds and precious pearls
Yeah, yeah, yeah
So lay back, and let me massage you, everywhere now
I can feel them move with your body
Harder, harder, harder, harder, harder
You make me so hot
We gonna listen to some Marvin
We gonna listen to some Isley
We gonna listen to some Teddy Pendergrass (Pendergrass)
Ooh, once I got you in the mood
I wanna introduce myself to you
We gonna listen to Smokey
We gonna listen to Stevie

[...] Read more

song performed by Wyclef Jean
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Baby

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song performed by Wyclef Jean
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Stevie D, Jimmy Dean And Melodie

Melodie likes Stevie D,

she compliments him to a T.

She has the memory of

going to Place in the City.

Stevie goes on

the Improv stage,

to do comedy and entertain.

Melodie laughs with Jimmie,

Jimmie Dean,

it is one funniest acts

they have ever seen.

Then Jimmie is next

to go on stage,

his act too

is all the rage.

Melodie is then to be seen,

she is with Razel puppet and me.

Lighters light up in the air,

whistling everywhere,

Razel yells without a care,

“You know why I

have no pupils? ”

Before Melodie can jump in,

Razel has finished her line,

and committed the sin.

[...] Read more

poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Orestes

I’d kill you if there wasn’t
An umbilical cord wedged between us.
Gods dictate what will happen
If I don’t murder you.
The Gods dictate what will happen
If I do.

Everything happens in circles,
A cycle that’ll never stop.
Humans can’t stop the cycle,
But they keep it spinning instead.
It makes no sense,
But, nothing ever does.

I’d kill you if there wasn’t
An umbilical cord wedged between us.
Gods dictate what will happen
If I don’t murder you.
The Gods dictate what will happen
If I do.

21/3/06

poem by Charlie F. Kane
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Formidable Weapon

Provocation is formidable weapon
It can be successfully launched upon
No launching pad or any sight is required
The missile can be successfully fired

It is simple form of practical art
It may not stop once find good start
One may have to break the silence
No escape is possible with even slight chance

How long enemy can hide in den?
He has to come on surface to take the air even
Whatever powerful plan he may have in armory?
This may cause him concern and worry

Silence can be easily broken
If some Volvo is used as token
That may unseat the person concerned
He may come out in open to be easily cornered

It may cause little irritation
Enemy campus may fear thaw in relation
This is diplomatic step and raises no questions
Strong and mighty rule with clear imposition

Deep waters can be disturbed
Opponent can be easily provoked and perturbed
The course becomes easy like ripe fruit
Pick from the tree and squeeze as it suits

Not a dropp of blood will be shed
Still the attack may be successfully led
The reversal can be easily noticed
The defeat for enemy ensured as boosted or promised

Easy excitement can mentally imbalance
Enemy is not provided ample time or chance
He may come out of his hiding place
Strike aimlessly and loose the face

This was followed in ancient time
It is repeated even in modern times
So many nations are drawn in wordy duals
Same is applicable with persons or individuals

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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[Michael]
I Watched You On The Floor
Cheek To Cheek
She's Getting To You
You Didn't See-Her Eyes On
Me-No
She Looked Right Through You
(Before You Make)
Before You Make
(A Big Mistake)
Remember
That Looks Can Fool You
Babe

song performed by Michael Jackson from Bad
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Fingertips - Part 2 (live)

Everybody say yeah (yeah!)
Say yeah (yeah!)
Say yeah (yeah!)
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah!
Just a little bit of sou-ou-ou-ou-oul
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Clap your hands just a little bit louder
Clap your hands just a little bit louder
I know yeah
Everybody had a good time
So if you want me to
If you want me to
I'm gonna swing the song, yeah
Just one more time when I come by
Just one more time when I come by
So be advised (?)
(How about it? Let's hear it for him, huh? Little Stevie Wonder. Take a
bow, Stevie.)
Come on!
Goodbye goodbye
Goodbye goodbye
Goodbye goodbye goodbye
I'm gonna go, yeah
I'm gonna go, yeah

song performed by Stevie Wonder
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Fingertips

Everybody say yeah (yeah!)
Say yeah (yeah!)
Say yeah (yeah!)
Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah!
Just a little bit of sou-ou-ou-ou-oul
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Clap your hands just a little bit louder
Clap your hands just a little bit louder
I know ? yeah
Everybody had a good time
So if you want me to
If you want me to
I'm gonna swing the song, yeah
Just one more time when I come by
Just one more time when I come by
So be advised (?)
(How about it? Let's hear it for him, huh? Little Stevie Wonder. Take a bow, Stevie.)
Come on!
Goodbye goodbye
Goodbye goodbye
Goodbye goodbye goodbye
I'm gonna go, yeah
I'm gonna go, yeah
? swingin' from my ?

song performed by Stevie Wonder
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Ode To the Song; Ribbon in the Sky

There is a ribbon in the sky.
That ribbon in the sky sure can fly.
The stars and moon can be seen from up above.
Don’t you know there is always God’s love.
Has there been a song written about a ribbon in the sky?
An answer to that question is yes, I can not tell a lie.
The them of the song was about a love that goes on an on.
‘Ribbon in the Sky’ is the name of a Stevie Wonder song.

This poem was inspired by the song: ‘Ribbon in the Sky’ by Stevie Wonder.

poem by Nichole Kaci McKnight
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Fingertips, Part 1 (first Pressing)

Everybody say yeah (yeah!)
Say yeah (yeah!)
Say yeah (yeah!)
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah
Yeah!
Just a little bit of sou-ou-ou-ou-oul
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
Clap your hands just a little bit louder
Clap your hands just a little bit louder
I know ????? yeah
Everybody had a good time
So if you want me to
If you want me to
I'm gonna swing the song, yeah
Just one more time when I come by
Just one more time when I come by
So be advised (?)
(How about it? Let's hear it for him, huh? Little Stevie Wonder. Take a
bow, Stevie.)
Come on!
Goodbye goodbye
Goodbye goodbye
Goodbye goodbye goodbye
I'm gonna go, yeah
I'm gonna go, yeah
???? swingin' from my ?????

song performed by Stevie Wonder
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Tomorrow Robins Will Sing

Now every ting is lovely
So dont put yu trust inna false prophecy
Dis a de edley shine & stevie
You might wonder
Stand firm to all those who feel concern
Ca when you cant see the light
You must see the robins in flight
Life is just a matter of time or space
So all those who have to face sorrow
Shall only have to wait till tomorrow
Big tings a guan dis year
So mek we drop inna gear
Come cross missa stevie wonder
Watch it!
Now where do I start to make the point that Ill be making
To most efficiently use your time that Ill be taking
With the clear understanding that every ticking second is precious to us all
But if you let me bend your ear and listen up you will hear
Not just what I say, but every word that I am saying
You wake in the morning from a dream with spirits dope hype
Though you real life condition is far from being alright
Your love has wronged you, your moneys gone, youve lost your home and everything you own
But before you do something major extreme
Ive got one simple thing for you to take along with you, as you go on your lonely way
Tomorrow robins will sing, tomorrow robins will sing
It really is no big thing, cause tomorrow robins will sing
Tomorrow blue jays will fly, the weather forecasts clear skies
So dry those tears from your eyes, cause tomorrow blue jays will fly
You borrow a dime to call up a friend that you could rely on
They put the phone down, you hear in the background tell him Im not home
Your face is broken, your throat is chokin, you hang up the phone in disbelief
And to make matters worse
You can remember you were the first and only one to come to him when lonely was his everyday
But if what you did came from your heart and not expecting
Then you should not waste one heart beat on any regretting
The sayings older than old yet true for today as when it was made to be told
As you saw so shall you reap
And if youve treated life sweet
Your blessings been ordained and already on its way
Tomorrow robins will sing, tomorrow robins will sing
It really is no big thing, cause tomorrow robins will sing
Tomorrow blue jays will fly, the weather forecasts clear skies
So dry those tears from your eyes, cause tomorrow blue jays will fly
Today is the tomorrow you were so worried about
Looking over your yesterday
The clouds are gone and the sun is out
And everything has worked out irie okay
Tomorrow robins will sing, tomorrow robins will sing
It really is no big thing, cause tomorrow robins will sing
Tomorrow blue jays will fly, the weather forecasts clear skies

[...] Read more

song performed by Stevie Wonder
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Fingertips Signed Sealed Delivered I'm Yours

career life success chances
dicing with future destiny
where lay you realistic odds

born in abject despised poverty?
found patronage possibilities?
born with rich adoring parents?

be a blind black Stevie Wonder
Stevland Hardaway Judkins
Stevland Hardaway Morris

name change stage name Stevie Wonder
destined American singer-songwriter
multi-instrumentalist record producer

blind since briefly after birth signed
with Tamla label Motown Records
at age eleven ticket to miracle money

blind talent develops note hearing visionary
developed interactive sense sung harmony
extended chords utilizing extensions many

chords like 9ths,11ths,13ths, b5s, spices
renowned difficult to sing wonder compositions
melodies slice abrupt unpredictable changes

mystic music ancient cultures melismatic techniques
induce hypnotic trance in rapped attuned listeners
early mystical initiation rites morph into worship jazz

hard times no chance love talent can overcome showbiz

poem by Terence George Craddock
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Superlative Story

I Syntaxical Sequence

II Strange Stanza Succession Starts

III Scenario Synopsis

IV Sensuality, sense, sensibility,

V Substitute Spousal Suggestions

VI Seesaw Simplicity: Seraglio Simularities Spurned

VII Solution

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I SYNTAXICAL SEQUENCE

Special scansion ‘S’ syllabic
specious solicisms scraps,
solo solving sounds strabismic,
syllogistic systole scraps.
Syllables spring, shuffle, scuttle,
skittle syntax, scintillate
syntonically sans snuffle, shuttle –
synonyms shake sides, spine straight.

Stanza stanza swift succeeding
senses sweeps, song swifter swims,
succulent succession seeding
substitutions, surface skims.
Scrupulous semantics subtle
switchback spiral, summarize,
seek solutions smart, scrolled, supple,
solve set spectrum's smallish size.

Synonymous synchronising
sympathetic symphony
scores - Socratic symbolizing –
swivelling sonority.
Scansion salvo salvo scansion
strong succeeds, succeeding sends
successors streamlined sampling surging –
sanction seems so slight, scourge spends.

Systematic symbol spreading
'sses something sacred, seeks, -

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Magpie, My Keeper, Is Flying - Upon Freeing the Gift of Creativity Turned Inward

.
for Elaine Bellezza, Beloved Anima-as-Fate

'There is only one real deprivation, I decided this morning, and that is not to be able to give one's gift to those one loves most...The gift turned inward, unable to be given, becomes a heavy burden, even sometimes a kind of poison. It is as though the flow of life were backed up.' - May Sarton, Journal of a Solitude

This afternoon while still somewhat hungover from last night's rich meal and several glasses of strong red wine, I stumbled as one does when hungover, only today without feet but with eyes, upon the above quote by May Sarton. I had awakened this morning with fragments of a dream, repetitive of other dreams the past few months, where I am carrying something precious and just cannot put it down in any old place or upon just any available surface. I cannot put it down until I find the right surface and location.

These dreams are full of torrential flood waters, or backed up, stagnant water, toilets full of filth and pungent bright orange dark urine days old and fermenting. I cannot unhand the burden even though the urge to pee or flee or drive a car away or into flood waters is strong. I must not put down the burden odd as it is; it is my laptop carrying case made of canvas. It is large enough to carry not only my laptop but also many books with which I cannot, will not be parted from as they are the must-have-with-me-always 'bread', my staple and stability in a given to me world out of balance.

I have understood the dreams only a little - something within the psyche is flooding up, over-spilling or has already, has not been adequately canalized, channeled, streamed and guided, shaped and formed. Or flushed. I knew that eventually, as dreams do when one sits consciously, patiently, persistently with them, they would yield their messages to me, and upon revelation these must be obeyed, brought out into the world, Carl Jung having said that one has a moral responsibility to dreams once they are kenned and must be conscientiously acted upon in the outer world. Just dreaming is not enough. Everyone dreams but not very many know to dream them out into the world, to let their messages unfurl, flood and flow to bring forth new consciousness, to reshape old forms no longer adequate to self, place and time into symbol and their sense, usually not literal.

And thus, only just now, upon opening up haphazardly in a book about Dostoevsky and his struggle with addictions which mirror the profound compulsion to create at any cost perhaps beyond one's capacities to renew oneself, I find May Sarton's quote and suddenly the dreams clarify and sharpen into focus; I understand them as the burden of creativity too long turned inward, the burden of writing, the burden of poetry which I have carried heavily for most of my life since middle school when I was 11 or 12 years old when books became my lifeline, my link to existence that I could live on in spite of not wanting to do so. Written words, books, kept me from disappearing though I was and remain a mostly invisible word.

And thus the floods. One cannot ignore them. Alphabets tumble and roil. One dare not ignore them. One must see them without a choice to not see them. In them I am suddenly made visible, bright orange p*ss pots and all. I am both appalled and pleased. My burden is upon my knees.

The backed up water, the urine, is creativity. A somewhat odd symbol of creativity, there is more than enough evidence that urination is symbolic of self expression which is creativity. In ancient Rome the highly valued dirt from the urinals of boys' schools was collected to be used as a cosmetic in order to restore youthful energy and looks. A young boy, or puer in Latin, is an archetypal symbol of ongoing creativity and inspiration, the puer aeternas, the eternal youth, well springs of ongoing creativity still imaged in solid fountains of the world where eternal waters flow from the peni of cherubic youth.

I have struggled my entire life with a strong urge to create, to write, to express in words that creative daemon within which torments no matter the completion of a poem or essay, a lecture, a psalm. And now my dreams have had me consciously, urgently seeking a place to put the burden down, to perhaps come to it anew. I imagine that landing the burden means bringing it down to earth, manifesting creativity all the more by bringing my efforts to others for the strongest part of the compulsive urge in my creativity has been to contribute one good thing, one good poem or piece of writing which in some way might further the culture even if only by a flea's leg length.

The dreams urge me to let the urine flow, to let the flood waters indeed flood over, to be less self conscious of what I write and say but to have at it all and to say my say. And to let whatever waves there are crest and break upon ever receptive banks and shores whose duty it is to allow what may come from motion without complaint, the more compliant toward as yet to be fully formed purposes as yet to be scored.

Synchronistically, a few days ago I listened to a lecture by poet Allen Ginsberg about Walt Whitman and his imitators, those who were goodly influenced by his effulgent, self indulgent style, his garrulous poems which presumed to express the very expansiveness of the North American continent over-flooded by a plague of itinerant, persistent poachers and prophets from Europe to Eastern disembarkation and then inland and Westward, compelled to overtake land and native peoples in their possessed, pushed wake. Ginsberg imagined himself to be a timely extension of this unruly school, as savage as the projected upon land and justly-resistant, resident humanity stretched beyond known bounds and sounds. Blood drowned and pounded the god-hounded land even now is flooded by unleashed mighty rivers seeking, if rivers seek at all, to undo and renew in horse shoe and other shapes the crimes of consciousness compelled to overtake while leaving it up to human souls to repent and repair, to prepare for more powerful insurgencies of land and Self ever seeking new and nower expressions of dirt and deity. There's enough history beneath layers to support the scarp and scrape of momentary yet monumental motions finally given mouths to utter what lies both beneath and within the heaping huzzahs of here here here full and deep. As in my dream, it is hard to steer in such surpassing tides and currents. Still, I am searching for holy campground that I may lay my burden down.

I have no wish to imitate Whitman nor Ginsberg - though both are easily imitated since they did so themselves, an occupational hazard for writers - but only to be obedient to the daemon, that urgent, emergent, creative force within. It rushes within and against me. No matter whether derived of the grandiose American continent and the even more grandiose sky or not, I have all too successfully braced against it in fear of failure, reprisal or, worse, complete indifference from others. My dreams now urge floods and resultant coagulations, they bring creative splurges to ground from hand to the hard world. And Nature, too, is indifferent but begs none the less and all the more to be given utterance and response.

Respondeo ergo sum. I respond, therefore I am. I respond, therefore the other, earth, all her ants, is as long as there are eyes, ears, and scanning minds to acknowledge and touch, wrestle, caress, shape - some in scansions - outer from inner, inner from outer, landscapes to be all too quickly discarded in time for what is sung just ahead. And seen. Or hoped, all praise to telescopes. We would be they, so addicted to horizons, to bring them close.

Something there is needs completion via coagulation, forming, shaping, and sharing with whomever may be open to clods delivered. If not, rivers will, as they will without reason, continue to overrun their banks and insist upon covering designated previous cultivations. Let then excess of creativity have its say, play out, and leave the critical post-considerations to others. I will surely sit and ponder spent what spills forth, to shape, to edit, to discard. And watch my little yard sink beneath needed and needy floods.

I will have done with deprivation and bring myself, what I have shaped and misshapen, to the world. These things, this burden, have I most loved and felt responsible for, have born the shame of. I have fought and have failed utterly again and again though my attempts have been, and still are, sincere though not blameless. Fear has been my encampment, a longing beneath knowing feet in secret cellars just beyond reach of contracted hands forever spelling hunger. I know open bastion doors and windows to now fling beyond embankments what has been wrung out of my floes and woes though hands wither from too much turning against and inward. What a relief to burst beyond boundaries too long successfully restraining.

I recently wrote a poem about much too too solid bastions of self, of forceful puer energy ramming through and over and into long buried storms and petrified forms, of passion mangling the delusion of 'norms' ignoring too sensitive alarms. Given May Sarton's May revelation this morning I now understand that the poem is about more than eros, it is about that powerful creative/destructive force, the daemon/tyro that ever urges outward intent on making and staking Self in new land and at least one aging man wrenched and rendered from dried and calcified encrustations. I am, to borrow from the insistent dream image, beginning to leak. And to break open.

Archeology - What The Stele Says 'Upon Taking A Much Younger Lover'

That this old ground yields to plow stuns.
What begins to be, earth swell, breaks
root-room open to blood means.

Old skeins tear upon what is new terrain,
hunger worn, long appended. There is
no blame for pain is the blessing.

All hurt now stings twilight quaked into being.
Your breath falls upon me now, taut, sinew,
bruising hand, purple inside flares warrior nerves

[...] Read more

poem by Warren Falcon
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