"Free music for the People :: free People for the Music"

[est'd 2004 A.D. :: New Jersey]

Friday, August 31, 2012

Dismembering Re-memberment / Remembering Dis-memberment:

I lost my wallet and phone in the Czech Republic. I had no money and my computer died. I found myself in a cybercafe looking for 'me' but starring at a screen.This poem was initially constructed by lifting and repurposing personal messages from Facebook. I wanted to find a reflection ("Was I here?"). To this I added my own voice - this one right NOW - through the process of organization and edits. Is this a past and present pictured as one? I want something to stand on. 

What follows is the result:

<Actor action: HANDS to heart BOW. Ok, Kind face>

Throat box, off switch, cue

  1.     Orchid occludes light, light demands shadow, enclosure.      Suggestive of lotus position leans and falls stage R.

       (You are the stage. I’m an orchid. Shadow on you (an audience /  
        A thief demands shadow, but hold the  
        whisper, the rusty spoon.))

Begin dialogue:
"Somehow summer always makes me feel young and wet and sad - and I thought of you. I haven’t seen you in many months but your hair is still black in your profile picture. I think I need to give you a hug, let all that shit out and just let my tears ring outside the boxed page. Could that be arranged?

It’s really hard not to address you by past pet names. They’re etched into my rust. Like lately ... well just now really, I’ve been inhaling clouds of the past...
And baby ... shit! not baby
We'll find a rhythm
  in these letters
even if you never write back.
It’ll be a gift of silence I guess.
I haven’t been doing all that well lately...

C            onfession/redemption
Does this need more?"


"The real problem with me I think might be I’m really hurt but whatever it is that’s hurting me isn’t lit up so no one can see it. I smell this smell is persistent!
Is this why stars weep at their distance."

3:18am 5/8/12: I want our limbs to disappear
       to have to be that close. 

3:19am, 5/8/12: A new idea: Mask making section for anonymity’s sake. Shoes off mask on first thing when you enter a room.

3:20am 5/8/12: watching Planet Earth the “You” special
4:00am 5/8/12: masturbated to Big Ass girl scene 3. Feel really gross

            <voices inhale.                                       “Dinner!”
                                    Out breathe>

                                 < insert props grown +  pulled up from root. Cue lesson.>
                                                                               “I’m coming!”

            Certain life cycles of cause and effect are fixed. You can think of this as karma, kismet, fortune, fate, whatever. If you alter the objects you encounter, or even alter who you are, still the general arch of your story is never altered

THE _________ (triumph) / _________ (regret) / __________ (tears of joy moment) won't go away.
THE shudder won't go away.
            THIS Heart flutters & 
                        membranes won’t burst. 
                                     It all just maybe becomes heavier 
            b) It slips away 

            “ I guess I’m just weird like,
              I make sure never to touch
              someone I’m with I n t h e
              same w a y   a s I’ve e ve r
              touched someone bef or e ”


“This may be call ordered but it has to be verified”

MONOLOGUE section, draft 2:

Once I heard echoes. Once the past was the past. Once I was 13, I never refused a dare. Once I pooped my pants while playing Nintendo cause I just couldn’t stop. Once I wrote slogans. Once I ran & ran & ran & ran. It happed a lot. Once I rained. Once I had a whole universe  and when I closed my eyes I could go anywhere. Once I knew G-d. Once I blew out a candle every single night because my Mom said that was how wishes came true... I wished to marry the pink ranger. Once my head was aflame, it shined. Once my heart was mine. Now I bend.


This year Phil Collins Day will be celebrated with a confessional booth.
From 12-10pm come and confess your trials and tribulations of love.
Obsessions, endless loves, crushes and heartbrokens welcome.

            All confessions will be sent directly to (and only) Phil Collins.

            and spend the rest of their life floating on a lake.

Become history, jump judgment but wax didactic.
             a) Train extensively in paper preservation. In poetry in… save this and burn libraries collections etc
            b) Can this be poetry
to be poetry?

< Voices in hall & a singing bowl ina  glass orb is floating by some magic stage L. >

Let it breath and take the sight as
            Sustenance            sustience            seustience             sentient             supplement


“Won’t have a puff dear or at least a chicken leg dear?”

train sounds and the bathroom floor

“Won’t you?”

I listen but nothing.
I float but I don't know for how long.
I edging the peaks.
I letting it all just hit me and rise without bubbles.

 T       I       M       E      /      G      A      P 
<  B  L  A  C  K  O  U  T >

<Lights rise FAST - A breath in.>


  <Lights begin to fade.> 

. . . And further back behind these teeth, the Stars. 

< Out. Black. >

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