Sunday, May 6, 2012

I Must Be Dreaming...

Last night's show was on the stage at the old Diamond Bar during EVENTgelical's latest art show, Dreaming.  It was a fabulous crowd and I even managed to have a few pieces of art in the show that sold to local people.  :)  Our stage was set up for the fashion show so we rigged the Samurai mic for streaming and performed in front of the back lit, gauze-white curtains.  Too cool.  It was like poetry in the afterlife.  :D

Anyway, I managed to write three new pieces for the show and did a short cover of a piece written about us by a fan on the Samurai of the Spoken Word Fan Page.  (Thanks, Rick!)Two of my three original pieces were about specific people in my life and they both happened to be there in the audience Saturday night and I got a really positive reaction from both of them.

If you missed it and you want to see my set, it is posted here from UStream.  This is Part 2 of the video we took last night, and I start at about 10:25.  Eventually I will get clips for the blog, but I also like that the links I post here enable you to check out other poets, authors and performance artists, too!For my 2nd piece, "Golden Years", I slowly grew an East Coast accent and had a "ringer" in the crowd who was yelling out phrases as part of the overall piece.  Way too much fun.

If I had thought it through, I would have gotten her a mic, too.  Ah well.  Next time.  Since you can't really hear her lines on the video, I thought I would post it here.  And big thanks to Michelle, who inadvertently helped me write that one on her balcony one sunny afternoon when I almost peed myself from laughing with her.  :)

Golden Years  
Why do so many people retire to Florida?
I have no interest in knobbly knees, women’s golf and lawn maintenance. 

When I retire, I am taking my friend Mary and moving to New Jersey.
In my older years I want to be where I can cultivate an accent,
grow my hair big,
talk loud and

At age 65, I plan to take up smoking again.
(inhales)I will use it 
(exhales)As punctuation. 

I will refuse to smoke Marlboros or any other halfway decent brand.
I plan to base my smoking choice on how irritating it is to have the smoke, 
blown in your FACE. 

I will smoke Doral 120s.

Not only do they taste terrible, but they smell even worse.
I will blow it at you constantly, (inhales)
Because second hand smoke kills (exhales)
But not reliably. 

I will drive a 1986 Monte Carlo SS with baby blue leather interior, 
a chrome chain for a steering wheel, 
and a snow white paint job with a detail of little bluebirds flying across the trunk. 

We will ALWAYS talk about taking down the T-tops on sunny days, 
but never will, knowing the wind will just fuck up our hair. 

We will spend Saturday afternoons in the corner beauty parlor getting our nails sculpted and our eyebrows DRAWN back in. 
On alternate weekends I will get the all the hair pulled from my chin.
I will insist the beautician call it “tweezing”, not plucking. 
What do I look like here?  A chicken? 

Mary and I will gossip about all our friends the very SECOND anyone leaves the parlor.
We will say things like,
“Did you see the attitude I got from her?” 
“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love her like a sister – but that skirt?”
“Dollars to doughnuts says she’s really a man.” 

We will then return to our four-hour primping session. 

We will refuse all modern technology and convenience.
I will find it much simpler in our older years to simply park on the street below 
your open apartment window and yell up,
Heyah!  You comin out or what? 

She will yell back down to me in return, saving us the expense of cell phone charges. 

(From girl in crowd:) “I dunno.  I got nothing to wear.” 

“You look fine – What, we’re goin to the White House?” 

(From girl in crowd:)”No, but you shoulda come by earlier – Now you’ll look better than me.” 

“That’s stupid.  Just come out to the car.  We’re gonna miss the party.” 

(From girl in crowd:)“Who you calling stupid - - Why don’t you just go by yourself if you really think you are.” 

“Oh come on, you’re skeeving me off -- you got more clothes than I got hair on my head.” 

(From girl in crowd:)”Why we gotta do this every time?  If you weren’t late, I could go.  Now?  Forget it.” 

“Oh forget it, yourself!  Why don’t you just go see where you gotta go?  I’m leaving.”  

Our husbands have REFUSED to go to the Garden State with us.
We don’t know why.

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Last Night at the Slowdown!

I had a fabulous time at the Slowdown last night! 
It was my first time on that stage (we had the smaller one, I am told) and although it was slightly less intimate than Pizza Shoppe Collective, lots of regulars came out to watch and it was really awesome to see them in the crowd.

I performed mostly original pieces, although nothing new since the last show.
I have been working on my art (multi-media paintings) for the Dreaming Show this next weekend, so my creative time has been invested into that recently. 
I have about four new poems that just need some final edits to get finished and I'm hoping to have some new pieces to read at Dreaming on Saturday night.

So...three things:
HERE is info on Dreaming this weekend if you are interested.
And HERE is the link for the video from last night.  (I am the last performer on April Assault, Part 1, but be sure to check out Part 2 as well!)
and now...
here is a piece Ephemily has been asking me to post:

In Fear for My Life   

I used to live in a thick brick apartment
right next door to a half-way house half-way down the block.

The broken pavement
leaking pipes and
cracking walls
fell down into

our hair our showers our beds.

cockroaches ruled the kitchens
and feral cats stalked back alleys with the ferocity of cruel children.
alcoholics paced the streets drinking from paper bags
and neighbors sat on stoops
waiting to be institutionalized.

early one morning the police showed up
and put clear
over the bits of shot-out human lung
lying bloody on the front steps.
I lived there through four years of rent-hikes rats and roaches,
two drive-by shootings, and three break-ins.

now I live in a beige-sided house in a beige-sided neighborhood.
everyone smiles and waves from their minivans and trucks.
roses and peonies litter the sidewalks and perfectly trimmed lawns obey every rule.

no one is shot dead in the street
I’ve never washed the face of a lost child
no one knocks on my door trying to sell me magazines or Jesus
no one threatens their wives in the front yard EVEN THOUGH the weather is warm

no one is selling drugs from the back seat of their rusted Pontiac Sunbird
and if I leave out bags of empty soda cans for the homeless
NO ONE picks them up before garbage day.

children laugh in the park,
there are no fights to break up
and families GARDEN together
on the public grass
along the boulevard.

I stand in the center of the traffic-free street
staring at all of this.
too terrified to move.

Monday, April 16, 2012

Latest Show...Which Was Tonight!

I had an amazing time performing at the Pizza Shoppe Collective tonight.
This month's charity was the Lydia House, an Omaha organization which provides emergency services for women and families in immediate need.  They can provide SAFE shelter for more than 300 women and families in the area and I hope we managed to raise a few more dollars for their work.  :)

I haven't posted lately, but have been writing a LOT.
I got to perform a few covers tonight and one new original piece about my husband.  I'll publish it here for those who missed it tonight, although you can also check out the entire show via streamed video here.  I got the opportunity to close the show, which was amazingly fun...but it does mean I am last on the video.  :)

So, here is my newest piece:

Just Married
am a super-villain.

I dress all in black,
chain smoke clove cigarettes, 
and drink the strongest coffee.
I know everything about esoteric music no one has EVER
I waft blase smiles across crowded rooms,
and control my world through the TIGHTNESS of my corset.

I can draw blood with the lash of my burgundy lipstick,
And I speak frequently,
in condescending tones.

(THAT means to speak down to someone.)
You are a villain, too.

You are moody and self-destructive,
You smell deliciously of black coffee, and Camel non-filters.
You have gotten fifteen, TOTAL, minutes, of sunshine in the last ten years,
And you know EVERYTHING about physics and snakes.

Our friends refer to you as a Sexual Tyrannosaurus
And you espouse hysterical rants about the Hittite Civilization, Carbon Atoms, and the history of why EVERYONE, ELSE, IS WRONG.

are an unrecognized genius.
We meet at a party where we are both hitting on the same girl.
She backs away slowly as we
RAIL against a world that is unfair, and ruthless.

All night we
paint each other’s naked bodies with future plans of COMPLEX schemes and FANTASTIC devices.

I carve our names into the moon with an atomic laser.
You buy a secret lair for us in the Virgin Islands which DOUBLES, as a tax shelter.
I organize an army of henchmen READY, to sacrifice themselves.
You create a machine that can generate DEVASTATING earthquakes
And I push the trigger EVERY, TIME, WE KISS.
You steal the outer shell of an outdated nuclear weapon.
And put it in our living room.
I refer to it as a “conversation piece”.

I devise an armored vest for you which GENERATES, an electric shock, ON COMMAND, to the target of your choice.

We do not even discuss jet packs.
Jet packs are SO…1983.

I change our last names to “Mayhem”,
You build me a giant robot so I may reign terror on those who oppose us,
I create a serum which bestows ULTIMATE power at the cost of the ENTIRE, universe.
On Sunday afternoons, 
we dare each other 
to drink it.

We found our own Secret Society,
We encourage our members to experiment with Gamma Radiation,
ALL of our closest friends are clones,
And NONE of our plans are ever foiled.

You surprise the border guards in Juarez with “knockout gas”,
We leave the country under a cloud of rumor and suspicion.

We cling to each other’s skin with the ferocity of GIANT spiders.
I reveal my secret identity.
You expose your dark secret.
And we bathe together, dive deep into each other’s neuroses
And jettison off.
At the last moment.
Curled in our escape pod.

Thursday, March 22, 2012

Monday night show!

I performed with the Spoken Word Samurai this last Monday night at the Pizza Shoppe Collective, which I am beginning to think of as my "home stage".
It went really well and was an amazing amount of fun.  Thanks to all my friends, fans and family who were there for the show -- my sisters are awesome and took over an entire table in the middle --if you missed it you can check out the Samurai UStream channel here:

I am the first performer after intermission, but check out the whole show if you have time.  Lots of great sets!
When I get time, I will try to cut snippets of my act to post here as well.

My next show is also with the Samurai on our PSC stage and it is tomorrow night at 9pm!
I am working on a couple of new pieces for it -- hope to see you there.  :)

Monday, March 12, 2012

In-Between Performances...

The next show is March 19th, and I'm pretty excited.
I have some new pieces I plan to do and one week left to prepare.
In the meantime, here's a piece I did for the February show with the Spoken Word Samurai at the Pizza Shoppe Collective.  The theme of the show was "Love", so I wrote one about the birth of my son.
I may perform this one again at some time and when I do, I'll post the video.
Speaking of the Samurai...I'll be posting occasional links to their pages as well.  Take a minute and check them out to your right.  They are in the list labeled, "Friends with Voices".  :)

The day you were born

On the day you were born,
The Earth stopped spinning, and every living creature held its breath.

On the day you were born,
The Sun could not rise because the Moon refused to get out of the way,
So intent she was, on seeing the emergence, of your equally round pale head.

On the day you were born,
One day became one year, and no one was the right temperature, and no one could get comfortable, and everyone moaned moved rocked and leaned on each other to find the right place.

On the day you were born,
 The oceans rushed inland at one thousand forty miles an hour in hopes of a better view,
Tsunamis crashed into each other’s elbows like drunken hyenas wrestling for position,
Tides were finally set free, and the crests of their waves peered into our window on the hospital’s fourth floor,
The mountains, saturated with ocean water raced each other toward the Great Plains, opening a scarp twice the size of the Grand Canyon
A flying comet, distracted by the event, smacked face-long into Jupiter, ejecting enough mass to create an extra planet the size of Venus.

On the day you were born,
The Aurora Borealis trembled and hung perfectly still in the air.
Earthquakes grasped their shear forces deep into the core.
Dams buckled under the pressure,
Bridges buckled under the pressure,
People buckled under the pressure,

And in the grand, mad chaos of it all…
Your father’s eyes met mine.
And all that existed was love, and silence.