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Joseph E Bird

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Poetry

Murder in the City

Yeah, I’m on an Avett Brothers kick right now.

I’m pondering my next fiction post.  I have two choices in front of me.

One is an excerpt from the James and Katherine novel in progress which introduces another character, Warren Carter, aka, Jar.  But I’m wondering whether it’s worthwhile to throw the reader into the middle of a novel with little context just for the sake of a snippet of the larger story.

The other possibility is a short-story.  Unlike the Shelly Wallingford saga, this one is more somber and has the potential to be misunderstood.  It’s about a young man’s struggle with guilt and the concept of forgiveness.  So I don’t know.

Any thoughts?

I’ll make up my mind tomorrow.  Today, I’m on my way to Lexington.  For now, enjoy this tune from the Avett Brothers.  It’s not as dark as the title suggests.  And the lyrics are very poetic.

Murder in the City

4

She flies.

Who knew James Brown was a poet?  Not that James Brown, this James Brown.  He’s turned into quite the sensitive guy.  After watching a special on the evolution of modern dance, he writes this:

 

She flies.

All grace, flowing and free.
For a moment she is splendor.
She will always be

a dancer.

 

She flies.

Into his arms, sure and strong.
Together they are elegance.
She will always be

a dancer.


She flies.

Strength, beauty, trust.
One voice, one spirit.
She will always be

a dancer.


She flies.

 

copyright 2014

3

A toast.

Yo.

These characters in my book, they just keep spouting poetry.  I mean, what’s up with all the rhymes?  I think it’s Larry’s fault.

Now Katherine, the chick lost in the woods with her new BFF, James, apparently knows a little poetry.  She recites this little prayer of thanksgiving as a toast.

 

“Through shadow and light I bear my quest.

In forest deep I find my rest.

Till day is done and sun’s set west

and then I know I’m truly blessed.”

 

Cheers.

Copyright 2014

 

0

Day is dark, and evening bright.

In Three Seconds, a roadside fun-house called The Enigma serves as a metaphor for the illusion of truth the characters in the novel must face.  In The Enigma, the laws of gravity are not what they seem to be and visitors are left wondering about the reality of it all.  At the end of every tour, Rembrandt Walker offers this cautionary reminder.

Breathe in,
my friends,
while you still can.
When shall we tarry,
it’s all in God’s plan.

Marvel and wonder
at gravity’s plight.
The day is dark
and evening bright.

Live now and love,
while the spirit is young.
In life’s quick passing,
our song will be sung.

Not all we see
can we comprehend.
Up becomes down,
beginning is end.

Worry not, my friends,
and judge with much grace,
Our fate will come quickly,
our day we will face.

Look beyond
what you see
and know what is true.
It’s out there somewhere.
It’s waiting for you.

 

Copyright 2014

6

Groovy, man.

Dig it.

There’s a club in London called the Troubadour.  It was founded in the 1950’s and has played host to legendary musicians through the years. It’s also famous as a hangout for writers and artists and coffee-house poetry.

Finger snap.

Groovy.

Picture this.  Stanley Kubrick had a favorite table at the Troubadour back in the early 60’s. He comes in, drinks espresso, takes in a poetry slam, and works on his screenplay for 2001: A Space Odyssey.

In 1968, his seminal film is released.

“Open the pod bay doors, HAL.”

“I’m sorry, Dave.  I’m afraid I can’t do that.”

Far out.

Featured in the film was the music of Richard Strauss, specifically, Also Sprach Zarathustra, which, interestingly, is a tone poem.  Look that up in your Funk and Wagnalls.

In 1972, the jazz musician Deodato put out his take on the classic, which was later featured in the Peter Sellers film, Being There.

“As long as the roots are not severed, all is well.  And all will be well in the garden.”

Heavy man.

So for all you poets out there, put on your black turtleneck and beret, go back in time, and tap your toes to the groovy, jazzy, coffee-house, hipster version of Also Sprach Zarathustra by Deodato.

Dig it.

 

 

3

Poets…yeah, what he said.

“Poets are always taking the weather so personally.  They’re always sticking their emotions in things that have no emotions.”

Teddy McArdle, from Teddy, by J.D. Salinger

 

 

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