The water flows way wordly against the unknow births of Marshall. As stolen kisses can catch you in a web of bedded memories. Destinations are only revealed if you continue to go foward, as I often wonder is it alright for me to be me, can I allow myself to share the air I breathe, as too many times have I awaken under palets of angelic desires that were too heavy to roll out from, as I often complicate whats really simple. I dont know for sure any more, yet here I am writing more words, inhaling more stale smoke. See I dont know the rules that were manufactured by legistlated men in black robes. But I look around, and I see nothing but abundance, I know whats right, I feel whats wrong. Thin sheets of pillow made clouds begin to open up. Will I always be able see the sun kneel as the breeze releases unspoken stories of Carolina's post tramitic syndrome . What do I stand for, Love or the Unpopular Voice? How long does it take mountains to be pushed into shadows that lay quiet, restless, yet in motion? Closed caption is needed for those who are too poor to pay attention. Yet I see myself, on the road drifting into the present, creating my future, and writing my past., all at once. The process is
Everything is on fast foward. On Tuesday June 28th I left to start the Indie Poetry man tour, with Academic poet Stephen Paul Miller, NYC. And as soon as I got there, Stephen was showing my tricks of the trade on how to double your money when playing craps. It was a interesting way to meet my fellow traveler for the first time. Yet it seemed to fit. A story started to unfold. Then shortly after getting all settled in I put out a message via text and FaceBook, and none other than Tasha Jones, was getting back to me with in seconds. Telling me about the Bowery, Bar 1 and the NUYO. So I checked into the places and found out that the Nuyorican was the only venue having a open mic performance. The other places were for features only. So the tour started at the famous Nuyorician Poetry Cafe, started up by Miguel Pinero. many greats have graced that mic through out yrs, and it was a absolutely amazing. One more thing I say I accomplished, as this was a dream I have harbored since I was a teenager. One of my 1st poetry books I ever bought was the Nuyorican Poets Cafe anthology. I love that book and still have it this day. Little did I know I would be as well.
When I got there you have this feel of history that has been perserved there. The bar is the first thing you see when you enter the Nuyorican. Balcony stairs is on the left, yet I went straight to the first table by the stage. No way in the world would I miss having a front row seat at the NUYO wednesday slam. Blue Line the host, was awesome, funny,welcoming, charismatic, and a crowded starter. He got the people roaring with laughs, claps and foot stomps. The building was vibrating with in minutes of everything starting. I of course was last on the list, the 20th poet for the evening. I got 6th, 1.4 more points and I would of gotten in the top five, yet that didn't matter. I went to the NUYO to spit, be heard, and show them something different. And I did. I got nothing but respect, love and appreciation of some of the deadliest poets around. I succeed for I garnered the respect of my fellow poets and artistic peers. The next day it was straight to Charlotte to the wine up.
We left at midnight on thursday, and got Deborah callhounes house at 430 pm. Tired, feeling mentally thin, the only thing I could was simple, find out where the mic was at, and as I did my investigation by putting out a massive text message and a flag on facebook with in minutes again I found out that the Wine up which is hosted my Tavis Brunson was only one mile away, so away I went. And when I got there it was amazing, the place is decked out for poets. Tavis was awesome, as well as Maze Forever, Dani and Black Swan. A few of the local poets that are truely amazing. And it dawned on me. I am in the best community in the world. Unlike most we poets assist each other. Its not always about just getting ours and not helping out fellow poets. And they showed so much appreciation for there fellow traveling poet. They had the place booked, yet made sure that they made a time slot for me, and only knowing about my arrival about 40mins before hand. Now to me thats love people. The crowd much like the NUYO was caught off guard by my energy. I actually got into a little too much and stood up on the chairs, getting in the faces of the audience. Feeling more comfortable within my own skin. And able to make my performance more a one on one conversation. I had a blast. After the reading I sold a few cd's, got a burrito and went back to Deborah's for a little rest, for in the morning I would leave for Marshall N.C.
The town is amazing, in the middle of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Stephen and myself stayed in the F.B.I building. A old church that Lee Ann Brown bought and turned it into a venue for music and poetry. I wrote in the same room a preacher would write a surmon, and slept where the alter use to be, in the middle of the stage. And it dawned on me what I brilliant fitting place for a poet to read at. As we were the first poets, who spoke of wisdom, truth and honor. We didnt give rules of what to follow, we use metaphors much like religion, yet our metaphors are reach able with the in the human mind. Speaking of its alright to be afraid, yet its alright, we speak of life, the trials and the success of going through the travels of life to succeed. To allow the crowd to know we are just like you, for we are human too, and you can relate to us, as we relate to you. As we all have felt love, sadness, disappointment, fear, anxiety, and success in similair ways. Its just the faces and the timelines are different.
Soon after we arrived, we dropped our bags off and went to this family friends union party. It was amazing. Live music, food, people made their own pizzas with home made dough, the pizzas took about 1.5 hrs because they were cooked in a wood burning stove that was made out of stones. The evening there ended with a display of fire works that lasted about 30 minutes, absolutely amazing. Then we left back to town for a ware house after hrs party. Live music, good beer, and awesome people. I meets musicians, locals, soul singers and bleeders there. The back of the warehouse opened up to the town river on the rail road tracks. Fire dancers lit the tracks up and twirled fire as we drank sang and did improve poetry. Absolutly amazing. Then when the town woke up in the morning, everyone met at the local store, diner, cafe Good Stuff store. Billy Holiday was blaring, hung over locals from the night before slowly filed in one by one, with in seconds the place was packed. Orders of food were giving out for about two hours, to help those suffering from the night before. The next todays were very calm. I just walked the tracks, the town and wrote. Our host though were very hospitable. Lee Ann brown(poet St. Johns professor) and her husband Tony Ripp director and actor. One tuesday we went to the hot springs about 20 minutes south east from Marshall, and I could just melt away in the water. The minerals would just soak in my skin. Then off to Lee Ann's house for a lunch in the Mountains, then to the gig.
So relaxing it was having lunch in the mountains, you can hear what its meant to just be sound. Fresh organic fruits and veggie's. And then at about 6 pm off the the F.B.I building to do my last show. Anxiety was running in my blood as people entered the venue, awating a night of music and poetry by blue grass musican Larua Bossinger, poet Stephen Paul Miller and myself. We did the rockin robbing thing. Thats when each proformer reads or plays right in unision. One of the other. Stephen opened it up, followed by Laura, then myself. Laura was amazing, controlling the crowd with confidence and sincerity behind her performance while Stephen kept them all going with comical poetry, then when this mad man hit the stage, he didnt even know himself. I felt so different. Perhaps it was nerves, perhaps it was me changing. I saw myself and felt myself changing. More polished than ever, more comfortabel than any show or reading I have ever done. I felt what I am meant to do. The show lasted for about an hour in a half. After the reading we headed down the road to the local book store for a cd, book signing. Everyone came in. People bought merchandise, drank wine, socialized, then at about 1130 pm the evening was finally done. The town was ghostly quite, as people were returning to their homes along the river. Stephen and myself. Left back to Indianapolis to get ready for the Spoken Circus Fest on saturday.
We arrived at my house at about 830 in the morning, only stopping 4 times, for food, drinks, and restroom breaks. As soon as we arrived, Stephen crashed, and I got to work. Passing out fliers across the town for the event. About 250 is what I got done. Hitting the streets with determination. Getttin back, not taking a break and doing emails. Making a P.S.A announcement about the festival. Down loading it on youtube and face book. and sending it out to about 150 people, doing anything I could to court attention to this event. On Saturday only a few people came to attend, at first felt defeat, then after a moment I realized I gave a private concert with fire dancers, original reggae, poets, comedians, and expieremental rock. I just had my own expectations. Yet I refuse to give. Now this mad man is getting a early morning job, making meetings with other artist, the Julian Center, and the Madam walker Theatre for the art benefit Projek Delerium, which is for the abused women and children of the Julian Center. And thats it, Irealized I am going to continue to take big risks, and not always will I succeed, regardless I cant give up. I have to take into hand that these were my expectations, which is my problem. People at saturday nights even had a blast, and that with in its self is success. Now I have to get the invites, Tara Hardy's and Tristan silvermans transportation taken care of, The remaining money for the center, and Micheal Guinns airline ticket. And after that its let the dice roll. If I want to succeed, and be known as a poet, and a promoter for the arts and the community, I can't give up. I have to chaulk up my loses , get up, and proceed forward, one foot after the other...