It was a crisp, sunny
October afternoon
in the arboretum.
I was meditating.
My mittened hands
rested,
upturned on my thighs.
A chickadee hovered
in front of me.
Seeing a convenient perch,
it landed in my open palm,
then hopped upon my thumb.
She looked me up and down,
side to side.
Having seen
all there was to see,
she flew away.
She brought such joy,
this tiny feathered thing.
I valued her presence
as a gift of trust,
a gift of love,
a sign from nature
and the universe
that all was well.
It’s like you’ve been reading Dostoevsky
and your mind is heavy,
so you go for a walk.
You haven’t eaten,
but instead of soup,
you order two glasses of beer.
You know how Rodion felt,
because you’re him.
You walk into the street
and a dark horse is being beaten,
but, that can’t be,
because there are no horses anymore —
that was only a dream;
only in the book.
You think you’re going mad,
but, it’s alright,
you don’t have to worry.
Someone has just closed the cover —
you’re tucked away, safe inside.
Everything is alright.
~~~
Sample my books for free — To date, $1945.00 has been donated to the homeless:
Playful spirit behind an oak
laughed and flirted but never spoke.
Eyes of onyx, raven hair,
I marveled at her standing there.
Brilliant sunshine — could barely see.
Had my eyes played tricks on me?
I stood in reverence and awe
not sure of what I thought I saw.
Fluttering soft, the poplar leaves
perhaps, had caused me to believe
I’d seen someone who wasn’t there —
eyes of onyx, raven hair.
The nimble spirit deftly danced
from tree to tree and lightly pranced.
I didn’t know quite what to do
about this vision in my view.
I had no knowledge of such things.
What does one do when nature brings
such beauty, grace and winsome mold
who, I could see but could not hold?
I could have watched her all day long
her movements sang just like a song.
She beckoned me with backward glance
down flowered pathway of romance.
I had no choice, I was entranced;
induced to follow where she danced.
The woods had changed, were foreign now,
colors brighter, surreal somehow.
I saw some spirits on the way.
They went about their normal day.
They took no notice of my form
contrary to their spirit norm.
They were at home among the trees;
conversely, I felt ill at ease.
Abandoned, then just like a snare —
eyes of onyx, raven hair.
She drew me close and hugged me tight;
we kissed, caressed throughout the night.
Not a wisp of evanescence,
but a real woman’s presence.
Wood smoke, sweet-grass, musk and cedar —
I took her hand, she let me lead her.
Beneath the boughs we made our bed
while stars shone brightly overhead.
i sit
beneath the cedars,
in solemn serenity.
face red
with asking questions,
seeking answers
to the ways
of life and death —
molecules and atoms —
and how we’re all
connected.
my fingers
stiff, from cold —
a child’s stubby crayons —
make difficult the task
of turning pages,
jotting notes
about impermanence,
attachment
and letting go.
i’m surrounded
by spirits of seasons past.
i fear not —
they mean no harm.
their faces radiate,
coming from the light.
in their eyes
i see peace and love —
they are free
of mortal suffering
they endured
in life.
they comfort me. Grieve not, they say, soon enough, you will join us. you will experience the universe and all it has to offer. you still have much to learn. when you are ready, we’ll be waiting.
i feel the joy of life —
(maples sailing leaves
of red and yellow)
moments, lifetimes pass…
then they’re gone,
as they should be.
beneath the cedars,
in their realm of wisdom,
reverently
i sit.
slouching
in forgotten tap-rooms
dirty old men,
forgotten old men,
slop piss colored beer
from, wet, dripping glasses.
the hollow din,
the retelling of the good old days,
echoes sadly
as life quickly passes.
“They used to call me ‘The Silver Fox’
What do you think of that?
They used to care.”
an empty glass crashes
to the muddy floor.
“I guess I’ll be hitting the street tonight.
Sleep in an alley tonight.
Nobody cares.”
slouching
in forgotten tap-rooms
dirty old men,
forgotten old men,
slop piss colored beer.
nobody cares…
Two years after its initial release, the film, Take Me to the River, has been released on Netflix. This is a documentary about the soul of American music, particularly that of Memphis, Tennessee. While telling the story of Memphis and its music, this film centers around the recording of a new album. An album, produced by second generation Memphians that features legends from labels like Stax, Sun, and Hi Records, mentoring and recording with some of today’s greatest talent from the region.
The brainchild of director, Martin Shore, Take Me to the River debuted at the SXSW Festival in Austin, Texas in 2014 but was four years in the making. Mavis Staples and Booker T. Jones were the first “mentors” to sign on. From there, legendary artists including Bobby “Blue” Bland, Hubert Sumlin, Charlie Musselwhite, William Bell, Bobby Rush, Otis Clay, Charles “Skip” Pitts, Lester Snell, Marvell Thomas, the Hodges brothers and more were added as modern-day mentors of the Memphis sound.
Their pupils and recording partners are young up-and-comers from Memphis and beyond. Child actor and rapper, Lil P-Nut, not only recorded a cover of “Trying to Live My Life Without You,” with Otis Clay, but also received some impromptu singing tips from Bobby “Blue” Bland. Bland and Yo Gotti record a modern cover of “Ain’t No Sunshine,” with an old soul feel. Academy Award winning rapper, Frayser Boy teams up with Bobby Rush on the Rufus Thomas classic, “Push and Pull.” And these are just some of the highlights.
The men recording and producing these cuts are themselves, Memphis legacies. Boo Mitchell is the son of Willie Mitchell, founder of Royal Studios. Luther and Cody Dickinson are both members of the North Mississippi Allstars, and sons of the legendary Jim Dickinson, who was a producer, guitarist, and pianist. The elder Dickinson worked with artists including Bob Dylan, Ry Cooder, the Rolling Stones and scores of others.
This film isn’t just watching artists in studios, however. It’s chock full of vintage footage of live concert performances, Memphis neighborhoods, and civil rights unrest, including the murder of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and the aftermath that spelled the end of the Stax label and studio.
Many of the old timers share stories of how things were done back in their day and talk about one another’s accomplishments and failures. One of the most touching of these is when “Skip” Pitts once again runs into former band mate, Ben Cauley, describing to the filmmaker how Cauley is the only survivor of the plane crash that took the life of Otis Redding. Another is the obvious excitement of Mavis Staples when Luther Dickinson learns the guitar part of a song written by her father, “Pops.”
Also, particularly hard hitting, are the still photos of some of the elder artists, with production notes stating it was their last, or almost final session. Artists that passed away after appearing in this film include Bobby “Blue” Bland, Hubert Sumlin, Charles “Skip” Pitts and Teenie Hodges.
There are great interview clips with other famous Memphis music makers that were even more behind the scenes. Art Bell, owner of Stax Records and Deanie Parker who was not only a singer but secretary, liner notes writer, photographer, editor, publicist and more, all for the Stax label.
One of the greatest scenes is near the end when three generations of artists have only a short time to record a piece. William Bell, Snoop Dogg, and students from the Stax Academy, record, “I Forgot to be Your Lover.” That, in itself, is a pretty amazing feat. What becomes, even more, mind boggling is that the young students learned and recorded the song, Snoop wrote and recorded his rap verses, and the entire project was in the can in less than 30 minutes.
Narrator, Terrence Howard begins the film with the words, “There are special places on this earth. Places of origin. The Mississippi Delta is one of those places.” Nothing could be closer to the truth, and Take Me to the River does an outstanding job of documenting not only the origin of Memphis music but its passing to the next generations.
With this gem of a documentary streaming on Netflix, we would also urge everyone to purchase a copy of the DVD. If for no other reason, then knowing that over 75% of the money made in sales goes to musician funds in Memphis. These include the The Soulsville Foundation, The Blues Foundation HART Fund, and the Memphis Church Health Center.
In the past two weeks
I’ve had a lot of time to think
about important and unimportant things
(long story).
I have come to some very basic conclusions
as is my right and obligation.
They may seem obvious to some.
To others they may seem inflammatory.
Deal with it —
say what you want on your own page.
I believe that as humans
we deserve:
UNIVERSAL EQUALITY IN ALL ASPECTS OF LIFE,
UNIVERSAL ACCESS: TO FOOD, WATER, SHELTER,
MEDICAL TREATMENT AND AVAILABILITY OF MEDICATION,
UNIVERSAL ACCESS TO EDUCATION,
UNIVERSAL FREEDOM OF CHOICE OVER OUR OWN BODIES,
UNIVERSAL FREEDOM OF MOVEMENT,
FREEDOM OF SPEECH,
DEMOCRACY.
These are big issues
that have repercussions in news events
around the world.
I haven’t worked out all the details, yet,
but I have seen a lot of headlines on television
in print media and on the internet.
On our planet
we must eradicate (as much is humanly possible,
as opposed to what is economically viable)
HUNGER
DISEASE
VIOLENCE
HOMELESSNESS
BIGOTRY
WAR
(and others too numerous
to mention).
My neighbor:
MUST NOT starve while I eat,
MUST NOT die of illness while I have access to a cure,
MUST NOT BE CONFINED BY NATIONAL BORDERS
if his life, health, or opportunities
are at risk,
MUST HAVE universal access to the best education
in order to best express his natural abilities,
MUST HAVE equal access to meaningful, rewarding and satisfying employment,
MUST HAVE the freedom to make their own life choices;
these choices MUST NOT be dictated by GOVERNMENT
RELIGION, SOCIETY or self-proclaimed MAJORITIES.
LYNCH MOB DEMOCRACY MUST BE ELIMINATED.
In short, I AM my brother’s keeper.
I WILL treat him as I would prefer to be treated.
I WILL NOT be the cause of abuse,
whether physical, verbal, mental or emotional.
I WILL live my life
according to the best of my potential.
I’m not an expert geneticist.
I’m not an expert in anything,
but, I read a lot.
I watch documentaries on television.
I have my own ideas.
This is what I’ve come to believe:
Around 500 B.C, Hanno the Navigator,
a Carthaginian explorer,
with sixty fifty-oared ships
visited the Galápagos Islands.
Hanno and his crew discovered gorillas
and gorillas discovered them.
Although the sailors could not make peaceful contact
with these creatures,
they considered them to be
related to humans.
Geneticists now believe
that archaic Homo Sapiens evolved
to anatomically modern humans
solely in Africa
between 200,000 and 60,000 years ago.
We all share a common DNA.
We are all one family.
Families have differences
They argue a lot.
Some of them move away and refuse to talk
to other siblings.
That’s natural,
it happens all the time.
We are all the same.
We seek happiness
and an end to
suffering.
A woman waking up on a sidewalk in Bijapur, India, under a Pepsi advertisement. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
I sit on the sidewalk,
my upturned hat
in front of me,
hoping for spare change.
I’m forty years old.
I look older
because of the beard.
I’ve been on the streets
for twenty-two years.
I sleep on the sidewalk.
The sun is blinding.
My throat is parched.
I’m vaguely aware
of people walking past.
I feel disoriented,
light-headed.
I can’t remember
when I last ate.
I can’t remember
much of anything.
My life is a blur.
Occasionally,
someone will throw
a quarter
in my direction.
Some jerk just said,
“Get a job!”
“Hire me!” I said.
That’s a joke!
Most people
won’t look at me,
let alone employ me.
If I sit here long enough
the cops may run me in.
At least, I’ll get to eat.
I’ll be safe
for one night.
.
Sleeping on the Sidewalk, Atlanta, Georgia (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
Buy my book for $0.99 — proceeds feed the homeless:
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“We planted you, we nurtured you, we protected you until you became a mighty tree that spread through our hunting grounds. With its branches you now lash us.” – Mississauga Chief
Steps used by the Rideau Lakes Mississauga Band of the Ojibwe or Anishinaabe Nation , for
traditional Sun Dance and other ceremonies.
…
I sit on ancient steps of stone
by myself, but not alone.
The presence of ten thousand souls
imbues me with their joys and goals.
The steps lead to a sacred place;
for Mississauga prayers and grace.
They danced to celebrate the sun
before the white man and the gun.
I seek what they sought; love and peace ~
for wars around the world to cease.
To live a life of nature’s plan
in harmony with fellow man.
In harmony with living things
and everything that nature brings.
I sit on ancient steps of stone
with souls to guide me on my own.
Buy my book for $0.99 — proceeds feed the homeless:
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Occasionally,
Antonio
joins me for coffee.
He tells me
the most wondrous stories.
Sometimes,
I think he makes them up
for my benefit.
In any case
I am honored.
Have you ever worried
about squirrels in winter?
I see them climb over snowdrifts
with their bare paws —
they have no winter boots.
I see them stop
to tuck their tiny front paws
into their armpits
for warmth —
they have no mitts.
When it rains
I see them huddle
under trees,
they still get soaked —
they have no raincoats.
They have no pants,
no dresses, no hats,
no warm winter coats,
no shelter or fires
to warm their bodies.
Even the homeless men
whose beds are the sidewalk
have sleeping bags
to keep them warm.
Squirrels have nothing.
Still they remain cheery,
hopping about
gathering nuts,
Who knew
it was such a hard life
for squirrels in winter?
Buy my book for $0.99 — proceeds feed the homeless:
Gotta Find a Home; Conversations with Street People http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS
I miss you
(your cap on the sidewalk)
panning in front of Starbucks.
Your regulars miss you too.
Out of respect,
nobody’s using your spot —
Joy sees to that.
Eventually,
someone from the family,
(someone you’d approve of,
maybe Little Jake)
will carry on
where you left off —
serving ‘good mornings’
with a side
of smiles.
I miss
our conversations,
seated on storage boxes —
you’d light a cigarette,
sip your beer.
We’d discuss friends,
adventures from your past,
the Chateau Lafayette.
Some of the guys
were too upset
to attend your funeral.
I know you were there
as the group congregated
at noon, with the snow falling.
Albert still cries
at the mention of your name.
Sometimes,
you’d sit alone on the curb
as Shaggy barked. I’m not going up there,
you’d say, that damn dog is barking her head off.
At those times
we’d wonder what you were thinking —
just staring off into space. That’s just Silver, zoning out,
somebody would say, He does that, sometimes.
Buy my book for $0.99 — proceeds feed the homeless:
Gotta Find a Home; Conversations with Street People http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS
So, I’m panning
in my usual spot.
This suit walks by —
in passing he says,
“Get a job!”
“Hire me!” I say.
“Take a shower,” he says.
“I may sleep outside,
that doesn’t mean
I don’t wash —
I wash all over.”
“Hey,” I say,
“if you’re so successful,
why do you look
so unhappy?
“I’ve made the price
of my bottle.
I’ve got some smokes,
a little pot.
“Me, I’m the happiest guy alive.”
Buy my book for $0.99 — proceeds feed the homeless:
Gotta Find a Home; Conversations with Street People http://buff.ly/1wyjiKS
It was a crisp, sunny
October afternoon
in the arboretum.
I was meditating.
My mittened hands
rested,
upturned on my thighs.
A chickadee hovered
in front of me.
Seeing a convenient perch,
it landed in my open palm,
then hopped upon my thumb.
She looked me up and down,
side to side.
Having seen
all there was to see,
she flew away.
She brought such joy,
this tiny feathered thing.
I valued her presence
as a gift of trust,
a gift of love,
a sign from nature
and the universe
that all was well.
I sit
beneath the cedars,
in solemn serenity.
Face red
with asking questions,
seeking answers
to the ways
of life and death —
molecules and atoms —
and how we’re all
connected.
My fingers
stiff, from cold —
a child’s stubby crayons —
make difficult the task
of turning pages,
jotting notes
about impermanence,
attachment
and letting go.
I’m surrounded
by spirits of seasons past.
I fear not —
they mean no harm.
Their faces radiate,
coming from the light.
In their eyes
I see peace and love —
they are free
of mortal suffering
they endured
in life.
They comfort me.
“Grieve not,” they say,
“soon enough, you will join us.
You will experience the universe
and all it has to offer.
You still have much to learn.
When you are ready,
we’ll be waiting.”
I feel the joy of life —
(maples sailing leaves
of red and yellow)
moments, lifetimes pass…
then they’re gone,
as they should be.
I lived a dream,
everything was possible,
a spirit, a whisper
of love.
Beneath the cedars,
in their realm of wisdom,
reverently
I sit.
as the sun
played with the leaves
in the cool afternoon breeze
i heard your giggle
saw your smiling spirit face
peeking from behind
a clump of trees.
disappointed,
because i hadn’t
the freedom to follow you,
i sighed and waited for nightfall.
as the jealous moon
stole through my window
a devil in a flannel gown
visited my bed.
we snuggled
throughout the night.
my mouth nuzzled your neck.
your skin tasted
of our favorite perfume,
wood smoke and cedar.
i murmured words of love
as I held you tight.
you disappeared
with the dawn’s
early light.
today’s greatest talent from the region.
