Let us remember... that in the end we go to poetry for one reason, so that we might more fully inhabit our lives and the world in which we live them, and that if we more fully inhabit these things, we might be less apt to destroy both. - Christian Wiman
Monday, October 13, 2014
We tend to perceive death as an end, final or past. This is true, the death of something does close a chapter and bring it to rest. Today's purpose hopes to bring forth an aspect of death that is not so often talked about, recognized and I would even go as far to state lacks celebration. In Nature it is when the flower or fruit falls off to the ground below, that it in turn plants the seed for new life. Fascinating and understood by scavenger feeders, animals like vultures and hyenas whom feed on dead carcusus understand the value in death. We spend too much time on the end of things. Wondering, why that relationship didn't work out? What we could of done differently? Which is healthy to an extent (not to be fickle).However, whether it is a significant other we broke up with, a goal not reached, an idea not followed and/ or the worst in my opinion, a dream not persued. It is true, our days are numbered. Several death rituals emphasis on this point; Dia de los Muertos, observed in Mexico and many other cultures (also called All Saints Day, All Hallow Eve) focuses on gathering family and friends to praise and remember the dead, because death is not just an end but also a new beginning.
THE 8th SPOKEN WORD with the theme of REBIRTH IN DEATH was an organic event that could of not had a better ending of sharing our thoughts on matters that matter around a bomb fire with music and poetry.
Big THANK YOU to our musical guest Elyani Gonzalez (vocals) and Jose Bello (guitar) &
Surprise treat at the SWEET ending around the bomb fire.. Eric's lovely songs.
Writers and Readers
Jazmin Sanchez
My Pinto
Raul Alban
Desiree Martinez
Elyani Gonzalez
Johnny Martinez
Eternally Grateful to Po and his enchanting Cafe Archetypus for alway adding such a genuine and lovely sentiment to the event.
Gracias to Luis Salas for setting up the sound system and Raul Alban for photographing the event.
Much appreciation to the listeners whom joined the event, just as much a part of the whole.
THANK YOU
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Poem Written by me and read at the event..
ReplyDeleteBraiding my hair to bring together HOPE and DESPAIR
Lock after lock,
Pressing the pressure together, separates the lies and brings together the fear.
Not myself lately, don't want to feel anything, but I feel it all.
At the brink of tears with every spin.
Yet Nahko's message rings strong in between.
Gather and Create.
Lock after lock,
The despair game plays tug or war.
Judges are unjust.
Girls fight for an education,
the mutilation of her parts is not history.
Crude, cynical lawyers rule.
Can't have peace without war.
Lock after lock,
Trusting everything has a purpose comes accompanied with a process.
Suspended coffins, Natural birthing centers.
The water that ran through Katrina, runs through all of us.
Lock after lock,
Awake the typhoon to drown the light and dark together.
At the heart of it, the spirit needs a prayer just the same.
Lock after lock,
The gratitude surrounding disease scars and cancer share the same frame.
Hold the same heartlines connected in pain.
I use to eyes the color of sky's. Now I can see in the middle of the night.
Lock after lock,
In Hong Kong teens protest for their future.
In some way I am there, following. I am.
Night breaks the cycle of abuse.
The one thing to hold true is the power of the human spirit.
The will to put all that pain to good use anyways.
By: Anny Ariz
Poem Written and read at the event by Raul Alban.
ReplyDeleteThe Evil That Consumes
Chose the fast lane and couldn't help but move at a fast pace.
What I failed to notice, was the defiance to God's grace.
Demons cheering for me to keep on made me stop and think.
Nightmares arose like the moon and dreams like the sun, sank into the worlds sink.
As I been drained of purity and gained insecurities.
I fell into a slum where I couldn't escape the bad habit I've become.
Trained by iniquities, sustained by epiphanies...
Pushed into a well, to clens me of hate and place me back on square one.
Where I can measure the importance of fun, see the weakness in guns. Where I can appreciate life while acknowledging that one day the book will be done.
How long will it last? I've come so close. Death says, "your lucky your fast." As fingers touched the material of my clothes.
My tears are real and allow happiness to enter my soul...
Slowly being buried alive by the Sands of time.
Trying to see with your eyes but both love and hate are blind.
Disregarded senses, used the mind and heart to set the stage.
Seems hard but it's simple and plain like the next page.
Evil, I fight this, but it's embedded.
So if I'm righteous I believe I can choose my heaven.
It'll be a comfortable cold, an hour after sunset.
Stars play the subtopics and the moon is my subject.
I can see the trees breathe and the leaves survived the winter.
Even with my eyes closed, sounds paint the pictures.
Focus diverted to the end, my tall friends begin to wither.
Oxygen turns into smoke viciously attacking my lungs, a shot of death to my liver.
Is it my turn because my thoughts are malicious, having no right to be bitter?
My soul is not for sale, some have a proof of purchase.
Don't wait cuz time won't. It's a test, don't fail to choose your purpose.
Step over the welcome mat on floor and walk through that door.
So please before you leave, we are at risk and hesitation is the bait.
We will cease to exist on our expiration date.
By: Raul Alban