From the Poetic Asides prompt, “Setting The World On Fire.” Remembering some great gigs!
JAZZ AFIRE
Spotlight’s hot tonight
Fresh coffee on the side table
My fingers touch the cool ivories
and all hell breaks loose
Thumping the bass line
Reaching deep, drawing out
the raw fire of jazz within
Souls of legends aflame as I call to them:
Feed my soul, strike the match
Light a fire under my piano bench
til I burn with desire to shout it true
Til the keys melt at my touch
Hellzapoppin at this piano bar
Crowd heats up and calls for more
Coffee’s cold, neglected
but I’m a pyre of pure jazz afire
(c) 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Reaction to a spirited debate regarding politics and poetry.
WHATEVER COMES
Whatever you think about me
I am human
I have feelings
Feelings that have been stomped on
or caressed
depending on the person and circumstance
I am an American from Europe
whose white skin
and heterosexuality
and youth in the suburbs
gave me advantages
over those who weren’t dealt the same cards
or even given cards from the same deck
I am a woman who still doesn’t have
the same Constitutional rights as males
but who can vote and speak her mind
who doesn’t have to wear a burqa
who doesn’t risk being stoned to death
because she dared leave the house without her husband
I am not threatened by TV personalities
who admit they don’t believe half their hate speech
(they are just doing what their sponsors tell them)
who have no degrees in journalism
(one a college dropout, the other a deejay)
They don’t speak from their hearts
but from their wallets
and they freely admit it
Sure, it’s mercenary and incites violence
But it’s a living
Powers of such as these are limited
only by the willingness of their listeners
to be sheep, to blame the least in our society
for their current woes
(this time it’s Mexicans and gays; last time it was Jews;
before that, Armenians, before that…)
When Jesus was surrounded by “unclean” street urchins
he told the disciples not to chase them away
but to let them come closer
He didn’t want them deported to another town
He didn’t call them unclean or unworthy
He didn’t charge copays when healing the poor
He acted out of love
He also raised a ruckus
that resonates to this very day
for to love one’s enemies is an almost impossible task
and to love one’s neighbor,
harder still when he brags he ran them over,
but they were “just Mexicans”
Jesus was hung because of words
and all his words were loving
If our poetic world was only Whitman, Dickenson, Dickens
bereft of Ginsburg, Baraka, Gwendolyn Brooks
how poor this world would be
Provocation is healthy
What makes one’s blood coarse faster
makes one’s mind more nimble
Sure, I get provoked
But I stand by my right as an artist
to call out powerful hatemongers
Plato banned poets because
he claimed they drew their inspiration
from imaginary worlds
Those of us who draw from the real world
do so in the name of justice
of compassion for the Other
regardless of religion or color
regardless of the consequences
in spite of whatever comes
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
FEAR (a limerick)
Since 2001, there’ve been panics
‘bout Arabs and gays and Hispanics
But never you fear
You will stay calm and clear
Just as long as you keep taking Xanax
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
Dedicated to the GAFB/HiPockets/Poppy Star reunion 2010, with love to all, Amers
WITH ABANDON
Abandon hangups
all ye who enter here
Abandon your present
your what-happened-since-then
Embrace the ever-present past
Pick up a tambourine
Beat it til your hands bruise
Sing til it hurts
Play til your fingers remember
where their callouses were
Laugh til you cry
Live like it’s your last day on earth
Like it’s the end of your shift
Grab a cold beer, flop down here
and tell me all about it
We remain gypsies
no matter what path we chose
The world will never see anything like it again
Time and place
Ribs and space
Perrrrrrfection
Amy Barlow Liberatore
Santa Monica, August 15, 2010 (the morning after)
Dear friends,
Thank you for hanging out at my blog. I’m on a trip West by car and then back by train. ADVENTURE!
My new chapbook, DANCE GROOVE FUNHOUSE, will be available beginning Sept 1. It’s full of adventure, stories of childhood, fond remembrances of my tone-deaf (and rhythmically challenged) father, some loony stuff… in short, it’s me coming at you with some GROOVE!
To quote the immortal Four Seasons:
Will I see yooooooou
In September
Or lose you
To another blog?
(Hope not!)
Peace, love, harmony, and the best vibes Creation can supply, Amy
Writer’s Island prompt: Another poem with song titles, this time from one of my favorite Beatles albums, Rubber Soul:
MICHELLE
If I needed someone in my life
it wouldn’t be you, said Michelle
I’m looking through you, toward the future
and neither seem too bright
I need someone who says
“Think for yourself” in my life
Don’t wait for me in the Norwegian Wood
You won’t see me there
I’ll drive my car far from you
My mind whispering, “Run for your life”
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore/Sharp Little Pencil
TEACUP
Sad Lisa was a hard-headed woman
She was miles from nowhere
on the road to find out
where the father and son had gone
Had they boarded longer boats
Sailed into the night fog, into white
She brews tea for the tillerman and whispers
“But I might die tonight”
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore
From Cat Stevens’ “Tea For The Tillerman”
We were asked to write a poem incorporating song titles from our favorite albums. Showing my age here, but…
AMERICAN BOOKENDS
Voices of old people in the park
Old friends haunted by a hazy shade of winter
At the zoo, Punky’s dilemma lingers
as Mrs. Robinson cries, “Save the life of my child!”
Like it or not,
we’re all fakin’ it in America
Our lives are bookends:
Beginnings and overs
but mostly
overs
© 2010 Amy Barlow Liberatore
from all-time fave album (vinyl) Simon & Garfunkel’s “Bookends”
Sharp Little Pencil 