She Fascinates Me...

She fascinates me with her relentless exploration for the flavors of passion/seasoned with the syrup of joy/

She tastes life with me just before dripping wisdom on my core self/ from balls to bone marrow/flesh and spirit we dance forever/

Like the edges of 2 galaxies spinning besides each other/ Harmonious we are beyond what man can destroy with his bitterness/

Sweet she remains always as I endure our endless cycle of passion and fascination/

Our session of intimacy was similar to dueling percussion and wind instruments during a late night jazz jam/ Harmonious and competitive/ spontaneous and repetitive/ innovative and contemplative passion in all of its creative glory

Sweat sweeter than the syrup of peaches/ drinking like the sands of Egypt surround us without water/

Music is made welcoming the rain/ her aggressive submission is laced with trust/ Just like the butterfly trusts a breeze that is blowing towards randomness/

I trust her with liquid legacy/ she drinks from me savoring the wine made from the crushed grapes of Ethiopia/

Utopia braided with thickness/ weaved into thickness for all time/

This time documented by the Sun while the eternal passions are blamed on the Moon for arriving too late and leaving too soon/

The Poetic Anatomy of the Perfect Host.

     

     It's a typical week night, and 5 minutes before I go on. My palms are sweaty. My neck feels stiff. My heart is beating out of my chest. All the while my mind visualizes a poetic victory. Anticipation can be a motherfucker. Especially when you're waiting your turn to spill your guts to a room filled with strangers. Welcome to the open mic; the gateway and connection between the spirits that love language and the spirits who listen to them. These spirits are trapped inside crude flesh like we all are, and like their bodies, their personalities come with many variations. The anxious first timer, the black militant, the voluptuous seductress, the educated and powerful goddess, the cynical and consciously aware comedian, the veteran, the pure lyricist and so on. These are just a few of the characters that await patiently for their turn to bless the mic. There is not an artist alive who does not wish to do well when they are on the mic...

The key to a successful night depends on many obvious truths we know. A poet's head must be focused on the words and their meaning. The poet's eyes must dance random on the lenses of the eyes that are watching. The poet's heart must be in an emotional state that embodies the substance of the words that are spoken. The poet's hands must be steady and expressive; even if anxiety pumps eagerly through their finger tips. Finally, the poet's stance must be a proud one. For having the opportunity to share and the guts to do so is a proud moment indeed.

All this being said; the poet is one of three elements to an amazing night of poetry. Many forget that the audience is a living breathing entity. Last week's audience and next week's audience are like 2 different people; each with a personality that is unique in its own right. What works for last week's audience may not work for next week's audience. It is difficult (but not impossible) for any single poet to gage the pulse of the audience on there own. This brings us to the intangibles position known as "The Host"

Hosts Each have a style that is unique to them. Some styles are effective and some aren't However, the greats all seem to have the same anatomy in common...

The Head

     The head should be in the game. The mind should be active and engaged to the audience during the open mic, before the open mic and after the open mic. Many hosts seem uninterested in the "Hosting" aspect of being one. Some hold the position of host with arrogance. Putting themselves above the audience and the artists that participate. Many don't bring any fresh ideas to the table or put any preparation in conceptualizing a show. Great hosts would have nothing to do if there were no audience or talent. So a wise move would be to be a great "steward" of your craft and keep your mind focused on them.

The Heart

   Ideally the heart of great host should be in love with the art it is trying to promote. Love it enough to put the time in. Love it enough to share it freely. The heart of a great host doesn't waist time or energy dealing with jealousy or envy of other artists. The heart of a great host isn't infallible or unfamiliar to pain or difficult times. The greats have a way of pushing through regardless by getting their audience's hearts involved by giving a piece of theirs.

Upper Limbs

     The shoulders off a great host have to be broad because they carry a lot of responsibility. The arms have to be strong hold the position with integrity and that's not easy. The hands have to be calm, expressive and steady. The have to give firm hand shakes after recruiting fresh talent to the stage. They have to touch audience members with warmth and welcome. They have to do research into their craft, their material and their poets they intend to have on the stage.

Lower Limbs

     Grass doesn't get a chance to grow underneath the feet of a great host because their feet are always moving. The legs are always moving forward bringing the culture with it. Being mobile breaths life into the culture. Being mobile looking at other venues, rivals and/or competitors makes the culture lucrative.

The Belly 

A.K.A. 

"THE GUTS"

     Bottom line: it takes a lot of guts to put yourself out there night after night, show after show. It takes guts to reach out to strangers, be a good business person, a great host and an artist all at the same time. There game is full of egos and eclectic individuals who get off on being difficult and unruly. It takes a lot of nerve to want to advance a culture that promotes independent thinking; during these times in which technology is forcing people away from using their brains at all.

You are who you are... This blog isn't "A Shot" at anyone or any style I have come across in my travels. These are simply my opinions. These are just my thoughts...

See you next time fam...

GB

Just My Thoughts: The "Big Head" Theory...

Just My Thoughts: The "Big Head" Theory...:      I was at my 1st real job, walking with my head high and my shoulders back down a long hallway. I was at Mary Immaculate Hospita...

The "Big Head" Theory...

     I was at my 1st real job, walking with my head high and my shoulders back down a long hallway. I was at Mary Immaculate Hospital in Queens N.Y. (now closed) A young woman about the same age as I was walking toward me up the same hall. This hall was amazingly long and narrow, which gave us plenty of precious seconds to admire each other's strides. As I got close enough to read the expressions on her face; I saw that she looked puzzled or perplexed. She had something on her mind and she looked like she was more than willing to give me a piece of it. Now close enough to speak at a normal talking volume, she said: 

"You walk like you can't look at the ground"  

We then passed one another. My left shoulder barely grazing hers. I let her words spin me around to look at her and say something clever. She never turned around. Not to wait for a reply, not to see if I was checking her out, not to acknowledge that an exchange even took place. She kept walking or dare I say strutting. She had the strut of a terrorist that just planted a bomb with the timer set for "in a few..." Even if she did turn around... what was I really going to say when I didn't fully understand the statement? I thought about this statement for a minute because it was a statement about my confidence. In that regard she was right. I was confident back then and I still am to this day. However, given her tone, energy, demeanor and putting her statement in context; I believe she'd mistaken my confidence for arrogance. This was my 1st taste of how women deal with arrogant men but it wouldn't be my last. In certain situations (mostly women of my past who never understood me or did not take the time to get to know me) there seemed to be a common theme. This "theme" would manifest itself in the form of a single statement that was repeated by every woman I've ever known. 

"I can't let your get a big head"

This statement never failed in leaving me scratching my head. I just couldn't comprehend why a woman would say that. (I was young) As I got a little older, I started hanging out in more "eclectic" social situations. I would watch how women would act towards the men they were interested in (or not) The statement would be said often no matter who the characters were. Women of all backgrounds, cultures and social position all seemed to say that statement to men they had some level of adoration for. 

Then I naively thought is was the Americanized women's answer to the man's "pimp" mentality. Where women starved a man's ego similar to the way a pimp would starve a woman's self esteem. Thus using it as leverage in a relationship as a form of control.

Let's digress...

Silly of me to think that "I can't let your head get big" was the female version of what pimps do to women. It was silly because even if it were true, it does not provide a motive for why a woman would do such a thing. My mother is a strong woman. I never had any example of a woman trying to "cut" a man down when I was younger. So then why would a woman feel the need to say such a thing. Pimps have money and the glamour of that lifestyle to gain. But what did the ladies have to gain? It would take a few more years for my wisdom to catch up. As I got older I realized that I owe women an apology. 

Yes ladies... I apologize.

Simply because I now know that they just don't build us guys like they used to. Many don't have honor, grit or resolve. Many don't have the "metal" we were once made of. So our egos aren't forged from bricks and mortar built with callous hands. The egos of most men are fragile, forged from wet paper bags, built with freshly manicured fingers. Many ladies have seen the following scenario a million times. Typically in the form of some beautiful woman taking care of her man quite thoroughly. She is just slightly out of his league yet she selflessly gives her love to him like they are equals. This love is displayed in any number of ways. It may come in the form of cooking, cleaning or educating. She may be his mentor on many topics or his spiritual guide, accountant or spokesperson. She may be the backbone of the family, the voice of reason, the calm feminine force to counter his hot headed testosterone. She may give him balance by introducing him to music, art or theater he would have never discovered had they not been together. Perhaps, along side that, let's say his woman was a modest lover when they met. Some women will go as far as taking classes on pole dancing, sexual exploration and fellatio. Going as far as a man wants to physically fulfill his desires. She may willingly be sexual submissive or sexually dominate. In any event, she is everything that her man needs. Unfortunately... the ego of most fellas interprets this display of love to be a direct result of the all mighty mojo. Believing himself to be so wonderful, so fantastic and so intimately proficient, his women will sacrifice her dignity for him. 

WRONG 

Any woman that would give any display of selfless love in any form is doing so because she desires to be loved that way in return. Many a selfless woman have met many a narcissistic man. So fellas, try not to be upset if she is reluctant to give you "props" fresh out of the gate. She needs to know that you have your ego in check and that you won't become the sum of her worst fears somewhere down the line. So don't blame her for believing in "The Big Head Theory" She doesn't stroke your ego the way you want it to be stroked? That's OK. She cares enough about you to not give you too much too soon. Relax... she wants you to stick around for a while. Don't forget... a general has to start out as a soldier before he can earn his stripes. Be humble and she will reward her general by making him King.

BLEU.