"Mission Statement" Guest Blog from Poet Byron Walter... @Hulkdup #Poetry

I believe in Peace, Positivity, and Progress.

I'm a soldier on the front-line fighting for it.

Also, the beam of light in the tunnel here to guide you from anything keeping you away from that consciousness.

So, with that being said, I have no adversaries.

Only awaited allies.

Patiently waiting to be awaken and open their minds to a spiritually healthier way of life.

And anyone opposed, I'll just give time.

Time to escape out of their mind, where they allowed their thoughts to keep them imprisoned.

Because the difference, between a hero and villain, is the way they chose to deal with adversity.

Because at one point and time, they were both a victim.

But remember, once you truly become oblivious to nonsense.

There will be some lost souls, trying to provoke character flaws that their mirror image reveals in them.

Don't fall to those cowardly gestures.

So, just relax and breathe before you begin.

For every triumph, is a battle that's won from within.

Byron Walter.

Why #Slam is Important to the Culture of #Poetry

“Competition has been shown to be useful up to a certain point and no further, but cooperation, which is the thing we must strive for today, begins where competition leaves off”

-        Franklin D. Roosevelt

I have heard many arguments, from many artists, who are for or against competitive poetry events. (Slams) I see both sides of the argument and tend to ride the fence a bit when it comes to my own opinion. My opinion is in line with what Franklin D. Roosevelt had to say in the quote above. I will also say this. The poetry at a slam is a different experience than an open mic. The tensions are higher, the material is more dramatic and the subject matter is more compelling. At a slam you are seeing many artists in their most focused and most aware state. To watch one is to take a ride on an emotional roller coaster. Typically, you will witness the best verses from the most dynamic poets in any city that plays host. Sure, in a competitive environment, it is easy for an artist to forget about what really matters. More consumed with winning than sharing a verse that may change someone’s life. However, slam can be a beautiful thing, where comradery, creativity and character are all elevated to new levels. Do I want to win the next slam I participate in? Of course I do! And I will certainly be going for the gold. Yet winning does not dominate my inspiration. Sharing on a high level does. So if you live in, around or near Sacramento California, come out tomorrow or any 4^th Friday of the month to Café Luna’s and enjoy. If you do not live in this particular area and you have an appreciation for the spoken word; I recommend you find the slam nearest you.

 Witness for yourself and see the poetic version of a modern day gladiator.

One who use words instead of weapons…

One who uses personas instead of shields…

One who views connection and winnings as the glory of war.

GB

https://www.facebook.com/groups/ETWslam/

Just My Thoughts: Once Upon a Time...

Just My Thoughts: Once Upon a Time...: Once Upon a Time a little boy was nine/ with a brain still soft intellectually/ His young perspective being shaped like fresh...

Once Upon a Time...

Once Upon a Time a little boy was nine/ with a brain still soft intellectually/

His young perspective being shaped like freshly blown glass/ The little boy’s heart glows with passion in the same way/ he watches his elders entertain themselves with philosophy and tales of the times that were/ his little face beams with innocence as he watches the blueprint for his integrity/ the way hot glass turns from glowing red to crystal clear so does his lineage/ Cool as smooth glass, his soul is as calm as those who have true wisdom/ Cool like an epiphany that makes you aware of the singular conscious between all living things.

Once Upon a time a little boy was nine/ he traveled through time metaphorically/

His curious eyes study the silver whiskers of the guardians he will eventually become/ he examines the faces of alpha males at play/ he sees skin bathed in sunlight like his own/ shades of bronze and earth protect warriors with rebellious hearts and bold ideas/ arthritic fingers influence the mahogany of chess pieces with velvet on their undersides/ Scattered about are deacons and ministers who sit across from war veterans and factory workers/ a love of language flowing through everyone’s veins/ The little boy can feel the subtle vibrations of their baritone voices/ they duel in verse as rooks, bishops and pawns glide over diamond squares of dark and light/

Once Upon a time a boy was 9/ He wandered into the kitchen predictably/

Always curious about the female form/ always searching for women with hearts like his mother’s/ Loud laughter and folly filled the air besides the aromas of the oven/ Meals for small armies sit atop the same flames that heat curling irons and Virginia Slim Menthol's/ revolution is the air and the little boy can smell it here as well/ 

Once Upon a Time a man turned 39/ trying to recreate the happiness hey used to see/

The youth were no longer interested in double Dutch buses/ baseball cards and Bugs Bunny on Sunday morning/ the women looked at kitchens like a lioness would look at a choke collar/ the men speak on the tendencies of dick riders every time cooperation happens/ making teamwork seem uncool like raising your hand in class with the answer/ fear nesting in so many hearts the warriors now are a faithful few/

Once upon a time a man turned 39/ and he forgave himself/

He didn't beat himself up over his choices anymore/ he embraces the ways of old but knows that evolution is imminent/ his appreciation for homeland and horizon have a better balance/ Moving forward towards the book of the future the letters that spell fulfillment come into focus/ life has rewarded him with optimism and the gift of verse/ a slave to passion he may well be but he’s not a slave to validation or opinions that are not sincere/

Once Upon a Time a man came to find/

How to live in the moment and be conscious of the here and now.

GB

1000 Words. (Last Night's Digression)

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. If that is true, then this blog has just over 1300 of them. Now picture this. Picture an artist obsessed with his legacy, completing project after project without the support of his peers. Picture an artist who was constantly told he was talented. Picture an artist who was constantly told he’d never make it by those same people. Picture an artist left for dead by his creative family and treated like an outsider for much of his journey.

Now picture a creative family located far from that artist's home; embracing that artist as one of their own...

Picture pure inspiration manifesting like electricity, lighting up the city of Sacramento. Microphones becoming light bulbs that glow as words flow through them. Picture like-minded thinkers gathering around that glow; realizing the power in unity as the kinetic energy inspires their soul.

Some picture a film screening. Others picture an album release party and a choice few refuse to see anything positive at all. I picture the beginnings of a movement. I picture how revolutions get started. I picture train tracks being laid as a nation starts to build it infrastructure in preperation for war.

Sure... I can talk about my catalog and pat myself on the back till my shoulder gets sore. However, last night was bigger than me or anything I have done as an individual, creatively thus far. I am finally a part of something that matters. I am finally surrounded by artists who bring more to the table besides silverware, salt and pepper…

 Peace to all who supported the 

“A Moment of Clarity” project. 

Those who watched the short performance film and/or purchased the music.

Available on iTunes (just click the cover)

A special thanks to all of my family who has been riding with me thus far. I’m not sure where any of this is going to take me. But I will document and “picture” the wonderful journey along the way…

GB