Cult Movies on the Make

I have watched this movie three times and still want to see it.  This is rare for me.  But this movie is awesomely ridiculous with a heart.   Not since  Spicolli in fast Times at Ridgemont High have I been so enamored with a character.  But in Moonwalkers it is more than one character. The big question: Did we or did we not land on the moon? And does it even matter?  For an answer watch Moonwalkers...

The Road Goes on Forever and the Party Never Ends.

The Well of Lost Plots by Jasper Fforde

My rating: 4 of 5 stars


Funny and good for the laundry and other house chores. I enjoyed. I had a difficult time getting into the first two now I will begin the series from the start. Interesting enough I have read books from Wales and Scotland this year, now I need to read a book from England. Then onto Ireland.



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Na Po Wri Mo- Pastiche: Library Thing-first lines

 First Lines In First Lines in My Most Recently Entered Library Thing Entries.

There were five bedrooms.
The night that Lyndon came,
The witches were waiting.
 "the fatal flaw," that showy dark crack
  I told you last night
 "Bring your bathing suit"

I cheated death.
 It was there when I woke up
I first discovered I was trash…
 After the long quiet of the grave,
 After an unequivocal experience…
It is graduation day at Annapolis
There was a razorstorm coming in.


The cow-speckled landscape is an ashy grey color.
A steady drizzle fell from a gunmetal-grey sky 
With a single drop of ink for a mirror
 It began as a mistake.



I used Library Thing to help me create a poem utilizing the first line of a number of stories.  Then Juxtaposing those lines in a picture of something different.  Thank you to all the others I used. You can find them on Gregorio Roth's books library thing.  I did not want to take away from the poem by distracting the author who would have to continually look down the page to see who the author or book the quote came from.  I have not edited any of the lines. I just put them in a new order.

NaPoWriMo #15 Couplets

Sir Richard Quince's Footfall
      
Why go to the theartre?
                       ye utter.
Why not a movie?
or even T.V.?
 There once was a prince
named Sir Richard Quince.
His belly was like a pear
it hung over his chair;
his farts were acid,
and his penis flaccid.
But each night he performed
recasting, rewriting, re-formed.
The script he could not memorize,
as his brain was small and unwise.
But he held his spot,
and gave it a good shot.
Until one night during curtain call,
he lost his footing, his downfall.
As the lights fluttered
we could hear him utter;
         "Oh Shit"
          "I quite."
    


Note:  I am the Sir Richard Quince in this story, at least partly.  In college I could not memorize lines so I would ad lib as I went.  Then one night the exit of the stage was not well lit.  The director wanted me to exit only I missed the steps, and fell into the air uttering "oh, shit."
Why is Sir Richard Quince described as he is?
A quince is a noun:   aromatic acid-tasting pear-shaped fruit used in preserves.  So that is why I described him pear shaped and his farts acidic.  I am not sure why I used the word Flacid, just adding to the humor.   

Atomic Chains: NaPOWRIMO 14

O, I ate a Pig's Eyeball?!

A San San to My dream Last Night:

Snow accumulated along the tracks
life after chaos echoed
Nuclear winter buses.
Snow relocations of our packs,
life after chaos bellowed.
We huddled at our leisure's 
Nuclear winter musses,
we huddled to escape zephyrs.

Book Review: Chuck Klosterman - Killing Yourself to Live 85% Of a True Story

Killing Yourself to Live: 85% of a True Story by Chuck Klosterman

My rating: 3 of 5 stars


Chuck Klosterman is a voice of my generation. He was born a little before me, and because of this his voice (at times annoying) gives reason to some of my abstract thoughts. This book is a road trip with Klosterman to find why rock and roll died? Or a quest to see how did certain members of the rock and roll community die? What makes rock and roll alive? And how does rock and roll relate to our lives? And how are relationships affected by music? 

His catch-phrase "well anyway.", did get annoying at times. It was good not great.



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NaPoWriMo Day 8

Alas no picture of a Lily in Bloom

Nuns Blush In Spring Gardens

Camera lens captured dew
on Lily's pistil,
florid ready to screw,
with superior skill.
Nuns blush in spring gardens.

Pistil's honey dew drips.
Bees suck onto pollen; 
onto swollen red lips.
Petals lay crestfallen.
Nuns blush in spring gardens.

 Petals perspire, suns rays
make the convent grounds
wet, hot, vapid, ablaze;
dew drips down filaments.
Nuns blush in spring gardens.

Poem influenced by the pictures of Robert Mapplethorpe 







 

Role of the Poet:

April is poetry month here in the United States.

When one mentions poetry, the response from others is a collective fear.

However, I believe the role of the poet is to reawaken the sense ordinary things, the hum drum, the things we trip over when we are on auto pilot.  Poets reconnect us to the things we have become blinded to.  Therefore, all poetry should be understood by all adults.  (Sorry kids but some poems are not understood by you yet, because you need experience to understand the feeling.)

So poetry should be so dull that everyone gets it? No! Poems should be flexible and understood at a variety of levels.  When I say all adults, I mean the poem at a concrete level should be understood by all adults.   If a professorsesque snobs writes poetry to look intelligent and fails entrance to the poem at a concrete level, they should not be writing poetry.  These snits are jerks who think that they are proven smarter when others feel dumb.  They are not cool at all.

An example of a great poem is  William Carlos Williams the Red Wheel Barrow:

so much depends
upon
a red wheel
barrow
glazed with rain
water
beside the white
chickens

This poem could be just a simple portrait of a farmhouse with chickens and tools.  Most adults know what a red wheel barrow is, have seen morning dew, and have experienced white chickens,  But the fun part is trying to figure out why white chickens, and why red wheel barrow.    And it does not matter which level of meaning you gleam from the poem, if it creates a picture, or emotes a feeling than the poet has succeeded.  
By the way:
 William Carlos Williams was a doctor by trade and wrote his poems in between seeing patients.  He also felt that poetry was to be experienced by all and that concrete things, not ideas were the way to awaken the spirit. 

 For an analytical look at Wm. Carlos Williams the Red Wheel Barrow  : (click the link)

NAPOWRIMO #7 A Tritina: CSA soldiers.

Downtown Lakeland stands a monument,
dedicated to soldiers on the skids.
Civil wars, leave footprints.

Scent of citrus, footprints
remembered in this old monument.
I linger in the midst of historic skids.

The North burned the South to its skids;
and all that remained were ashen footprints.

The sky is blue, but its a grey monument.

NaPoWriMo #6

Inspired by a Publix Sandwich
I stopped to pick up a sandwich,
I dressed up for my writers group.
Ciera greated me with pained lips,
Sandwich maker hands,
Chicken Tenders in a bag:
mixed up with texas pete's sauce,
a bit of ranch dressing,
a pinch of blue cheese.
She sliced open the bread
and then she smiled.
She laid out the bags contents,
held by cheddar cheese. Plop!
Isolated elements, placed into oven.
And all the flavors became one.

A Sonnet to Brian Owner of BC REcords and Tapes

Dear Brian (Owner of BC's REcords)

BC's records on the corner of third and main
My brother and I would search thru the bin
of used vinyl, and tapes: music preordained,
Brian a guide to our novice Cashire Cat grin.

 We would move up down surprised
by the Molly Hatchet record cover
looked too mean to take as a prize,
but we looked the record over.

Brian would say, "Start with the blues,
I think ZZ Top is a good place to start."
My mind would seize in breakthroughs
 From Miles Davis's Bitches Brew: ART?

Thank you Brian for taking our ten year old senses
teaching us with graces and taking little offenses. 

NaPoMo: My Familiar Cat

My Familiar Cat:

Oliver follows,
shadowesque;
he trips me up.

Poem One For National Poetry Month April

Grocery Store Neon:  (Lune)

Tiger Tony greets
cereal folk
with sugared dreams.