Monday, April 28, 2008

alma mater


Notre Dame, Our Mother

Notre Dame, our Mother
Tender, strong and true
Proudly in the heavens,
Gleams thy gold and blue.
Glory's mantle cloaks thee
Golden is thy fame,
And our hearts forever,
Praise thee, Notre Dame.
And our hearts forever,
Love thee, Notre Dame.

Sunday, April 27, 2008

Extraordinary

It’s amazing to see how much our class has matured this past semester. We were able to expand our knowledge of the poetry world. I like the poetry industry because it is still largely and underground business with chapbooks, homemade works, and things of that sort. Moving on to which performance I liked best, I would have to say that Nate’s final performance was quite phenomenal. His use of personal experience, pop culture, and great acting skills had captured me during his performance. Nate’s strong voice, passion, aggressiveness, and fearless voice made his performance known and heard by the entire class. He was able to boldly put his view of cigarette smoking, or acting one the opposing side of his belief, all this with a hint of humor. He brings in Denzel Washington as his main criticism, and even acts out his performance in “Training Day”. Honestly, I have not seen the movie myself, but Nate performed it so well and clearly such that I can just see Denzel acting right in front of class. I could definitely see a Saul Williams in Nate…or a Nate in Saul Williams? I think Nate would make a great slam poet if he pursues it. After all, his first performance was out of this world already. I could only imagine how good he would be if he were to pursue this.

I enjoyed this blogging experience and it definitely has passed us by oh so quickly. It seems weird that we’re posting something for an English class rather than handing in MLA formatted twenty page formal papers. But for this class, blogging fit it perfectly. One of our goals was to explore poetry in the modern world through contemporary media and blogging is a HUGE part of it. Using the internet as a medium puts us right into the shoes of a modern poetry critic, poet, or poetry fanatic. I found it much easier to type out my ideas and thoughts about our topics when it came to blogging. Having the web browser was greatly helpful when it came to researching a certain poet, small press, or performances. You can just add an extra tab, and search in Google, and a googolplex of information will be right at your fingertips. Hehe. To some extent, I think that it would have been nice to have started blogs earlier in the semester, because it really gave me the feel of being a poetic analyzer. Having my own blog enabled myself to personalize the page to my own liking; using many kinds of colors, layouts, pictures, etc.

Loved this class!

Saturday, April 26, 2008

USS Yorktown


Unfortunately, I wasn't able to bring back the dummy hand grenade
That I had purchased at the tourist attraction
Poohey
I was written up
For having something looking like a realistic explosive

Monday, April 21, 2008

Time

The flower sits on the window
In the soil rescued from the beating sun
Flower, sun

Grandmother’s touch
Her hands rough from
The days farming the land
Hiding in bomb shelters
Birds flying with missiles
The red white blue, the land of the rising sun
Education was absent
But none was needed, to know
The amount of lives lost
In this conflict
Her life, so delicate

Seventy years later
She smiles
In the company of friends
She farms the backyard
Glancing up to see
The pigeons, gracefully flocking
And worries of possums, and insects
Eating her crop
Over the years
Her hands wrinkle slightly
Although rough, still soft in touch and
Nurtures the plants like
They are her babies
Waters them, protects them, and loves them

Like when she once carried me on her shoulders
Her tiny frame
Able to subdue the riots
My older brother and I began
Over control of the game boy
She loves
Talking of old times
When I used to raise my little hands up
To be carried around the house
Or when I was loud, crying, or shouting
Putting me on her shoulders
Would put me into a nap
And she would place me
On the couch
And return to her work

Her cooking
Oh! How great it was
The fried rice
The chow mein
That I can smell upstairs

Orange chicken
Was invented in the United States
And no, she does not know how to cook it
She goes to church
Praying for our family

My grandfather
Who smoked a pack a day
Since he was a teen
And one day
Hung precariously on that cliff
Over the ominous sea of darkness
In the hospital
But willed himself
Back to the life of righteousness
Threw away those smokes
Overnight, just like that
He awaited the call to invade Japan
The night before Hiroshima
Waiting, silently
Knowing some may never make it out alive
Or himself, that heavy heart
Sitting there, and dodge this bullet
But another one
Will strike sixty five years later
In the form of smoke
Leaving the tar of emphysema
Although the cut has been stopped
The wound still leaves a scar

We sit at the dinner table
Speaking the native tongue
That I’m thankful for
Able to absorb their wisdom
Thankful for their lives
And what they have left

East meets west

Watching the sun set
The colors permeate the sky
And drift into the sound of
The distant television
The sun fades
And the time glass
Nears its end

*_jeff chen

hmmm

For now, I have a partially completed poem that relates to my childhood life back home. It mainly discusses my grandmother and an abridged description of herself and her life growing up. I want to make a video of this performance by using my laptop’s video camera and then posting it on YouTube. Although I have not finalized the ideas just yet, I think that I will somehow incorporate drawing, signs, and background music to the video. My main goal is to successfully perform this poem (or maybe a little story?) with as much dedication I can put into it. It is hard having to write and perform (and edit!) this poem while you have a math test on the same day, as well as a theology presentation, and a paper due a day later. Nonetheless, I can still walk away saying to myself that I had done the best that I could.


toodles yo


Sunday, April 20, 2008

Allen Ginsberg


Allen Ginsberg. I like the way that he uses humor very often in his poetry. When I first read the piece, before listening to the audio, there were many lines that I would not have noticed humor unless it was read. For example, “I don’t feel good don’t bother me” was a line where I sensed a sort of whining in his poetry. I am not sure if his goal was to have this feeling throughout the poem, but I did notice that it did come to me that he had a whiny voice to some of his comments. I find that sort of tone to be quite hilarious. Having to read or talk about something almost serious about his own life, then suddenly says something like “I am talking to myself again”. Ginsberg has a slightly different style than Saul Williams. Saul Williams has a more demanding tone rather than Ginsberg’s more casual tone. Albeit they have different performance styles their content is somewhat similar. They both talk about society and how it is affecting them. I find that Williams seems to focus his work on a call to the people. Hence the “coded language” are lessons from people of the past who’s work, accomplishments, and events that we people today should learn from. I find these poets to be more dissimilar than alike, but I do enjoy listening to both.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Performance Poetry

I find poetry performances to be quite interesting. Every artist and performer has his or her own style. There could be a beat or just hand gestures to help the performer convey his words to the audience. Of all the performers, I greatly enjoyed watching Beau Sia and Saul Williams perform their pieces. It seems that a great performer is passionate about his or her work, thoughts, and method of getting the word to the audience. All the performances given by Professor McSweeney were thought provoking. But what I thought was a characteristic of a good performer was his or her passion that was portrayed in the performance. My personal preference of a good performer was one that was able to have the words be audible by myself and the audience. Some performers spoke too quickly, or mumbled at times, but it’s important for both the performer and audience to have the thought or message understood.

Beau Sia was able to do this very effectively. He spoke clearly and was able to incorporate humor and his thoughts of society and media and perform his poetry at a very upbeat and heart pounding pace. I guess there is a slight bias in my propensity towards liking Beau Sia because he talks about Asian stereotypes in his personal life, film, and society. I just love the way he talks about Asian stereotypes and is able to add humor to it ( I joke about Asian stereotypes all the time, and many are true to be honest…haha). His large voice (figuratively speaking of course) wa heard by everyone in the room. Projecting his voice with such passion, crescendo and emotion made him larger than he actually is. I think that Beau Sia has been successful due to media and television. Although he is quite accomplished in many competitions of slam poetry, I doubt that he would have been able to gain national fame without being able to perform on television and have different industries be exposed to his skill of performing.

Compared to other performers like Harryette Mullen and Tao Lin, each has their own style. Harryette uses a slower beat, but still keeps rhythm and occasionally breaks into song. Whereas Tao will only use a monotone voice...but the core material still captivates the audience. Beau Sia... on the other spectrum when compared to Tao, uses a large voice and speaks his mind...without fear or embarrassment.


Tuesday, April 15, 2008

# 18

shall i compare thee to a summer's day?
thou art more lovely and more temperate
rough winds do shake the darling buds of May
and summers lease hath all too short a date
sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines
and often is his gold complexion dimmed
and every fair from fair sometime declines
by chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed
but they eternal summer shall not fade
nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st
nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade
when in eternal lines in time thou grow'st
so long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
so long lives this, and this gives life to thee

shall I give in to this disarray?
thou art so complex, so intricate
rough winds cause the palms to sway
and summers spent into the evenings so late
sometime too much your eyes twinkle
and often do I fall for them
and every time I scrape my knees on the decline
by chance, I caught you in a hum
while on the beach, the warm sand ran through our toes
but they cannot make our love fade
so long as we are close

Sunday, April 13, 2008

Muse & Drudge, By: Harryette Mullen

Harryette Mullen has a unique style in “rewriting” the blues. Honestly, I had not known much about the blues until we had Grant Osborne come in and go through some typical poems and bops. I find it quite interesting how, although the beats can differ throughout many pieces of music and poetry, many blues pieces still follow the twelve bar blues. The standard twelve bar blues mainly consists of three line stanzas in which the lines would follow a systematic progression of chords and sounds. I am not an expert in this domain, but I have learned from Mr. Osborne that the first two lines have some word(s) that rhyme of have a repeating phrase. With this rhyme comes the function of stating a problem in the singer or author’s life. The third stanza would usually answer this problem with a solution of some kind. These are some of the characteristics of a twelve bar blue piece, but many artists and writers manipulate the twelve bar blues to fit their own personal style. In Harryette Mullens book Muse & Drudge, she uses a style similar to the twelve bar blues. Instead, she sticks to a four line stanza with each poem having only four stanzas. Her style as can be seen throughout her works, consists of many incomplete sentences and utilizes phrases to put her pieces together. What I do find interesting is her play on words. I get somewhat giddy when I do find her use of puns. For example, on page 103, in her poem it reads:

sun goes on shining
while the debbil beats his wife
blues played left-handed
topsy-turvy inside out

under the weather
down by the sea
a broke johnny walker
mister meaner

bigger than a big man
cirrus as a heart attracts
more power than a loco motive
think your shit don’t stink

edge against a wall
wearing your colors
soulfully worn out
stylishly distressed

I wanted to point out the “mister meaner” part of the poem. I was quite aware of her style of using puns, and when I read over this, I couldn’t help myself but let out a small chuckle. Mister meaner could also be another way for a person to say that he’s a “Mr. Meanie” or, if sounded out, could also mean misdemeanor, which has the meaning of a crime or violation that would be less than a felony. Other phrases that had caught my attention was “loco motive, soulfully worn out” and “stylishly distressed”. Locomotive being one word can mean a large vehicle doing some sort of work or having the feeling of a bossy figure. Loco motive being two words can mean that there is a machine of some sort that is crazy. Soulfully worn out can literally mean being worn out emotionally in the soul where as sounding like “so fully” worn out would mean the same thing without having it being related to the soul. Her use of soul in that phrase adds character and makes the reader think about this particular line (your soul is worn out rather than just emotionally worn). Mullen’s final play of words comes from the phrase “stylishly distressed”; while most would say stylishly dressed, her use of adding –ist- gives it an entirely new meaning. Distressed means feeling a state of adversity or pain, and the with the addition of stylishly, it’s almost like a juxtaposition.

One other thing that I did notice was her phrase of “lawdy lawdy hallelujah when I lay”. The lawdy aspect of this phrase could come from Leadbelly’s use of it in his refrain in his song “Pick a Bale of Cotton”. I found this almost like her way of referring to something that she has deep respect for. Although changing some aspects of the twelve bar blues to fit her style, she successfully displays respect for the blues culture while having fun with her play on words.

“Oh, Lawdy, pick a bale a cotton
Oh, Lawdy, pick a bale a day” - Leadbelly

Wednesday, April 09, 2008

Singin' n' writin' 'em Blue's

It seems that blues is a type of music that utilizes an entire unique array of instruments not normally seen used together in such harmony. I find that many blues lyrics are quite offbeat (some instruments may be on a different beat than others), while others can be quite calm or use plain singing solo with a piano.. The blues music seems to be able to set a tone and mood with the beat. Because of the many uses of many instruments, it seems as if the style of blues can be pretty much any type of instrument. Some of the main instruments that I heard were the trumpet, piano, drums, and guitar. Not all the singing was up to par, which leads me to assume that anyone could play the blues. I have heard of the blue’s culture, where it always seems to be an exciting time.

In the song “Everybody’s Down on Me”, it seems to be more talking and singing rather than instrumental music. He talks about some of the events in his life; in this case, the singer complains of the burden to God and how everybody is “down on him”. From this song, I can somewhat assume that the blue’s is a type of music where people would put a beat to telling stories. These stories could be personal, emotional, or just about life in general. It’s quite a different type of music.

St. Louis Blues
By W.C. Handy

I hate to see the evening sun go down
I hate to see the evening sun go down
‘Cause, my baby, he’s gone left this town

Feeling tomorrow like I feel today
Feeling tomorrow like I feel today
I’ll pack my truck and make my getaway.

St. Louis woman, with her diamond ring
Pulls that man around, by her apron strings
If it weren’t for powder, and for store bought hair
That man I love would, have gone nowhere, nowhere

I got the St. Louis Blues, just as blue as I can be
That man’s got a heart like a rock cast in the sea
Or else, he wouldn’t have gone so far from me

I love my baby, like a school boy loves his pie
Like a Kentucky colonel, loves his mint’n rye
I love my man, ‘til the day I die

One other thing that I had not noticed (which I should have, really) is the fact that the blue’s uses slang (e.g. ‘cause, ‘til, etc). Could the blues be about being blue? I would not be too sure about that, but this particular poem confirms the observation that the blue’s also utilizes repition. This five stanza poem with three lines each, with the exception of the third stanza, seems to be one of many types of blue’s poems. Looking at the other poems in the packet, the others seem to be stories that any person would tell to friends and family.

Monday, April 07, 2008

home

DSC00656

soon I will be there, home

Sunday, April 06, 2008

Perimeter of a circle: Circumference [mag]

This particular publisher has focused their intentions mainly on translations of poems and works written in languages other than English. The main mission is to dig out works worldwide and find new meanings and trains of thoughts that couldn’t be described in English or have fallen under the English “radar” and influence. They want to manifest the beautiful words first stated in a foreign language and then give the translation so English readers can understand the work that would not be understood without the help of translation through Circumference [mag]. I find it quite significant for them to go to the extent of breeching federal law (unintentionally of course). Should they be able to provide publishing for embargoed countries such as Iran and Cuba? Although there is some sort of opposition inflicted upon these countries by the United States, words…should not be restricted. Words… thoughts… written thoughts are powerful. It doesn’t seem right that works from the embargoed countries should be restricted.

The poem written by Humberto Ak’abal is quite an amazing poem when it comes to dreaming of places. This poem talks of the possibility the sky is not so far after all if you climb a cypress, but in Momostenango, you will touch the sky if you climb a cypress. Unlike the other translations and works in Circumference [mag], this poem takes on the face of three languages; First in Maya Ki’che, then Spanish, and finally English. My thought is that the original was written in Maya Ki’che, and was translated to Spanish by Mr. Ak’abal. The poem seems to have been an oral legend passed down by generations speaking about Momostenango. I want to say that for Spanish speakers, the most important translation would be Mr Ak’abal’s translation from Maya Ki’che to Spanish. Without the bridge, it could not have made its way into the Spanish speaking worlds and eventually to the English speaking culture. It’s nice how a translation can bring two opposite cultures together to understand one poem.

Saturday, April 05, 2008

spring has arrived

I want to say that poetry is quite interesting. Most of the time, I find that there are many things that I do not understand about poetry. I do know that not all poetry is meant to be understood. I guess what I do find important in poetry is the hidden meaning in every poem. Every poem has an imagined audience, and most likely a hidden meaning. But at the same time, it could be just plain thoughts, no more meaning than what is stated. Sometimes the simplest things could be the best explanations.

it’ll get different
by: Tao Lin

at work i wonder
if i should take anti-depressant medicine
finally, i decide, no, i shouldn’t
later i am feeling really depressed
do it, i say, take anti-depressant medicine
still later i feel better
anti-depressant medicine, i say, ha, ha
ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha,
an hour later i catch myself thinking extremely hard
about a bright green apple being where my heart should

Many of these lines are just thoughts, of an occurrence throughout the course of a day. In this case, the anti-depressant medicine could be his way to something emotional that he is going through. Instead of taking it, he decides that he shouldn’t and that he can do it. The bright green apple that he refers to could be his way of thinking that he should not open his heart once again. Maybe at one point in his life, he has had a troublesome relationship; hardening his heart could be the only way to prevent himself from becoming depressed or hurt emotionally again.

Thursday, April 03, 2008