AFTER SEPTEMBER
my book of poetry about September 11th, 2001...and after Available NOW at Amazon.com -click here
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Saturday, April 19, 2008

DD B'day and Fund Raiser



Big Head Todd and the Monsters rocked the Core Club last night, but not before singing Happy Birthday to Dee Dee Ricks of Ricks and Ray Partners. Dee Dee not only celebrated her birthday but auctioned off a Maserati, amoung other things, to raise money for the Ralph Lauren Cancer Center in Harlem.



After screening a documentary in the making about Dee Dee's own ordeal with breast cancer, we were treated to cocktails and canapes as Big Head coverd Zeppelin, Clapton, James Brown (the Godfather of Soul), Jimmy Hendrix and Old Blue Eyes, Frank Sinatra. He also played his own hits including "Broken Hearted Savior".

Friday, April 18, 2008

More More More Poetry

I am not a slammer

I am not a slammer

I do not spew vocal verisimilitude

With attitude

To you and you

My style will not capture your imagination

Because

I believe

Your imagination

Was born and deserves

To be free

I am not a word programmer

I do not seek to explain or entertain

I do not assign blame

Or accept shame

My delivery is not silvery smooth

There is no monster groove

There is nothing to improve

I do not rhyme

There is no time

Not that I don’t have the time

I just contend

That time does not exist

I simply persist to resist

I am there fore

I speak

I am not a slammer

Or a fighter

Or a competitor

Not a matador

I am here to collaborate

To accentuate

To propagate

To fornicate

With your

Ideas

Thursday, April 17, 2008

SPRINGING from "This is a VERY Sexy Place Department"

Last night was a laugh at SAMPLE. Jen and Ken were having a post dinner cocktail and I was invited to join. For those of you who don't know SAMPLE is one of Smith Street’s intimate wine and Cheese bars home to a loyal following of nefarious lounge lizards, students, professors, and Met's fans. I have a particular, shall we say fondness for the proprietor, Maya, whose elfin charm and dreamy smile infuse the libations with an air of sensuality worthy of her creation. Jen and I put on quite a show I think. It was hard to tell. SPRING and something else was in the air. We usually go there during Happy Hour on a Sunday, but last night we heard "Last Call" for the first time in a cat's age. If you want to sample SAMPLE, take the F to Bergen Street. Be in the last car of the train. Take the left staircase as you exit the station. Make a right and past the Dunkin Donuts, you should note a sandwich board with the daily specials written in colored chalk. Tell Maya I said...I am an...

April Fool


Welcome, Goddess, to your day, your week, your month.

This is the spirit of the night that writes to remind that

You who gives love and joy to the world.

Receive her bounty and take from her pleasure.

In lands fraught with all the ugliness of war, disease and hate,

I have been more blessed with your beauty than I can express or relate

And you, bright star in the sky of Earth's natural splendor,

I do not define, I remind; I just say what you have given,

You define yourself, powerful woman,

Whom I would rather have the love of

Than respect of man.

...hello.

The reason I did not have dinner with Jen and Ken was because I was at the QP (Quiet Party) held again at the upstairs of Madame X on Houston. This floating gathering draws a regular crowd of smart, sexy, urban adventurers willing to try just about anything. You can have a great time just reading the leftover cards. The QP, a brain child of Artists Paul Rebhan and Tony Noe is enjoying its ninth year and has spread to places all over the world. This event repeats periodically. Check out their site for the latest.

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Hail and Well Met

WELCOME,

Mud

Having been young more than once

Nobody wants to grow old

Least of all me,

I would like to savor my childhood

In late recognition of that gauche position

Opposition to my outward appearance

Silent in the face of furious catastrophe

Casual stakes at a game of dice in Harlem

Vetted tales of turbulence within the hollow

Illegal single room occupancy of my mind…

There is no heat in the winter and no cool

Water will not flow through pipes choked

With lead, rust, and about a dozen other

Toxins which wait to be discovered

Neatly deposited deep within my body ready for recycling

The cellar floor made down of damp clay-like dirt

Which when the washing machine overflows

Or stinging deluges from up north fall in barrels

Or when high tide creeps over our sea wall…

I sink down to my hips without a sound that sucks

Like Mud-cats, bottom feeding at Willow Brook Pond

My father drunk asleep with the car door open

A can of Bud still in his hand

I fish with the corn kernels and Pillsbury dough

Of our quality Saturday morning

Tuesday, April 15, 2008

POEM 4 Today

It's National Poetry Month and in honor of all who put pen to page in a creative way, even though I leave now for work for a few days I leave you with this:

Work Day

We arrive in the neighborhood

Early

Before Dawn sometimes

Shortly after local

Night-owls have gone

To sleep

Too soon to start work

Yet preparations

Need to be

Must be made

Silent as Monks we

Make precise, measured

Movements

Any disruption of which

Draws grumbles of

Disapproval

From grizzled old

Mechanics

Brick must be stacked

Just so

With-in the individual reach

Of each man

Mortar mixed just so

Not wet like slop

Nor dry like clay

But tempered to

The humidity

Of our present day

I am young

Even if the world

Is not so



We take care and are aware

of danger in every inattentive step

But when you look around

from on high

at the glittering jewel of a city

your heart pounds just a little harder

to know your stone and your mortar

are now part of this Manhattan

And I live for 8 O’clock

in the morning

When I can be

Out On West 71st Street

To watch that beautiful

Woman walk her dog

her claves golden

in high heeled sunrise

her smile warm and inviting

my youth growing

between my thighs

I clutch my paper cup of coffee


And live for her

And the rest

Of the morning show

Monday, April 14, 2008

From the "NOW...You Get Nothing!" Department

Quarrel: With the West Side Stadium plan long dead and buried it seems the Rail Yards in Manhattan are destined to remain desolate and undeveloped. From the DOB Press briefing we read:

West Side Redevelopment Plans Appear in Disarray

The New York Times reported that plans to transform the warehouses, factories, parking lots and railroad tracks between Pennsylvania Station and the Hudson River into a high-rise business district are in disarray. Because of the economic downturn, logistical problems and design flaws, the expansion of the Javits Center has died, the plan to rebuild Penn Station and the area around it is in jeopardy and there are deep questions about financing, public and private, to extend the subway or build over the rail yards. Many urban planners, architects, community leaders and developers say the downtown may have a silver lining, providing an opportunity for the city to rethink and reconfigure sweeping proposals many of them had doubts about all along.


POEM 4 2day:


Re: Buke

I wish my arms

were longer

I wish my legs were

Longer

So as better

To wrap myself

Around you

I am short

But

I have a thick cock

And

A loving heart.