Category: poetry (Page 2 of 2)

He says No

He says:
Not unless you ask me
and if you ask me
I will say no
a rather wordy prohibition
but it sounds tougher than just no alone

Yet walls are seldom tough
they simply sit in place
holding one place back
while being a barrier to another
never allowing passage between the two

until the wall grows old and crumbles
with or without permission
–Gee-O-Vaw-Knee
(sending my love to the entire crew)

* * * * *
a great poem from a ghost from the past… Or from the future!

In Freedom,
Frank Moore

seeking collaboration on mass kinky-poetry project

(DeWayne Dickerson wrote:)

i am currently working on a large-scale multi-media, guerilla-style performance poetry project in SF. use the identity themes of race and sexuality specifically to challenge organizations and institutions that are working against us. some of it is illegal, and you shouldn’t trouble yourself with such naughty activity, but if you’re interested in learning more about this adventure, as i am interested in knowing more about your vision, we could make a deal

your ero play sounds wonderful. unfortunately, during the next show on 8/22, i’ll be on a flight to portland. can we please find the time to get together before or after the show? i’m a good old fashioned brain picker – persistent, energetic, and funky. hope to hear from you soon.

* * * * *

sure, we can pick each other’s brains. But I am booked up until after the performance. I am available usually week nights [Tuesday – Friday]… But we will need to set it up because I get booked.

In Freedom,
Frank Moore

Re: wow! (Penny Arcade)

Glad you liked my intro Frank and linda I was very happy doing it and it i found it very exciting!
xpenny

* * * * *

penny and Steve, you captured me! And we revealed the backstage of art [as well as some assholes in art]!

ART IS A BITCH

Someone [an “emerging queer performance artist “] asked:

1. What were the THREE MOST IMPORTANT things you did to get a break and start moving toward recognition as a performance artist?

2. While you were moving toward getting to where you needed to go, how did you make enough money to survive while not taking away TOO much time and energy from your creative work?

3. How do you spend your days now, mostly? e.g., approximately what percentage of each day is spent writing, marketing yourself, planning shows, arranging tours, scoping out and applying for
grants, bringing in outside income, acting as a mentor to other artists, etc.?

4. What do you love MOST about doing what you do now?

5. What do you HATE most about doing what you do now?

I can only answer
art is not a career
not a money maker
but a money taker
an addiction,
a life long master
who does not give
a flying fuck
what I “THE ARTIST”
loves, hates,
what I want do,
where I want to go

the artist’s job is to surrender,
to follow, to melt into art

making money is easy
but the river of art rarely flows
naturally that way
without damming the river up

so keep your day job
get a day job you like doing
because art is your mistress of night
& you ain’t her pimp
she’ll take your money & time
she will take you into the basement
of the unseen

you’ll get old with her
attending her needs
rocking on the porch with her
no goals, no plans, no marketing,
no rush.

Just rocking, just surprises everyday,
just people dropping by,
just floating without knowing,
just doing, just suffering, just enjoying.
Just following.

Just trust the bitch art!

FRANK MOORE
Saturday, March 20, 1999

In Freedom,
Frank Moore

wow!

Penny and Steve, we here just watched the “A Frank Moore, Linda Mac & Penny Arcade Conversation” Four Lower East Side Biography Project Programs ! Very impressive! I love the intro! And how you used my paintings was powerful! We two packed a lot in about art, the underground, etc! We are handing them in to the Berkeley public access channel. And would it be ok for me to archive them on our site? Will you tell me when they will play in N.Y.C.?
Passions don’t burn out
bliss don’t boil away
fuel of life
is for a lifetime

burnt out?
Kill yourself…
or stop using
glamor, hype,
romantic drug
to rush above
everyday reality

FRANK MOORE
Friday, March 19, 1999

In Freedom,
Frank Moore

Re: invite for ‘who’s yer mama’?

hi frank,

i am doing a short poetry set tomorrow in oakland for mothers day, wanted to invite you, all female musicians, dj’s , artists, etc. dancing til 6am, bring yer mama, a mama, or just the mother in you! got some great photos of you which ill send soon. hope all is well… ava bird

* * * * *

here is my mother poem:

CONNIE
by
Frank Moore
Friday, May 19, 2000

Connie completed the fading into death
this afternoon.
She has always lived in her young mind,
always was a black sheep,
raising black sheep,
always wanted to know,
always hungry for education,
NO MATTER WHAT!
WHATEVER IT TOOK!
Deaf to CAN’T,
to dumb rules!

No time for social frills,
no time for BS,
no time for limits.
Just time for deadpan joy of just everyday,
for no-nonsense love,
for pushing and demanding for
possibilities.
She bit,
or pretended not to hear,
just going for what’s right
like a tank…
running you over.

You were a fool
if you believed
her mcgoo act!
Hero? Yes!
Always growing beyond
working in a doctor’s office,
after getting a college education,
after the leaving of Jim,
threatened by his black sleep wife,
after pushing me onto THE REAL WORLD,
after raising Jerry and me,
after getting out of Utah as a free thinker!

Just taking Tums and aspirins,
Connie at 79 lived a very rich life…
always young in life…
now always
will be young!

Jerry and I are so lucky
to be in the black sheep family of
CONNIE!

In Freedom,
Frank Moore

* * * * *

wow frank, that is a great poem, deeply touching and full of love. beautiful!

thank you so much for sharing, i really felt it…..

see you soon,

ava

* * * * *

shucks!

In Freedom,
Frank Moore

* * * * *

frank

if you are on facebook, i’ll add you as a friend.. are you there? i have one of your photos up on my photo wall, oh, by the way, i still need to send those photos to you, though i figured you had alot from that day at people’s park.

great to see all your work and witness a genius in action,

ava bird

* * * * *

yep, I am on facebook, etc.

hey on Saturday 30th we are doing a live jam session at the house as a part of a worldwide online 24 hour music streaming Marathon. Our section will be a hour jam starting at eight P.M. would you jam with me? I will be on the piano and will vocalize unverbally. You could vocalize unverbally also. And we will have musical instruments you can play [I don’t care about “being good “]. If you are game, you should be here by 7:30.

In Freedom,
Frank Moore

* * * * *

COOL! would love to be there, i love live jams! i could bring my drums and other sounds too, thank you so much for inviting me, i love this!

i have a reading with clive matson in san rafael but we should be over by 6:30 and will speed over to your place. can you tell me where you live again?

i’ve played in lots of jams though a poet and not a musician but still love clanking around.

so much looking forward,

ava bird

* * * * *

great, ava! There will be a lot for you to clank on! It will be fun! And if everything works, we’ll be on a big screen in Paris live!… “All your performances will be casted in a public venue on 3 screens (mixed by several directors at Point Ephemere in Paris- on the web: http://www.pointephemere.org/- where a sound system also a final output will be displayed and available on the web (it can be used as a source for anyone who wants) every hour there are people streaming from another time zone.” but here we shall just be playing together!

In Freedom,
Frank Moore

what a beautiful and impressive book of poetry!

(to Christopher Robin:)

thank you, Betty, for including my poem “No Can Nots” in LETTERHEAD vol. ! It is a mind-blowing book! It is a Honor be in it!

Folks, here is the poem:

NO CAN NOTS

By

FRANK MOORE

Sunday, April 28, 2002

Talking to future healers

& teachers

& maybe future

muckrakers & troublemakers

Well,

Not really future

Because hopefully

You are doing IT

RIGHT NOW!

Hopefully

I’m not talking to the future guards

Of the corporate normalcy

Armed with can nots,

Limiting futures from birth,

Enforcing coloring only within the lines,

Enforcing doing everything

THE RIGHT WAY

THE NORMAL WAY

In Freedom,
Frank Moore

Re: a tradition

Richard Winger wrote:
I have never been a person who knew anything about poetry. But to the extent I can read, this seems like great poetry to me…did you write it?

* * * * *

yep, i wrote it!

In Freedom,
Frank Moore

a tradition

SEASON OF HIDDEN HOPE
a radio musical
by
FRANK MOORE
November 23, 1993

1

Walking along
cold dark homeless
roads
clogged with ice fears,
my only friend
is the wind
chilling my bones
into longing
and lost
and beyond…
into a cynical loneliness.

Herding my sheep,
looking in windows
of unattainable desires,
looking at presents
useless
because
I don’t have anyone to give them to,

looking into the past
soft colored warm homes
that are no longer mine.

Everyone has left,
everyone is gone.

Even the sun has left
long ago,
long before the manger.

And the sun
will not come back
ever
again.

This is the season
of dark depression
and fragile suicide.

Yes,
I know
I can always bum up
the $29.95
to buy
the plastic hope and faith
at 7 Eleven
and pretend
it is my wonderful life
playing
in the video store’s window.

But instead
I wrap myself
in a jaded pretense
of dry ice isolation
of not caring,
and drinking
the stale
but warm wine of regrets.

2

The birth
of new hope
has always been hidden within
the long cold
winter darkness.

Huddle together,
clinging to our tribal warmth
as our only protection
against dying
into the scary
black
unknown,
we always have been blind
to the evergreen
hope of life.

It has always been
the first time
the sun
and easy hope
have gone away.

So we always think
they will never
come again.

The evergreen hope
has been hidden
away
in the womb
of the humble
and in children’s dreams.

The forces of greys
have always overheard
the possibility
of the hidden hope…
have always searched
for it
to pervert it
into human isolation…
or,
failing that,
to kill it
for all time.

But the forces of power
always overlook
the hidden human hope
rocking
in the baby’s cradle.

As power
goes on a desperate killing,
chopping
hacking
gorging,
eating
the old world up……
we huddle together
in the silent night
upon the hill,
rocking together
in our tribal body warmth.

The shaman,
the holy woman,
the medicine man
have always shifted
our attention away
from the dark
cold
outward
fear,
have always shifted
our gaze
to the guiding light
of new birth…
at first
in the stars,
then in the roaring
tribal fire
which pulled
all human feelings
within it,
and still later
into that corny
home hearth
crackling
with bright colors
popping.

Into this fire
we have always gone,
hearing
the drumming
of our innocent heart
beating
in a slow excitement,
meeting
again
our love of life.
We curl up
with our love
and wait
for warm spring
to arrive…
as hope grows
into knowing.

In Freedom,
Frank Moore

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