Peter James Conti was a poet, a painter, a changling. He loved calamari and The Simpsons. He is the best friend I have ever had. I cannot recall when or where we met. It is as if he had always been a part of my life. He was the Mulder to my Scully. Homer to my Marge. He was my heart. I do not know who I will be in this world without him. But I know that my days are full of more love and light and laughter because of his incredible spirit. - Felice Belle From Words on Asphalt
After reading this excerpt from Felice's tribute above and listening to Marty McConnell's touching poem "Alignment", I was inspired to find out more about this beautiful man whose untimely death in winter 2005 was so beautifully mourned by many in the NYC poetry scene.
Peter of the Earth, I never knew you But my heart feels like it did You see, I know you only through verse Free words careening into beautiful Through the living memorial your friends have build to you in poems Precious homage Blessed praise In lyric Through metaphor I hear their voices cracking with every line They feel your absence like empty at their doorstep Yet they honor you with laughter With every line, Praising your voice
Your joy Your free, free way of calling every moment special You poet turned angel, you They have honored you well
Looking for writing workshops for teens in the NYC area? Check out - www.urbanwordnyc.org. So jealous of the NYC poetry scene. How can we get some of this in the Nati?
Info from their site...sounds like they're about the business. If you've been, let me know. I'm curious to hear what it's like.
Enjoy:-)
Founded on the belief that teenagers can and must speak for themselves, Urban Word NYC™ (UW) has been at the forefront of the youth spoken word, poetry and hip-hop movements in New York City since 1999. Urban Word NYC presents literary arts education and youth development programs in the areas of creative writing, journalism, college prep, literature and hip-hop. UW provides FREE, safe and uncensored writing workshops to teens year round, and hosts the Annual NYC Teen Poetry Slam, NY Knicks Poetry Slam, local and national youth slams, festivals, reading series, open mics, and more. UW works directly with 15,000 teens per year in New York City alone, and as a steering committee member of the National Youth Spoken Word Coalition, has partner programs in 45 cities. UW also has a vigorous community educator and teacher training series which links inquiry-based classroom practices with the most progressive academic trends in student-centered pedagogy.
Urban Word NYC believes that free self-expression —— matured in an enhanced critical literacy environment —— improves selfconfidence and strengthens educational achievement for NYC’s inner city youth. We promote active literacy, critical thought, and positive social dialogue across boundaries of age, race, class, gender, culture, and sexuality. Our many workshops are designed to enhance critical thinking skills, leadership, and to ignite a personal commitment to growth and learning which leads to heightened inschool performance, and greater interest in pursuing higher education.
For all of you out there, dealing with a bit of existential angst...Wondering who you are and where you belong...words from Peter of the Earth.
The Calling By Peter of the Earth
Searching for the missing piece that is me I want to know what it’s like to be out from under my own thumb To run to places I dream about when I’m sleeping When I’m awake To wake Up
I’d be floating on a sea I’d be free Like the breeze on my back Be slick Tight Right I’d swim like Dolphins till my skin stretches and wrinkles Feels like pins and needles Piercing my fins till it hurts But I don’t want to stop cause I like it Get all caught up in it Like the sun Washing me through my window at noon Warming me in my bed when I’m not working Like the music from my alarm clock that gives me no choice but to rise and dance Lift the air up from under my feet and fly To see out of my third eye and speak Words kept secret and silent for generations By grandmothers who told you not to unleash them except for when you need Or when you get the spirit or Some spirit gets you More
Stumbled on this chica randomly, but I can way relate to having "a crush on a friend who just wants to be friends." Man!! This poem oozes of everything I wish I could say to him. You know who you are, boo...actually...you really don’t :-( To all girls (and maybe guys) out there...secretly pining for the one.
Enjoy!
For more info on Bassey, check out - http://www.basseyworld.com/main.php
Is Michael Cirelli the reason for the Kelis/ Nas break-up? Is he the baby daddy? Hmmm...
"I can see how some might think that your voice is a milky cherry drowning on the bottom of a chocolate shake or that holding your cd next to my face in the mirror is the picture of a perfect couple..."
I really had to muster up all of the Christianly love in my body to refrain from making a derogatory comment about this one. Suffice it to say that, while I don't really give an F, it is my pop culture duty to report the facts:-) Paula's out because she boo hoo-ed about not getting paid as much as her fellow American Idol cast members. No word on who's going to replace her.
LOS ANGELES, Calif. -- After much speculation, Paula Abdul will not be returning to "American Idol" next season.
The "Idol" judge hit her Twitter page on Tuesday night to break the news.
"With sadness in my heart, I've decided not to return to #Idol," she posted on her Twitter page. "I'll miss nurturing all the new talent, but most of all being a part of a show that I helped from day1become an international phenomenon."
Following the announcement, FOX issued a statement of their own to Access Hollywood confirming Paula would not be in her judge's chair next season for the first time since the show began in 2002. More
It is my firm conviction that literature can actually free us! It can open our eyes to worlds we've never known, open our hearts to the heartbreaks and joys of others, and open our minds to the possibilities that lie ahead. For this small group of homeless adults in Boston, the book club they have formed has allowed them to find a sense of normalcy in their unpredictable lives.
“It’s five people in a book group, not 5,000 people fed, but it’s five people I can pull aside and talk to,’’ said Tibbetts - the group's founder. Indeed Tibbetts. Five people...whose lives will be forever changed by the ability to expand their minds. As you can tell, I'm loving this:-) and I was so so happy to find out that similar book clubs for the homeless are cropping up all over the country. There's even one here in Cincinnati through Ink Tank.
Read more about the Boston club below -
The word is their bond From a rare friendship, a book club for the homeless is born
By Jenna Russell, Boston Globe Staff Write
At the crest of Beacon Hill in a well-appointed room, the Tuesday morning book club is tearing a novel apart.
The critique, on this warm early summer day, is merciless, and as it heats up, the meeting crackles with complaints. There should have been more clues to help the reader unravel the mystery, Donnie insists. Ned, between bites of a glazed doughnut, dismisses a main character as unbelievable. Rob is irked by the same character’s inconsistencies.
“For someone who knows everything about her son, she doesn’t know a damn thing,’’ Rob says, his voice dark with disappointment.
The men drinking coffee at the round wooden table are dressed casually in sweat shirts, jeans, and sneakers. Some of their faces are lined beyond their years. But as they deftly flip through paperbacks assessing literary merit, there is no sign their lives are anything but normal.
For two lively hours every Tuesday morning, in a church meeting room with old oil portraits, they are book club members first and homeless people second.
The story of the book club, now in its 10th month, is a tale of ordinary city life upended. It began with a stunningly unlikely friendship, between two men from different worlds: Peter Resnik, a high-powered lawyer on his way to work, and Rob, a homeless man guarding a friend’s shopping cart on Boston Common. Through months of daily conversations, that began with jokes and sports talk and gradually delved deeper, they found a common interest: literature. And when they saw the bridge that they had built, they recognized its potential for others.
In a short time, they say, the book club has proved its power to reach homeless people and build their confidence. Emboldened by its success, Ron Tibbetts, a Beacon Hill church deacon and longtime homeless outreach worker, has launched plans to replicate it. His new nonprofit group, the Oasis Coalition, aims to establish dozens of small social groups citywide, filling the gaps left by large, institutional programs that offer the homeless food and shelter but little or no personal connection.
“It’s five people in a book group, not 5,000 people fed, but it’s five people I can pull aside and talk to,’’ Tibbetts said.
In honor of wedding season (in which I am currently knee deep), I've been reading a bunch of mushy love poems. Check out this one by Rumi, the famous Persian poet/ philosopher.
Do You Love Me? By Rumi
A lover asked his beloved, Do you love yourself more than you love me?
The beloved replied, I have died to myself and I live for you.
I’ve disappeared from myself and my attributes. I am present only for you.
I have forgotten all my learning, but from knowing you I have become a scholar. I have lost all my strength, but from your power I am able.
If I love myself I love you. If I love you I love myself.
If you're a fan of great metaphor, check out this poem by Sandra Beasley, Poetry Magazine's Featured Poet. Talk about words literally dancing on the page. Lovely!
The Piano Speaks By Sandra Beasley
For an hour I forgot my fat self, my neurotic innards, my addiction to alignment.
For an hour I forgot my fear of rain.
For an hour I was a salamander shimmying through the kelp in search of shore, and under his fingers the notes slid loose from my belly in a long jellyrope of eggs that took root in the mud. And what
would hatch, I did not know— a lie. A waltz. An apostle of glass.
For an hour I stood on two legs and ran. For an hour I panted and galloped.
For an hour I was a maple tree, and under the summer of his fingers the notes seeded and winged away
We're never too old to learn and never too great that we cannot improve. So, whether you're an award winning slam master or just a baby poetess, you should check out the Kentucky Women Writer's Conference. My beloved Rachel McKibbens will be there along with many other notable fem writers from all walks of life. This is guaranteed to be a great conference! I'm trying to figure out how I can get out of my 9-5 to make an appearance there.
It's been a while since I've experienced a break up, but all of the feelings come rushing back when I hear this piece. Marty hits it right on the head with this one!! Rock on sister.
Frida Kahlo to Marty McConnell By Marty McConnell
"Leaving is not enough you must stay gone change the locks even on the apt he has never visited..."
"and now, you pull down the bridge between your houses you make him call before he visits you take a lover for granted"
"Don't lose too much weight stupid girls are always trying to disappear as revenge but you are not stupid"
You know I can't resist a great Sarah Palin jab:-) Check out this poem by Jeananne Verlee. I've also included a bit of her bio from her myspace page below.
Enjoy!
JEANANN VERLEE is a poet, prose writer, actor, activist, and former punk rocker who collects tattoos and winks at boys. Her work has appeared in various journals, magazines and anthologies, including The New York Quarterly, Spindle, "His Rib" and others. Member of the 2008 louderARTS National Poetry Slam team, ranked 2nd in the nation at the 2008 National Poetry Slam, Jeanann also proudly serves as Co-SlamMaster for New York City’s Urbana Poetry Slam at Bowery Poetry Club. She was member of Urbana’s 2006 team, coach for the 2007 team and in 2008, qualified for two New York City National Poetry Slam teams. Jeanann shares an apartment with her best pal, Callisto, an 11 year old Border Collie-mix and can be found hugging a barstool in an Irish pub on the Lower East Side. She believes in you.
I held a Jewel in my fingers By Emily Dickinson I held a Jewel in my fingers And went to sleep The day was warm, and winds were prosy I said "'Twill keep"
I woke -- and chid my honest fingers, The Gem was gone And now, an Amethyst remembrance Is all I own
