Sketching Badly

Eschewing true thoughts
Side-stepping what’s Heaven-wrought
So we might be bought.

Heaven & Hell are not–
Always saying: “Thou shalt not–”
Always say: “Seek not.”

Always, always, all
Never, never, never fall
Even in evening.

Sickness is a draught
A kick in the pants. And life?
Is merely a draft.

Sketching, sketching–rough.
Sketching, sketching off the cuff.
Sketching–render–bluff.

Let me say this once:
Sex on a beach sounds painful.
It’s worse than it sounds.

Crunch.

Crunch.
Snap goes the twig,
Crunch. crunch.
Beat goes the heart.
Stop goes the heart.
Worms goes the heart.
Crunch. crunch.
Grows goes the bone.
Crack goes the bone.
Ash goes the bone.
Crunch. crunch. crunch.
Sick goes the wife.
Down comes the strife.
Shit goes my life.
Crunch. crunch.
Help goes the call,
Hearing not at all,
When we lose it all
Crunch.
Got to linger here
Got to sing it clear
Got to, got to.
Crunch
Got so savor it,
Got to favor it,
Got to, got to.
Cr-
Got to save
Afraid to lose
Afraid to choose
unch.

Flights of Fancy

Flights of fancy are a fantasy.
A story sold to suckers old,
But, I’ll remember forever the tale of her and me.
Yes, a story that’s told of lovers once,  turning cold,
Yet, I never can sever my knowing of her and me.

But, what can be said is said till we’re mute and dumb
Of the history of her and me:
That wisdom is come
When he and she give in to fantasy,
But, that only can happen when I no longer thrum
At the thought of giving up practicality.

When caution has fled
Then wisdom is dead and I give reign to her and me.
And only then, when you lie a-bed
Will I give up my fantasy.
Because I’ll never leave words unsaid
As I whisper sweet words beside your head,
Till our dreams become reality.

The pale, pale Moon

Beneath the pale, pale moon
The beastlings, they are howling;
Their love they are growling
Inside, in one another.
Their seedlings, they are yowling;
Their changing from cubs to mothers.
Their snouts, they are scowling
Turns to young all too soon
Beneath the pale, pale moon.

Beneath the pale, pale moon
The lovers, they are dancing
Their ardor, they’re advancing
On each other
Their eyes are enchanting
Changing from friends to lovers
While their seeds are enhancing
Uncovering their deeds all too soon
Beneath the pale, pale moon.

 

Busily Scribbled in between Catering and Artivism (OR: Where I was on Inauguration)

So I have feelings. We all do.

This is an original piece written today Jan 20th. was a poem/performance art piece that I wrote the day of Inauguration.

My company was busy hosting a national level event called PTSDetroit or Plant the Seed, Detroit. 

We were calling it a national social justice activist networking event and it was amazing. So many people attended. We were in touch with protests around the city of Detroit, speaking with them, collaborating with them on when they would arrive, when they would be available to attend. It was a beautiful nightmare of logistics.

But, we made it happen.

On the day of Inauguration 2017, I was busy cooking and preparing a meal for something close to two hundred people. I was the only person awake in my house having raced back to the house having only just finished dropping off books for my partner in the hospital.

It was a mad, mad day to begin with.

Then, I watched the Inauguration. I saw the Inaugural Address. One of my roommates walked in on me watching it. It was 16 minutes long. They walked back out and told me not to give him the viewership. Not to give him the attention.

We already had, but I was there for a different reason. I was performing that night at PTSDetroit.

I was performing my piece: This is an original piece written today Jan 20th.  I literally did not know what shape it would take or how it would play. I was scared because my original idea was to use Trump’s Inaugural Address as the cornerstone for the whole piece.

You see, my suspicion is that most people do not watch these events anymore. We see Presidential Debates, which are televised through mediums like The Daily Show, SNL, Last Week Tonight, YouTube, etc. We get it broken down into bite size increments, five minutes, one minutes of click-baitable attention-getting drivel that is specifically crafted for whatever audience is going to click on it: all the hate and radical speech for the liberals, all the economic rhetoric and jingoism for the conservatives.

It just doesn’t make sense anymore. We have access to more information and more tools to spy ad monitor our OWN politicians than ever before. We can watch them in their most private moments. President Trump literally publishes his ideas online every day aloud and we can hold everyone accountable for it. The man said he would sanction hate crimes…be on the lookout.

One way that I know to do that…is to simply watch. Be on the lookout. See the addresses. Go to the meetings. Be present.

If you are confused about politics, about history, about your rights, actually try. Try things and see what gets friction, what gets feedback. You can read your documents. You can and should know your rights. You should explore and flex those muscles.

So that is some of the energy that I poured into this piece.

I wanted people to actually sit and watch something and know that it really happened, which meant that I needed to do it too.

And I tell you what, it was bad, but it was pretty boring. It was the same rhetoric: America first. Trade deals. Strong borders. The biggest change was that he said “We” and that was what everyone picked up on, basically the only thing that anyone complimented him on. Other than that President Drumpf actually managed to alienate his political backers by saying that the era of backwards deal politics was no more.

And then he went to work with these people.

So I watched the entire thing and realized that there was nothing interesting or dramatic about presenting his work. Yet, still I had a performance that night.

So I went to my training and picked up my tome of Shakespeare and started thumbing through some of my favorite dictators and found good old John Cade from Henry VI part 2 Act IV.

In the midst of a civil war amongst the nobles of England, a populist leader rose up and fought the both of them. Now, he is viewed as a buffoon and a liar and a cheat and is rightly condemned by the end of the play, he still manages to nearly overthrow England’s monarchy and establish himself as the lawful ruler.

It is a disturbing concept: the fact that a man can reach for power with noble intentions (to make all men equal under him) can sway popular opinion to him even though he is clearly unqualified.

So I drew from that piece. Completely unaltered. And I started writing the day of and realized that I had a theme to it: It’s true, I swear. Those two ideas. It’s true because I tell you. You believe me because I tell you to believe me.

I lied as blatantly as I could and begged my audience not to question me.

I think I just got tired of the lying and so I put it in front of everyone. I wanted one true thing to be said that day. One true thing to be known that day. I even said in the piece that I am an unoriginal, that much if not all of this piece was stolen, though I did lie about my sources.

I wonder if anyone caught the lie, I wonder if anyone cared. I wonder if anyone actually watched the speech.

There are estimates now that more people attended the protest than people who watched the Inauguration and were there combined. That gives me so much hope. Because that was what PTSDetroit reaffirmed over and over again.

“We are the majority,” one of our audients said.

“We are the majority,” in a world filled with love and support. That did not vanish with the swearing in of Donald J. Trump. That did not vanish with his election or the electoral college. The majority of the U.S. and the world is still moving towards progressive ideals: equality for all, rights over oneself, self-determination, etc.

We have seen the statistics.

To quote the beautiful and radiant Amanda Fucking Palmer,

“We are the media.”

-AFP

It is our job to police ourselves.

In a recent NPR interview with cofounder of the Black Panther Party Bobby Seale with photographer Stephen Shames they said:

I tell the youth today, ever since Rodney King, I says today, you don’t need guns. Let’s use the technology to observe the police. We went out there with law books, tape recorders and guns to defend ourselves, just in case, to observe the police.

We can use the technology available to us today to police ourselves. We can observe, protect, and stand together.

That was the biggest thing that I saw after our small little protest. What was repeated over and over again was, “YOU ARE NOT ALONE.” Look around you at all of these people who came out together, look at each other and know that each and every one of you supports and loves one another. It is a powerful feeling and one not easily shaken.

Look at the Women’s March on Washington, which is described as one of the largest united protests in U.S. history.

It is surreal to think that we are the majority in this position, but the refrain does not change: YOU ARE NOT ALONE.

So stand together, stand with one another, and come together to create something beautiful. It isn’t about fighting or running or doing anything we weren’t doing before.

We were afraid after the election of Donald J. Trump to the highest office and that the nation stood with him in the rhetoric of divisiveness. But, the outcry has consistently been one of togetherness and hope for betterment.

We can do this. Join the Women’s March’s online campaign

10 Actions in 100 Days

& be the human rights leader you always wanted to be.

This is an original piece written today Jan. 20th

This is an original piece written today.
January Twentieth.

I am an Unoriginal by Miles Boucher.
I am an Unoriginal by Miles Boucher.
“I am an Unoriginal by Miles Boucher.”

Everything that follows this statement is mostly true. I swear.
If there is a way to carbon date this you could check.
But, don’t check.
It’s my journal.

It’s all so theatrical now.

(fixes glasses)

The Lights,
The Sounds,
The Churches,
The Politics.

This is a selection from President Elect Donald J. Trump’s Speech.
January Twentieth, Two Thousand Seventeen, Twelve Oh One P.M.
It’s true. I swear.

(turns page)

We John Cade, so tearmed of our supposed Father.

For our enemies shall faile before us, inspired with the spirit of putting down Kings and Princes. Command Silence.

My Father was a Mortimer.
My Mother a Plantagenet.
My wife descended of the Lacies.
Therefore am I of an honorable house.

Valiant I am.
I am able to endure much.
I fear neither sword, nor fire.
Be brave then, for your Captaine is Brave, and Vows Reformation.

(turns page).

There shall be in England seven half penny loaves sold for a penny: the three hooped pot shall have ten hoopes, and I will make it a felony to drink small Beer.

All the Realm shall be in Common, and in Cheapside shall my Palfrey go to grasse: and when I am King, as King I will be.

I thank you good people.

There shall be no money, all shall eat and drink on my score, and I will apparel them all in one Livery, that they may agree like Brothers, and worship me, their Lord.

The first thing we do, let’s kill all the Lawyers.

(turns page)

Is not a lamentable thing, that of the skin of an innocent Lambe should be made Parchment, that Parchment being scribbled o’er, should undo a man.

Some say the Bee stings, but I say ’tis the Bee’s wax: for I did but seal once to a thing, and I was never mine own man since.

(turns page)

Now, some of you might suspect that I am lying.
And some of you…would be right.
But, I’m no longer sure which are which.
So I googled it.

Inevitably I end up on Youtube.
The Comment Section.
(Oh,) have you heard of it?

In nonsensical order:

“Get off the Stage! Be respectful.
Stop disrespecting.
Give him a chance.
What do you expect?!

Bigot! Racist.
Sexist. Rapist.
Go ahead and die.
You should be raped.
You should die.
Deleted. Deleted.
Deleted.
Deleted.
Deleted.
Deleted
Deleted.

Hitler.”

It’s true. I swear.

(Exit Stage)

Dancing Wings

A pillar of fire
In the woods is burning
Consuming nothing
Blackening nothing.
There is a pillar of flame
Inside the wood.
Within a river it’s residing
Of swollen molten glass it’s sliding;
Its appearance, shifting,
Houses countless souls combining
Over amber, crimson, violet cascading
Violent hues of color purifying.
Fluid: sinking, rising, sinking;
They sink to float
And rise to fall.
Like faerie folk fascinating
The hungry human viewer.

In waltzes’
Endless emanating
A hundred hundred partners
One other entertaining
An other entertaining
Another entertaining.

Glass slippers they are dancing
Until they fall carousing
As they lose their standing
A social prancing prating;
Their liquid wings loose letting
Their surface sings, tremoring,
Of shackles they’re unshackling.
Bliss is radiating
Off wing-beats undulating;
Their faces–joy embracing,

Summer Song

June days
June plays
Golden rays
Summer days
Halcyon days
Summer strays

Little children
Sparkling.
Little sprites
Alight
With delight
In summer light.

Their homes
Come
See them roam
& Fill up tomes
With bundles of joy
All their own.

Can you hear them singing?
Can’t you cheer their bringing?

For now they are eternal
For now they are immortal
For now, then ‘tis gone
‘Tis gone, ‘tis gone, ‘tis gone
Goes the tolling bell for summer.
Gone, gone, gone along
Till a new song is sung.

Musings from a Rainy Day at Greenfiled Village

Rain at the Village?
Never! Little did they know…
Weather satellites!

God is in the rain?
God is in the purging fire?
No, not anymore.

“There is a sunken ship!”
“I’ll put you upon my hip!”

“Do not give me lip!”

Tesseracts tesser.
And thou Less–become lesser!
Isn’t this better?

A helpful leg up
From slaves help us to stand up.
Why can’t they get up?

Bruised till black and blue
And red all over with you.
…It couldn’t be true.

Persephone’s Vows

Hades,
O husband mine,
In Fate we twine.
My darling, dear,
My darkness, dear,
My waxing heart,
My waning hart,
Selene’s fell face
Ne’er held such sway
As you upon this Day.
In sundered hall
With festive sprawl
Inciting us
To heights Olympus
Following steps
To infernal depths
Past want or care
Or wish or dare.
Past Mother’s hopes
Avoiding tropes.
You called to me;
You call to me.
You call me yours;
I call you mine;
I call me mine.
You stole from me
With vows of granite
Seeds of pomegranate
Yet, willingly
I gifted you
All I wished to do.
These Vows I make
This Day I take
Eternal Night
For Love of Yours
I fight.