It is time to share another of my favorite poets.
Buddy Wakefield is a ‘Slam’ Poet. He travels the country giving live performances of his poetry.
I discovered Wakefield because of a poetry class I took in college. Actually, it was my first writing class and I was still in the “I hate modern poetry” mode. After attending Wakefield’s and other guest poet’s performances that all changed.
“Human the Death Dance” is also in Wakefield’s book Live for a Living.
There is a particular section which I can never seem to stop re-reading. (Note: this is only a portion of this poem)
Y’all, we’re all gonna die.
That’s the exciting part.
It’s learning how to live for a living,
that’s the tricky stitch.
Just ask Denise
whose family taught her when she came into this world
that family equals love
so Denise took that shit seriously
but after a lifetime of craving acceptance from their cruelty
she now finds herself jamming Polaroid pictures of these people into her typewriter
and pounding out the last letter of the word mercy
over and over again.
She strikes the key Y.
Y? Y? Y? Y? Y?!
And the answer?
The answer comes in the form of a handwritten letter from the moon
This is brutally beautiful.
So are we.
This is endless.
So are we.
We can heal this.
P.s. See me for who I am.
We’ve got work to do.
But my father
he didn’t read moon
he didn’t speak moon
and he didn’t write moon
so there was no letter found next to his body in the garage
when he chose to leave this world on purpose
without telling us where he was goin’ or why.
There are still days you can catch me
tape-recording eternal silence
and playing it backwards for an empty room
just so I can listen to his dying wish
Wakefield has some of the best turn of phrase that I have ever seen. His metaphors and similes, comparisons, and personifications are like nothing else. Particularly, I love “Crater Face” and his whole letter.
If there’s nothing else to take from this post and/or his poetry there is the amazing human ability to view the moon and make it into a personable, human-like figure watching us from above; silently, giving us advice.
I highly recommend buying his book so you can read more of his poems. Visit his website for more http://buddywakefield.com/
And to see my all time favorite poem of his preformed view the video below.
“Hurling Crowbirds at Mockingbars” by Buddy Wakefield
The Generation Without a Sky
My mouth is my God.
When I walk the ground
An earthquake follows
my shrug. What else
can it be? I am
Until the reason is
by time’s indifference.
My will, I will
be the informed
of passionate debate.
Without fact I command.
This video is a fantastic piece by Joel Schat. I commend all of the hard work that he put into this. If you would like to see more of his work follow him on Facebook.
How about a non-astro-poetry poem today? This is one that I wrote while in college for my poetry class. I believe that that day’s particular assignment was to focus on the senses. I’d love to know what you think! Comment or rate below!
The Sixteen-hour Cashier’s Husband
He only floated the Buffalo river once, beer in hand.
Although he’s been paralyzed since his back broke at birth.
A fly dying a sticky-saccharine life plays the part
of the chocolate sprinkle in the left-over hospital pudding.
Imagination picks up the slack when the body doesn’t
and a first beer tastes better when you’ve never had one.
In the lavender-scented supermarket she counts pennies
until her fingers rub raw of burnt metal with each drop in the IV.
The dew dripped, kissed my back
The dew dripped, kissed my back—
I pinched the moon,
the grass traced my spine,
shivers to my toes,
in the Earth,
gravity would fall asleep.
Good Morning, Moon
Good morning, Moon
Such a pleasant surprise
seeing your open face
suspended up there.