Monday, August 2, 2010

Deep Ellum Blues

















This past Saturday, two of my younger singer/songwriters Lance Greene and Danielle Steward were talking about the rise in the world of Open Mic. About how we bar our teeth on the experience of others; it made me want to check up on a few of my old open mic/slam poets in Dallas. So, I called Clebo to see how his wife Naomi was doing, as she has had a couple of bouts with cancer. To see if he is still teaching at SMU, and how the Poetry scene is doing in Dallas.

Clebo told me, "Things have come and gone, and are re-emerging from separatism of black and white poets back to the way it was in our day"...I tried to encourage him to not let his age make him feel he has nothing to pass on to the younger poets. We do not need drugs and alcohol to fuel our fiery words. We can keep the younger kids on their toes, show the inexperienced generation how to rock the stage.

After much thinking, I began to play with writing this piece about the 80's and 90's in Deep Ellum, David Chumley's (A NYC bar owner, who was forced out of his warehouse/bar/motorcycle space, our open mic fortress, closed down and returned back to NY), and Club Clearview (he said is gone now).

Lance, Danielle  made me feel young again, and we had some great laughs at WAMPP @ Amalthea...but as you read this, imagine my voice, accent, and hear it as a spoken word piece, not just one of my regular poems- attitude man, attitude...

Drug of Choice

In The Day my legs itched
to inhale the sights and sounds

of Deep Ellum, to tattoo bar space
grit and spoken word under my skin

Black on black, Doc Martins, reflective
silver chains hang from jeans to knees

as aging poets stepping up to the mic
one hand in their pocket, while weed

followed fierce like young
writers craving slam points

words enter your veins
slow dripping IV caused racing beats

moving to inner thighs
a young girls eyes rolling back; but

SILENCED Johnny kasmic rush with loud slams
exit door closures defibulating the room

Often, rantings of tits, pussy, beautiful
women under thunderous touch crowned Kings

I longed to mirror urban legends, authors-
wanting recognition- to raise eyebrows

Clebo Rainey, Danny Solis- LOUD southern
voices howl, defining Immoral Substance Abuse

2 comments:

Debbie said...

Hi Chef E . . .was going to miss you on Jessie's poem share day, so wanted to stop by to get my read on! :) You are amazing . . .keep keeping us on our toes!

Jessie Carty said...

really strong piece E! the part about rear view mirrors read a little awkwardly as did the move to chapbooks in the end but LOVE everything else :)