Auditions Are…Rolling Genome…Middleground

So – I have been keeping up with the Challenge but have been super-busy and under-the-weather. Took a health day today and stayed in bed (and on my computer) working. That “time-off” was well spent in that I now have Days 28, 29, and 30 edited and formatted, just waiting for your perusal! Like in all the other posts, read the play by clicking the title. Hope you enjoy!

A Death Redacted

The title of this post is the name of Day 27’s submission, and I regret to inform you that it’s going to stay private. At least for the time being. It took a bit much to write and deals with some personal issues. I’m writing here to let you know that I’m staying up on the Challenge – with just four days left, it’d be a bummer to drop now. In this play I tried to use the prompt of “No stage direction,” and made it most of the way through until the end, because I don’t know that I could have conveyed the final image without directing the actors: fail on the prompt but win on another play down, right?

Also, letting you know that 31of31 is in the works and coming along nicely. I think I’m going to need to collaborate with someone about this one considering there’s an element to the work that is somewhat beyond me.

That’s all for now, gotta get ready for work,

-Mick

Slammed

Among other things, I am a slam poet – a breed of slam poet that is also an actor, which lends a lot of theatricality to my work. It had occurred to me in the past that there is a great opportunity to be strove to through combining theater and performance poetry: this is my first attempt at combining the two.

An Incomplete Explanation – NaPoWriMo #18

For Taylor, with apologies for being a grouch.

Being in love is:

Nervousness creeping in your fingers, twirling around themselves, trying too hard to keep still and gesticulate at the same time; being afraid that you’ll somehow scare the other person off.

Secreting kisses, pilfered passion, like a tort out a pastry shop from right beneath the baker’s nose, who set them out purposefully, hoping you would come and gobble them up all the while.

Sometimes moving too quickly, despite yourself and your intentions and your mother’s voice warning you about how you wear your heart on your sleeve.

Getting your heart a bit bruised so that you can show your scars to your real love who will love you all the more for them.

What’s Your Name – Oakland Workshop Writing Prompt

Am Yisrael Chai, Am Yisrael Chai,
Am Yisrael, Am Yisrael, Am Yisrael Chai:

Born of the north of the land of milk and honey to parents of other native tongues who
Tasted the tones of Semitic proverbs that rolled on the winds of two millenia of Diaspora and now it sweetens their saliva, khalav v’dvash, and pass it in a name to their son.

My father holds me, his third boy, my mother’s first, eight days after birth – the brit melah.
This name hovers over the synagogue, not yet announced, but it seeps through the ceiling and out the hearts of the congregation, an ancient promise:

Quick Trust

She sailed on strong winds the way sailors sought the shore,
captive to the core, her strengths explored,
saddling sadness with weighty wisdom she pulled off the bench when she inherited it after her tragedies,
tragedies of such magnitude as to name them epic would still be lacking,
but she still smiled, even if she cried,
she faced each day her best foot forward,
she stayed in the light though she had every right to hide.

First Attempt @ Phone Your Blog, featuring On the Matter of the Subject of Ignorance on Pimps and Tricks

Due to the submission of this poem to a magazine, I cannot distribute the written account of it. Please be assured that as soon as it becomes available definitively, I shall post it here. Regarding my thoughts on the new WordPress feature: I think that if I felt the need to post something immediately, this would be an excellent measure, but I am very rarely in that predicament – though it is convenient (and I can live with the, presumably, signal-based choppiness…for now) as I haven’t had a ton of face-time with my computer (which is somewhat of a wonderful thing as I’m not being reclusive, engulfed in a digital world…except when I’m at work), trying to figure out Audacity. The poem is dedicated to Artikulate, who inspired its writing, helping to refine in me a wiser man: thank you for being you and helping these words shine through.

Yes, I am aware I called it Voice Your Blog in the audio. Oh well. When I get a cleaner file together I’ll swap them out. In the meantime, thanks for listening in.