The creative writing, observations, experiences, and opinions, on life, and the world around him, by Kiril Kundurazieff; taking one step at a time on the Journey of Discovery, and Enlightenment, that every individual must take from the cradle to the grave.
A light humorous, nonsensical (Or even sensical, even pointed, in its purpose!), or bawdy verse of five anapestic lines usually with the rhyme scheme AABBA.
Yesterday, I bought a book for $4, at a Used Bookstore/Newsstand, in West Hollywood (Also a location in Silverlake, too!), well known for its, um, risque, merchandise, aimed at a Gay, and even Straight, clientele (The places I'll venture into, for a good book, I swear!). :-D
Circus of Books, if you must know. :-D
The last time I'd ventured into the place was 20 years ago. :-D
The book I found? The New Limerick, 2nd series edited by G. Legman.
700 pages, and over 2700 Limericks. :-D
Anyway, while thumbing through it, this morning, inspirations suddenly struck....
1. Have you heard of the President name Obama Whose hunger for more Government control causes true patriots much drama? He pays no attention Prefering Freedom prevention, Over the wisdom of the Constitution, ha, ha!
2. The President named Obama was a smooth Cat, Whom the citizens got riled up at. He unveiled his policies with deception, Fooling many who had no perception; Getting the Press to report he didn't do, or mean, that.
3. An astonished electorate named America Found its President abnormally wrong. His policies from Banking to Sex They were angered by their effects, But with elections to come, believed dumping him wouldn't take long.
4. "All right, you Liberals, and Progressives!" cried The One, 'Of the Constitution there'll be lots of thwartin'. My Republican opponent may be A freedom loving capitalist--not me!-- So please help make sure my reign isn't a short'un!"
The audience applauded, and laughed, clearly enjoying all 3 of the poems I shared, for which I humbly thank them.
The featured Poet of the evening was a young New York Poet, and Musician, visiting Ca. to, among other things, read his poetry, promote, his 2nd published book, just self published, via CreateSpace, last month, (1st book released in 2004) and soak up some sun, and fun. :-D
To describe to work of Bonafide Rojas is no easy thing.
I found the selections he read, from his book, When the City Sleeps, interesting, entertaining, and thought provoking, and his performance style emotional, and expressive as, open book in hand, he read his chosen pieces.
Of Puerto Rican heritage, steeped in the experiences of growing up on the streets of New York, he has many impressive credits, among them:
The 2002 Slam This! Champion
Appeared in Russell Simmon's "Def Poetry Jam" Season 4.
Appeared in a Swedish Documentary on poetry called "Spitting Ink".
Had work appear in various anthologies.
Performed nationally at venues & colleges: Lincoln Center, Museum of The American Indian, El Museo Del Barrio, Voz Alta, Pregones Theatre, The Bowery Poetry Club, The Nuyorican Poets Cafe, The Puerto Rican Traveling Theatre.
His Blog, on Tumbler, is mostly committed to photography, and his recent posts about his trip to Ca. , as well as earlier photos, throughout January, are interesting, beautifulk, and amusing.
Portrait of the lover of haikus, pizza, gin, & walks on Broadway, as Beach Bum. :-D
A young female friend of his ( Mae Ramirez, publisher of ¡VAYA! Zine ) brought the evening to an end by giving a powerful reading, from memory, of a poem about language, and issues some in the new generation sometimes have growing up in a multi-lingual home environment.
Afterward I approach them to say that the piece reminded me of my childhood in the 60's, before my Dad became ill, and the interesting language dynamic of our household.
As I've shared, my father, despite having only a limited education, was fluent in Macedonian, Bulgarian, and Serbian, and some Greek, Italian, and German, then learned fluent Spanish once he arrived in America, only learning decent English once he met, and married, my Mom.
I grew up hearing Macedonian, and Greek, music on radio, and records, and hearing him speak those languages with some of his friends, but never learned another language besides English, because Dad felt that, this being America, it was important his children learn the language of his adopted country, not the languages of their Father.
Bonafide looked at me, and suggested that there was the possibility of poetry in this history, and asked if I'd considered it?
I was startled by the notion, and told him no, I hadn't, but would give it some thought.
Once I got home I remembered that, in fact, on one occasion I HAVE written such a piece about family, and I've also done some Genealogy Ditties, and a John Lennon parody, all years ago.
The Ugly Mug is a wonderful, literary, independent coffee house in Historic Old Towne Orange, Ca. (Known for its Antique Shops, and restaurants, including Watsons Drug & Soda Fountain, established in 1899, it's the oldest drugstore in the OC, and the oldest on-going business in the city of Orange.)
They are nestled on Glassell, between Chapman University on the north, and the Traffic Circle, on the south, and, on Wednesday nights plays host to Steve Ramirez, & Ben Trigg, Two Idiots Pedaling Poetry, and their Open Mic.
3.A Creative Writer's Prayer -- Something I wrote just last month, and am very proud of, and it seems to have affected several of those who have read it very deeply.
The featured poet was Michael Roberts, and when he came up, and mentioned he was going to be reading poems involving Cats, too, everyone laughed. :-D
Another guy, John Buckley, read some of his poetry, and one also had a Cat, in it.
One guy, Peter Lewis, read some poems, and while none involved Cats, his shirt had a Cat on the front, and these words: "Does Your Cat Make Too Much Noise?"
Hell, if I had known Cats were gonna be all the rage, this night, I would have left my 2 poems home, and brought 2 more by Nikita! :-D
Everyone reacted with appropriate laughter, and seriousness, depending on the piece, and gave me a nice round of applause when I was done.
During the intermission one young lady came up to me, and told me how much she liked my poems, especially the Cat poem.
A couple of others came up to me, after the readings were done, shook my hand, and said they liked my work, as well.
Very cool! :-D
John. F. Buckley, a local poet, and author, has a full recap of the evening on his blog (He thought I looked like his Ex-Father-in-Law! I THINK that was meant as a compliment, hee, hee!).
UPDATE 2/6/12 = John has explained the comment! It's in the comments to the above post, as follows:
"I was just commenting on the glasses and mustache. That’s what reminded me of the ex’s Dad."
Next week the remarkable, and prolific, Rick Lupert, of Poetry Super Highway, will be the guest poet, and I will be there, not only to read 3 of Nikita's Poems, and to hear Mr. Lupert, but to thank him personally, at last, for his very kind, and amusing, words about my Cat, Nikita, and his writing, and for accepting a link to this blog, in his List of Links, back in 2009.
He wrote me the following, on August 3, 2009: "Long Live Your Pussy!" :-D
After 2 years of building up a collection of Poetry, and Stories...
Two months ago I bought the 3 Julia Cameron books in her Artist's Way Trilogy, the Morning Pages Journal, and the Artist's Way Workbook, and am beginning week 5 of the initial Artist's Way Program.
Artist's way is described as a Spiritual Path to higher creativity, a personal journey of discovery of a better, more creative, you, not just career-wise, but personally, as well.
Like other books I've read this year it has given me food for thought, especially by requiring me to think about a lot of things, and put my thoughts down on paper.
Cameron's writing gave me a collection of new "Thoughts to Start the Day" to add to a list I began after reading Norman Vincent Peale:
1. Creativity is the natural order of life. Life is energy: Pure creative energy!
2. There is an underlying, in-dwelling, Creative force infusing all of life - including myself.
3. When I open myself to my Creativity, I open myself to the Creator's Creativity within me and my life.
4. I am, myself, a Creation. And I, in turn, am meant to continue Creativity by being creative myself.
5. Creativity is God's Gift to me! Using my Creativity is my gift back to God!
6. The refusal to be Creative is self-will and is counter to our true nature.
7. When I open myself to exploring my Creativity, I open myself to God: Good Orderly Direction.
8. As I open my Creative Channel to the Creator, many gentle but powerful changes are to be expected.
9. It is safe to open myself up to greator and greator Creativity.
10. My Creative dreams and yearnings come from a Divine source. As I move toward my dreams, I move toward my Divinity.
It doesn't matter what I did in the past, it only matters what I do in the future...
I do not know what the future may hold, but I am doing my best to develope the faith, and skills, and ideas, that will guide me in the direction my life is meant to go next.
A year ago who would have thought that my ongoing efforts at learning new computer skills, and self-examination, and new creative stirrings, of the past year, not to mention breaking an ankle, and trying to recover from it as best I can, would lead me to write a prayer? :-D
Over the last few days I first went and spent a morning walking around a Swap Meet, in Santa Fe Springs, then spent yesterday in Laguna Beach, visiting an art gallery, and a popular independent bookstore, Laguna Beach Books, ending the day, sitting on the steps above a famous stretch of beach, at the end of nearby Brooks St.
It was while there, looking out at the ocean (Thank You to several folks, who also stopped to take in the view, for taking photos for me!), and reading the Artist's Way, & AW Workbook, as well as Julia's "Artist's Prayer", that I began formulating the rough draft of the piece below (An Artist's Way Task for Week 4), finished at my desk this morning.
A Creative Writer's Prayer by Kiril "The Mad Macedonian" Kundurazieff (Copyright 2011)
Oh Lord in heaven I come to You, as a humble creator of words, Before the Creator of all living things, & the planet we live on, Asking that I may be of service to You, and others, in how I live, & write. I offer myself to You as a vessel, & tool, for good. I offer myself to Your Creativity in my life. I humbly surrender to You my old ideas, concerns, and fears. I welcome Your new, and more expansive, ideas into my life. I trust that You will lead me down the right path. I trust that it is safe to follow You down that road to a better life, and future, personally, and creatively. I know that I am Your creation, and that creativity is Your nature, and my own. I ask You to unfold my life according to Your plan, not my low self-worth. Please help me to believe that it is not too late, and that I'm not too small, or too flawed, to be healed by You, and made whole. Help me to help others discover, and share, their own creativity, as You helped me discover, and share mine. Help me to know that I am not alone, that I am loved, and lovable. Help me to create as an act of worship to You, and an act of spreading joy, humor, news, and information, to the world.
****I have no idea how many people will even read this, but comments are welcome and, if you like what you have read, please share, and spread the word to anyone who you think may find this food for thought.
...You just won't believe how you can turn it to your creative advantage. ;-D
There you are walking down the street, through the mall, in a store, at a ball game, in a public rest room, on a bus, or sitting in your 2nd floor apartment with the window open, and people in the street below, actually just about anywhere where you are around other people...and can hear what they are saying...to their companion, to a clerk, on a cell phone, or yelling at a ball game, or in a bathroom where all the stalls are occupied, and someone is hopping up, & down, in desperate straights...
Have you ever thought to write down what you hear, and how those random scraps of overheard conversations, when strung together, in the order heard, often have an interesting sort of poetry about the result?
Patty Mooney did.
Of course, the notion came only after 40 years of writing poetry.
Hey, better late than never! ;-D
As she writes: "Now, suddenly, the skies have parted to reveal an unfathomably huge reservoir of poetry, a free-for-all of poems that are ripe for swiping out of the air with a virtual butterfly net. Anyone can do it."
She first blogged about this new, fun, idea for poetry, on her personal blog, last July, and it's an interesting essay.
Experimental, quirky, funny, long, short, nonsensical, thought-provoking? All of the above, and more.
Don't try TOO HARD to overhear things; keep a notepad handy and just let it come to you naturally.
And, trust me, it's easier than you might think to know when you have the last line of a particular poem.
I was looking through a couple of Notebooks I hadn't touched in years, in a Sierra Club Backback of mine, notebooks intended to jot down creative writing, and poetry, ideas, for future use, and decided that the future was now.
At least for a few things...hee, hee! ;-D
I have no idea, anymore, when most of the stuff in them was written down.
Sometimes I've look at what I've written, over the years and, as good as it is, I just know it should, and could, be better.
As one note I found says....
I don't have the training, or practice, to know hop to do what I do better, and wonder how much fun a magazine, or book, editor would have with some of my longer, more detailed, & involved "masterpieces". ;-D
I imagine some poor editor pulling their hair out by the roots, wailing, "The Horror, the horror!" ;-D
So let's begin with this exercise...
People, places things, events, & how to describe them:
The layout of classrooms in our schools probably haven't changed since Hector was a Pup, I think, and that's why I can't pin down memories of any particular one in all the years I went to school.
1, 2, or 3 chalkboards, and several poster boards, lining walls between windows offering glimpses of the outside world.
Desks lined up in 8 neat rows of 5, or 5 rows of 8.
The desk of the teacher in one corner, or other, at the front of the room, most often by the door so as to prevent easy eascape by the inma, um, I mean, students. ;-D
Why couldn't there be tables?
Why couldn't we put the tables in a square, or our desks in a circle?
With our "Beloved" teacher, & his, or her, desk in the center?
Just once in a while, to break up the monotony? ;-D
My home on Merrywood St, in Pomona, Ca., from 1969 to 1997
( Some of my Facebook friends will remember this place, I'm sure. )
The frontyard was HUGE.
There was ivy along a chainlength fence that went along 3 sides of the yard and, from its modest start, in 1970-75, grew so dense as to become a protective barrier from the outside world.
The lush green grass was separated from the row of apricot tree by our driveway, and a row of rose bushes.
There wer 2 large trees in the center of the yard, and another row of different trees, and more rose bushes, along the walkway to the front door, and in front of the windowa of the house.
Crows, Orioles, & Humming Birds, among other birds, hung around, especially during apricot season.
My parents began the garden that was this yard when we moved in, and after Mom died my sisters, & I, kept it up as best we could.
In the backyard there was a grassy area, & a huge tree, suitable for climbing, separate from a huge paved area.
There were walls to the north, and south, and a chainlength fence on the west side.
The walls, and paved area, were put in place by an Uncle who lived, for a time, in the house on the south side.
From here I could look out on an empty field, and a soon to declline shopping center, at Towne Ave. & Arrow Highway.
Until the whole thing was replaced by a gated housing community, in the early 90's, I could also see the Football field, & track, of Pomona High School, and watch games via binoculars. ;-D
This all was our playground as kids, with our friends, especially the ones who lived on the street, & a place to lay out in the sun, or the shade, & listen to the sounds of the neighborhood around us.
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