People tooting their Should be carefull of
own horns or banging their
own drums
reswallowing their saliva
and ruining their sticks,
skins or ears.
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by Joe. B. Yeah, yeah, rotten metaphor but 'ya can't ignore the visuual. Except for minor logistics, in time and human errors everything went without a hitch, an expensive lesson is learned in that contracts will be signed so that 20% does not suddenly inflate to 30%. A rainy Saturday night, November, 10, 2001 6pm. to llpm. POOR's first CD (Audio-Compact Disk) Party for the 'PO Poets. The Lab had their own scultures glossy and bright color arts-on-alunmium canvas show installation Our Long Awaited and for me slighly fearful CD Release Party: that's [Conpact Disk to Off Worlders, Persons in Cryogenic Cold Sleep, Suspended Animation or otherwise frozen in time.]CD's are made, tested, listened to. Some people didn't make the cut to be on and could be on a next one if possible. I personally carefully with sterile fingertips placed the silver "grade A" quality circular audio disks in their square covers unwrapped in clear cellophane. They're naked, in their clear plastic covers as the square slick expensive paper that shows in multiple 6 to 14 or more fonts or points for picky typeset readers. 'Po Poets, and many guests are on hand that rainy night to cheer each other on, eat food, drink, and just plain have a good time without all the madness of September 11th. Sometimes a brake is needed before going on or our human physical, psychological systems will brake down from fatigue and mental stress and I personally know about job burn-out on low wage jobs - higher paid upwardly bound job/career must be way worse because everything is intensified to the 'max. This night is for sitting back, breathing, no-thinking, and listening to folks celebrate surviving, thriving, on the low rungs of life... those everyday hero and heroine's, single father's, mother's, children, and regular folks waking up and not giving up as the many struggle through constent economic turmoil. Some of the food arrived late but there was enough brought by in case problems happened across the bay. I have a hasty made escape plan as soon as I am finished with my own babbling. Lateefa Simon(not the big boned healthy one with the talk show) she's petite, lythe, wiry sprite MC Rap Artists from Hip Hop's Prophets of Rage, Renaissance, Munaf, Keith Savage, Tiger, Pecoya, and singer Ananda. It was an elevating, electrifying night of music, song, poetic verse, jokes and a break for working folks to just sit in their seats and relax not thinking of overdue bills, balloon mortgages, rent, food, or war. There are serious talk about our changed America to be sure but for a little it is set aside for one night of celebrating a small victory by and for poor folks. Soon my turn came to mumble words of deathless prose and after the escape. I speak of escape because being at many a rally/protest with ubiqutous black, brown, green, yellow, or clear plastic bags some hapless few must do clean-up of tables and floors and using said plastic bags there is always a chance of spillage. Not this time! Oh, no - an escape is planned to the second after my spoken word is over I'd listen one maybe two more people then gracefully say good by so I can visit my family for a few day and be away from The City. Now to realities, we're selling the CD's for $10 maybe when or if they go into well known big name stores they'll be sold for more is in the air for now but I believe deals have been made to ensure this. You know below after most of my columns you see the: Well, have something to sell. Anyway maybe like rappers of old who sold their tapes from trunks of cars or on the street when rap was deemed a fad, 'pol's feeling threatened as it grew beyond its confinds of inner city neighborhoods. I say my words trying to memorized 9 lines of verbage and failing then creatively adding and subtracting until my time off stage has ended. Dharma spoke in her musical haronic voice and I whisper "Missed some, good cover up." Then quietly announce to Lisa and Dee that of my rapid departure from the City, head out the glass door, around the corner to my families car fade into the night. Escape is right, someone will take my place cleaning up tables, floors, chairs, and putting out the garbage but I'm glad it won't be me. As the car glides across the superstructure of the Golden Gate Bridge a sigh of relief escapes from me, a long comfortable ride with loved ones and zzzzz's begin a siren call and I'm lulled to sleep. Well stay well folks. I'll be resting up for a while... Bye. Please donate what can to Joe at 255 9th St. For Joe only my snail CA 94102 |