Monday, December 12, 2011

Walk in a winterharbor

Cities with harbors and water are special. The rivers give a city space, wide skies, bring tall ships with strangers and something to look at on the promenade, like the colorful ferries wheel.

I like to see the instruments of a harbor, the bollards, cranes, bridges and the multipurpose tugboats.

And then slowly the moon comes out in brings
coziness on a pre -X mas evening under the watchful still almost full moon, awaiting the return of light, love and peace.

Sunday, December 11, 2011

Hugo van Montfrans

I had a friend, Hugo van Montfrans, he passed away many years ago, about 20. He was Dutch and would correct me constantly when I made a mistake in speaking. that came in hndy  much later professionally. Thanks for that. Once he gave me a set of six cups, now the last one has been chipped and I have been thinking of him. When I met him he worked at Madame Arthur in Antwerp, performing as Olivette, making paper wigs and weird dresses for his shows. He also made some nice, strange dresses for myself and my daughter. he also was a puppeteer and an artist working in white wool and lace on cotton. Hugo also wrote and played in a film by Fellini: 8 1/2 I think it was. So the last cup is on its way out, but not the memories.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

Pearl Harbor, December 7, 1941

Today, 70 years later, the attack on Pearl Harbor is commemorated and the USA joined in WWII. Now I usually don't divulge personal information on the blog. But the way I tell my private history runs as follows: Without Pearl Harbor I wouldn't be there. My father was an American GI who had volunteered. He liberated my mother, loved and married her. She followed him to the USA on one of the ships with the war brides. I was born a good year later and for my mother American dream turned into American nightmare and she went back home with her bundle of grief under her arm...

I tell the story this way because many children my generation are just as I an aftermath of the war. So I try to be non-violent and words and deeds. Ahimsa, to all of you and blessed be the peacemakers.

The child has the father’s name
That is all he is
a name - a seldom-heard voice
a story lost
With the fading of his glory
he lives on in a dream
reconstructed the charming hero
that he was
or more muddled
the bis-tris-dis-
of a mother’s life
So the child has a name
any name
The name of the wind
sitting in the rocking chair
with empty screeching
of wood on wood

The first name
 that would last.

Friday, December 2, 2011

John Sinclair

John Sinclair performs on tour with a band. The band plays according to the lyrics spoken. A lot of the poetry is influenced by Jazz, so we were treated with Monk, a bit of Coltrane, good old blues... and the words which flowed. The band prepares and then plays a set of songs, lyrics by Ken Post. After the break, after a moment of stillness and concentration, poet-activist, icon of American sub-culture performs. A love poem with a twist, a poem about being on the road and in jail with the beau of his mother and making money because the prison guards loved their performance and brought them out every night to another club.

to the point
and struggle
and all that...
Here you see the band, Lenny on the sax had his work cut out for him.

A fun night, without any of the tediousness of officialdom.
Honest en open jazzy poetry.
If  you have a chance to see John Sinclair perform, do go and listen.
It will warm the cockles of your heart.
Read the history of his struggle for the freedom to get high.