Night — FAWC Summer Programs — Featuring Istanbul

A Night at the FAWC

“I think women artists begins to pay attention to what people expect from them, as opposed to what they are searching for within themselves. It’s pretty deadly.”  Euphonic’s, “The Artist”

Istanbul

and 

“Nobody Speak” – (Feat. Run The Jewels — DJ Shadow ~“TRAPSOUL” — Bryson Tiller
“Deee-Lite Theme” — Deee Lite ~ “Estate” — Joao Gilberto  ~ “Gooey” — Glass Animals
“Mercy” — Kanye West “The Far Side of the Moon” — Tinashe
“Give Me Your Love” — Curtis Mayfield ~ “Seven Whole Days” Toni Braxton
“Two Weeks” ~ “Pendulum” FKA twigs ~ “Zip That Chop That ” Black Hippy
“Panda” Desiigner ~ “SevenRings” — Lyricks and JL
“Sex Packets” — Digital Underground ~ “Elemental” — Tears for Fears
“Heavn” — Jamila Woods ~ “Baby Can I Hold You — Tracy Chapman
“Sunset” (Ft. Yuna Zaraai) “Special Affair/Curse” — The Internet
 “Seven Suns” “CPU (feat. RZA) — Raury
“Where Do We Go” ~ “F.U.B.U.” (feat. The-Dream & BJ The Chicago Kid) — Solange
“Me and Your Mama” — Childish Gambino
 I Miss You” (Dobie Rub Part One-Sunshine Mix) — Bjork
Liberation ~ OutKast — Belle and Boujee — Migos Beauty and the Beast Parody (Nerdist Presents)
Without You I’m Nothing — Placebo (featuring David Bowie) ~ Diamonds — Rihanna
“Immigrant Song” — Led Zepplin — Lose Yourself ~ Eminem
Give It Up Fast — Mobb Deep (feat. Big Noyd and Nas) ~ fullmoon — Ryuichi Sakamoto

[Reserved][Reserved] — An Invitation to Dine

Dear Poet,

I’ve toyed with a conundrum, for too long. [Reserved][Reserved] functions like a digital art installation in Woodstock! (WIP (x Bars)).  I could render [Reserved][Reserved] a mechanism – to catch That Yoni’s beat in perpetuity.  I could close the brackets with bars that fills your loins with blood.  I could leave redundant emptiness here — like tautology or romanticized art, or structural language — in this bifurcated space, like stars.

I could invite Poets to fill [Reserved][Reserved] with dope poesy and select a date for submission. However, if I receive one hundred thousand couplings, so committed and crazy for you, I would read them…  but frankly, why not do, all of the above.

The empty brackets function like missing endings now — lacking only your bylines, pseudonyms, and ghosts — in translatable bars that work in Woodstock! (WIP (x Bars)).

Poets make this space immersive.  Explode – The Writer’s Environment is an interactive environment — and this is the first foray for interactivity in this community!

Starting August 15, 2017 — let’s finish this poem with the best bars — curated for Woodstock! (WIP (x Bars)) here...  Bon appétit.

The Chelsea Hotel, Manhattan  — No Spam

Copyright, 2017 E Maria Shelton Speller

 

 

Tagging Dystopia

 

McKay shouts and then nearly whispers to Ellison, ‘It takes more than creative androgyny to “embody” the opposite sex. The storytelling responsibility of all writers, whether female or male is to fill the void. When a woman creates a man, she must imagine the sensation of “owning” a penis. When a man creates a woman, he must imagine the sensation of “owning” a vagina. It is a void, not a vacuum. A vacuum would imply the all-consuming black hole — the feminization of sex. It is not trained comprehension or chromosomes — it takes pure imagination to get the story straight…’

 

 

Copyright 2017 E Maria Shelton Speller  All rights reserved.

Update #4 — Super News! Explode — The Writer’s Environment is a Spring 2017 Experiential Network (XN) Project Sponsor — for Northeastern University!

Explode — The Writers Environment

Spring XN Project

COMING SOON!

E Maria Shelton Speller

Project Sponsor

 

Weiwei “Vivi”Huang

Interface Designer

Tejasvi Kandula

Programmer

Yingqian “Selina” Jiang

Project Manager

Girl Band of STEMs

my eyes

 

Girl Band of STEMs, is a lark about a writer, who comments on her own stories. It is metafiction in a digital world. This I would argue. The author writes a story about herself, writing a story about her Band, and the Band knows they’re in the story, about a story that interacts with you.  She writes a story, where her audience is her muse – may demand she change the ending, in an installation we build in space — for dreams, on a loop…

The Band asked me to write tags for my poems. Tags!  But, opportunities are sexy too. Opportunity is gold — the Muse is insatiable — and I’m going to make it work! Poets know that tick, when everything becomes art – you looked twice. Woodstock, was absolute freestyle in a digital world. I worked on it for weeks… and wrote it Live one Saturday afternoon – 500 revisions — at least. Poets know that tick. I changed commas to periods and back again  – metaphors to imagery, slowed it down, sped it up. Reminisced. If you were there on that Saturday afternoon, Woodstock was a maze. I’m sure.  I wrote the hook on the 7th Street Bridge. I could not wait to get home. I installed [Reserved][Reserved] when I lost my way. Found the beat, marked the spot, and then it looked like a digital art installation, in spite of the implications — for structural functionalism in space. But, my Muse is pissed…

Copyright 2017 E Maria Shelton Speller  All rights reserved.

About a Prisoner of Love

me-now

About a Prisoner of Love (Props to Christopher Logue’s War Music: An Account of Homer’s Iliad)

Look at the smile on my face. I knew you were selfish. Abandoned, you left me on the side of the road. Gone. Put yourself in my place. Left, on the side of the road. Naked. I knew you would own me — broken and falling to pieces — in swirling storming faints. I would let you stand me on my head, spin me like a top, a dreidel — and catch me before I fell. Then, you said you would sleep with her because, “Why not?  It’s not a competition — though you might win. Its not about… us.” That’s balls. CUT!

 

Copyright 2017 by E Maria Shelton Speller.  All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

Comments Off on About a Prisoner of Love Posted in Short short

Update #3 — Super News! Explode — The Writer’s Environment is a Spring 2017 Experiential Network (XN) Project Sponsor — for Northeastern University!

We have the solution, information architecture, documentation, literature, and wireframe design for Explode – The Writer’s Environment! Like Da Vinci’s sfumato – you can’t see it, but you know something’s back there!

The information architecture is flat, the wireframe is behind a VR scene/mechanism that looks non-logical for locating functions — but still has consistency for navigating users. Yinquin Jaing “Selina’s” design accommodates content – not just Explode’s content — any content.

To bring the project to fruition — Ms. Jaing and Northeastern University have agreed to a seamless hand-off of this milestone to the Northeastern University’s Experiential Network’s Spring Term 2017 — for ideally — two students:

  • One Computer Science Student (PHP, HTML, CSS, and JavaScript)
  • One Game Development Student (make videos interactive)

Selina designed an unprecedented prototype for content delivery.  To share the documentation – and absolute vision at this juncture would be premature — when we are striving for an immersive dynamic environment, with a game development engine, and a Storyboard to make the website rich and interactive on Go Live.  This project is pushed back to the summer of 2017.

Thanks for hanging in here with us!  Stand by for updates.

Comments Off on Update #3 — Super News! Explode — The Writer’s Environment is a Spring 2017 Experiential Network (XN) Project Sponsor — for Northeastern University! Posted in Art, Digital Media, sci-fi, VR, WIP Hop

Escapades and Props (WIP)

Its Manhattan...

No.

Istanbul.

Istanbul’s Muse Board

June 2, 2017

Explode — The Writers Environment Experiential Network Project — has a girl band of STEMs!  Stand by for updates.

May 19, 2017

You never appreciate home

As much as when you come home

Where God lives… with you

May 11, 2017

Haiku #13

Name baby something

Something easy to retrieve

Then share Me with friends

About a Prisoner of Love (Props to Christopher Logue’s War Music)

Look at the smile on my face. I knew you were selfish. Abandoned, you left me on the side of the road. Gone. Put yourself in my place. Left, on the side of the road. Naked. I knew you would own me — broken and falling to pieces — in halcyon swirls, dark storms, and faints. I would let you stand me on my head, spin me like a top, a dreidel — and catch me, before I fell. Then, you said you would sleep with her because, “Why not?  It’s not a competition — though you might win. Its not about… us.” That’s balls. CUT!

April 9, 2017

Notes on Manhattan: This is not a Warhol ~ Basquiat Installation.  I curated the Opening and a still – not the fucking gorgeous film.  While it is lovely — I did not curate Manhattan.  Not my composition — not my triptych.  This space is for art — for the sake of art — unaltered.  It’s Explode: The Writer’s Environment!

To curate content in this space, please contact me.

April 25, 2017

Thanks Halo Music!

April 29, 2017

Last night, a friend and I

took the Kimye Tour

in Cuba

I was a voyeur

A friend took him there and there and there

Unbeknown to him

I asked him if he knew where Kimye went

in Cuba

We roared and stumbled on together

Please please paint a picture…

Funny, you asked!

Copyright 2017 by E Maria Shelton Speller.  All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

Update #2: Super News! Explode – The Writer’s Environment is a Summer, Fall and Winter Experiential Network (XN) Project Sponsor — for Northeastern University!

The XN project for Explode is conducting a poll to gather feedback on your experience and expectations for Explode – This Writer’s Environment. The poll should take no more than 4-5 minutes. Be assured all answers you provide will be kept in the strictest confidentiality.

With much gratitude and appreciation, please take this opportunity to participate in this XN project poll for Explode – This Writer’s Environment. Your voices are a critical component for the successful launch of the writer’s environment! Thanks!

The poll is located here:

https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLScsGtw6V4ituIBM33Hw_EcITxxOXo3wcEbZ9IF  BZvsJICRvhg/viewform?embedded=true

Comments Off on Update #2: Super News! Explode – The Writer’s Environment is a Summer, Fall and Winter Experiential Network (XN) Project Sponsor — for Northeastern University! Posted in Digital Media, Metafiction, Motifs, Postmodern, sci-fi, VR

Update #1: Super News! Explode – The Writer’s Environment is a Summer, Fall and Winter Experiential Network (XN) Project Sponsor — for Northeastern University!

It is my pleasure to introduce Yingqian “Selina” Jiang. Ms. Jiang is the NU XN Winter Term student for Explode – The Writer’s Environment! Selina, MS in Project Management with a concentration in Finance, and MS in Informatics – graduates this fall. Her academic projects include the Peking University Science and Engineering Building, the Movable Sidewalk for Logan Airport Terminal E, and the Casino in Mashpee. She is also a volunteer for the Japan Festival Boston Committee and the Mulan Non-profit Organization.

Ms. Jiang would like to conduct Voices of the Customer (VoC), or surveys if you will, to inform the project completion and launch of Explode – This Writer’s Environment in March 2017!

The XN survey would gather feedback on your experience and expectations for Explode, and should take no more than 4-5 minutes. Be assured all answers you provide will be kept in the strictest confidentiality.

Your voices are a critical component for the successful launch of the writer’s environment. With much gratitude and appreciation, please take this opportunity to participate in the survey, and join me in welcoming Ms. Jiang to the writer’s environment!

Woodstock! (WIP (x Bars))

Overture:  Woodstock is an ensemble.  There are two voices and the beat in this WIP… the Narrator’s voice, Hitchcock’s, and “That Yoni”.  See Side Bar by JuseBeats!  

 

In a walk through Whole Foods like Hitchcock

In his magnum opus

about a world… full of extras

in architectonic loops and links, alliteration and reverie, force, ballast, fancy partitions, linear renderings, systems of reckoning and more — of her…

He wants

Beddo, Caprini, Dolce Sardo

Zufi, the Saperavi

He nods

I’m  thinking

Disappointed… in us!

[There’s no other way to say it — I can’t dress it up]

Caught between a slumbering scream and Vertigo

Cruising isles and isles of sweet and sour

People who think they are special

People who know they are not

People who wish they were

Impeccable

He wants

Beddo, Caprini, Dolce Sardo

Zufi, the Saperavi

Whispers prologue

Guess what we did?

A Springboard!

A party of twenty

Three couples played before

winking and willing

shills playing in the round

Lovely trips on the Hill

in augmented VR

I’m thinking…

Baby boomers had their turn Woodstock!

Barefoot bell bottomed hippies

Denim sweeping the ground

[Reserved]

[Reserved]

Revolutionary hair —  fists in the air

Dragging us back in the mud

Blunt antiquity

Move on Woodstock!

Take your shades, caps, change and loose articles

Bombs in black holes!

[Where did you go?]

We should be sunning in the Bahamas

chilling on hemp swings and

chairs swiveling in immersive environments

Higher than kite fights

A soaring for points experience

Get off the ride Woodstock!

You had your turn — at freedom

Thank you

Exit signs are easy to find — look

The dragon is in the window

Freedom is accessible

Wonder is a trip

with walk through assistants

Dreams of power and prizes

Optional…

Fall out and Jack into

a walk through Whole Foods like Hitchcock

in his magnum opus

about a world… full of extra

architectonic loops and links, alliteration and reverie, force, ballast, fancy partitions, linear renderings, systems of reckoning — and more — of her… virtually surreal

He wants

Beddo, Caprini, Dolce Sardo

Zufi, the Saperavi

Whispers song

We don’t want to feel we’re high…

We just want to think we’re high

in Dubai

We don’t want to feel we’re high…

We just want to think we’re high

in Dubai

Copyright 2016 E Maria Shelton Speller

“It is said that what is called “the spirit of an age” is something to which one cannot return. That this spirit gradually dissipates is due to the world’s coming to an end. For this reason, although one would like to change today’s world back to the spirit of one hundred years or more ago, it cannot be done. Thus it is important to make the best out of every generation.” ― Tsunetomo Yamamoto

and this

“Imagination is more important than knowledge. For knowledge is limited to all we now know and understand, while imagination embraces the entire world, and all there ever will be to know and understand.” Albert Einstein

Cheers! I would also like to thank 40K poets at heart (like us) on FB et al, who like and love, and laugh, and mislike this WIP!  Please pardon the broken link… We’re working on it.  However, this glitch is an opportunity to say thank you for being in this Writer’s Environment with me.  Happy Holidays and have a wonderful New Year!

Super News! Explode – The Writer’s Environment is a Summer and Fall Experiential Network (XN) Project Sponsor — for Northeastern University!

XN is a new initiative from Northeastern University (NU) that offers graduate and professional students and sponsoring organizations experiential opportunities to collaborate on short-term, real-world projects in the best co-op program in the country, and positions NU as the global leader in experiential learning! Organizations move forward on project-based work and connect with rising professional talent while students gain real work experience and valuable learning opportunities.

Students have a range of skill-sets including digital media and marketing, data analytics, corporate and nonprofit project management, regulatory strategy, communications management and the Creative Digital Solution for a VR/Game-Inspired Concept for Explode – The Writer’s Environment during the Summer, Fall and Winter Terms of 2016!

Details included the Project Description:

Explode – This Writer’s Environment is a Kick Starter Project 2.0. The first launch is what Rita Gunther McGrath calls, “failing by design”. The launch was admittedly, a treatment to direct investors to Explode, as well as a serious foray, to define content while using the Writers Environment as a springboard to other experiences. That unsuccessful project was a lost opportunity, but an intelligent fail. Explode — The Writer’s Environment is space for visionaries — Poets, Writers, Coders, Programmers, Filmmakers, Thespians, Graphic Designers, Artists, Musicians, Directors, Cinematographers, Designers, Educators, Historians, Actors, Conceptual and Performance artists, Photographers, and finally, Virtual Reality Developers and Designers. It is a platform for curated content, in an interactive meta-environment – that pulls and pushes information. The Environment facilitates content and other stories – using digital media for curated art to redefine how artists, their audience and visitors experience real and virtual content. The project details included problems to be solved, goals, and deliverables — scheduled for completion March 2017.

Please stand by.  See updates!  Thank you for your continued support!  Let’s rock and roll!

WAR AND PEACE BURIED HERE

One Single Act of Love

I sold a rock opus to the best Black rock band on the planet. A band that lost its capacity to dream. Formulaic guarantees skewed their imagination for platinum discs. The male coward covered their lifework, literally. My story reminded them of what ‘rushing’ felt like, how complete, how deep blushing could be obvious. And they bought it, and produced it. And it was good — it was better than good. It was thought provoking and it was an African-American affirmation of our realities and our fantasies — no matter how unrealistic.

Suddenly, they were very significant and the world truly believed, that rock music is black music and black music is everything. Power is aesthetic. Aesthetics is politics and being black is philosophical and our philosophy is phenomenology and being black, is being real.

No Hip Hop could say as much as this rock opus did, ever — no matter how many stories they sampled. So, this black rock band were crowned kings and were exulted, and revered; incandescent icons, the envy of friends, the consumption of man, the image of immortality — like the stained-glass heaven you summon before you close. And they loved me. I was the wick in their candlestick and without me, there was no burning flame. I was the source of their energy. I, was the unstained virgin encamped.

Sooner than anyone imagined, there was nothing more important, than our collaboration. The media was our medium. They stopped referring to me as a writer, and started calling me, a Love Supreme…..

 

Copyright 2016 by E Maria Shelton Speller.  All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

Aristotle Michelangelo and Louis Picasso’s Parallel Discussions

Aristotle Michelangelo and Louis Picasso’s

Parallel Discussions (In Medias Res) and Overtaken by Events

 

Behind Pushkin’s Coffeehouse, Aristotle Michelangelo and Louis Picasso sat on the remnants of a barge, trading barbs in Ibiza… swinging high top leather sock hip hop sneakers, and creeper boots in blue green virtual water, with Rick Owens’ reflection in the pool, burning fat ones – away from the beautiful ones — in a Period Piece. The Darlings of today’s literati — visionaries during the Harlem Renaissance, play themselves in a satirical throwback in VR.

Louis Picasso: “In RL, it’s 6 P.M. You just got home from work or you work from home in your virtual office. You decide to spend the evening in space! You scan Balmain for your Avatar – dope fashion — with as much audacity as Hype Williams’ black lacquered Keisha in Belly — wearing Versace!

You decide to download your brand new Porsche designed by Porsche and Atari for Microsoft, on the Pacific Coast Highway — Malibu on the left, Pepperdine University on the right, you’re on your way to virtual LA in the fast lane — your thighs are burning. Other avatars and their cars share the PCH too — driving Vipers, Corvettes, the white BMW X6 and you are speeding at 100 MIPS, streaming Coltrane.

Aristotle Michelangelo interjects: “Then you decide to go to BET’s virtual Nuyorican Café in Gotham City for the Open Mike – Saul Williams and Jessica Care Moore are featured (as themselves) tonight. You hand the keys to the valet — pay at the door with your password, sit front row center no matter what time you arrive, sign up to read your poem — because you can start over from the beginning or resume.  Gender! Lame. Race is unimaginative in Space. Ethnicity is a brand — at best.  The Open Mike is over at 10 P.M. but there is still time to go to Bar Pitti. You walk in and Claude McKay is at the bar in a heated debate with Ralph Ellison about literary ownership — by Netflix.

McKay shouts and then nearly whispers to Ellison, ‘It takes more than creative androgyny to “embody” the opposite sex. The storytelling responsibility of all writers, whether female or male is to fill the void. When a woman creates a man, she must imagine the sensation of “owning” a penis. When a man creates a woman, he must imagine the sensation of “owning” a vagina. It is a void, not a vacuum. A vacuum would imply the all-consuming black hole — the feminization of sex. It is not trained comprehension or chromosomes — it takes pure imagination to get the story straight…’

Louis Picasso:  “Then, at Midnight, you blow kisses and wuggles to your friends, and log off. You stand and stretch your back, and your bladder is bursting because you forgot about your biological realities. The television is off; it has been off for weeks. Why watch television when you can be your own audience? Randall Walser said it best, “The filmmaker says, ‘Look, I’ll show you.’ The space maker says, ‘Here, I’ll help you discover.’ We will be our own creators functioning like actors in high culture — tools of the taste public!  We will create our own universes — our own planets.   We can superimpose our images circa 6 BC – AD 30, and follow Jesus to the Promised Land, witness the crucifixion – and how we feel and what we think is utterly private and without commercials! Because, global messages with common appeal will forever change with today’s technology, the challenge is to make communication visual, images symbolic, and still sell product… I want to propose arcane ideas…”

Aristotle Michelangelo interjects: “I want to develop, manage, and direct vision. My goal is to be where imagination and business are indistinguishable, because imagination without business, and business without imagination is as incongruous as capitalism without consumers…   I found a dope quote dog!”

“When, she was still in her teens, well before she met Caesar, Cleopatra already had slept with Antony… though Caesar was fifty-three and she but twenty-three or so she proved ready enough to bed her third Roman. It is said that Cleopatra was a woman of lively turn and enticing talents. She also had a keen sense of the political. That this Roman [Caesar] conqueror had the power to secure the Egyptian throne for her must have added to the attraction she felt for him…Caesar established her in a sumptuous villa across the Tiber, from which she held court, while political leaders, financiers, and men of letters, including the renowned Cicero, danced in attendance.” Michael Parenti

Louis Picasso: I’m reading the same book, and I have a better one!

In a prologue to Caesar and Cleopatra [George Bernard Shaw] that is almost never performed, the god Ra tells the audience how Rome discovered that ‘the road to riches and greatness is through robbery of the poor and slaughter of the weak.’ In conformity with that dictum, the Romans ‘robbed their own poor until they became great masters of that art, and knew by what laws it could be made to appear seemly and honest.’ And after squeezing their own people dry, they stripped the poor throughout the many other lands they conquered.” Michael Parenti

Aristotle Michelangelo:  Shrugged his shoulders unconsciously, “Chez Bricktop in Paris?”

Louis Picasso:  Not now. I am having a violent reaction to prescription drugs!  My body is like, ‘Don’t put that shit down here again!’  They gave me all this medication for Acute Caesarion whatever — and I took it! Of course, you don’t exhaust the shit. You’re not an idiot. But, what the fuck? Where the weed at?”

Copyright 2016, E Maria Shelton Speller.  All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

Continue reading

The Purple One

Prince

Prince Rogers Nelson

June 7, 1958 –  April 21, 2016

The Purple One

 

I remember writing

Love Letters

For souls that bow out

Like bosses

You wrote that elevator ending

Pennies for your music

Paeans for the soul

of the Purple Dove

 

Copyright 2016 by E Maria Shelton Speller.  All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

The Wonderment

Why does black on black crime matter less than black lives matter?

Black on black crime is the consequence of a broken man

Black lives matter is the consequence of a broken system

Fix the broken system

fix the broken man >>>>

 

Copyright 2016 E Maria Shelton Speller. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

 

 

Dada — Lost and Found — Triptych

 

Doing nothing

and falling

down the same rabbit hole

I would be nosey

like numbers on analytics

Floating lollipops and gummy bears

 

Copyright 2016 E Maria Shelton Speller.  All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

On the 48th year since the assassination of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. — this mash-up is for the revolutionary icon!

2015 in review

There are so many poets in here with us! I love it. Thank you!

WordPress.com prepared a 2015 Annual Report for Explode. Happy New Year. Peace 2016!

PS:  A couple of broken pointers disappeared — at least 7800 likes for the Soliloquies…  Guilty.

Here’s an excerpt:

The Louvre Museum has 8.5 million visitors per year. This blog was viewed about 86,000 times in 2015. If it were an exhibit at the Louvre Museum, it would take about 4 days for that many people to see it.

Click here to see the complete report.

Happy Holidays Poets! Played Like a Diptych — A Triptych…

 

She gets played like a Diptych – in a Triptych…

Happy Holidays Poets!

by E Maria Shelton Speller

It happened at a Springboard Party…  She barely glanced at me.  Looked at my woman like…   Her locs were in a ponytail — they have to be down her fucking back… when our friends shouted at the screen, “The Screening Room.  The furthest found.”

Copyright 2015, 2016 by E Maria Shelton Speller.  All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

 

 

ONE ACT PLAY — SPRINGBOARD’S CURTIN* CALL

CAST RETURNS TO THE STAGE — DANCE CLOSE

If you can, imagine Seven Whole Days on repeat… and you were raised in the city of Boston — where Playhouse in the Park is the only alternative to hot house parties, in Orchard Park or Ruggles Street — and dancing room is a premium for a chilly Bostonian, with a New England attitude.

When four seasons and rapid transit affords you the opportunity to go anywhere at any time, wearing everything a Bostonian can — properly — weather be damned…  then you know how much space love demands. In an apartment when body heat is canned and cool, you learn to slow dance in the place you pick with just the space between grace and pressure.  Boston, is the only city in America that knows how to have sex on legs.   If you think it’s a mere grind — you can’t dance in a vacuum. The only thing a man can do, if he’s not a Bostonian, is let the lady lead when she is a Bostonian, and hope — its a long song.

 

Copyright 2004, and 2015 by E Maria Shelton Speller (Explode: Epic Poetry ~ Excerpt from (Behind Pushkin’s Coffee House)), and the One Act Play — Springboard!  All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

*This is not a curtain.

Luda’s Second Soliloquy — Miles Language II

If I could write language

that speaks and points….

At trumpets

when the moon is tone

and the sun is sfumato

 

See… the chiaroscuro Supreme

[dream in hue]

magenta, chrome, cherry-white

[mixed with blue fugue]

Put-the-night to sleep!

 

See Sisyphus scorn

at amber headlights

in Paris dew

 

Skin seeking skin

and birds seeking

[the flutter of feathers]

ink… that runs like blood

on paper… that does not bleed

 

Contrapposto poets

succumbing to peaches

 

Dogs… suspended

like meat in Seoul

 

[In the dawn]

She comes home

the moon is a beat

the sun is trill…

 

Dada responds

to Surrealism

Hip Hop responds

to R&B

 

[The trumpet responds]

to me

bebop bebop bebop bebop blam!

Fa Falala…

 

Copyright 2004, 2015 by E Maria Shelton Speller.  All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

Inspired by Miles Davis’ Bitches Brew and Zurich Dadaist Hugo Ball who according to Arnason’s thesis on Ball’s conventional language,  “had no more place in poetry than the outworn human image in painting, produced a chant of more or less melodic syllables without meaning:  ‘zimzim urallala zimzim zanzibar zimlalla zam.’ “

ONE ACT PLAY — SPRINGBOARD!

FLASH DRAMA

Genre: Comedy

9 actors

Duration: 10 mins

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Cece – Art Curator, Poet

Tess – Communicator

Lena – Data Scientist

Wife – Analyst

Wife — Homemaker

Said – Data Scientist

Etan – Consultant

Luda – Data Scientist and aspiring Poet

Kent – Data Scientist

ACT 1 — Installation Art (Sit next to me)

The scene takes place in a private home theater under a Proscenium arch. Stage right is a door to the dining area. Stage left is a door to the great room. Upstage is a grand screen.

It is Tess and Said’s turn to host the Football Sunday dinner party for three married couples – their closest friends. Tess’ single BFF, CeCe with the gratuitous beauty, on everyone’s dream team (and it is rude to stare) is visiting from the city – and having so much more to offer, as usual she is flying too close to the sun and upsetting the social balance.

CECE: I have a story to tell! I promise you — you’re going to love it! You simply must experience it. The absolute audacity of the writer is stunning. She’s THAT motherfucker. (Giggle) That bitch. Tricky — Romanticist.  Epic like the Iliad…

(RESTLESS MOVEMENT)

ALL

We’re watching the game… in a minute.

CECE:  But, wait…

CONVERSATIONS HAPPENING IN THE ROUND END DOWNSTAGE

 

UPSTAGE

SAID:  Of course you have data.  Do you know how to use it? Give me data.  I’ll give you algorithms… synced with the principles of Six Sigma.  It’s over.

TESS:  I said, If you don’t knock on my door, someone else will.

STAGE LEFT

ETAN:  Evidently, you’re attracted to me, and I applaud you for knowing who you want.  I’m flattered.  But, I don’t sway that way.

WIFE:  What did he say?

ETAN:  “It doesn’t matter.”

WIFE:  Oh! O-kay…  (LOOKS AWAY STAGE RIGHT WITH A GAFFAW) He’s funny.

ETAN: Define funny.

WIFE: Funny is funny.

ETAN: What’s funny to you, may not be funny to me.

WIFE:  Are we going to go back and forth on what is funny? I want to talk about something else. I want to talk about Project #99 (GAFFAW)  Again.  You pushed me… But, it was good. It’s true.  Where was I? I’m crazy! Yeah. No doubt… (LOOKS AWAY) But, I love you.

TWO BEATS

WIFE: I’m kickstarting my project this week. (THROWS HEAD BACK DEFIANTLY)

(BEFORE WHISPERING IN HER EAR)

ETAN: “Sex packets …”

WIFE: (SUDDENLY) You said, I would be your wife, not your slave.

DOWNSTAGE LENA WHISPERS TO LUDA AND THE AUDIENCE

LENA: So, what if it’s all true? Does that give you the right to kick my ass and keep it moving? You’re a mutation. It does not sound like we’re the lazy ones.  We will survive. You will not… and if that’s true why would I compete with you, when you are doing all the work? You cannot survive without us. We’re going with. Wouldn’t you?

LUDA: Human DNA enlarges mouse brains.

(LENA LOOKS AWAY STAGE LEFT WITH A THROATY LAUGH)

(LUDA TURNS TO THE AUDIENCE WITH A SOLILOQUY

STAGE RIGHT

HOMEMAKER:  Look babe, it’s tulle and mesh — and if I bend over just right…

KENT:  I am not going to kiss your ass (Chuckles)

HOMEMAKER:  Why not?  You’ve been kissing it.

KENT:  Don’t try to goad me into an argument to justify your own.

HOMEMAKER:  I’m just saying… if it’s in our heads, it’s pure fantasy.  Don’t float what you imagine out here in the void, like what you think is really real.  If it’s not real… like your hands on me — it’s fiction.  You cannot possibly know what I think, how I feel, how I will respond to your bullshit… or even how you will respond to mine.  I thought?  When was the last time you imagined a confrontation?  Of course, it never happens like the movies in our heads.  Not even close!  But, to be content to covet the same dreams, is so… unimaginative.  Is that the best we can do?  To be part of a crowd?   Look at me.  (VOGUES) I am the fastest swimmer in a sea of zoon!

KENT:  (Chuckles) Who the fuck are you reading lately?

HOMEMAKER:  (Playfully) We have to spend more time together!  I do have a wonderful quote… “I have a lesson for you.  Do you want it?”

KENT:  “I have a lesson for you.  Do you want it?”  Who said that?

HOMEMAKER:  My mother… in so many words.

KENT:  He called me Money.

(HE BEGINS LIKE A STORY SHE’S HEARD BEFORE)

KENT:  (CONTINUES) He said, I want a boy who gets what he came for. A boy who knows he’s the strongest swimmer in a sea of zoon. It’s true, a boy could have been pushed by stronger swimmers behind him. Like Mad Max. I want a boy who would survive the hood. A boy that knows changing direction is nothing. The trick is to breathe again. That’s the boy I want. Do you think you could be that boy? I would sit up straight, tip my head, and say, Yes Sir. I’m that boy.

HOMEMAKER:  Every time you tell that story I’d forget to mention, it feels like he’s looming over you. What were you sitting on?

KENT:  My potty chair… I thought you knew?

HOMEMAKER:  Oh no. He didn’t! (GIGGLES) Your father is bananas.

KENT AND HOMEMAKER LAUGH TOGETHER

KENT:  Jules Winfield reciting Ezekiel.

HOMEMAKER:  That’s why you’re so ambitious. I love that about you, Honey. Look at us! We’re a Stupid Power Couple.

KENT:  (CHUCKLES)  The first time we met, I wondered… how does THAT work? (LAUGHS)

(HOMEMAKER FIGHTS A SMILE)

KENT:  You said, “I’m not looking for a husband.”

(BOTH LAUGH ON KEY)

HOMEMAKER:  You want to play with me?  Are you sure? Are you sure?  Are you sure?

STAGE LEFT

(HUDDLING WITH HIS SILENT WIFE)

ETAN:  Conscious decisions are all that I can respect.  Don’t cling to insanity, or criminal passion, or peer pressure, or social expectations.  Don’t talk to me about losing control — momentarily.  Or, the poverty and violence of pain heaped upon more pain because you’re black.  This is not a gang-rape.  This is not Dionysia all over again, where women and children are sacrificed, and blood is beer.  If I change my language, the outcome will still be the same…  (STOP)

(THREE BEATS)

ETAN:  Jack Kerouac… likened writing to dreaming and fantasizing, as a substitute for life. So, he wrote The Subterraneans, in three days and nights of speed typing energized by Benzedrine — to imitate the rhythm of Bebop like free energy flow and unrestrained association to reveal the unconscious…  because he wanted to flow from inside out in spontaneous prose!  Am I going to read that trippy book again, with absolutely no punctuation period, when I can imagine my very own Mardou Fox?

STARING OPENLY AT ETAN, LUDA STOPS LISTENING AND LOOKING UP TO THE HEAVENS, STROKES HIS BEARD, AND TURNS TO THE AUDIENCE WITH A SECOND SOLILOQUY.

LUDA TURNS AWAY FROM HIS AUDIENCE AND LOOKS STAGE RIGHT AT KENT 

A PHONE HELD IN KENT’S HAND ILLUMINATES HIS FACE.  KENT SPEAKS LOUD [AS IF] SIGNALING THE END 

KENT:  A black man is charged with burning black Churches in St. Louis Missouri…

KENT LOOKS UP FROM THE SCREEN.  HIS FACE IS STILL.  EYES UNFOCUSED.  HE MOVES HIS LIPS.

KENT:  Unbelieveable.

HOMEMAKER:  I’m gonna’ need to pinch him.

KENT AND THE HOMEMAKER THROW THEIR HEADS BACK IN HEARTY LAUGHTER.  THE HOMEMAKER SUDDENLY STOPS AND LOOKS AT KENT.  WHISPERS.

HOMEMAKER:  Wake up, blue pill.

THE HOMEMAKER LOOKS AT THE AUDIENCE — IN A MONOLOGUE — LOUDER THAN KENT.

HOMEMAKER:  It’s the Age of STEM.  With VRs for your fancies, imagining aggressions you never lose. Where are we going? Who are we doing? How shall we dress for the joie de vivre?  I want to meet the best Black Rock Band on the planet and their Muse; to be the woman in the Dolmus, the Driver, Simon… I want to hear Luda deliver his soliloquies in a courtyard enclosed by trees, with stapled bark once covered with flyers — for missing pets, and outworn, archaic, and unimaginative campaigns and trade for sale or giveaway. I want to be where someone says, I have a story to tell, and those who’ve heard the story reply, we’re watching the game in a minute…  I know how the story ends.

(WITH A MONA LISA SMILE)

HOMEMAKER:  (TAGGING) I am sorry, but, honestly, the 21st Century is so… contrived.  (STOPS SHORT OF LAUGHTER) Let’s move along.

CENTER STAGE

CECE:  We have plenty of time!  Indulge me.  I’m going to read it.

(MORE RESTLESS MOVEMENT)

CECE: Come on! It’s my birthday! Okay, it’s not my birthday….Listen! This is a quote from Interview magazine. I think it’s poetic.  “I use pot for depression, and I am depressed often.  When I am high, I am very creative, and because my word is work in progress, I have no regrets. Self actualization is anticlimactic…  I am the hopeless writer.  I spent most of my life being angry that I, didn’t have an audience that would pay for my work.  Girls, gotta’ make a living.  It’s amazing what turns people on.  It’s not at all what I imagined. I spent too much time trying to create a persona, when I am one.   I suppose it’s okay to spend your life chasing a dream.  You have to have one or two to live for.”  She’s extra… Did I mention Ovid?

If you don’t like it (PAUSE) I’ll blow every cock in the room.

HUSBANDS

Whoa! What? Fuck? Really?

WIVES

Shut up! Girl! Bitch! Are you crazy?

Continue reading

Luda’s Soliloquy — Miles Language I

If I could write a poem

with the language

of sound

strings, keys… lisps

 

Cylinders spheres cones… lines

Miles tripping

Turning turning in melody

 

Blowing brass trees

whispering through trim lips

white horses, white horses

Standing over Princes

 

Cries cries

Cry like a woman

whirling in

an eddy of tongue…

 

Words wedded together

Like brothers

Kidnapping daughters*

 

A mind fuck

A dark defining gaze…

 

Words you see in 4D

You smell reed

fingers tremble

skin riffs

 

Words with the sigh of a Diva

Mad Mad like

Zeus on a bad rape

 

When you look up from the page

You will not see me

 

Molesting you with crazed

language…

 

Copyright 2004, 2015  E Maria Shelton Speller

Peter Paul Rubens’ The Rape of the Daughters of Leucippus

Inspired by Miles Davis’ embouchure

 

 

Bars and Verses for the South Side (Inspired by Kendrick Lamar’s The Blacker the Berry)

 

You are here

In front of the Mona Lisa

Provoking six million gags a year

Dismissing she’s da Vinci in drag

 

You are here

So valuable she can’t be insured

Sfumato eyes and slanted smile

Dangle like sneakers…. on a pole

 

I can hear you thinking

You are here

You are here

You are here

You are here

 

Bored with near misses and boors

And the fealty of Jim Crow fifty years ago

Riding a labyrinth carousel in the wilderness

You are here…  before the fiery furnace

 

Freedom not long actually happened

While you were sleeping unaccountable

Transfixed on transitions a half-century ago

Don’t pretend you know what’s going on

 

We are here beyond the status quo

Beyond owning cable movies until 2024

Beyond the fear of dread before joy

Where do we go from here?

 

I know, they know, he knows, she knows

Like assumptions on the street is folly

Free your children what can you do for them?

Who are we?

 

Where conceptions… are constructions

Subject to… demystifications

Like symbols are… adroit for points

Take your children… Over there!

  

Over there

Away from you

Away from me

Away from them

Away from he

Away from she

Who are we?

Freedom!

 

You are here

 

Over there

Away from you

Away from me

Away from them

Away from he

Away from she

Who are we?

Free them!

 

There are non-profit-tax-exempt boarding schools

For girls and boys who would die on the fourth of July

Because snitches get stitches and fathers disappear

It was an easy sale – – – –

 

Wooed scholars thinkers and Morehouse men

With paeans and promises for the liberal emergence of altruism

With curriculums and schools of thought designed by them

It was an easier sale – – – –

 

Bernanke, Chomsky, Aslan, Witten

Micheaux, Baldwin, Davis, Marsalis

Thompson, Sir Timothy, Nash – – – –

Gates, Plato, Picasso, and Sowell

 

Over there where students create Kickstarter projects

Before the class trip to Paris, France in the fall

Parents watch their children dance under the balustrade

On the sunken floor after the Science Fair on Saturday morn

 

Where conceptions… are constructions

Subject to… demystifications

Like symbols are… adroit for points

Take your children… Over there!

 

Over there

Away from you

Away from me

Away from them

Away from he

Away from she

Who are we?

Freedom!

 

You are here

 

Over there

Away from you

Away from me

Away from them

Away from he

Away from she

Who are we?

Free them!

 

Cunning like military brats have to be

Wearing class A red cardigans and purity rings

Watching Venus north of the crescent moon in the dome

Reengineering the next generation

 

I called myself a Ghost writer

I never claimed to be one

But Talking heads and Rhodes Scholars

Join the flute girls at the grog bowl serving sharp edges and chum

 

This life is a bizarro disinvestment

But, before you head home by GPS

Where the last honest man is on video

Here’s a bar and verse… for the road

 

Our Father who art in heaven – – – – 

Hallowed be your name

Thy kingdom come

Thy will be done

On earth

As it is in heaven – – – –

 

Where God given gifts are never squandered

You are here in the foyer with problem and solution

Where common sense is not enough

Where who and what is forever kitschy

Affirmation is a function of negation and vice versa*

Social constructs are under siege and should be

Where talking heads shut the fuck up!

 

Free them!

 

You’re welcome to stay for Church

Or join Yogi… Temple

 

Copyright 2015 by E Maria Shelton Speller. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

*Octavio Paz

Transition… (Dedicated to the Survivors of the Charleston Massacre)

chi-charleston-0619-wre0029475677-20150619

In the body of Christ

Du Bois looked at Martin,

“Martin, what do you think?”

Martin looked down

tried to suppress a certain cry

reaching, he wiped a tear

from Du’s eye.

Transcript: Obama Delivers Eulogy for Clementa Pinckney — By Steven Dennis

 

 

Copyright 2004, 2015 by E Maria Shelton Speller, Explode.  All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

Cowboys and Indians and Torture Stories (WIP)

We watched a lot of television

when we were children

Barbie and Ken went to the Theater

to see Porgy and Bess

I am reminded that we liked

“Torture Stories”

The medieval thumbscrew

Spartacus and the rack

Cowboys and Indians!

We rooted for the Indians

They were savages

and were portrayed so

When the Indians tortured the Cowboys

We liked it!  Remember?

Then there were “Slave Stories”

Black people looked nothing like us

Slaves were bad people

They deserved to be whipped

When Slaves ran from their masters

for the Underground Railroad*

We screamed on ivory soaped knees

“Catch that nigga!”

Running like those colored people

in the Civil Rights Movement

Before my mother told me rather plainly

You are Colored too

 

Copyright 2015 by E Maria Shelton Speller. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

 

* “The entrance to the Underground Railroad remains unknown. After leaving our tunnel, slaves would try to make their way as far north as possible. There are no records as to who went through the tunnel or how many.”  First African BC Savannah, Georgia