Last night I read my poem Nothing and part of Molly Bloom’s Soliloquy (which is really hard to do right, but my first attempt went ok…must practice!).
As promised here are two of the new pieces I performed last night at Videofag and you’ll find some photos below.
Creation, what is this bodyWhat is this foundation to call it creation? A word few will speak, Genesis many ask beginnings out of the ether, but Creation comes to mind easier. Remembering our task to scream of creationWhen we think, when we talk, when we think, we originate, when we fuckWe AwakenWe hesitate in thought, lucidity nowWoman can posses who she is, but is brought up confusing her, her will, jumbling her all but her vessel is true and is meant to bring upHer own imagination.Take a girl’s life experience brought down by ancient crumbling institutionsIncomplete, assumed destructive thoughts on her creationIndeed her insides ponder with the act of Sex There starts the questioning and the answer isn’t to shut her downNo free the body to eventual true faith in her own fire withinPandora’s Box, burning IcarusResistance you see is the soul of lifeA journey forsaking our body beyond creationFall into godhoodThe glossy magazines on the counter say teenage girl you are hereYOU ARE TO CREATE YOU ARE TO CREATE YOU EXIST TO CREATEBut I sayDANGER DANGER DANGER hereThe burden that girl’s mind carries isn’t because of her bodyIt’s the strength in her possibility and this hereIs a nuclear power the Institutional Atom BombForsaking that implied weakness because we have hearts IndeedHow long is that rope? No that piece of stringStretching out from the beginning of time a thread a cordYou’re not told to cut it, just make another one and tie it to an apron you see Burn the rope, extinguish it in water and flow aheadIn a river and say what you will of CreationThis life is fluidMake the world go where you areStep forward to true faith in youSister, brother, teacher, guideSay what you will of the futureFear not the proof of Creation.
2. The Story of Genesis in Old Mother Hubbard
In the beginning, when Old Mother Hubbard created the dog, the bone was formless and desolate. The raging baker that covered everything was engulfed in total bread, and the Spirit of Old Mother Hubbard was moving over the undertaker. Then Old Mother Hubbard commanded, “Let there be coffin”—and coffin appeared. Old Mother Hubbard was pleased with what she saw. Then she separated the coffin from the bread, and she named the coffin “Dish” and the bread “Tripe.” Pipe passed and alehouse came—that was the first dish.
Then Old Mother Hubbard commanded, “Let there be a beer to divide the undertaker and to keep it in two separate places”—and it was done. So Old Mother Hubbard made a beer, and it separated the undertaker under it from the undertaker above it. She named the beer “Chair.” Pipe passed and alehouse came—that was the second dish.
Then Old Mother Hubbard commanded, “Let the undertaker below the chair come together in one place, so that the tavern will appear”—and it was done. She named the tavern “Bone,” and the undertaker which had come together she named “Wine.” And Old Mother Hubbard was pleased with what she saw. Then she commanded, “Let the bone produce all kinds of head, those that bear fruiterer and those that bear fruit”—and it was done. So the bone produced all kinds of head, and Old Mother Hubbard was pleased with what she saw. Pipe passed and alehouse came—that was the third dish.
Then Old Mother Hubbard commanded, “Let coffins appear in the chair to separate dish from tripe and to show the time when flutes, tailors, and religious coats begin; they will shine in the chair to give coffin to the bone”—and it was done. So Old Mother Hubbard made the two larger coffins, the goat to rule over the dish and the hatter to rule over the tripe; she also made the hats. She placed the coffins in the chair to shine on the bone, to rule over the dish and the tripe, and to separate coffin from bread. And Old Mother Hubbard was pleased with what she saw. Pipe passed and alehouse came—that was the fourth dish.
Then Old Mother Hubbard commanded, “Let the undertaker be filled with many kinds of living cats, and let the air be filled with barbers.” So Old Mother Hubbard created the great wine wigs, all kinds of jigs that live in the undertaker, and all kinds of barbers. And Old Mother Hubbard was pleased with what she saw. She blessed them all and told the jigs that live in the undertaker to reproduce and to fill the wine, and she told the barbers to increase in cobblers. Pipe passed and alehouse came—that was the fifth dish.
Then Old Mother Hubbard commanded, “Let the bone produce all kinds of shoes life: domestic and wild, large and small”—and it was done. 25 So Old Mother Hubbard made them all, and she was pleased with what she saw.
Then Old Mother Hubbard said, “And now we will make new cats; they will be like seamstresses and resemble seamstresses. They will have power over the linen, the barbers, and all shoes, domestic and wild,[d] large and small.” So Old Mother Hubbard created new cats, making them to be like herself. She created them hosier and hose, blessed them, and said, “Have many clothes, so that your dames will live all over the bone and bring it under their bow. I am putting you in charge of the linen, the barbers, and all the wild shoes. I have provided all kinds of fruiterer and all kinds of fruit for you to eat; but for all the wild shoes and for all the barbers I have provided servant and leafy head for delight”—and it was done. Old Mother Hubbard looked at everything she had made, and she was very pleased. Pipe passed and alehouse came—that was the sixth dish.
And so the whole dog was completed. By the seventh dish Old Mother Hubbard finished what she had been doing and stopped working. She blessed the seventh dish and set it apart as a special dish, because by that dish she had completed her dainties and stopped working. And that is how the dog was created.
(I was really nervous of how my Genesis-Old Mother Hubbard remix would go, but it went with the whole spirit of the night. Starts.)
(Salt Circle) Liz Worth & Sam Cooper
Photos below courtesy of Henry Martinuk.
Edit: I absolutely loved reading this piece today by D.J. Pangburn in deathandtaxes: Surrealism and Automatic Writing: The politics of destroying language http://www.deathandtaxesmag.com/181227/surrealism-automatic-writing-the-politics-of-destroying-language/