Tag Archives: music

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The Song and Dance Application

I’d like to apply for a permit
for a protest march
on the Washington Mall.

Lovely idea.
But, we’re only issuing Mall permits
for Song and Dance Events.

I think this might be a violation of my Rights
to Free Speech.

I see it more as a patriotic protection of your health care rights
for Free Song and Dance Improvement
instead.

So we can sing ballads
to Adolf Hitler
and Royal Elitist Head MucketyMucks
of the Only White Lives MightMatter Makes RightWing KKK,
we just can’t say them.

That’s right.
And you get extra points for at least four-part harmony
and full orchestration,
and professional choreography,
and community participation
regardless of age, gender, race, religion, etc.

Well, that feels a little prejudiced
and elitist.

How so?

What if you can’t afford a choreographer,
much less an entire orchestra.

Then your budget narrative will note
your capacity to sing and dance is contingent
on receiving sufficient community volunteers
for your harmonic protest Event.

This Event
begins to resound
with echoes of a Happening.

Only if you are a TransMillennial.

No, I’m a RightWing reaction against anything Trans,
or Poly
or Multi.

Sorry, sir.
TransMillennials are those born prior to 2000
and who remain planning to die
in this current PostMillennial Event.
I’m merely saying
you appear to be older than 17,
which you would need to be
to apply to sponsor a Mall Song and Dance Event.

Well, is there an application fee?

No.
There is, however, a sliding-fee-scale permit fee,
should your application ever have a chance of being successful.
But I have to tell you,
these Washington Mall slots are very competitive,
especially if you want something more than an hour,
and not in the middle of the night.
Then your only real competition
are the other vampire and costume clubs
and the witches covens,
depending on the lunar cycle.
I mean,
you can forget about any FullMoon
or NewMoon
or Equinox
within the next decade.

Wow!
I was just trying to put together
a nice old fashioned good ol’ boys
AltRight
armed to the teeth
militia march
while chanting a few really offensive fascist slogans.

Well, funny thing,
it was just that kind of protest march
that led all these churches
and synagogues
and Eastern temples
and even the StoryTellers group from the mosques
sponsoring these FlashMob Events.

When I was checking out the Mall
to see where to put the stage,
suddenly all these people I thought were tourists
and just pedestrians
and all the people in the cars and buses going by,
and the frisbee players,
and even some of the dogs,
all froze in place for a moment,
then began dancing,
then singing that annoying We Shall Overcome gospel anthem,
like I had just walked onto a movie set.
Although no lights and big cameras.

Yes.
Today’s Event received extra points
for community participation.
The District of Columbia FlashMob Combined Gospel Choir
joined up with the local street dancers and choreographers,
and the drummers,
of various cultural backgrounds,
and usually books the Mall on weekends for full two day events.
Most of the time
they practice harmonies and choreography,
and encourage people gathering to watch
to join in,
whether they can stay until the final run through of the day,
or not,
when cameras are digitally ubiquitous.
In fact,
often cell phones are part of the dance,
for lights and multiple viewing perspectives on social media sites.

Then they do a final run through about four or five PM,
then everybody goes home
or maybe they’ll have a picnic
if the band or orchestra or drummers
can stay into the evening.
They might even have an open stage night
for singers and dancers
and those Creation StoryTellers
from the mosques.

I’m having trouble seeing our RightWing message
in this Song and Dance frame.

There are less competitive venues
but most state capitols
are seeing this same cooperative community response
to these all day multicultural NonFlash Mobbing Events.
It’s sort of like America’s Got Talent
went RealTime coast to coast
in a capitol, or even a County Seat, near you.

Well, I need a permit for a counter-protest.

You will need to include your song and dance plan
and budget with your application,
and your plan has to be coordinated with any group already issued a permit
for the Mall
on the day
and time
you propose to counter.

Would that look like some kind of large-set talent contest?

It could.
But, when the District Multicultural Choir
and Drummers
and Street Performers
and Orchestra
respond to your challenge,
just know they usually turn out
somewhere up toward two million singers and dancers,
and it would be more
if we had the space and toilets.

Last year they accepted a challenge
from a national supremacist group ironically named
the RightWing Goliaths.
That was a big national media Song and Dance Event
in which the Goliaths moved and sounded…
well…
not very cooperative
seemed to be the national patriotic consensus,
while the District MultiCultural Singers and Dancers
were totally awesome!
In fact,
by the end of the Goliath’s first song,
the MultiCulturals were adding in their four-part LaLaLa’s
and OoohOoohOooh’s,
then the African Drummers joined in
so the RightWing message was out-scaled
into an awkward hiccuping sound
very much in the background,
and I’m being generous.

Anyway, application forms are on-line.
You’ll find our cooperative community inclusion guidelines,
budget requirements,
and forms you can use to invite community volunteers to join in.
Family friendly plans also receive extra points
so you might want to leave your firearms
and reckless drivers at home.

This still feels like a violation of my Right
to be a White Supremacist
or even just a somewhat paranoid Hater
and shout about my embarrassingly personal issues in public.

As long as you can sing and dance your message
you are welcome to apply for a Permit.
I’m merely letting you know
we have far more applications
than space and time already.
So this revision in our postmillennial permitting process
protects my right not to hear your monocultural pedestrian chanting
and strutting of RightWing racist
and sexist bullshit,
because all I can ever hear
is that District MultiCultural Choir
and their Dancing and Drumming Allies
singing more ProAmerica
and ProEarth
GoodNews gospel Events.

It’s a tough job,
but somebody has to be the permit-issuer,
and decide which messages deserve extra points
for harmony
and choreography
and family friendly love
through each and every venue
of NonFlash Mobbing
with positive WinWin cooperative
song and dance intent.

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All Dancers Matter

Those who pray by marching
can pray alone
in endless competitions.

Those who pray while dancing
can only pray together
for timeless cooperations.

Hate and fear can only angry march
side by competing side
in uniformity of lock-step supremacy.

But love and compassion
can also truth and beauty dance
and sing
in full hope octaves
of multicolored harmony.

Resonant solidarity of ballrooms
and street performers
singing and chanting and drumming
good news gospel resonance
rather than bad news mono-marching hate.

We can sing and dance cooperatively
to angry patriarchal elitist marchers
more effectively than merely speak in not-kind shout,
and across,
and back and forth,
flow anthems up and out of all inclusive love songs.

This singing dance can,
with enough harmonic polycultured voices,
become sustained ego-happy filibusters
through marching hate,
marathons of love
proactively singing and dancing
alongside those marching through dualdark fear and anger,
inviting them to rejoin
our dancing gospel choir.

For every hate-mongering military march,
we have thousands of love-mentoring lyrics,
and,
therefore,
potential dancing lyricists.

Anger and marching paranoia are mutually competitive
double-binding allies,
as are love song and grace of dance mutually harmonic.

We can choose to march and shout ourselves apart,
but we would more democratically,
and gracefully,
prefer to dance and sing our cooperative ways together.

Those who pray while dancing
can only pray together
for timeless cooperations.

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Summer of ’67

My canopy of early summer sounds
in 1967
was as intimate as adolescent knowledge
might ever become.

My sixteenth summer
sweetly smiled with driver’s permit,
my first job,
economic promise while the Beach Boys
and the Beatles sang a rainbow
of boy band diversity,
sang stories of straight white male revolutions,
evolutions of June firefly evenings
resounding bullfrog and cricket background vocals
on our family farm,
where good Christian Republicans
longed for good old Eisenhower years
when Father was wise
and always knew best,
and Vietnam was no more than an acrid draft
of wasted social
financial
political
environmental
nutritional capital,
not yet fully present.

This summer of 1967
was when I knew both anguish of embodied defeat,
hopelessly homosexual,
an yet poignancy of emerging mystical wonder
about what this could mean
fifty years from now.

I could not help fantasizing
how Paul and Art
might not only sing,
but dance, in poignant harmonies.

And,
as much as I laughed and loved and longed
to hear Stevie Wonder wondering
and Otis Redding wanting,
Marvin Gaye worshiping,
I so wished they could sound even better
with me.

Joni Mitchell
and Joan Baez
and Judy Collins,
like John Lennon,
were compelled to write and speak and sing
songs of love as freedom
growing transcendent
yet deeply fertile
Aquarian promise.

A promise bombed out
by uncivil wars
bound by fear of egocentered failure.
Fear our parents,
and half of my junior year classmates,
found compelling enough to throw away dollars
to build and buy
and transport
and explode bombs and bullets and boys,
nearly oblivious to hundreds of thousands of innocent men
and mothers
and children wiped out
by a mere strategic choice
to cover partisan ass
as the biggest baddest bully
on Earth’s shrinking block.

I didn’t blame him,
but when I called James Taylor
to rescue the Johnson and Nixon White Houses,
he did not come,
as promised,
to rescue me,
to remind us about our friend and family connections
across cosmic time
and Earth’s regenerate space.
A great ballad was just not enough.

In June of ’67
I was singing both “I Believe”
and “Love is Blue”
with equally honest passion
and thriving off a translucent vulnerable cover song
between these two impossibly incommensurable positions,
surrounded by straight evangelical predators,
sniffing for pinko faggot weakness.

I was so guilty
yet so in love with rightness
and ripeness
of my generation’s possibilities
for revolutionary integrity,
drawing together economic health
with political wealth
in some new golden ruling age
of relentlessly cooperative incorporation
and association
and ownership
and self-governance.

In this early summer of 1967
Martin and Bobby still walked with us
and one still dreamed he might see
someone who looked and thought and felt like him
as President one day
and the other I dreamed would become President
while I was still a high school junior.

So much devastation and disappointment followed.
It took at least a decade
and hundreds of thousands of human lives
treated like conscripted fodder
for nationalistic hubris of false pride
to arrive at the very treaty
our Vietnamese opponents had originally demanded.
And long before anyone from the U.S.
had been drafted and killed
for this offensive cause
of nationalistic non-defense.

Other health care and defense abuses
and losses
followed.
Neglect of women’s health.
Pedagogical loss of children’s deep ecological listening opportunities
to nondually co-arise with Earth’s polyphonic voices,
resources of multiculturing nutrition.

Yet I have these summer of ’67 memories
when,
for one diastatic season,
my revolutionary age on planet Earth
stood between despair of guilt
for what and whom I could never become
and celebrating hope for joy
of what we might yet reweave
timelessly singing and dancing
chanting and drumming
revolutioning and evolutioning together.

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Subversive Dance

I hope we can help ourselves
and each other
become quieter,
more leisurely,
generous,
grateful,
graceful dancers of sound
rhythm
pattern
voices of color
to see and hear these quieter vibrations
of wildness.

Wildness
wilderness
relatively untouched forests of mountains
and oceans,
rivers
lakes
ponds
swamps of wildness
for quiet forms of song and Earth dance.

Dance
moving to louder voices of climate pathology
and landscape erosion
decomposition of home and safety,
but also quieter dance
of witness
stalking visual prey
we would not violate with unwanted harming touch,
turning and swirling whorls of joy
quiet
yet also loud tornadoes
hurricanes
tsunamis whirling wildly loud.

Loud dance thrashing
climates of disarray
for smaller subclimates within
remaining wildness of species memory.

Memory of meadow walks
and naked tree climbing
swinging dances with polyphonic gendered nature
nurturing quieter wilderness
teaching slowing leisurely dance
through each day
returning to healthy full moon wealth
of wildness,
ecodancing movement to sound
and pause for silent graced lines
of sight.

Sights of quieter fragrance
and pungent distant fear
remembering mountain
ocean
water and air
fire and Earth’s Wildness
dancing loud pathologies
of Her majesty and awful wonder
reminding me and us
to respect our wise gratitude
for quieter voices and movements of nature
teaching grace as gratitude
for wilderness within
as wisely without you and I.

I hope I can help
grow quieter listeners
of wildness songs sung together
with dancing graceful pause,
wish for wilderness witnessing partners,
mutually stalking copresence
within Earth’s cooperative quiet majesty,
ecodancing drums
too anthro-discentering loud,
yet sometimes refreshingly polypathic quieter journeys
dancing softly hummed,
paused within echoing forests
of bounding binding wonder.

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Evening Rainsong

Alone again
yet evening rain falls
cooling fresh breeze voices
anxious for everything,
angry about nothing.

Nothing to do about rain falling
as sure as gravity
of dripping issues
landing in my lap,
splattering naked children’s sleepy heads
and innocent soft shoulders.

Into each life…
Yes,
yet eventide rains inside voices
wet down dwindling life
of tiring consciousness.

If I could not read or write or speak
who would I sing with in new found leisure?
Scattered lyrical thoughts
of painful rain
for evening’s loss of light,
and dawn’s dew drop evaporations
raising praise for might
of rain rising up yet again
to grace some other’s night.

We each sing with rain dying alone,
a humanic nature feeling trapped
alien emigrant returning home
to Earth where all creations fail and fall
to rise again singing through new voices
and hues,
spectral rhythmic
dances of songs and cries
each our lived together owned,
rising up new throated sounds
disintegrated symphonies
of song sung out
toward tomorrow’s rain clouds
capturing moist radiant waves,
wet sounds of song
well-lived yet bound.

I hear too complex songs for living,
polyphonic evening rains
falling down alone
to rise again belonging songs
evaporating praise,
leaking radiance
gathering together.

Into and through each flowing melody
of rebaptising life
dirged this night alone
yet heard as well-sung rain forever.

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FullColor Revolution

We might
we must
we mightily engage color’s radical invitation
toward democracy,
in which black camouflages equal opportunity,
creolizes equivalent enculturations
of diversity’s tones and hues
and historic chilling cries.

We could thereby release
this collective stranglehold on white
as might
and right
or fight
absence of color’s ecological transparency,
vulnerability becoming
whichever rhythms and patterns
and designs embraced by history’s plutocracies,
aristocracies of inherited reasons
and power over multiculturing regard
for more nuanced beauty
as shading good and graduating vital
dense and high and deep and rich
refracting black’s full unweaving potential
in wheels
and spirals,
octaves of transmorphing
resounding form
with fertile major and minor functions;
prime polynomials
and sublime notnot fully stretching spiral binomials.

Earth is no more
as simple as white over black
emerging from dualdark
before color-fractal light
than merely patriarchal competitions
or matriarchal cooperations;
color speaks and thinks,
resonates and resolves and reweaves
more richly promising
than polarizing extremes,
neither black nor white
possible
or probable
much less primary
without triaged enlightenment
inducting from within,
deducting with without,
hypostatic co-arisings
of sacred-secular
heavenly Light bespeaking Earth nutrition’s humus
humming
singing
ringing left as ultra
with right as violet,
black dipolar light
less bright,
spilling shades of grey
to red and blue
yellow green
in-between
just right spacetime
ego-eco balancing
identities dipolar
inducting from embryonic matriarchs
deducing with wisdom’s wealth of reasons
for and of
within and yet beyond
regenerating dipolar seasons
revolving revolutions,
time’s color passing
passioning promise,
integrity of speciating spectral
hue and cry
time and pitch
resonant polypathic
polyphonic
polyculturing outcomes
polynomial Earth resolving
harmonics.

We are so statically
and strategically stuck
between exegetical polarities of black on white
and transparency of white supremacy
over black opaque mysteriously unexplored
unappreciated
under-valued rich density,
matriarchs riding co-passioning patriarchs
and patriarchs overpowering matriarchs,
we miss robust complexity
midway between
where all our best and brightest
ecopolitical opportunity
awaits
our reawakening
full-color claims of freedom
strains of rights
blends of fearless liberty
gathering redolent resonance.

Each of us,
regardless of our position on Earth today
has emerged continuously from cooperative matriarchal embryonics
back through time,
across diversity of organic species,
on back to synergetically regenerate organisms
singing
ringing back as forth,
our polyphonic full-fractal spectrum between
within
beyond grey-scale lines
of black Yang fully interdependent
loving white Yin empty
potential
polypathic promise.

 

 

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Hearing Colors

When I see in colors
I say Yes
softly or loudly
and usually in-between
depending on our vibrancy together.

When we see in black and white,
we say maybe yes
and perhaps not
and other shades of ambivalent grey.

I cannot see in black
as I cannot see white at all
except perhaps as shades of transparency.

When I hear in resonant music
I say Yes
to truths of resolution,
trusting resilient motions of emotion
integrity of life
life as integrity
potentiating further regenerations;
new songs for perpetuating tomorrow.

When I hear in words
I’m listening for what’s missing.
Lyrics without a melody
are just more disappointing words.

I see best in full dressed color
and hear our dynamic truths
most resonantly as music
in soft sizzling preludes
on through conflagrations
loud climatic revolutions
followed by silence
black as night
waiting for white
bright dawning colors
dancing new music
vibrant washed.

Learning in full octave ranges
we can see a child
listening for a parent
seeing community developers
and violators
listening to fellow politicians
longing to write and read
hear and speak poetry together
while seeing as musicians
swelling gospel choirs
and drumming
burning orchestrations
of co-redeeming music
in full non-flagging flames of color.

When we hear in colors
we see full octave best
until it’s time for rest
notes that last
until they don’t
turn just right bright
vibrant multicolors.

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The Voice

Ecopolitics of music appreciation and performance
is not about race,
other than sufficiency of syncopating rhythm and pace,
nor only about competing subcultures,
although this comes closer to my soul matter.
Multiculturing music resonance appreciation
is about ecopolitical range of emotion
acutely and precisely and overwhelmingly articulated
sometimes with dancing performance motions
appropriate to deep wise lyrical resolutions.

Rooted in my permacultural music appreciation class
of many multiculturing octaves,
when choosing my richest and deepest performing Voice,
I am inclined toward denser Chris Blues
over simpler Country-Western one-octave ranges,
devoid of EastCoast creolic jazzy gospel shakes and rocks
and rolling moves.

Probably for similar ecopolitical music appreciation reasons,
I would not choose to replay a dissonant Trump card
when seeking both deep and widely healthy WinWin outcomes,
especially when our choice
is for lead ecopolitical health-wealth Voice.

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Permaculture Design Operetta

This Permaculture Design Operetta
comes out from within you
with universally acclaimed Grand Patriarchal Earth Rights
to sing in reverse harmonic rhythms and blues
with Full-Octave Matriarchal Earther Feminists Wronged,
marginalized in pre-millennial peace-maker roles
postmillennially re-inheriting the Good Society’s climate health revolution.

This divinely grand operetta
is also our ecological musical-comedy
about permacultural feminist cooperative networks
taking over Goddess Gaia’s Earth Worshipers,
baring buddha-breasts of WinWin PositiveFlow ReGenesis.

Tension builds in the First Act
as the Trump one-term administration is about to lose
to Bernie Sanders,
nominated by the postmillennialist 2020 Global EarthTribe EcoParty,
for more perfect revisions,
ominously networking online through a matriarchal WinWin flow-chart
of ecopolitical feminist psychologists
Permaculture Cooperative Network Designers.

These ultimate cooperators
are something of a socio-economic self-empowering on-line cooperative
where time-is-money gifted forward in a mutually owned (0)-sum economy
of regenerative evolution,
a subgroup within the regenerative evolution of our open-systemic WealthWithoutWalls
ecopolitical communication cooperative,
where who knows whom might say both-and what?

Followed reiteratively by a notnot double-binding reverse-hierarchical binary-fractal-octave 4D EcoConscious
unfolding of TaoTime’s speed of dualdark light
revolutionary equivalence
polypathically reminiscent, somehow,
with P = N(NP) bilaterality,
for ecotherapeutically balanced resonant (0)-soul sums
of humane-ego with divine-eco minbody nondual co-arising bicameral dipolarity.

So, Sander’s 2020 ReVision
will be undermined by wiki feminist cooperative lesbian bodhisattva witches?

Well, more understoried than undermined,
more subversive than reversive,
rooted in matriarchal full-octave circle Allies.
Basically all the other marginalized rejects
from the Obama Administration,
except a lot more transgender polypathic leadership.
You now,
for their bicameral co-empathic skills
with cooperative economics and political guilds,
and barn buildings,
and quilt-making,
and how to raise your own goats.
That kind of thing.

Oh, well,
the tension builds, right?

Yes!
In the Second Act of our transubstantiating diastatic operetta,
we hear a great deal of squabbling about who is more politically correct
by wishing they could have run Sanders against Trump
four years earlier because,
with the first major party nominated woman running instead,
they felt Sander’s more feminist-friendly platform
was more exciting
than actually voting for a white woman
without sharing their idea of a proper feminist ecopolitical agenda
for matriarchal cooperatives
rather than more patriarchal WinLose competitions
between too anemically Yinnish Democrats
and too vastly Yangish Republicans.

Well, yes,
that sounds like a veritable slug fest
in a lusty mud pit.

Oh no, not at all.
These stories all evolve within a more peaceable jungle
of wiki wildness,
if only because of their responsibility for holding open freedom space
across such a diverse polyglot of other marginalized cultures,
recently freed to find each other
and therefore more easily capable of refining their cooperative strategies
due to on-line dialogue and ecopolitical discernment platforms
unfolding both-and WinWin ecological priority sites and chairs and positions
where they could organize all their time
and financially cooperative (0) interest investments
in each bartering other
and their extending EarthTribe intentional matriarchal families.

Meanwhile,
Trump, and his Cabinet of EcoAliens,
was adding anti-EPA fuel to their corporate fires.
Nor did it help that they were rather too toxically
anti-education,
anti-health,
anti-security,
anti-women,
anti-anybody not white-straight-male,
and, of course, anti-Islamic,
and then there was that purity test
where you couldn’t get back into the US
unless you could prove your lineage back toward the Pilgrims,
and not back to the Africans,
and not back to the Native Americans,
and this all felt rather arbitrary to the Supreme Court
and caused four years of nothing but squabbling
about who was going to take over what,
and how soon,
while, meanwhile,
the climate and landscapes of Earth Goddess Worshipers
continued to unravel.

I can barely sit still
in anticipation of your Third Act.
Will Bernie Sanders sing the final aria
of 2020 cooperative ecopolitical revision?
I’m not sure he is quite large enough to carry that tune.

Not by himself,
but remember,
this operetta is of permacultural design,
which is an inclusive self-governance process
toward nutritional health.
For this we need a full-octave gospel choir
not possible without an on-line nutritional performance platform.

OK, so I think I have the basic plot-line.
Now, how about costuming?

Minimalist, of course.

That sounds interesting!
depending on casting, of course.
We wouldn’t want to be confused
by The Emperor Who Wore No Clothes.

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Singing Soul Strong

Billie Holiday said
The artist of soul never sings a song the same way twice,
the artist never sings the same song twice.

This sounds good and right to me,
as soul artists and lovers,
great optimally effective researchers and scientists and articulators,
never live a day,
a relationship,
a poem,
a dance,
a sacred ritual or Orthodox Tradition
the same way twice.

As we learn to stay within our zones of mutual integrity,
we can never go home again
because we live through this fluid imagination place
where life’s articulating time
flows a bubbling nuanced stream
never sung as mere mechanical repeat,
each moment learning now’s new voice
from soul’s most resonant
remembering
strong-hearted space.

Soul ever sings songs of streaming true-heart voice.

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