Rambling

This is the text to a slam-poem I did at a gig for "The Cedars of Lebanon" on October 8th 2011 at the Yacht Club, Iowa City IA. It's better to hear it performed than to read it, but sometimes the subtle stuff gets missed in a performance.

There's no official title for this piece other than "Rambling"--I call it that because when I wrote it I had no clear direction of where I was going with it. I just had these different things I knew I wanted to hit on (like the bitter "my public needs me," the piano, the quotes from Job, and the ocean drinking/swimming bits). In retrospect, there is a thread that goes through it.

Other titles which have been suggested:

"You're an ocean, and I am absent from it" -- an audience member at the Yacht Club. I believe he said he's a local MC.
"I am lost in the cadence" - Sunny Singh
"The Sound of Your Voice"--myself

Note: the term "hoary" is defined as "1: grey or white with or as if with age" and "2: extremely old, ancient" - I used this on purpose, it's not a misspelling of "whorey" :)

I don't get to write this kind of thing very often, so thanks God (for real).

Anyway, here it is.

Wouldn’t it be nice to be a hero? – To have a dark and mysterious past
which I cannot escape nor sooner forget-
A tragic happenstance to incite me to a journey through adversity and obstacles,
through fire and jungles all the way to the all-encompassing theme or purpose
-- maybe authentic, but awe-inspiring nonetheless
But I’m not a hero, and that’s awkward

What am I supposed to do when my voice is a vasty empty void which is hoary and selfish?
What am I supposed to do when I’m supposed to be
and what I’m supposed to be is holy and true?

If you’ve got something to say, I’m all ears and eyes,
legs for walking and feet for running
along with a filthy heart that thirsts for meaning
and a skeptic habit which is starting to smell and give me itches.

I’ve got nothing to say, but
my public needs me
Truly, I have nothing to give
but it’s all God gave me
Not for cherishing or for playing
rather for keeping sacred or for throwing in the trash

Truly I say unto thee:
I’d rather be free from these choices which could result in
inconvenient / unromantic death
or even mild discomfort.
Sure I could run and hide, but the last guy to try that got eaten by a fish and spewed all over Persia.

Any minute now, a piano’s gonna fall and crush the
not-so subtle pride which I use to decorate my white-washed tombs.
My throat’s an open grave which I use to bestow
my false humility upon eager ears.
But hanging over my bed at night are those big letters spelling “hypocrite.”
What letters hang over your bed at night whispering sweet condemnation into your smug little dreams?

…but wait, wasn’t there something about a piano?
*KERSMUSCH!!*
“Brace yourself like a man!”
God says: “I will question you, and you shall answer me!”
And at the sound of his voice I put my hands over my mouth

But only for a minute ‘cause I can’t keep my mouth shut.

You’re an ocean, and I’ve been trying to drink it –
as if to swallow away the mystery of the eternal
and thereby somehow contain it within my flesh.


Well I’m through drinking, so instead I’m gonna swim in it forever
from one shore to another
through the depths of canyon waves
and floating in glassy seas
inside a sphere of stars and universes
awestruck at the choice of words.
What kind of arrogance could possess me to ask you to humble yourself?

Your mouth speaks and it is so.
So speak me good ‘cause you are good
and I am helpless without you.
Speak me far and speak me wide
because you are kind and I want you to.
Speak me whole and say me filled
and I will pray you blessed
and sing you loved

At the sound of your voice, my heart leaps for joy
and I am lost in the cadence.