Little Things

 This one had never quite felt finished. But I've always liked it, so I read it at an open mike tonight. It got a good response, so I've decided to post it! 

Little Things

 

I like the little things:

the funky little bassline

tucked away

under the lead guitar,

the quick counter melody

weaved in and out

of a chorus,

a band member yelling

“What?!”

away from the microphone

but still immortalized on the live recording

after the lead singer explains

that “Mr. Brownstone is really just a song.”

I love the little pause

in the live version of a song

between lines that you

just don’t get on the record.

***

Not Poetry, But A Show Review just to mix things up a bit.

 Frank Turner and The Sleeping Souls in Lawrence, KS on July 3rd, 2022

I drove into Lawrence, Kansas sweating even though my A/C had been blasting for all of the nearly 3 hour drive. Living in Southwest Missouri means having to travel to most shows. Lawrence was new to me, a college town. I went to see Frank Turner and the Sleeping Souls, joined by Pet Needs and The Bronx.

         I had heard of Pets Needs before, but just in passing. I adored them by the end of their first song. An energetic frontman backed by a hard-hitting band. The quartet from England had won over the crowd by the end of their set. I’ll be listening to them often.

         Next up was the mighty band The Bronx. (Sidebar: They were the first band I got to see play last September after not being at a show since November 2019.) The energy that this band brings to the stage is unstoppable! Also, I could watch their lead guitarist play on his own all night!

         Finally, Frank Turner and the Sleeping Souls. They opened with a favorite of mine, “Four Simple Words,” and the crowd was in it from the get-go. They teared through old songs sprinkled with a handful of songs from the newest record. Partway through the show, Frank played a few songs solo including “Fatherless” and “The Way I Tend to Be.” Solo Frank Turner is very honest, and I loved that break from all the energy. But that energy also sparks an unbelievable joy in the audience that I’m sure everyone felt. I’ve seen less encores lately than I did before COVID, and I liked that this show ended in one. Especially since the second to last song they played is another favorite of mine, “Try this At Home.”

         Although I’m not quite sure why, Frank Turner loves the US. And he makes this place a little more bearable when he is here.

 Bonus Content: There was this family with 2 girls (maybe 9ish and 12ish, I’m really bad at guessing ages) next to me, and I loved them. Younger one leaves and comes back between The Bronx and Frank Turner and tells her mother in amusement, “There was this girl and her mom in the bathroom, and they looked terrified!” I nearly busted up!

*****

Yesterday

 Yesterday

Yesterday I went to a rally

that felt like a punk show.

 

Yesterday a nearly 50 year

constitutional right was overturned,

and we lost our rights

to bodily autonomy.

 

Yesterday I joined

a quickly organized march

to show disgust, abhorrence,

and ultimately strength.

And I felt the anger in,

and the solidarity between,

my fellow protesters.

 

We will not go gentle

into the night.

We will rage against

the dying of the light.

***

Band of Brothers

 I wrote this after seeing Anti-Flag in 2021, based off an a moment I witnessed during the show.

Band of Brothers

 

Four shows in

after 15 months

off the road,

off of the stage.

In the middle of a song

the bass player

rests his head

on his guitarist’s shoulder.

 

A quick few seconds

that seemed to last

an eternal moment.

*****

Community

I wrote this after a Koffin Kats' show earlier in 2022.

 Community 

Last night I was among friends

in a crowd of strangers.

 

We enter into the venue

dressed in various garments of black.

We get our drinks, 

jest with the bartenders.

We stand in our own groups

around hightop tables 

or leaning against the bar.

 

A one-man-bad takes the stage,

some of us gather around

some of us stay put.

But we all watch, listen, revel in

this musician who is honest about life, 

and we understand him.

 

The headlining band takes the stage

and most of us gather up front.

The music starts and we all move in rhythm

bouncing off of each other, laughing, 

falling, and getting back up again.

 

We are lost in the moment

of another night of music

and the comradery that comes with it.

*****

Activism In A Small Midwest City

Activism In A Small Midwest City

 

Springfield, MO, where people wear

“Let’s Go Brandon” shirts to their doctor’s office,

where an anti-Vicky Hartzler ad tries

to paint her as too left to represent her district.

Our square, which has a sordid past itself,

was filled with Abortion Rights activists

on a sun-filled Saturday morning.

After not one person showed up at 5pm

outside our courtroom

the day after that supreme court leak.

 

I show up early,

find a shady spot of grass

and read a book of poetry

not far from an older woman

who had the same idea,

the square fills up around us.

 

Through the crowd I spot

an elderly woman sitting in her lawn chair,

a white sign with black block lettering

propped up by her chair,

I Remember

 

A trio of young women fill in beside me.

One holds a white sign,

My Rights As A Woman > Studying For Finals

 

I drive home choosing the route

that would take me by our local

Planned Parenthood,

where you cannot obtain an abortion, now adorned

with a baby blue sign and white lettering,

Still Here

Again & Again & Again & So On

 Again & Again & Again & So On

 

Ten years ago I wrote a poem

about elementary school children slaughtered

in their classroom.

Today I am writing the same poem.

 

Anytime I hear of death by bullets

I imagine a bullet ripping through a thick layer of flesh,

barreling through tough muscle,

hitting a sturdy bone.

 

That’s not what happened

in that, excuse me, those schools.

I can’t write the words,

my brain won’t let me imagine

those bullets anywhere near those small bodies.

All that’s in my mind,

all that has been since we learned the detail,

are families who had to supply their DNA

to match one of those small bodies

unidentifiable from the barrage of bullets

from a gun designed only to kill humans.

 

In the USA, the NRA reigns supreme

above the lives of citizens

no matter what age,

above decency and logical thinking,

above the dignity of a nation.

*****