Let's Hear It For The Poets

[Angeline]

Here are readings from the St. Marks Poetry Project. These readings occurred from the mid to late 1970s and there's some great stuff there. I especially recommend #21, a poem about Frank O'Hara written and read by Ted Berrigan. And #23 is a live improvisation of "Popeye and William Blake Battle to the Death," starring Kenneth Koch and Allen Ginsberg.

It's a great site. Enjoy!

 

[Trixareforkids]

Thought y'all might enjoy this one I found on TED.

http://www.ted.com/talks/rives_controls_the_internet

 

[butters]

well now, since i've my proper pc upstairs, i can take advantage and spend time listening to you all as i sip my coffee. what a great way to start the day!

 

[butters]

This is a voice thread y'all. So let's hear it.

Read us a favorite piece
or
Read us your own stuff


I'll start us off with one of each, a favorite and a tribute piece

https://soundcloud.com/mistress-heather/poemtothefreaks

https://soundcloud.com/mistress-heather/sorrycharlie

Collaboration

oh wow! trix,i had no idea you sounded so southern and it'll colour how i read you from here. but, what i really like is the diversity of mood between these three: that first was ballsy, pacey, brimful of life and frustration; the second, a softer aspect but delivering well; the third, as yet another aspect of what is (in my head anyway) the same character. they are all intimate, as if the reader has been served up slices of the n's inner narrative before the filters are in place between thought and spoken word.

to be honest, trix, i found your poems work even better for me in this medium!

 

[butters]

https://soundcloud.com/todski28/audio-recording-on-tuesday

shush whispered deep into you clavicle
as hands pin your wrists to your hips,
teeth slide hard as hot breath
chars a path up to your ear lobe

moaning a little
grind forward
your want simmers below the belt
as he turns up the flames,
the forceful thump
as pinned to the wall you squirm
in beaded droplets of heat boiled over
dampen your panties as he

passes both your wrists into one hand
nailing them to the wall
his lips, your lips
join together
as his free hand
rends your underwear
he whispers shush as you blush a deep crimson
and try your hardest to get him to fuck you

well now

your voice sounds so familiar - must be from where i used to watch 'neighbours' back in the day, lol. good to hear how you sound. again, it's going to affect how i read/hear your work from this point: i knew your were aussie but somehow never took that into account when reading you i suppose most poems are read/heard entirely differently to how we all write them

that's a good, solid write, tods; were you trying to inject urgency into it by reading it as fast? not sure how well that worked for me compared to reading you, since i've always found you encapsulate the drive in your written versions with use of sound/line break to deliver.

i suck at reading my stuff, so you're up on me there already

 

[butters]

And then there were three.

Blank Affection

dream-time - i got carried away on an ocean of visuals.... *sigh*

 

[butters]

https://soundcloud.com/honeyadored/design-brief


https://soundcloud.com/honeyadored/sweet-note

damn, i had no idea you were a brit chik - your name had me think of you as a southern belle assumptions're for dumb people.

nice reading

 

[butters]

And on the steamier side...

Handle Me

really, really nice

'your beautiful hands'

uhuh

 

[butters]

oh! if anyone wants me to edit out the quoted links to their pieces, just let me know.

 

[butters]

Here ya go Honey, another with my southern drawl

Bench Warmers

that sassy voice you've brought to the N suits the writing to a T

sharp!

 

[butters]

Vocally Poetic
Spring!

It's exciting to see the early spears
of hyacinth and daffodil pierce the mulch
which answers with a labial embrace
around the thickening stem

Sun-warmed fertility of damp richness
prepared with peat and composted life
clumps in thick furrows as fingertips
rake the earth over early seeds

A prayer sung by robins in the birch
in a hope that last week's snows
are merely remnants of the winter
not harbringers of too cold spring

Low slung clouds portend afternoon
precipitation and smell of fresh rain
the day too hot for snow unlike frost
scented nights that bite twitched noses

The dust boils around childish ankles
as sand and broom replaces snow
and shovel for a ten dollar allowance
a copper sparks unwanted, worthless

The flick of tongue across thirsty lips
gathers salt and minerals from heated
skin and reminds that the labour earns
no more or less than 1000 pennies saved.

But still, tulips press through yeilding earth
and trees bud with impetuous disregard
that snow weighs heavy on fragile green
and breaks the spine of hasty blossoms.

always a pleasure, champers

reading the written piece is (for me) a little more rewarding since my eyes pick up on some of the clever word/sound-play my ears miss as it tries to get used to your accent. that's a failing on my part, not yours plus the familiarity of the plants named gave this piece a very english feel and so, again, the mind brings assumptions that it then has to overturn when actually listening to the accent of the reader.

 

[butters]

https://soundcloud.com/todski28/the-sound-of-leaving

ah, now that one worked better for me, tods - now your accent was expected and i 'heard' the beauty of the words better, plus your delivery sounded more comfortable . it's one of your best, imo.

 

[butters]

Butters! I wanna hear you too! Any chance you'll join the fray?

i've some holiday due from wednesday, so i can put up one or two i'm not keen on how i sound, though, but since you all have to bottle to do it then so can i.

 

[butters]

https://soundcloud.com/honeyadored/the-voice

The Voice

Softly his words drift over me
A warm breath of air caresses my delicate flesh
Humming attentively on the more receptive parts of my body
Arousal heightens
Paying homage to his voice
His tongue fills me with giddiness
Sensual words swirl and whirl in my mind...and below
Evoking fanciful desires and lusty needs
I reach out
Grasping at each syllable
Clinging onto every enunciation
His voice draws us closer as our two worlds collide
Words enticing me over the edge...of my world
I’m falling...
Falling...
I succumb to erotic verse
Tossing and turning as wave upon wave engulfs me
Silence comes...
I lay in the stillness...
Panting...for breath...
His seductive lyrics have left me...with more than my ears buzzing
He will always be No.1 on my playlist......
I hit repeat!

especially like 'Silence comes... I lay in the stillness'

 

[butters]

Thank you, ladies. Now, for your edification:

BILF#2

Yes, I think I'll read all five:

BILF#3

BILF#4

BILF#5​

great mrs robinson feel to these my favourite? no 3 -sooolanguid

I've only got one I did years ago, wouldn't say it was a favourite though
http://www.literotica.com/p/voices-so-sweet

you always sound so young, annie! like a sweet 17 year old english girl

 

[butters]

A little jazz poem~

Dexter's Dream

and the music that inspired it~

Darn That Dream

'and kiss the setting sun's thick eyes...'

listened to it twice just to hear that phrase again

 

[butters]

Let Her Be

Today's 30 in 30, edited


Let Her Be

I don't want to hear about
how you can't afford to care
In the endless stream of
Shit you've seen
My heart
Is in the one
Lying there
While I sit impotently watching
Attuned to her every movement
I know that all you see
Is the clock above the bed
As you measure out your time
And her worthiness of it
In a code on a page
That you'll place
In the growing black book
That has all her vitals
And not a single thing
About the vitality she came with

It's all but gone now
I've watched it fade
In this place if surgical steel
Drained off in endless tubing
As we take turns sitting vigil
Educating ourselves
In multiple foreign languages
That all end with ology
Learning not to apologize
For our ignorance
Which has proven to be better attuned
Than all the your foreigner's expertise
To her particular accent
Though being uncertain
Of the nuances
We did nothing
But land us in this chair
Consigned to
Watching, waiting, wondering

How it's possible
To check your humanity
At the automatic door
Leading into this tomb
Of heartache and despair
Not that I don't understand
At least a bit
The desire to do so
Believe me I do
But no matter how many machines
Are required to keep her body going
You are not one of them
What she needs
As much as any drug you dole out
Is for you to see HER
As a person,
Not a problem
To be solved,
A body to be stripped down
Cleaned, fed and read

Maybe seeing her
Her confusion
Her terror
Her pain
Is too much like looking in a mirror
But if that's the case
Move on
Because this is a place
Of caregivers
And if you can't
Care
You don't need to be here
Where she has no choice
But to be

God!
Please,
Let her be

a piece in a very different vein

manages to convey compassion as well as frustration; you perform these writes superbly, trix. have you any thearical experience?

 

[butters]

Ok, I love all the ladies and want more. But I'm wondering if the laddies (Todski excluded ) are feeling a wee bit shy.

Come on Let Me Have It

*happy sigh*

'let me race the sun to your side...'

 

[butters]

https://soundcloud.com/todski28/upbringing

I survived
funny thing to say about
what should have been child hood

growing into adolescence
with this churn of addiction
a rage flame fanned by
praise for the ability to inflict pain


I didn't walk the mean streets
I drank it down
crushed asphalt cigarettes and syringes
force fed
in the ring gloves on tears streaming
fight for your affection boy
the loser is outside for the night
and the winner

oh the winner,
is showered in love and praise
goaded into deriding the loser
it was all about the fight

dragged through glass shards
a patch work quilt of scars
cut, beaten bloody
but never beaten

then when I came of age
I was the mean streets
the glass in face,
the barstool swinger
a harbinger of hospital visits and
blood stained pavements

dance a dance of violent destruction
there were no sparring with words
merely an off hand gesture
could call on a wrath

one of us is going to hospital cunt
I hope you understand the gravity of this situation
because the only time I felt
anything but empty
was when I was full of the mean streets
and driving people into gutter biting head stomps

....

yeah, that's dark alright

damn

 

[butters]

How?

How can I say goodbye
when my closed eyes
still see your smile
and watch your gray-
hazelled eyes glint
a twinkle at my answer?

How can I say goodbye
when I feel your touch
on my hands as I smooth
them over my scars;
marks of life and living,
reminders of my gifts
of children and my soul?

How can I say goodbye
when I hear I love you
in every corner, with each
breath of wind
and the sighs of my lips
against the pillow
that still holds your scent?

How can I say goodbye
when I can't believe
you're already gone?

now this one, reading it first and then listening to it, this one brings tears to my eyes

damn

 

[butters]

In answer to todski's request:

GILK #1

GILK #2

GILK #3

GILK #4

GILK #5

agree with trix that 3 & 4 are my favourites. both very different creatures, 3 is exquisitely phrased, 4 is cocked and loaded

 

[butters]

Love Is Too Early a Word

really interesting snapshot of a piece - edgily framed.

''snaps love
snaps love
snaps love*

 

[butters]

Ah! Here we go. A poem of mine (and the accompanying audio recording of it done by myself) is (are) finally up on the site now after being submitted a good while ago. It's called "Feather," it's based on my story "Do You Trust Me?" and it's found here:
http://www.literotica.com/p/feather-do-you-trust-me
Hope you like it! —Smokey

cleverly made, with the music as backdrop

nice voice

''the ink
in her calligraphic game''

 

[butters]

Specially for Champie: Hazards of Poetry: The T-zed Remix

ha!

mix. it. uppp.

 

[butters]

https://soundcloud.com/todski28/little-death

the crushing blow of a ringing slap
hollows out a cry as she begs
to be taken
slow and softly
enter in millimetres
another slap sour the sweet
interplay the sensation

delicate balance beam
sweetest juice rewards the patient
succours the hungry
ravenous to ravish
strawberry nipples bloom and peek through
the sheerest lace
trace the patterns
hands perch in place to taste the skin
beneath, a small tug
and it rips to the clipped cries
as I slide one deep thrust
inside

coarse fingers on fragile flesh
hardness cocooned
caressed in liquid fire
growl that throatiness
and groan out a whispered
fuck
into my teeth
taste my tongue
lose our thoughts
loose our beasts to meet the other
dizzy is a frame of mind
gasping is for the living
till la petite more
claims you
again and again

as a written piece, these lines in bold reward me best

as a spoken piece, you say the word 'fuckkkkkkk' really, really well

damned good poem, tods