Now I HAVE READ MY POEMS
*
I think you can tell a lot about a Poet
by where & when they read their Poems,
don’t you think? As for Myself;
I have read my Poems in many places.
For example;
I have read my Poems in Pubs,
O yes! Pubs full of belligerent,
beer-swilling Drunks bellowing bile & bullshit!
But I beat them all back down
with my own brand of Brilliance & Bravado
by the End..
*
And I have read my Poems in faux bohemian cafes
to wannabe Intellectuals, too-cool Caffeine
Connoisseurs and Neo-Chess Nazis.
*
I have read my Poems beneath the Stars
as Fire Dancers whirled their fiery Stave’s
and spun around me,
tracing arabesques of flame in time
to the rhythm of my words.
I have read banned Poems
on street corners and set them on Fire
while the cheering crowd chants,
“BURN BABY BURN!”
*
I have read my Poems
to the big silky oak tree
in the back yard.
*
I have read my Poems
to empty echoing
Auditoriums..
auditoriums..
auditoriums..
I have read my Poems to Prostitutes
whilst sharing the back seats of taxi’s,
as the educated ethnic driver listens in awe
and later doesn’t charge me for the ride,
“An honour to have you in my taxi, sir.”
What a nice man he was. Oh Yes.
*
And I have read my Poems
to packs of dogs in the graveyard/
Declaiming from atop of tombstones
as they listened attentively,
pink tongues lolling out,
( My Girlfriend’s dog-walking job providing me
a truly appreciative audience
for a change.)
*
I have read my Poems to spread legged,
fat-bellied, thin blue lines
of grim-visaged Police protecting the State.
A feral Madman
Skipping before them/ in Shamanic crow-mask & feathers/
taunting them with Apocalyptic denunciations/
watching them grind their teeth/
as they waited for Orders
to pounce & grind my bones.
I have read my Poems to
well meaning probation officers
appointed by the Court,
in the Hope of Enlightening them slightly..
*
I have read my Poems
to the Hazari Refugee
working behind the counter at the 7/11,
and he read his poems
in traditional Farsi form
back to me.
*
O & I have read my Poems
to my Lovers after Midnight,
as their eyes shone with Adoration
Understanding, Love and Light.
*
I have read my Poems to the Mirror..
and the Mirror read them back to Me.
I have read my Poems to the lone Hitchhiker
I picked up on an unlit country road
some 2 a.m. Eternal Night.
Yeah we swapped Poems back and forth while I drove
and I never thought to ask for his name
when I let him out somewhere near Dawn
and we shook hands and parted Friends
and never saw each other again.
So softly I have read my Poems
to my unconscious Father,
Lying on his Death-bed,
ragged breathing drawing to a close.
*
I have also read my Poems
to my unborn Daughter,
dreaming in the womb.
*
And now my Friends
I have also
read this Poem
to You.
***
***
The Reverend Hellfire is a practised Performance Poet,
an Ordained Minister of the Church of Spiritual Humanism,
& Main Mouthpiece for eclectic Post-Punk, Alt/Pop Ensemble; THE TAPELOOPS.
“Only when a Man puts on a Mask,
does he show you his Real Face.”
***
Posted in Uncategorized
Tags: alternate realities, archtypes, Culture and Language, performance poetry, poetry, Poets, reader and audience, spoken word, The Poet's role
The Reverend Hellfire is a Red Gas Giant located at the furthest edges of the Orion Nebulae.
Reverend Hellfire's Sunday Sermon 