"Music is Life Itself" (Louis Armstrong) by Kevin M. Hibshman

      

  My intense love for music began at a very young age. I hummed pop songs I picked up on from my mother. She had a small transistor radio in the kitchen and she was always humming along to the hit songs of the day. My father, who played saxophone, also enjoyed the radio and music would accompany the family on our car trips everywhere. I grew up during the 70's and 80's when commercial music was at its peak. Music had little competition for public attention then besides television and many music-themed shows were quite popular. In a sense, There was no escaping it. 

        Music truly became indispensable to me during my teen years when I began to form my own tastes and opinions. Being somewhat of an outsider, I found the only voices that spoke to me were the musicians who provided the soundtrack to my youth. I was drawn immediately to punk rock and new wave although I have always had a wide range of favorite bands. I began writing songs with my best friend, Kris, a pioneering female guitarist and she exposed me to even more artists. We formed two bands that played alternative rock, mixing our own songs with cover versions from our favorite bands. 

        Music has been my closest, most dependable life-long friend, speaking to as well as for me. It is its own ever-expanding universe and has guided me to become the person I am today.

Joe Kidd's "The Invisible Waterhole" Reviewed by Belinda Subraman

Joe Kidd is a musician, singer/songwriter, activist, philosopher and poet. He has a new book out called The Invisible Waterhole.  The title invokes the mystical and philosophical nature of the book.

Available HERE.

Joe is a seeker...and a finder.  The essence of each poem is his insight no matter the subject.  He's at the age when introspection reveals a deeper, fuller perspective and wisdom from the journey so far while acknowledging the constant battle with the human condition. From Great Hunger:  "what I heard is not what was said/there was a pause, a promise/a silent message."  He ends the poem with the realization he is dealing with his own issues not necessarily at all what the speaker meant: "someone released us/(a stained document,/a soiled piece of cloth) / into the cold and burnt sky within."

He knows we all experience roughly the same things but in different order, different times, different cultures.  It really is all about how we interpret and internalize what our experiences have to offer. With his rich understanding it is not surprising that Joe has seminary training and a broad knowledge of spiritual traditions around the world.

Battle Well

EJECT the world beyond your skull

 light now stopping in its tracks

the high walls shattered, sheets of glass

 motionless, a scented form

called for nourishment and bliss

a circling tongue upon a door

a secret held between closed lips

REJECT the generated noise

the burning hum of violence

the vision of a turning blade

that sound of rumbling underground

 friends remembered in a womb

the birth of choice, clean and warm

 walking home on splintered bone

INJECT the fluid deep and dark

 where memory died a tragedy

the word not spoken, long asleep

 tried to touch, but could not reach

 that mask of love upon a face

 beyond a mirrored apparition

this fallen angel's shrunken head

A good place to end is with the blooming peace (and responsibility) of the last stanza of Solstice Part One: Tonight I dive deep into eternal solace/at the center and the edge/of a universe that does not exist/ beyond a heart’s command.

Since it's hard to mention Joe without mentioning Shelia, here's just a tiny portion of their accomplishments. "Joe & Sheila are 2 time recipients of the Detroit Music Award for Songwriter of the Year, Michigan Governor's Award, World Songwriters Award, 2019 Congressional Certificate from US House of Representatives, 2019 Clouzine Magazine Music Award for Best Acoustic Song, 2020 International Singer Songwriter Association Award for Vocal Duo of the Year.  Joe Kidd was inducted into the Michigan Rock & Roll Hall of Fame on June 1 2017.  Joe & Sheila have each published books of poetry, prose, and illustration."
http://www.joekiddandsheilaburke.com/bio

A Review of Cee Williams’ "Poetry for Cats & all the other mortal things I couldn’t keep myself from loving" by Heidi Blakeslee

You know that feeling you get when you’re reading someone’s work and it just transports you to their time and place?  The words are pure and the voice is so strong you get pangs in your stomach.  When it’s so good you recognize parts of the writing as part of your own ephemera?  You just feel it?

Cee Williams’s “Poetry for Cats” is that chapbook.  As a person familiar with his work, this volume stands out for me as one that is special.  Not just because I love cats, though Cee’s warmth when writing and talking about animals can certainly give me bias.  No, not all of the poems are about cats, though animals are always a running theme in his poetry.  There is a richness to the lines as Cee lovingly and vividly describes characters he knows and has known.  

His voice is at once wise and true.  If you are in the mood for some perfectly polished work that will make your soul ache and your heart nod along in agreement, then this work is for you.  Every time I read this chapbook I sigh and think, “Damn, Cee, you did it again!”  

Psalm 68 Verse 9:

"Rain in abundance thou didst shed abroad; thou didst restore thy heritage as it languished."

As the rain falls

through the flowering pear

a whispered orison to veiled Orishas

lingers long enough to hold in fingers

crossed in hopeful supplication

quiet prayers imprisoned in despair

This book was published by Poet's Hall and is available from poet2thebone@gmail.com

Cee Williams is the founder of Poet’s Hall, the International Fellowship of Poets and Spoken Word Artists, in Erie, Pa.  He was also the Poet Laureate of Erie County from 2014-2016.  He is a poet, playwright, and producer with many published titles under his belt.  

Poet/Musician, Heidi Blakeslee, Joins GAS Staff as a Book Reviewer

Heidi Blakeslee is a writer, musician, and artist currently living near Pittsburgh, Pa.  She's been publishing work since the early 2000's.  She got her start in poetry performance at the Erie Bookstore, in Erie, Pa. in 2004.   She came up alongside writers like Thasia Anne, Chuck Joy, Cee Williams, Berwyn Moore, and Greg Brown.   She has published extensively with Alien Buddha and in many online poetry blogs like "Winedrunk Sidewalk," "Nixes Mate," and "Live Nude Poems."  She has written a memoir, two novels, and three poetry books, the latest of which is "Neurotica" with cover artwork, "My mind at midnight," by Belinda Subraman.

Musically, Heidi started the project "Emocat2380," or just "Emocat" for short, in January of 2020.  The music started out as simply a means of relaxing and staying sane during the craziest era our country has lived in for many decades.  The music manifests itself with synths, soft tones, early Nintendo-like soundscapes, and surprising layers of instruments and drums.  Emocat's mission is to create music for cats and the people who appreciate them.

Heidi's plans for the future include continuing to work with Emocat, writing book reviews for GAS, and finishing that darn niggling novel that begs for closure.  

She lives with her six cats and her partner James Trevison, who is also an artist and saxophone player.

Heidi's book is available on HERE.

real men snuggle cats

our jet black panther-cat, Weenie Beans

has taken ownership

of james

his belly in particular

he loves jumping on it and sitting there

kneading it

as he comforts down into

his home sense

sometimes he lies there for an hour

james pets him and we watch tv

real men accept head boops graciously

with eyes closed

and smiling

this is true

Weenie is a very loving cat

he gives boops with abandon

james rewards him with treats to reinforce

the behavior

he loves james and james loves him

an innocent joy

jim's at work now

and Weenie is laying on my back kneading my butt

why? who knows

his nails scratch through my dress

it isn't entirely comfortable

but i let him stay

such is love

The Poetry of Su Zi

Su Zi is equal parts writer, artist, and badass eco-feminist.  She holds an MA in English and has published in such places as Driving Digest, Exquisite Corpse, and Blue Heron Review (where she was nominated for The Pushcart Prize).  She resides in Florida with her horses, dogs, cats, and turtles where she runs The Red Mare Chapbook Series.

Below is an interview with Su Zi in which she reads a long poem first read at a 100,000 Poets for Change event.

In the video below Su Zi reads a long poem she originally read at a 100,000 Poets for Change event.

Su Zi's newest book, Chicago Poems, will be available from Breaking Rules and on Amazon.

Su Zi also appears in GAS 9.

The Poetry of Kenneth Lumpkin

Kenneth reads from his work in GAS 9.

Kenneth Lumpkin is an educator, writer, poet, musician, Freemason and activist. He has published four collections of poetry to date: "Gather the Ashes", 1984, winner of the Louis Ginsberg Memorial Fellowship from the Chaucer Guild, "Song of Ramapough: A Poetics of Place", 2016, "Love Lake", 2017 and "God Has Many Names and other poems", 2018 and "Slip of the Tongue", 2019. He teaches anthropology online through three New Jersey state universities and resides in London, Ontario with his wife, Kim and cat, Molly.

Song of Ramapough is a work that has some years behind it...38 as of this writing. It is a poetics of place. In this sense, it gets a lot of its direction and inspiration from Charles Olson's Maximus Poems and William Carlos Williams' Paterson. It was my intent when I started this project to write something that bespoke of the land, in this case, the Ramapo Mountain area of upper Bergen County, New Jersey and parts of Rockland and Orange Counties, New York. The idea was that it would be an environmental learning tool as well as a collection of poems. It is, in fact, one long poem to a particular place, the Ramapo Mountains. The personal hope was that if I got to know one distinct place on this planet intimately, I would also come to know the larger place, and therefore, the very Earth, itself.

A sample from God Has Many Names

 From Song of Ramapough

Order his books Here.

Bengt O Björklund's "I Missed Woodstock" (Human Error Publishing) reviewed by Belinda Subraman

Buy Here

I have just finished this impressive poetic bio written in free verse. There are many memorable phrases and poetic turns in Bengt's life and his writings. I’ve always felt a kinship with him although we’ve lived vastly different lives. My greatest adventures and experimentations came later in life. As a young man, Bengt says,” I learned to run naked/across meadows and pastures/amongst surprised cows.”  Meanwhile I was merely walking in pastures, singing Joni Mitchell and stepping in poo.

By the time Bengt was in Turkish prison over a few grams of hash and discovering the joys of learning, creating art and writing poetry, I was living in a fantasy (but healing) world of reading philosophy, history, creation with words and art, expressing myself when I could not talk. I found a safe place of wonder and possibilities. It felt like a calling. In more drastic circumstances Bengt says, ”I had long conversations/with Rabindranath Tagore/and I often woke up in Russia/in the late nineteenth century.//The Japanese slowly moved/deep into my eyes/and tales are mixed/with reality/and Dylan Thomas.//I moved through the days/like a monk in his prayers.”

With or without drugs it is beautiful to see the world open up to unlimited possibilities of learning and perception.  People get to this point in many ways and travel is nearly always an important aspect of the never ending wonder of being human.  Alas, many or most seem to keep the same set of guidelines handed them from birth and when an opportunity to expand arises they reject it and choose to remain small and call the opportunity and/or those who offered it, unwanted, not of their kin so it must be “evil.”  How wonderful to finally arrive to a place as Bengt describes. “The world vibrated/in the smallest atom/and everything was just as important/except that which obscured.//An abandoned house/at the edge of the road/offered a ghostly shadow play./Trees spoke to me/of the speed of perception/and of everything/that lies within the possibilities/of angular occurrence. ~Belinda Subraman 

Bengt's voice and art appear in GAS 2, located below.