"Speak to Be Heard"

"Write to be understood, speak to be heard, read to grow..." - Lawrence Clark Powell

Last night I performed (for the first time) spoken word at my school's coffee house night. It went really well. Amazing in fact.

Figured I'd post here to share, though of course, hearing it is better than reading it.

If you couldn't make it last night, the bolded "words" are where I threw my fist in the air and had the audience shout "words."

"Words"

12/10/09

Last night I had a dream you see

In my slumber I watched a rumble and a tumble

Atop a hilltop I saw a battle in a valley

A war waged between only one enraged army

One people

All soldiers under one kingdom

Fighting for their quote end quote freedom

Men rose and they chose to slaughter their daughters

To burn down their brothers, and murder their fathers

Swords clanged and they clashed as little girls took up the sword as they had been taught

And blood soaked in the field and bones covered the grounds

And I looked all around to discover this hill wasn’t really a hill at all it was a cloud

And the valley was the earth

And the soldiers, my brothers

The army, my people

And I heard a small voice say to me,

“Now you see how dark the ways of man,

How violent the blaze of man,

How temporary the days of man.

Now you believe the pain of the sword,

The strain it affords,

And the gain it ignores.

Now you must act to bring about change

To lead a new phase

And use words to save the day.”

And I fell to the earth as the cloud disappeared

And the atmosphere set me ablaze to start again

It cleansed and it purified all my wants and desires

And I exploded to the earth still set on fire

Ready in hand with a brand new pen and a sharp new tongue

Ready to undo what man has done.

And I spoke, as I had been spoken to:

“Take heart, dear people,

Take heed, my brothers,

And I ask you, where does it lead?

This sword that you swore would be your protection

Has it filled its lofty position?

You’ve saved your wives and your children for sure

And you’ve shown the whole world how great the man you are

But at what expense? At who’s expense? At who’s incentive?

And can you recompense the pain you’ve gained from?

Sure, we’re the civilized society, the burger with fries society, it’s all-about-the-size society, the means are justified by the prize society

But what you’re really just saying is we’re the animals with supplies society

The beasts with the means

And if you want to disagree

I ask you to look the children and the wives of the other side in the eyes and tell them your right, tell them your holy, tell them you’ve decided they and their loved ones have to die!

Because you know what? The difference between the sword and the pen?

Is the sword really kills

The pen? You can throw your metaphors, analogies, imageries and see what sticks

But in the end, the only time the pen brings physical death is when it is misused, misread

By angry men, by blinded men, with small-picture means

Who think the only thing that can save their earthly fortunes is death

Because “murder protects and words just collect into nothing"

Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote: “Words are also actions, and actions are a kind of words.”

And when he speaks I don’t think he means battles and violence because those actions end things, and actions that are words start things.

Again, if you wanna disagree, let’s take a look through history

At the power of

Words like

Taking a seat at the front of the bus

Showing the world a hundred years haven’t changed us

You call us naïve idealists, hippies just here to protest

And I’m just saying, we’re just showing love

And love is actions, and love is

Words like

Taking a stand against an oppression

Rising a people to march an objection

A protest to taxation, taxation on salt

That’s all

A tax on salt and men rose up

But when the other kiddies knock over our sand castle

When we believe the lie that a good defense is a good offense, a good vengeance

We ignore the power of actions, the strength in

Words like

Teaching the people there’s more than they know

Showing them all how fast love can grow

Speaking to them to turn one more cheek

To turn one more cheek

To turn one more cheek

Using that love and those words to break down an empire

And exercising silence in order to sacrifice

So tell me: how rightly, how mighty is your violence?

How strong is your sword?

Can it weather the storm of Truth and words?

Because actions bring consequences, you reap what you sow, and retaliation will kill you

So you kill to protect

You murder to heal

Fight fire with fire when fire doesn’t put out fire it just starts more

And you fall to your sword

When you should rise to your words.”

And by the end of my dream there was this strong sound, this rising, fighting to breath sound, that echoed all around and shattered the bones on the ground

And it sounded a little like:

Words! Words! Words! Words! Words! Words! Words! Words!

But to be honest I’m not really a pacifist

Because I do battle with words

I duel with adjectives and verbs

And I can fence with sentences

And for those who don’t, I don’t blame 'em

Because we’ve all heard the lie, but talk isn’t cheap, it’s hard

And choosing to fight is easy, and typically the hard thing is the right thing

Or so I’ve been told

And to be really honest I don’t know if I am right

But I know that a life is sacred

And I know that violence follows violence follows violence

So what then follows talk and actions?

So this is a call for change

This is a call to rearrange our instincts

To re-think our choices, our voices

This is a call for words!

So there's that one, and here's this one...

"What Makes a Man?"

1/10/10

What makes a man?

There’s gotta be an answer

It can’t just be some non-descript question, paper slip certificate, fake-it-till-you-make-it attitude, empty lip the principal gave me to make me grow up

I don’t believe it’s some useless threat my parents threw in my face so I’d face the consequences of my ride on the fences of responsibility

Words that float through air without a care and dare you to wish, dare you to dream they could be real when really they’re just lies

It can’t be that

Not rumors, urban legends, mythologies about ideology, philosophies that tell you you might as well be trying to learn to fly with wings made from wax and ignorance

So what makes a man?

Business suit attire

With a tie too tight to breathe

He’s up at three, to the station by four-forty-five for a two hour bus ride to work

From seven to six

And by the end of his eleven hour shift?

His slicked back hair is soft from the wear of working under a hard man, a merciless man

Because as the assistant to a business man

He’s not given the respect he deserves as his own man

And while often it seems like just fate, he’s often cheated out of his lunch break

So what does he do?

What makes a man?

Is it the strength to complain about the difficulty?

Or the love to refrain because he’s got to provide for a family?

What makes a man?

Foxhole box to keep him in

Buddies and comrades by his side

Blonde set in a snapshot hiding in his pocket

He’s got a lot to live for

See she is going to be his wife

Soon as he gets home

But the phone calls they get to make to each other every six weeks aren’t enough

She’s all he thinks about, all he talks about, all he fights for, lives for, be willing to die for her

Whistle and thud and a grenade is laid down to the ground gently

Right behind him

So what does he do?

What makes a man?

Is it the selfishness to run so he can see her?

Or the selflessness to jump so he can save them?

What makes a man?

Two part time jobs and a cushy home to boot

Life seems great, life seems grand

And with two parents who pay, life is dandy

Not rolling in cash, not many bills to pay

Gas in the tank and whatever other useless stuff he can rake in

Times are slim, but for him? He’s still getting a DVD a week

And some new clothes on the weekend

But then he’s reminded about the poverty of the society of Africa

And how their health and wealth isn't the same as his health and wealth

So what does he do?

What makes a man?

Is it the excuse he makes that it's in another man's hands?

Or the choice he makes that the responsibility is in his own hands?

What makes a man?

What makes a man?

What makes a man?

I think I know.

And maybe you do too.

But let me impart what I’ve learned so far.

So what makes a man?

Love makes a man

I was once told and I believe that if you ask what is the loving thing to do, you will be right 95% of the time

And the rest of the time you will be striving to find what is right, and that makes a man too

See we all have this delusion that being a man is not the same as being a gentleman

And the gentlemanly thing to do, definitely isn't the manly thing to do

But what makes a man?

Gentleness

Kindness

Self-control

A searching man once made a list of all the thing’s a man is

Wrote 'em on post-its and stuck 'em where he could not forget it

And his ever-growing list ever-grew into a tree of life and knowledge

And he picked off the fruits and he learned

A man is responsible

A man is respectable, respectful

A man is humble

A man is self-less

A man is self-sacrificial

And a man is a lot of other things we don’t think we can be

Something’s that are just too subjective, he can be it, I can’t be it, we’ll just leave it

But a man is wise

And a man is patient

And a man is courteous, honest, chivalrous, willing, loyal, dedicated

And a man is sincere

And he’s quick to listen and he’s slow to speak

And a man is a lot of other things that actually come easy

Because a man is prayerful

And a man is peaceful and comforting and strong

But not in the way you’re thinking of strong

Because a man is strong [side note: held fist to heart]

And a man is joyful

And he’s pure in thought and action!

And a man is vigorous in his pursuit of goodness and righteousness!

And a man is steadfast!

And he holds to the truth no matter what, no matter the consequences, no matter the insults or the pride holding him back

Because you know what? Of all the fruits on the tree the searching man made

There was one he forbade to never let go

And it is: a man is content with Jesus as his everything

Because what makes a man?

God makes a man

God fear, God near, God here [side note: touched heart]

For God so loved the world that he believed in man

He believes in man

And they say God won’t give us more than we can handle

And this is what He’s given us

So what can we handle?

See we’re all searching for what a man is

Whether you’re male or you’re female

And I don’t have all the answers yet

Because there are too many I don’t want to forget, and too many more to explore

So I want to leave you with these four simple words

With this quest that should help you in life with your struggles and strife

Are you ready?

Because it’s a tough one, it’s a doozy, it’s…it’s a hard one,

But it’s easier if you're searching, if you’re asking:

What makes a man?

And I think you know.

Miss Hiedi Johnson asked me after what the four words are. She asked if it was "God makes a man." I told her, to me, they are "What makes a man?" and also "I think you know." That's because it leaves it as more of a quest and a searching. I think it needs to be a discovery rather than a sermon a man decides to believe. There's more faith in searching.

However, she's right: "God makes a man" is four words and that's perfect and works beautifully as if I had planned it :), as do any word before "makes a man" ("Love makes a man," "Responsibility makes a man," etc etc etc) so that all works, too.

And that's it. That's all I got...

Plan to write another soon...now? We'll see...need an idea, need an idea...

"Suspicions": An Older Poem, Posted Late, by Request

So, I wrote this over winter break, on a plane flying back from Washington D.C. I had just listened to Death Cab for Cutie's "We Looked Like Giants," and in it there is a line that goes:

"I don't know about you but I swear on my name they can smell it on me,

And I've never been too good with secrets."

You'll actually read where that line fits in. But, I heard that and I didn't know the song too well, so I didn't know what he was really talking about, but the picture I had in my head I needed to relay, I needed to put down. So I wrote a poem that I originally called...

Well, here I wanted to give cool trivia but I don't remember what I called it. But it wasn't called "Suspicions" till later. By later I mean like 45 minutes later on the plane, after I had gone to the bathroom and had time to think more.

Also, this is the first (and I think only) poem I've ever written that was purely fictional (metaphors, analogies, and other poetic devices obviously don't count when relaying emotions and feelings) and not from my own point of view. There may be one or two...yep I just thought of another. Ok, well it's still the first.

So, here's the poem posted by request (though later than would have been ideal) from the ride on a plane from Washington D.C. after listening to Death Cab while a Richard Gere movie played in the background that wasn't originally called "Suspicions" and is the first fictional poem not being spoken by, but still written by Nathan Glen McWherter and actually written on my iPhone instead of a cocktail napkin like all the greats (Hey! iPhones are the new cocktail napkins, give me a break! I'm just upgrading. Also I apologize for the run-on sentence, but if we were talking, it would have been exactly like that, so I felt the need to relay the sentence as would have been spoken. "Oh, relay is my word of the day!" Shut up, Niall!)

Anyway, here you go, I hope it makes sense. I added a line (more of a word) since I last let someone read it, and I think that line (word) clears it up a bit. We'll see.

Also, this poem is not featured in Bones of a Nightingale, so this is a kind of sneak peek to my second book of poetry.

Suspicions

1/3/09

The table bat not,

But echoed response,

And it made me laugh at his expense,

That his hands might hurt some

But the table was fine

And my pride grew tired.

He battered and pried

And left his shield to lie.

And I?

Adroit, sleeping my boredom to droll.

My eyes laughed, but my lips were as you have never seen:

Tight locked, hidden in frustration.

His patience died by my pleasure.

And dear, you would have laughed with me,

And I would be distracted and lost evermore because of it.

But his words, darling, lay empty.

And you would have laughed.

They wanted you strung up,

Tied to horses that fly

North, East, West, South;

Lying in a gutter with a hole through your brain.

My first words, that God would damn them to their lies.

They said you were in Quantico.

In Quantico that night you spent with your sister.

Your sister whom I have never met.

They said you stole secrets.

That you worked for the government.

A white hat, with a ridiculous salary.

But now your hat was black

Because it wasn't enough.

And he called you Diane.

You would've laughed.

He said he could smell you on my sweater.

And I've never been good at keeping secrets.

But I said you were with me that night

And we went to the fair.

I called him something I could never repeat to you.

And he hit me.

I laughed through blood and tears

And said to charge me

Or let me go.

He opened the door

And I left with three tails.

And my face fell

At my falling thoughts.

And you would've laughed.

Laugh with me, darling.

Laugh.

Well... Thoughts? Criticisms? Does it make sense what's going on?

Virtues and Fairytales...yet "Sexy"

So Kelsey Dettman text me yesterday and asked me what I was doing tomorrow (that is today) and Sunday (that is tomorrow). I said I was free most of both days. She asked me if I would be willing to "star in an awesome video that would make me the most famous person in library videos" (not her words, but doesn't that make it sound awesome?). Anyway, so I said yes.

And actually right now we're filming. I'm on my computer sitting here listening to Kelse as she explains what the video is.

It's actually really funny. She described it as "a library psa that is like a beer commercial without the beer" (those are her words, c'mon you think I could make that up?).

So the premise is that I am an "inadequate" library patron who can't find "full text articles" online, and Bethany and Angie are "sexy" (notice the quotes, haha. No I like them, kinda ;) ) librarians who laugh at me for my "inadequacy." Then a voice from above explains to me how to find "full text articles." Then both "sexy" librarians are impressed with my "full text article" and come over pulling their hair down and looking like beer commercial girls and start to "flirt" with me. I then look up at where the voice came from and mouth "thank you."

So yeah. That's what's going on literally at this moment. In fact, here's what I wrote, verbatim while we were testing my fingers typing:

"This is really cool. I’m sitting here in the International Business Office shooting a video for Kelsey’s project that is about library This is really bad grammar eveyrhting that I am writing and Kelse says I should put this in my blog. I should! That’d be awesome! Now she’s filming above my hands and it’s weird because I don’t like my hands."

That's a direct copy of what I wrote, hence everything being spelled bad. Andie don't make fun of me, I know there are grammatical problems with that section.

Anyway the only reason that I even posted this is because Kelse joked that I should be blogging while we're filming. So I am. I might attach a link to the actual video once it's done, just so anyone who read this and cared can see it. I think it's going to turn out to be pretty funny.

BTW the "full text articles" is in fact to be a penis reference. I realize that by saying penis I have made my blog explicit (ha! Yeah, no). So yes, as a clarification, "full text articles" = penis.

And the Adjective of the Year Award goes to...

Andie Marie Diaz

For her use of the word "pubey" in reference to a beard.