Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label poetry. Show all posts

20.7.09

Debbie Family History - A Nostalgic Requiem

debbie family history from Kyle Anderson on Vimeo.



Squared and I were lost and strayed into random back alleys until we came upon a pile of discarded VHS tapes and old SNES games. We took as many as we could carry, found our way home and later in the year, would drink and watch whatever we popped in.

One video, "Debbie Family History" was especially intriguing but only when the gears started turning did we realize what we discovered.

8mm home videos, mutely filmed decades ago, memories transferred from negatives to positive to VHS to digital, dissolved a hundred times over until the spaces where the light hit the film barely remains.

This lone tape, now sitting on a bookshelf in my room, is possibly the only remnant of these things that happened.

So we had the brilliant idea of melding the six-hour video together with music and some of my words. We tried to keep the nostalgia as intact as possible.

The writing was inspired by an even older VHS tape I once watched as a kid. The BFG, a cartoon adaption of the Roald Dahl classic that terrified me but left poignant imagery in my head for years.
The story goes, a giant lives in a cave in the sky and captures floating dream things in jars and releases them into little kids minds. I took that concept and reversed it, an unknown being that takes memories and dreams that are no longer being used. As discarded as the cassette we found.

14.4.09

Wind is Entropy

I wrote a haiku:

Wind is entropy
But really, it is static
Change is illusion.


It got published on twihaiku.com, but I don't think that's really a big feat.
Anyway, now I'm reminded why I hate haikus and that's because I don't only have three lines worth of thought on wind or static or change or anything.
I want to talk about how much I adore the wind, in all it's chaos and I don't want to be restricted to seventeen stupid syllables.

I love it when hot sand and gravel blow into my pores, and I walk around like I've risen from the dead.
I love it when gusts of air blow plastic bags into trees and they tangle around sapling limbs like flags of surrender.
I love it how nothing stays the same in wind, how trees swing low, how ponds evaporate, how houses topple over.

In wind, trash goes everywhere, leaves and sticks and stupid worthless things become important.
In wind, those tufts of dead grass I walk by every boring day, they come alive.
In wind, everything struggles to bend back in place, everything becomes a challenge, everything is victory.

I'm reminded how when I was young, I would stand in the middle of our street and raise my arms and welcome the stinging, chaotic dust storms, the first before each monsoon. I'd stand until everything around me was red-brown and smelled like rain and then the storms would come.

Fuck haikus.

4.2.09

etch

etch
One day I will be a particle of light, searing through the air, lured by your brilliant gaze, your beauty, sucked in like an insect, to land on the film of your cornea and forever etch my image.

30.3.08

Hexanchiformes (Mostly)

Hexanchiformes (Mostly)
March 9, 2008

Stole you, just to hear you whine mute again.
I’m addicted, not to you, but to the claw marks
you leave when you fuck me over.
Don’t try to act cute.
It’s not getting us anywhere.

How I could brag about avoiding you,
but now I must admit another guilt.
Another check-mark on my calendar,
towards a date that doesn’t get any closer.

They say tomorrow never dies
And then pull the shades down.
They say everyone is unique,
they didn’t count on me.

[Do not remember writing this. Thought it was decent, thought I would share]