To Know A Poet is To Love ArtistCG

COLETTE aka ARTISTCG


Colette aka ArtistCG--- Poet Interview with The Golden Goddess


When did you know you were a poet?


I remember writing poetry as a teenager. I think it was probably crappy love junk. I remember doing drawings from the back view of a couple standing, holding hands, wearing Levi’s. haha I think the crappy poems accompanied these crappy drawings.

As far as when did I know? I would say perhaps in the past year. Some of my poetry has been published several years ago, but I don’t think I ever saw my poetry as being something truly worthy until recently. Now, I’m like Yeah, write on! I’m a poet and I know it! LOL


Who influences you as a poet?


Writers from before my time (living or not) who influence me and why:

• Charles Bukowski (raw truth)
• Pablo Neruda (metaphorically delicious love)
• Anais Nin (love knowing no boundaries)
• Colette (I think I’m tied to her somehow)
• Marguerite Duras (The Lover.)
• Maya Angelou (endured a harsh past and still appreciates the bird’s song)

Man...looking at that list, I wish I could arrange a face off with those peeps and have them compete for the top spot! There are singer/songwriters that I could add to that list too. I have a sense of nostalgia for the past, and I feel a connection to them when I read how they approached situations during their time. Times change, but certain things are a constant—like struggles, desires, and the emotions that are attached to both.


Writers who currently inspire me are:

• Claudia Moss (lively spirit who gives all her characters great voice!)
• Joyce Conley Williams (knows a woman’s hardships, and certainly knows her worth)
• Kumasi Mack (a modern day romantic, but he calls himself Abstract due to his flavorful metaphorical word choices)



How do you contribute to the love of poetry in the world?

I began posting my poetry online at theStarliteCafe.com in 2002. A man named Albert used to run it, and it was a pleasant place to share, get feedback, and bond with other poets. Since he has passed, various changes have occurred on the site, and there are a lot of glitches. I later started posting on WritersCafe.org. I’ve had some poetry published in India through the Taj Mahal Review, and various other small journals.



Almost Dead Poets Society    We are the Almost Dead Poets Society. If you are interested in poetry...whether you read it, write it, or enjoy listening to and watching spoken word performances then this group is for you.


About a year and a half ago, I formed the group the Almost Dead Poets Society. I had renovated my studio/living space to showcase my art, and I had a vision of this place I call the Avant Garde 2434 becoming a comfortable hangout for artists, musicians and writers to share their passion and inspire each other. I hosted the Sunday Nite Poetry Chill n Thrill for a year here, and took a few month hiatus recently. We will resume on Saint Patty’s Day with an Afternoon Delight potluck, and perhaps get back to our Sunday night routine from there on. I created a Facebook group for the Almost Dead Poets Society not long after our physical group formed, so that I could post the challenges, and we could also read the words we heard spoken. I have been delighted with its reach to those in other locales—including other countries.







Kumasi Mack, photo taken at the Avant Garde 2434
Poetry Chill & Thrill 2011





Joyce Williams, photo taken at the Avant Garde 2434
Poetry Chill & Thrill 2011


Last year, I created an art exhibit I titled Hung Out to Dry. I hung photographs I had taken of some of the poets from our group, and poetry from these poets and some from afar who participate in our online group. It was a one-day event that included several segments of spoken word. I’d love to take something like this on the road. Ahh one day! You know...Wishing Thinking of the Urban Mind! ;)






HUNG OUT TO DRY...Poets from the Almost Dead Poets Society



I have plans to put my poetry in print and eBook form soon. The means to self publish and reach an International audience is amazing thanks to online sites such as Blurb.com, and Apple iBooks. Besides having a few of my own collections I wish to publish, I want to compile a collection of poems from our Almost Dead Poets Society. Quite possibly, I will tackle that before my own, because I’m eager to share these amazing poets with the world!


Describe your writing process?

Free flow.

I’d like to stop there, but then you’ll yearn for deeper explanation—right? I write when my mind is pushing it out of me. Pushing it from my mind to my fingers to any pen, paper, keyboard I can get into contact with. Often I have words—more importantly thoughts—running around in my mind, and sometimes I’ll get them down if I have paper and pen in reach. Sometimes, I don’t. And, sometimes they are lost or changed by the time they do meet the page. It’s more of a burden of thoughts...things that trouble me. Sometimes, it’s things that elate me. I just let it out. And, sometimes, maybe later, I’ll go back and tidy up the thoughts and words a bit and shape it into a more coherent poem. Sometimes.



Describe a time when language mesmerized you.

Honey, when hasn’t it? The womb? I don’t know...I think that my collective unconscious is tied to some former writers and artists, so it’s part of my DNA. I’ve been mesmerized since before my flesh encased my spirit.

ArtistCG's Poetry

Day of the Dead / Night of the Devil
A Poem by Colette
"a Halloween experience"


I fuck everything up / the pie
no brown sugar / for my brown sugar
no crust / wrong shell
hell
More time cleaning up / than clearing up
the energy
that pulled him here / that pushes him away

I want to impress / to decompress
to touch soft / love mellow
yellow / everywhere / to symbolize


Happiness


What is it?
No one ever knows 'til it's too late / so I wait
to no avail / jail / feels like what I'm in
because I did find out / what "it" is
but, I can't obtain it / fully

Slivers of my piece of the pie
not even satisfactory
though I try

I'm a ghost in this land of the unknowing
Even when I blurt it out / paint it / create it
demonstrate it
I'm unheard / unseen / nothing but awkwardness
showing

It would be easier if I could think
walk / talk
dream of a future / like them
but, I can't.

I'm spilled over / peeled off / sliced
chewed up / spit out
discarded like trash / recycled
too many times

I watch lesbians build families / scouts build fires
burn what's meant to stay semi-whole
signs everywhere looking for new hires

I'm strong as titanium / as weak as these old, falling leaves
No one knows what to do with me / And,
I don't know how to sit still / I'm not addicted to a pill
or alcohol / or, otherwise

It's the simple things that give me thrills

Perhaps I'm meant to remain alone in this life?
Feeding squirrels peanuts / walking an incognito cat on a leash
Because, I don't think I'm designed to merge
with these humans

completely.

© 2011 Colette

*********************

Our Scars
A Poem by Colette
"flashbacks, and how they cripple our future. *inspired by the film Black Snake Moan"


that black snake moans

those flashbacks

of the wars i’ve fought

with my father, brother, steroid pumped man in blue

all i’m keepin true


my truth


wanting to give it all to u

inside out, and back in then out

again

no air

choking throat


nothing but a hair left behind, and

those scars


i see the you you don’t see

you see the me of the former remnant of women past

and i am ready to strangle that fucking black snake

til it no longer moans, but screams, then fades

then relaxes

to the present


i say i want to massage your temples

until your misgotten memory turns liquid

so i can swallow

swallow that black snake

so it chokes no here and now no more


that black snake moans

and i cry

cancerous tears

tears of death moans playing in my cerebellum

body twitching both involuntarily and voluntarily

hell, i don’t even know the difference anymore


and somehow both of our necks begotten

like some African mythology springing forth new life

out of the dead crevices

we have to learn who to be thankful for


i’ll suffocate your fucking, moaning, black snake

i’ll help you breathe, but


what will you do for me?


what will you do for me?


© 2011 Colette

**********************

Abstract Artist
A Poem by Colette
"a dedication to Kumasi Mack--The Abstract Poet"


I call it motion / they call it abstract

I call it feelings / they say it looks like a heart attack

I say the colors are like the wind on a hot summer day

I say the gay rainbow flies / I say... Sailor, Hey!


Movie screenings / temporary tattoos

The work of an artist will do / What? / Only if they lived before you?


Pistachios / Mangos

Yellow / Pink / Orange / Purple

You know I dream in Technicolor

You know when you dream of me there is little color / no obstacles

a barrier / reef

and we’re back to a reality in a colored land


Give me your hand

African myths / a gazing globe of peacock feathers / watermelon lingerie

said to cure what ails you / and help you sleep


Deep


They call us lewd / I call them funny

They call her nude / I call her lovely


They call me / I don’t call back

Today might be the last day / I’ll have a Big Mac attack


I’m down with the hoops / not with the studs

A painting that doesn’t encourage growth is simply mud


I call it the Ripple Effect / they call it football

Sometimes

He falls / He says, “We can’t fly” / I say, “Gimme your hand”


You might call it metamorphosis / I say

the caterpillar can’t eat if the butterfly don’t know where to land


We call our language metaphors / a fictional version of facts

He calls me Moonshine / I call him Abstract

***********************

ArtistCG is also an awe-inspiring PHOTOGRAPHER!!!
http://www.blurb.com/my/book/detail/1028261



Images of people in their bedrooms to demonstrate that regardless of race, ethnicity, gender, or cultural backgrounds...we are all similar.


Living A Golden Life,
TheGoldenGoddess