ubterranean Blue Poetry
Volume II Issue VIII
 
CoverforIssue14



The Cover Photo/Art:

"Black and Blue"

by Adam Cramb

http://www.artofthisworld.net/adam-cramb.html










 
“qua moulé

child of the Wisconsin Brotherhood

ginko buck actresses

gringotts and the infantry

magentic

bad fandabula

a buddy pramble

boo Kenny – Steiglitz

ce n’est pas

faux Ludwig minarettes

in the colours

of the sky


it is quiet with the night

sweet melancholy blues

on blue”










Subterranean Blue Poetry
Volume II Issue VIII
 
(September 2014)










SubterraneanBluePoetryLogo
 
Subterranean Blue Poetry

www.subterraneanbluepoetry.com
 
© 2014










Bartok’s Jazz

by BZ Niditch


The clock goes off

in my cold Budapest room

I'm late as usual

for my rehearsal

of Bartok's sonata in C

without excuse

know this music

pierced my sleepwalking

rush downstairs

with a strudel in hand

comb the river

with a cool breeze

by quivering hilly trees

on my tucked out shirt

bells turn up from roofs

where at first light

a cyan blue sky serves

us another color

of unconsumed sunshine

feeling like a third horseman

holding my violin case

sonata notes and rosin bag

close to Atilla Jozsef's statue

suddenly recalling

as if in a mirrored epiphany

in another world

a critic who telling us

the trio we practiced

underwritten by Szigeti

was influenced by Goodman

when jazz modulated

our composer's music.









Waiting

by BZ Niditch


Waiting for
magnetic

sunshine
on deck

the joker
meditates
under
the sound system

when a sudden rain
like pawns
on the chessboard

invades
liquid solitude

sings its vaporous solo
over a ditch water
river of sensation

on our trio's recital,
jazz opens
in an open space

and flesh murmurs,

my sax is ready

a firestorm
dissolves
conversations.









Open City

by BZ Niditch


Watching the Italian film
Rossellini's "Roma, Citta Aperta"

a post-war neo-realist film,
even when it freezes
in the thin, cold air theater,
from low voices
about occupation
humanity being stepped on
near monuments,
tourists gather

after the movie
watching a young guitarist
with a foreign cadence,

wanting a cab

hearing Coltrane's riffs

near approaching taxis
combating the night.









Los Angeles Eyes

by BZ Niditch


At my read with an unrolled tongue

up loft ladders and angles

when smooth jazz meditates

from a lotus position

on the open stage door

near Hollywood and Vine

arriving here

as a kid with one rust suitcase

everything is not what

appears behind the doors

with the courtesy of a card shark

and a publicity agent

who wants only his own money

to cover charge the costs

and finding a sax in pawnshops

from a cool piano player

who may be a musicologist

and a motorcycle jacket

will not go out of style

and a Beat Poet now

survives

the youngest of mornings.









Vision of San Francisco

by BZ Niditch


In low rise San Francisco

at five PM

among smooth jazz enthusiasts

the dish still repeats

with no one watching

behind withdrawn blinds

but everyone speaking

or chewing on gossip

pasta or pork

trying to sleep off

war or death

chilled out

by every Dear John or Jane

letter, not willing

to surrender

the happy hour

even the remote possibility

of going off line

or losing control

of a poor reception

yet you still keep on

playing the blues

here in October

on the sidewalks' cafe

no one sleeps

except on music sheets

in harmony on brass beds

with my newly haired bow

of my violin's rosin

I'm floating in a morning shine

gazing at the Bay.









Thinking Jazz

by BZ Niditch


A club for my sax gig

becomes grape ripe

one cannot forget

migratory streets

passages of melody,

myth or math

like alembic distills

at the right hour

on the leaf jacket

almost spills its secrets

nor singed

your new verse

signed with lips

of anticipation

burning through

historic and Doric

revolutionary graves

once blind alleys

now there are

no foreign bodies

or initiate tongues

who do not know you.









Into the Hours

(for Seamus Heaney, in memoriam)

by BZ Niditch


Into the blur consciousness

with vague insights

of a house narrative

touching the right words

chance of unknown nature

interrogates eternal weeks

of the hypnosis of language

lost in shadowy breath

with the countless hours

of a proverbial somnambulist.









Alone in a Theater

by BZ Niditch


Alone in a theater

Watching an Italian film

a post-war neo-realist one

even when it freezes

in the thin, cold air theater,

from low voices

about occupation

humanity being stepped on

near monuments,

tourists gather

after the movie

watching a young sax player

with a foreign cadence,

hearing Coltrane's riffs.









Mayakovsky

by BZ Niditch


Still hip

after all these years

of futurist fortunes

to long woodwinds

of improv's jazz modes

toned and tuned up

marked by your fingers

between half-open hands

which cannot rest

on old baggage

anywhere on the earth

without the beat

of punctured rhythm

breathless shadowing

your acclimation

yet never hanging out long

by your glasses

of hard drinking

filled with kvas and vodka

you cannot remember

being translucent

the unreal day before

provocative yet sensitive

to visit Stravinsky in life

and Proust in death

while Paris' lemon sun

still radiates on you.










 
Featured Poet: Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Kubla Khan

by

Samuel Taylor Coleridge



Or, a vision in a dream. A Fragment.

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round;
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e’er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced:
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher’s flail:
And mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean;
And ’mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war!
The shadow of the dome of pleasure
Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!

A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight ’twould win me,
That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.










 
Missed Connections

Friday, April 26th, 2013 – Montreal Craigslist – Missed Connections – Purgatory Guy

The Lilacs - m4w (Postcard from Purgatory)


She stares from behind glass
she knows the lilacs are growing
she knows the stars are shining
except in her heart
not today, not today
the roads are quiet
the room is silent
nothing is moving
except in her heart
not today, not today
and if I wrote her a love poem
it would all be for someone else
all those words are shining, not for her,
except in her heart
not today, not today
and I stand on her doorstep
outside in the pouring rain
with limp daisies and promises
long ago she's
locked out of her heart

not today,
she whispers,

not today...

*

The house still stands at the corner of the street, she still looks out the dusty window while the paint peels from the walls and comwebs grow over the door.

And the Lilacs, they still grow. And the stars they still shine.

Not today, she whispers, not today.

(N.B.: “don't needs no friends, gettin’ a little dog” – note from the editor)










 
Book Reviews




Living Within and Beyond the Fallacy of Border, an Autoethnography Study of Immigrant Women in Ireland.


Byline: Subterranean Blue Poetry

Title of Book: Living Within and Beyond the Fallacy of Border

Author: Mahasty Eslahy

Publisher: MCI Writer's House

Date of Publication: 2014

Page Count: 114


“Exploring the geography of freedom”. This book is an essence study presenting the experiences of three immigrant women from Afghanistan and Iran now residing in Ireland. In the background is poetry by Rumi (Persian Poet), Hafiz (Persian Poet) and the Poet Eslahy herself, with ideas primarily from the philosophical treatises of Freidrich Nietzsche and Martin Heidegger amongst others. Poet Eslahy has been living in Ireland for 8 years, learning the English language and studying at The National University of Ireland, this is Ms. Eslahy’s M.A. dissertation. I had the honour of Reviewing her first book of poetry, Through Gateways and Wells Refuge and Refugee, a poetry event.

This research paper has a feminist zeitgeist without prejudice of nationality, class, religion, race, sexuality, captures the imagination introducing an idea of language, “she is a human being because she is language” and the idea of geography, history, and identity as “her choice beyond the context of a particular society in which she has moved to live and to experience her own new life.” She also introduces the concept of “puppetization”, the use of language/culture to enslave with the idea of identity caught up in abstract concepts other than the authentic self. And how perceived difference can promote racism, inequality and marginalization. “A social order is communicated, reproduced, experienced and explored” as elites promote their agendas to govern and form societies. When people immigrate “marginalization occurs in a resistant society and rigid identity so identity has a crucial role to play with regards to adjustment.” On a personal level the immigrant experiences “landscape, identity, culture” as moving and “the recognition needed for an immigrant to be identified as a human being.” The author comes to the conclusion that “immigration is providing responsible self-direction to emancipated individuals beyond geography and landscape” and “through the responsible human is a responsible society” so that people can shape their own geography in freedom through migration.

(This Writer admires the concept of freedom, yet I experience the migrant as walking into a room where there is an argument. The Western World is in a crisis of conscience, sometimes with an irresponsible patriarchy, struggling within the chains of colonialism (the cult of ego), discrimination, an elite with hidden agendas, as well as the intrusion of geopolitics from foreign countries. Because the cultural ways of the Old Agricultural Society did not translate well into the Industrialized Economy, with the blooming population and the migration to cities for manufacturing jobs, I suspect the cultural way became lost and misconstrued creating violence on a personal as well as international level with 2 World Wars, Korea, Vietnam, Yugoslavia, Iraq, Afghanistan, Iran and on and on. People in the Western World are reexamining their values, questioning the war economy and the violence of life in N.A. and overseas.)

The book then presents the three immigrant women, Belour, Farinaz, Arasteh and their stories about migration from Afghanistan and Iran, their subjective experience, with regards to class and race and the effect on their life, the link between borders and geography, education, identity and interpretation of culture.

“Migration has been always with me as a vital fact. Beginning when I was six, we were migrating from village to village and then, from town to town in Afghanistan; and be ‘we’, I mean me, with my parents, sisters, and brothers – and it was because of the war over there.” – Belour

“My identity for me is a “Belour” and her own story. All my years living in Afghanistan taught me to be obedient to all people who were older than me; to my husband and to my relatives. The way that I had heard, the words that I was told made me like a person who did not have any feelings and goals . . . “ – Belour

“I had left Afganistan twenty years ago and had lived in Iran for ten years. But we did not live there legally, so we did not have any rights there. My children couldn’t go to school and we did not have proper jobs and a proper lifestyle. We moved to Iran because there was war in Afghanistan. But we had different types of wars in Iran, and that was living in an insecure way. When I was seeing that my children are going to school in Ireland, I was just so happy and I did not think about anything except their safety and contentment. My joy was the protection of my children. “I” was not important the same as they were for me . . . “ – Belour

“I moved from Iran to find my happiness as I was not happy in my homeland . . . “ - Farinaz

“I needed a big change in my life . . . I came here to start a new life as an artist who likes to create her own works.” – Arasteh

The entire work has flowers of unexpected poetry interwoven through the writings, the work is a joy to read.

Until the Sky is Cobalt and Azure

by Mahasty Eslahy

Living and existing willingly,
until the sky is azure.

Calling and receiving the simplicity, keenly
until the sky is azure.

Falling in love eagerly and devotedly
until the sky is azure.

Speculating of why I am querying,
and what I know is that;
ever questioning until the sky is azure.

Reflecting on why I am called an immigrant,
until the sky is azure.

The sky is cobalt and azure everywhere,
even if I am called an immigrant.
I am exploring who I am,
until the sky is cobalt and azure.

Ubiquitously the azure sky is with me
in all times I be in the here, the there, and everywhere.”

In Living Within and Beyond the Fallacy of Border the writer Ms. Eslahy explores the concept of migration and its meaning to other migrants, hoping to find “solutions to the feeling of being marginal”. The autoethnography study is an essence study in the ideas behind the dominant and subdominant cultures. The Poets Rumi and Hafiz are ancient Persian mystics, Nietzsche and Heidegger are white German philosophers in the 20th Century and all are writing about being authentic, the struggle for the nature of being in their own culture.

“I wish there were no such things like race and different cultures and . . . I like to think that everyone has the right to live delightfully . . . in my entire life I heard that, I as a woman have to be quiet and not to have any expectation . . . but now I think there is no difference between me and the other women, everyone likes things in her life in a different way . . . women are women . . . people are people in anywhere they live . . . “ - Belour

The Muslim culture in the Middle East is presented as oppressive to women, I suspect it may be difficult to find your Starcrossed Lover, as marriages traditionally are arranged by families (I suspect it may be easier to find your Starcrossed Lover if the school system was integrated boys and girls) and traditionally women may be discriminated against in following their callings for work, and everything is difficult if the country is a war zone. In N.A. the white culture system is violence, sexual licentiousness is encouraged causing the outrage of Shock Doctrine system where people have too many lovers manifesting suffering, psychiatric patients, addictions, emotional and actual violence, suicide, murder and war. Cultures and their rules are historical artefacts, many of the ways are positive white magic ways, others are not, causing great harm to innocents particularly as the “opera” has morphed through time. In the West a rule of culture that “worked” or at least was perhaps more understood in the Old Agricultural Society was morphed incredibly by the Industrialized and now the New Age Computerized Economy. The approximately 14,000 years old Agricultural Economy changed through the invention of the steam engine into the Industrialized Economy that in a short 100 years has once again had a major shift with the invention of the computer. The evolution to the computerized society has created incredible vistas of change, touching all aspects of life affecting, personal, business, communication, systems, education, the arts and more and in the blink of an eye. The West is in shock, the entire structure of society is in flux and changing, particularly affecting the economy which is in transition with less employment. In the United States a population of approximately 300 million people 300,000 people die from violence per year, this is suicide and murder (it is suspected the suicide rate is as much as 1/3 higher than is presented because there are difficulties in reporting). In the Industrialized Economy the common values of the culture may have changed, as the cultural way and the Spirit/Karma way became lost and misconstrued; with an emphasis on big money and sex, an objectification of women, as people became karmically impure and economic drivers, their grave suffering causing karmic dissonance, violence and war. As a society of real people and an elite we need to take responsibility for the vision we have for ourselves, as ourselves and as human beings as well as the nature and essence of being in our Community and Society.

Living Within and Beyond the Fallacy of Border, brings the ideas of non-Western women into the international debate about how we live our lives, our loves, our peace, our freedom in the face of violence and war, a fascinating read by Mahasty Eslahy.

Available @ MCI Writer's House and Amazon.ca.











“and the bird that flew,

tangled up in blue”

- from Tangled Up in Blue
   by Bob Dylan


 
blue ink

by

Rebecca Anne Banks


you always dream

the perfect peace

replaying movie reels,

a bird by flower

a bird by sky

the empty blue

quiet in time

memories of the rain

for what runs through your hands

blue ink and poetry

dreams

in the sirens of the night.


the weight of sorrows

the gift of songs

oranges dream by sky.










 
Biography


Rebecca Anne Banks lives in Montreal. She is the Artist/CEO at Tea at Tympani Lane Records (www.tympanilanerecords.com)and the Book Reviewer at The Book Reviewer (www.thebookreviewer.ca).

Samuel Taylor Coleridge is a British Poet, philospher, literary critic and one of the founders of the Romantic Movement. He was born in Ottery St. Mary, Devonshire, England to the Reverend John Coleridge and his second wife Anne Bowden, the youngest of 10 children. Poet Coleridge was educated with the Greyfriars, London. He had poor health and severe depression that was treated with laudanum contributing to a lifelong opium addiction. He accumulated debts and was refused by his girlfriend Mary Evans perhaps causing him to enlist in the army under a false name. He became severely depressed and was discharged by reason of insanity to reenlist as a scholar at Cambridge. He is best known for The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, Kubla Khan, Sibylline Leaves: A Collection of Poems amongst others.

Adam Cramb. My poetry has appeared in sub-Terrain and Leaf press. I am also a visual artist who's work has appeared in coastal galleries. The LACDA in Los Angeles and the Canadian Federation Gallery in Vancouver. My photography has appeared in le Journal de la photograhie and F-Stop. For the last 2 years I have made it into the final round of the International Fine Art Photography Award: Grand Prix de Decouverte. http://www.artofthisworld.net/adam-cramb.html.

Mahasty Eslahy is a published poet and writer. Her poetry has been published in the ARN, ‘Anti Racism Network Journal and Blog’ in Ireland. Her work has also appeared in a few anthologies; in England in All the Lonely People, (Plum Tree Books, 2012) and in Canada in The Inspired Heart (1&2&3) (Melinda Cochrane International, 2013& 2014). Also three of her poems have been published in the online journal Episteme - Bharat College of Commerce and Science, Vol. 2(3), December 2013. One of her articles has been published in Young Men Perspective Magazine Edition 4, 2013. Also she has another article in The Wednesday Poetry Corner, Plum Tree Books February 2014. She published her first collection of Poetry in October 2013, Through Gateways and Walls, Refuge and Refugee. And Living Beyond and Within the Fallacy of Boarder is her second book, published in June 2014. (Available at Amazon)

B.Z. Niditch poet, playwright, fiction writer and teacher. His work is widely published in journals and magazines throughout the world, including: Columbia: A Magazine of Poetry and Art; The Literary Review; Denver Quarterly; Hawaii Review; Le Guepard (France); Kadmos (France); Prism International; Jejune (Czech Republic); Leopold Bloom (Budapest); Antioch Review; and Prairie Schooner, among others. He lives in Brookline, Massachusetts.