Dance Naked #3

hold Thor's hammer in your hand,
learn from the annunaki...
sit at the feet of Plato,
wander the worlds with the Hopi...

draw swords with the samurai,
search for the codes of da vinci...
watch the times and the seasons,
and be hungry for change!

hold the beating heart in your hands
till all names are forgotten...
till all colors are one color,
and the language is blood.

sit beneath the tree with Buddha,
and understand time, past and future.
walk the water with Jesus,
do the Ghost Dance again!

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poem by Eric Cockrell
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Teach Me How To Smile

My son, teach me how to smile.
So many years polluting my soul
I've forgotten how to smile.
I keep a catalogue now
office smile, party smile, home smile
barring my teeth like monkeys do;
trying to out smile
with fellow 'future generation'.

My son, teach me how to smile.
My chins ache,
from constantly holding the plastered portraits.
The innocence is gone
twinkles, laughter, smirks too
there is no distinguishing;
each is worse than the other,
Da Vinci would have been proud.

My son, please teach me how to smile.
I see toddlers running and laughing;

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poem by David Blaine
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Lines

ON THE CELEBRATED PICTURE BY LEONARDO DA VINCI, CALLED THE VIRGIN OF THE ROCKS

While young John runs to greet
The greater Infant's feet,
The Mother standing by, with trembling passion
Of devout admiration,
Beholds the engaging mystic play, and pretty adoration;
Nor knows as yet the full event
Of those so low beginnings,
From whence we date our winnings,
But wonders at the intent
Of those new rites, and what that strange child-worship meant.
But at her side
An angel doth abide,
With such a perfect joy
As no dim doubts alloy,
An intuition,
A glory, an amenity,
Passing the dark condition
Of blind humanity,

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poem by Charles Lamb
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Rainbow's Gold

(Terry Slesser/ Kenny Mountain)
(Note: Original by the Beckett, on album "Beckett")
In the heat of the morning
when your day is still dawning
And your bird, she's singing
Catch your soul, he's willing to fly away
Packed your bags in a hurry
Because your mind's in a worry
Mark my words, you're gonna be sorry if you ever fly away
Sweet little girl with the Saint Da Vinci-smile
Stares at me with sadness in her eyes
I'm not sure if she's really real or make-believe
Maybe she's a vision that comes to only me
Cause I'm so tired
Yes I'm so tired
So tired
Yes I'm so tired
SOLO
REPEAT FIRST VERSE

song performed by Iron Maiden
Added by Lucian Velea
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Eighth Wonder

Thy Smile

To Our Loving Daughter

It’s the Eighth Wonder on earth
And the First Wonder elsewhere.
Like a ray of a distant star
Thy smile flashes across our world.
Like a dropp of heavenly shower
It gently touches our souls.
Neither the enigmatic smile of Lisa
Nor the smile of Vinci’s model
Compared unto thy heavenly smile
For thou art God’s Gift with divine features.
Thy eyes do smile too
For they’re the lights of the Heavenly Star.
Thy smile is the handiwork of God,
Thy smile is the medicine to every grieving soul,
Thy smile is the utterance of God
Who dwells in the innocence of babes,

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poem by MBJ Pancras
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By Their Works

Who cleaned up the Last Supper?
These would be my people.
Maybe hung over, wanting
desperately a better job,
standing with rags
in hand as the window
beckons with hills
of yellow grass. In Da Vinci,
the blue robed apostle
gesturing at Christ
is saying, give Him the check.
What a mess they've made
of their faith. My God
would put a busboy
on earth to roam
among the waiters
and remind them to share
their tips. The woman
who finished one
half eaten olive

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poem by Bob Hicok
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The Last Supper

They are assembled, astonished and disturbed
round him, who like a sage resolved his fate,
and now leaves those to whom he most belonged,
leaving and passing by them like a stranger.
The loneliness of old comes over him
which helped mature him for his deepest acts;
now will he once again walk through the olive grove,
and those who love him still will flee before his sight.

To this last supper he has summoned them,
and (like a shot that scatters birds from trees)
their hands draw back from reaching for the loaves
upon his word: they fly across to him;
they flutter, frightened, round the supper table
searching for an escape. But he is present
everywhere like an all-pervading twilight-hour.

[On seeing Leonardo da Vinci's "Last Supper", Milan 1904.]

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poem by Rainer Maria Rilke
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Les Phares (The Beacons)

Rubens, fleuve d'oubli, jardin de la paresse,
Oreiller de chair fraîche où l'on ne peut aimer,
Mais où la vie afflue et s'agite sans cesse,
Comme l'air dans le ciel et la mer dans la mer;

Léonard de Vinci, miroir profond et sombre,
Où des anges charmants, avec un doux souris
Tout chargé de mystère, apparaissent à l'ombre
Des glaciers et des pins qui ferment leur pays;

Rembrandt, triste hôpital tout rempli de murmures,
Et d'un grand crucifix décoré seulement,
Où la prière en pleurs s'exhale des ordures,
Et d'un rayon d'hiver traversé brusquement;

Michel-Ange, lieu vague où l'on voit des Hercules
Se mêler à des Christs, et se lever tout droits
Des fantômes puissants qui dans les crépuscules
Déchirent leur suaire en étirant leurs doigts;

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poem by Charles Baudelaire
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After That.

After that
the only
thing she thought

mattered was
the sunlight
coming through

the tall trees
as you and
she lay on

your backs by
the large pond
listening

to birdsong
and the wind
coming through

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poem by Terry Collett
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Retirement Sometimes Comes...

On a cold winter night
she sits by the fire-place
nesting her frail frame
on grandma’s rocking chair
listening to the burning wood
the crackling sound of embers
tickle her ears like a lover’s tongue
her brooding eyes focus in deep study
she is reading Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code
unmindful of Angel taking a nap
by the lamp post
with her cute manicured paw
balancing her milky face
empty of purr and punishment
ears twitching like a disturbed twig
on a potted plant
in a moment of broken silence
my padded feet screeched across
the oak-finished wooden floor
proximity of distance where she sat

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poem by Leonard Dabydeen
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Knowledge

What happens to our knowledge
when we pass from here?
Will it be buried with us
for an eternity to be undisturbed,
or do we leave tracks
of our knowledge behind?

Great minds have already written down
things they did not want to forget.
Is it possible that great knowledge
is gathering dust somewhere
in those forgotten chapters
of our history?

Leonardo Da Vinci’s drawings
of airplanes and submarines.
Were they just fanciful dreams,
or were they reality?
Could these things have existed,
but of their presence in history

[...] Read more

poem by David Harris
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Louis Aragon'la Telepati

Duyuyorum sesini Aragon
Bağırma lütfen!

Biliyorum
Tahta at'lardan inmeliyim artık
Asıp burjuva takıntılarımı
Çırılçıplak çarmıha
Kesmeliyim Mona Lisa'da
Çıkan bıyığı
Da Vinci uyanmadan

Üç memeli kadın resimleri
Çizemiyorum Aragon
Acıtıyor dudağımı her ısırışta
Teresa'nın memelerindeki yangın
Ne zaman kalçalarında gezinse ellerim
küf kokuyor
Üşüyor tuvalimdeki
Kadın

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poem by Muzaffer Akin
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The Real Thing

A mongoose can smile at a cobra
But that cobra will always be a snake
Diamante can shine like a diamond
But you know, like I know
That rock will be fake
Its the real thing
The real thing
Nothing but the real thing
Its real
You can xerox the mona lisa
Deadpan da vinci in every detail
Might beat customs on a home-made visa
But false papers
Only gets you in jail
Its the real thing
The real thing
Nothing but the real thing
Its real
Life wears a smile on its face
But it comes with a sting in its tail

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song performed by Abc
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tapped or Trapped or Rapped?

The world, when wide, demanded empires vast.
Economies of scale appeared to be
uneven, and applied imperfectly,
as sound and fury buttressed ruling caste.
But times have changed, fresh horoscopes are cast,
Pluto downsized, Galileo, Copernicus, Vinci,
excommunicating Ptolemy.
This does not mean we’ve banished to the past
self-centered viewpoints, understood at last
small rhymes with beauty, ending poverty.
Newton, then Einstein, new technology
engendered, superstitions overcast.
One constant challenge cannot be bye-passed, -
Man’s nature alters slowly, ‘progress’ fast.

Man’s nature alters slowly, but Mankind
is t[r]apped within a spiral none control.
Few men pretend to understand the role
they’re meant to play, and ‘constantly’ we find
old infrastructures fissure. Though the mind

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poem by Jonathan Robin
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This Prospect Seems Quite Heavenly

I chanced upon a thought today
A thought that would not go away
What if heaven's like here on earth?
More like a parallel universe?
So, people live in houses there
And go to work and comb their hair
And sleep at night and make love too
And eat and drink, go to the loo
A heaven marked by being mundane
And then i had that thought again
We're just on earth for life's extent
In heaven no end's imminent
Alive for ever in the clouds
But would we all be wearing shrouds?
I somehow think not for i'd guess
We'd all be doing what we do best
So deceased tailors would make clothes
And gardeners still gardens grow
Accountants would still cook the books
And chefs would be eternal cooks

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poem by David Keig
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Beauty personified

Portraying in true light, the grandeur of your matchless beauty

Is a quest that tends to the impossible

But, if valour be the worthy trait of word-knighthood

Then, the frail shadow of the seeming impossible shall I trail

Truly, the peacock has been adjudged “beautiful” by mortals

At the splendour of your majesty, it can only get uglier

To all that was, is, and would be, you gave inspiration

With a brilliant radiance, the sun illuminates the earth

And with a peaceful glow, the moon keeps the night awake

Without your tutor, of what sort a feat can they make?

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poem by Adebayo Akande Smartfingers
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Song of Snobs

When Leonardo was a lad there was a certain set
Who snubbed him most outrageously - in fact, they snub him yet
He wasn't in the fashion, so he wasn't in the fold;
Before his death he was too new, and now he grows too old.
Because his art was new to them the snobs of Florence laughed;
And now, because he isn't new, the moderns scorn his craft.
'Da Vinci? Don't be crude, my dear! Call him an artist? Pshaw!
Why that old anachronism, so they say, knew how to draw!'

They have wandered thro' the ages, mouthing cliches as they go.
At first nights, and private views, 'mid the people 'one should know.'
But the artist goes on laughing as thro' every age he's laughed
At snobs who patronise the 'Arts,' but boggle at the craft.

When Shakespeare sought draw the crowds and please the taste of town
And watched box office takings with a worn and worried frown,
Kit Marlowe knew, Ben Jonson knew what stuff was in the lad;
But the dilettanti voted him quite definitely bad.
The fellow simply stole his plots, they said with lofty sneers,
And served them up most vulgarly to tickle groundling's ears.

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poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Akala

(Chito)
Akala ko iced tea, yun pala beer,
Akala reverse yun pala second gear,
Akala ko kasya yun pala hindi,
Akala ko tama yun pala mali...

(Vinci)
Akala ko hiphop yun pala metal
Akala ko batis yun pala kanal
Akala ko toothpaste yun pala glue
Akala ko verde yun pala blue

(Gab)
Akala ko tsinelas yun pala sapatos,
Akala ko umabot yun pala kapos,
Akala ko bukas yun pala kahapon
Akala ko mamaya yun pala ngayon...

(Chito)
Akala ko alam ko na ang lahat

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poem by Sirius White
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Somebody Must Be Prayin For Me

(track 4 - time 3:52)
(frank vinci/kris bergsnes/bob moulds)
She left oklahoma for california
Sunglasses on the brim of her hat
Smoke was pourin from that old cadillac
But she wasnt turnin back
Just outside of flagstaff
Motor blew on her coup de ville
Just in time she saw a sign
Theres was a texaco waitin at the bottom of the hill
And she said
Somebody must be prayin for me
Somebody out there must be prayin for me
Must be angels I cant see
Somebody must be prayin for me, yeah
A boy about 20 climbed out of a truck
All covered in grease and dirt
She said, hey charles, but he just laughed
He said, Im wearin my daddys shirt
He stood there lost in her eyes

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song performed by Tim McGraw
Added by Lucian Velea
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Vile

I am so down and out I wish
some earthshaking news to
shake up my day for instance
George Bush and Saddam
Hussein in bed scratching
each other's back as they whiled away
their time talking about how much
they had succeeded in destroying
themselves and their own nations
and how with some makeups, they
can play twins in a hollywood
movie titled 'How to take Your Country for a Ride'

or like Queen Elizabeth II
taking down her crown in place
of a shroud, saying she would
abdicate to become a Catholic nun
in Ireland because she has a vision
telling her to do so

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poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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