turtle
charlotte, nc
in 2007, turtle released sticks & stones: a collection [of asinine poetry & meaningless dribble]. the handwritten collection of poetry and short prose, written between 1998 and 2007, has sold over 200 copies worldwide. his one act play, vernal, was considered a ‘chest-pounding chunk of pretension’ by a local critic. in the fall of 2008 hodgepodge messiahs released casual sabbath. the 33 track collaboration between turtle, uncle fox, and bearcat was called ‘spoken word and poetry done over music.’
turtle grew his local notoriety when, in the fall of 2008, he prayed on nationalistic sensibilities, dressed as uncle sam, and read from a paper towel roll.
currently, turtle is editor of that paper, a new monthly publication set to launch in september; co-producer and music director for an independent film currently in production in wiston-salem; and director of emancipated logik. he is working on a new book entitled $5,000 haikus.
// you don't always get your first choice //
[ a poem ]
redescribe
da scribe
focus and intent are clearer yet
want
wanders
willingly
now jobless,
they call him, “irresponsible.”
they say, “man up.”
they urge, “you don’t always get your
first choice.”
now hopeful,
he calls out, “i poet,”
he says, “am man.”
he urges.
meanwhile . . .
the soothy band returns
to destroy mindscapes
rewire motherboard
rewrite programming
drones want they not
its freethinkers sought
the speaker stands once again
prone at the podium
eyes closed and mind silent
he utters a soft prayer
at that moment . . .
a great rumble fades in
felt in feet
first, as aftershocks
the rumble, source deep within the bowels of earth,
lower mantle,
core
induced.
leaves rustle, glass rattles,
giant fluffy clouds swirl,
midnight center,
noon all around.
warm and cold front
thunder bellows
lightning shatters sky,
slicing down middle,
striking sage.
contorted by god’s strings, crucified by bolt, a humble head bows.
the speaker drops to his knees.
smoke seeps off his back, crawling through strata,
yearning for a return to bliss.
onlookers remain hushed,
baited.
then . . .
he speaks.
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