Solotramp's Podcast
Poetry Propaganda -- How audacious! by Eleanor A Binnings
Bodies I originally wrote "Bodies" after a conversation with a bulemic.  It was among the first I recorded after my surgery (quite body conscious then!) and experimented again with the sound.  I decided to re-do it, so here it is, a bit different.  Another change I still want to make in it . . . next time. . .

      Bodies
This body slid into the world
with perfect limbs
lungs . . . and innocence

for years it did
all the things
bodies should do
moving breathing
crying cringing
from bumps falls burns
bleeding touching
he sweet the bitter
he sour    salt

sleeping under blankets
and beneath stars
seeing objects
and plants and animals
hearing music
and voices
and clicks and creaks

Maybe we don't enjoy
the way our bodies
hurt or give warning
or the rough hands
that press into our ribs
the bite and itch and burrow
of feeding insects
the way cold can be too cold
or hot too hot
and how viruses make us ill

when do we learn we're not to love these bodies?
their colors their shapes the sounds they make?
the marks and scars that hint at our most dramatic stories?

we conceal our bodies
some of us even keep
out the lights
so our lovers will not judge
our bodies as harshly
as we do ourselves

those who remove their clothes
have the bodies we're supposed to have
implanted liposuctioned rhinoplastied bo-flexed
waxed like fruit in a display ad

how do we come
to be conscious
of bodies
and then despise our own?
these bodies
that entered the world
to do the things
that bodies do . . .
these bodies that cook everything
we can ever taste of life

(c) 2007 Binnings  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Direct download: Bodies_2007.mp3
Category:podcasts -- posted at: 1:02am MST

Ode to a Glen
ODE TO A GLEN

Come now
into the shady glen
with the ferns
underfoot

a brook
enters from
a mysterious
opening
in the dark soil
and tumbles rock
to smooth stone

the leaves
shift
to allow
dappling
of light
over
the old log
we sit upon
in this quiet
place
where
so much
happens
without words

take in the scent
of humus
and
yesterday's rain

fingertip
to
fingertip
we breathe in
a moment
that cannot
be revoked

(c)2007 Binnings ALL RIGHTS RESERVED


Direct download: Ode_to_a_Glen.mp3
Category:podcasts -- posted at: 12:32pm MST

You Inspire Me

You inspire me
to remember walls of stone,
dead-end streets,
the razed hill where
the bulldozer sits idle.

Back at the house a man
is tuning the piano while you
and I walk over clumps
of dirt beside a cold lake.
I keep an arm's length between us,
knowing how thin my skin's become.

Tell me . . . what's the use of it?
One more step toward an abyss
where there are no words,
just a sucking gravity and darker dark--
and heat that sears old wounds.
That's the composition of emptiness . . .

I stand here with you and see
twisted, broken forms littering
the ground we walk upon,
and I can calculate the distance
between us by measuring the span
between me and the ragged moon.

What's the use of it? I take
my own hand to lead myself home.
Bridges burn behind me on the lake.
I can feel the flames; no need to hurry now.
Nowhere to go. You inspire me . . . so.

(c) 2007 Binnings  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Direct download: Inspire_Me.mp3
Category:podcasts -- posted at: 10:17pm MST

Touch, a villanelle A new musical background for this villanelle .


Touch


I want to know the meaning of touch  
if i touch you, you don't say so....
why do you hold back so much

of what you feel where there is such
possbility for where we might go?
Why do you hold back so much

when our hands and thoughts match
as do our songs and their echo
I want to know the meaning of touch,

want to slide off your shirt and caution
and look at you beside the window
why do you hold back so much?

Tonight I am tired of the watch,
wary and distant, lying low--
want to know the meaning of touch...

Let me caress your wounds -- wound me if
    you must
burn me to ashes; melt me like glass--
oh I want to know the meaning of touch

Why must you hold back so much?

(c)2007 Binnings ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Direct download: Touch-Meaning-Finale-2.mp3
Category:podcasts -- posted at: 8:07pm MST

What You Need What You Need

Tired of being alone, you open
your doors and invite people
to press their feet into your carpets,
drink wine, and talk
about politics, movie stars,
and the meaning of life.

Alone again, you muse
about how women and men
long for extended seasons of love

and how all you know of the world
is asses braying,
a lion's roar,
garlands celebrating your house
that if your philosophy is skepticism,
no one can dispute the words you spread
out on the sand under the sun;
that if you fill cups with water
and feed hungry children,
who will deny you your ambition?

that favors turn up in unexpected places. . .
You meet a man in the road
carrying luggage with foreign stickers,
and ask him how things explode,
to explain spontaneous combustion,

to carry your grocery bags
to speak plainly of plans,
to sit down on your sofa
to write a letter that talks about
how hard it is to see
the obstacles that lie ahead.

And then you stand near the desert
not knowing if the sun rises or sets,
knowing only the time to cover your face
from the drying winds.
It's sleep . . . or . . .love . . . .
or  . . . God  . . .you need.

(c) 1997 Binnings ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Direct download: WhatYouShouldDo.mp3
Category:podcasts -- posted at: 11:20pm MST

La Gitana La Gitana will take you where you've never gone before
La gitana who dances between moon and star
has the power to touch you at your core

Revealing the nuances between venus and mars
she'll take you where you've never gone before
guiding you through an enchanted door
her ability to lead you past walls and bars
has the power to touch you at your core

she'll take you where you've never gone before
to worlds described only in ancient lore
she causes you to yearn and to dream more dreams t
han floated on the evening air
Her breath lifts you to the heavens to soar
to dance with her among gasping stars

Her voice on the strings of a sweet guitar
have the power to touch you at your core
the power to touch you -- caressing and stimulating every pore.

she'll take you where you've never gone before
la gitana who dances between moon and star
has the power to touch you at your core


(c) 1999 Binnings ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Direct download: La_Gitana.mp3
Category:podcasts -- posted at: 6:27pm MST

Buffalo                Buffalo

I had such a prejudice against rednecks
I got in a relationship with one
just to find out what it was all about

A relationship with a redneck
means when you go camping
there's got  to be a Colt 45 in the tent
You learn the names of all the guns
his special room is filled
with pelts and horns
just to remind him of what he killed

he drives a big red truck
and takes the back roads
away from population
his hero is John Wayne

One time I asked him
if he could go back
to any time in history
what it would be

and he said he'd find himself
on a hill in Texas
on a day the buffalo converged . . .
millions of buffalo black on the earth

commercial bison slaughter
last year was a record 34,444 animals
consumers turned to bison
as an alternative
to beef in the wake of the discovery
of mad cow disease
someone's dreaming of
buffalo ranches in Hokkaido, Japan,
to serve at a specialized restaurant
like the media mogul
Ted Turner's Montana Gill

but i listen
and i hear
the drums
and the song
within the winds --
and in the distance
I see the herd . . .
blackening the plain

(c) 2005
Direct download: Buffalo.mp3
Category:podcasts -- posted at: 8:11pm MST

Woman of Sanity The Woman of Sanity

She's the one you love when you want sanity
when that crowd you run with eats your soul
when the routine life is all uncertainty -- then you love
the woman who exacts no toll.

You love her because she doesn't ask you to give
she's like a bright stroke of lightning, like the waiting earth
and she holds a piece of your heart...a shard of ice, a flake of stone...
That sturdy bit of sanity in a churning world
the live and let live woman, blood, flesh and bone....

(c)2005 Binnings ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Direct download: Woman_of_Sanity.mp3
Category:podcasts -- posted at: 9:06am MST

The Meaning of Touch          The Meaning of Touch

I want to know the meaning of touch  
if i touch you, you don't say so....
why do you hold back so much

of what you feel where there is such
possbility for where we might go?
Why do you hold back so much

when our hands and thoughts match
as do our songs and their echo
I want to know the meaning of touch,

want to slide off your shirt and caution
and look at you beside the window
why do you hold back so much?

Tonight I am tired of the watch,
wary and distant, lying low--
want to know the meaning of touch...

Let me caress your wounds -- wound me if
    you must
burn me to ashes; melt me like glass--
oh I want to know the meaning of touch

Why must you hold back so much?

(c) 2007
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The original of this has been on my website here for a few years:  http://geocities.com/tori_the_rose/

Or if it works this way:  http://geocities.com/tori_the_rose/
The website needs IE browser to open properly.

That webpage is the predecessor to this one.  The music there is completely different from here.  But yes.  Predecessor.


Direct download: The_Meaning_of_Touch.mp3
Category:podcasts -- posted at: 6:02pm MST

Bodies This poem was written after talking to a woman who had bulemia and got me thinking about loving our bodies . . .I will probably record it again, but in the meantime:

Bodies

This body slid into the world with perfect limbs lungs and innocence
for years it did all the things bodies should do
moving breathing crying cringing
from bumps falls burns
bleeding touching the sweet the bitter the sour    salt
sleeping under blankets
and beneath stars
seeing objects and plants and animals
hearing music and voices and clicks and creaks

Maybe we don't enjoy the way our bodies hurt
or give warning
or the rough hands that press into our ribs
the bite and itch and burrow of feeding insects
the way colds can be too cold
or hot too hot
and how viruses and bacteria make us ill

when do we learn we're not to love these bodies
their colors their shapes the sounds they make?
the marks and scars that hint at our most dramatic stories

we conceal our bodies and some of us even keep out the lights
so our lovers will not judge our bodies as harshly as we do ourselves
those who remove their clothes have the bodies we're supposed to have
implanted liposuctioned rhinoplastied bo-flexed
waxed like fruit in a display ad

how do we come to be conscious of bodies
and then despire our own?
these bodies that entered the world to do the things
that bodies do . . .
these bodies that cook everything we can ever taste of life

(c) 2006
Direct download: bodies.mp3
Category:podcasts -- posted at: 8:01am MST

What a Year Complexities of life . . .

A couple years ago, I was emptying my life of everything I did not love.

And then . . .. among others things, someone robbed my home while I was in the hospital.  I sold that home, the home my daughter and I had never gone to live in again . . .

Open life . . . open arms . . .

Here's the first (unpoetic) poem of 2007.

what a year of loss it's been
what a year of loss
my home   my lover   my routine
what a year of loss

it used to be i had high hopes
but reality sank in
it used to be i could throw a rope
because i was so strong
what a year of loss it's been
the old path closed, destroyed

the new path does not permit
the user  the liar  the thief
'cause what a path of loss that was
what a path of pain

crafting a new path
is just a little hard
a path of strength
a path of peace
it's just a little hard

but i'm alive so i'll keep on
refueled and travelin' on
the time of loss behind me now
the rocks and rooks blown off

the new path does not permit
the user  the liar  the thief
i'm alive and i'll keep on
myself  my love  my dream

(c)2007 Binnings ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Direct download: What_a_Year_.mp3
Category:podcasts -- posted at: 2:42pm MST

Essence "Essence"  

We meet in a place where
words and pictures begin to occupy
some apartment
or maybe a dance hall
park bench
or chair in the back of an auditorium
in the back of the mind

sometimes i lay a kiss on your cheek
but you don't feel it
sometimes you dance with me
in abandoned circles to music
I don't hear it

there's a room of desire with a locked door
a succession of past lives
marching around the periphery of the colonnade
dancing around your landscape
near the sea and palms and brown women
shaking my landscape of mountains and sky and pink children

what could make these landscapes collide
and quake open that locked door?

a car a train a plane
a thumb held up to the wind

But time is not of the essence
The essence is this time

(c)2006 eleanor a binnings  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Direct download: Ess-Ence.mp3
Category:podcasts -- posted at: 7:46pm MST

Half The name of this poem is "Half."  This poem is for those who are close to someone who has Post Tramatic Stress Disorder.



(c)2005 Binnings ALL RIGHTS RESERVED




Direct download: half6-11-6.mp3
Category:podcasts -- posted at: 6:45pm MST

Bad Lover This is one of the early ones when I first began experimenting with laying the music behind the poems.  Some shades of the music exist in another one, and I'll either change this one or that one.  Meanwhile, here is "Bad Lover," with the hope you never experience one.  But if it happens, well . . . write a poem . . .



(c) 2005 binnings  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED


Direct download: Bad-Lover.mp3
Category:podcasts -- posted at: 6:33pm MST

Downing Street Memo I wrote this poem shortly after the Downing Street memos were reported -- awhile back.  It is in my combination here titled Political Propaganda, but now I've decided to set it up here alone.  (My poems are mostly still packed away; that's why the poem's words aren't visible here.)

I've heard that political poetry fades when the issue is resolved.  But gosh, today it's hard to believe we live in a democracy when the dog on top kicks crap over all others except those who feed him treats. 

Brainwashing.  Last year at this time when I was awaiting my brain surgery and Sharon was como-ed out with his stroke, I was watching a lot of TV since I was supposed to do anything strenuous (that is just about nothing so my there'd be no interior-head explosion.  It was clear that a lot of people were coming out of the Cave, i.e. Plato's Cave. 

When it had become clear that the U.S. was going to Iraq, I began researching to find out why since all the puzzle pieces weren't fitting logically together.  I expected to find a good, solid answer.  Nope, I found seriously nasty answers.  Depressing, aggravating, frustrating, ugly.  The Downing Street memos were just one more nail in the sociopathic coffin.

How were all these people who encourage or make terrible decisions raised?  Raised to be sociopathic . . . psychopathic?

Anyway, I wrote this political poem in a little state of irritability given the news of the Downing Street memos.  Soooo, it is . . . my irritable poem??

I wish I knew who the person I'm quoting in the poem is.  I found it as an anonymous quote.  I'd love to give that wise person credit!!

P.S.  There's a Downing Street memo webpage here: http://www.afterdowningstreet.org  -- and another here: http://www.downingstreetmemo.com/  

Here are the words . . . .

sow a thought; reap an act...sow an act; reap a habit...sow a habit; reap a character; sow a character; reap a destinty, someone wise person once said....being sensible is not the same as being overcautious...being reckless is not the same as being courageous...being stubborn is not the same as having conscious resolve....blind faith is not the same as confidence...; getting the answer you want is not the same as the Truth.......when a leader fixesintelligence and facts around a policy...?
 Lead time 90 days . . .Use forces already in theatre ...lies, lies, lies . . .sow a thought, reap and act, shed blood....
sow an act; reap a habit . . .

(c)2005 Binnings ALL RIGHTS RESERVED




Direct download: DowningStreetMemo.mp3
Category:podcasts -- posted at: 11:51am MST

1st for 2007 - BIRDS This is "Birds." 

Since my aneurysm., most of my stuff is packed away, and I'm not sure where the poem is.  I'll pop it up here as soon as it turns up for me. 

It's a little different . . . maybe . . .

(c)2005 Binnings ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Direct download: Birds_-_eleanor.mp3
Category:podcasts -- posted at: 10:32pm MST