Star Power

I am happy to report that great new opportunities for lucrative employment for us homeless people are opening up. I'm not talking about day labor, not yard work, not washing dishes, but something specific to the homeless, something we can, in principle, do better than anyone else.

We can play homeless people on TV!

So there I was hanging out at the Real Change dump, getting my ears blasted by 120 decibels of Critters Buggin, trying to get some writing done, trying to forget that I could instead be writing to a mere 60 decibels in a cafe if I just had enough money for a cup of coffee to justify my presence at one, when a call came from Magic Hour Films in Belltown.

They were doing an ad for United Way about programs for homeless youth and needed six older homeless types as extras in the ad. Could the Real Change to send some on over? "Why, sure, we could ask some vendors if they'd be interested. And Dr. Wes is here right now, we're sure he'd do it. Dr. Wes will do anything."

What a great gig! I was paid $10 an hour to wait 4 and a half hours until they needed me. While waiting we got to watch television, drink coffee, and eat sandwiches. They also asked us all to smoke, and to save up our cigarette butts in a cup, for props. No problem!

In fact the only problem that surfaced was that the film company expected that we would all be much more scary looking. As our director Holly said, after lining us up to look at us, "They're all so NICE looking!"

So, OK, maybe homeless people can only play themselves best *in principle*. Actors may still be required to get the stereotype down.

But I tried hard to oblige when it was my turn to be filmed. After all, all I had to do was sit on a step and root through the "props" while staring with annoyance at the hand-held camera as it was walked by, something that comes as natural as breathing. Took three minutes to tape it three times.

I'm going to see if I can't do this more often.

Non Sequitur

or Opus Marcus Sidranus

I'm not going to complain about Sidran,

though he's given me brand new reason:

He now wants to be given authority

to rid parks of rampant illegality

without bothering with due process

as laws and courts are such a mess!

What a truck-load of BS!

We elected him to make them work!

But, no, I'm not going to do it.

I'm not going to say he's a ____.

Instead I'll just change the subject, and talk to myself aimlessly -- as we crazy homeless people are apt to do, scaring the decent folks away from the city parks and sidewalks that belong only to them.

I am asking myself why I do this. Why do I write? After a few cups of reheated coffee, and a half-dozen cigarettes, the reasons slowly return to me.

1. Attracted to the wild lifestyle -- writers really know how to party!

2. To annoy politicians and collect fun hate-mail to show off to my friends.

3. Getting too old to make it as an exotic dancer.

4. But not too old to make it with "writer-groupies."

5. I've always enjoyed working with my fingers.

6. Why not? What's going to happen? That nobody reads it? If I don't write it, how are they going to read it?

7. If I didn't, Tim the Editor God would chase me away from this computer. No more reheated coffee.

8. "Uh, I can't attend your important meeting, I'm on deadline."

9. "I'm a writer" sounds better than "I'm chronically unemployed."

10. I was MADE to sit on my ass all day. This is my essence.

Chopsticks

There is a side of homelessness that is rarely talked about. Social service workers almost never mention it. The homeless themselves will often look away when the subject is broached, unwilling to contemplate the pain that lies within. Even we here at the Real Change have avoided discussing it, for it is such a sensitive issue, one which could easily lead to misunderstanding in our readers if not addressed carefully.

Homelessness, as we all know by now, is generally a symptom of poverty, and thus is experienced in conjunction with poverty's other symptoms. And one of the worst, besides not being able to afford a place to live, is no money to... well... you know... have... f-u-n.

As I sit here in the Real Change office typing these words into this computer I am thinking about all the fun things I could be doing with my life savings of three dollars. Ha! - no I'm not, I'm lying, I'm staring at the screen in a vegetative state, barely tapping each letter out with one finger of my right hand, my chin resting in my left, thinking over

and over of chopsticks.

Chopsticks, or How Bored Am I?...

I want the radio

to play "Blue Suede Shoes"

so I can sing along to it

I consider eating the flowers

on the desk in front of me

just to see if it makes any

difference in my life

in twelve hours or so.

Meanwhile I plan to

go through the thesaurus

looking for all the words

close to meaning "bored"

write them down and then

hide the paper from myself

go look for it find it hide

it go look for it find

it hide it go look for it

until I finally lose it

then I'm going to

write down all the words

I can remember

then I am going to

go back to the thesaurus

and for every one

I missed I am going to punish myself

- bad wes! bad wes! -

Then I am going to feel sorry for myself

- poor wes! poor wes! -

and offer me a piece of pie to make up.

And I'll scream

where have I been

keeping that pie

why haven't I told me about it.

Then I'll start over

but this time I'll use chopsticks.

All of which then calls to mind a conversation with another of our Real Change editors the other day, I'll call her Ruth-A-Fox, who spoke to me of Poetic License. Immediately I had to remind her that I have one. Thus may I steal her ideas with impunity, as I may steal from any and all who cross my path...

No but really what *is* this Poetic License business? Where do I go to get registered? Is it only good during poetry season? If I have one can I claim anything I write as poetry, including the above? Can I write poems in prose zones, without being ticketed?

Taking a guess I'll say yes to that last, and vice versa. Once you are registered (see your local soul) it's always poetry season, wherever you go.

A Side of Maslow

You alert regular readers may have noted that I am now peddling Real Change T-shirts in an ad in this rag. And you may have also troubled yourselves to read the copy of that ad, written by Timothy "Pith Personified" Harris, our director, and wondered what was meant by my "geeking it up with my internet writer buddies."

I'll be getting to that, but first I want to talk about Maslow.

Mention Maslow to the average homeless person and he/she will probably guess you are talking about a city in Poland, or a new side dish available at KFC. He/she will not imagine that Maslow has any connection to his/her life.

Oh but he does. The theories of the psychologist Maslow as taught and *understood* by sociology students have an huge influence on how the homeless are treated by social service workers. The trouble is, they don't understand Maslow's theories. They take his ideas regarding the "hierarchy of needs" (that lower needs, such as for food and security must be met before a person can pursue higher needs) and apply them without any real comprehension. This is where the inane idea comes that all that the homeless can use are food and shelter, *they are not ready for anything more*.

So anyway, here I am, HOMELESS, geeking it up with my internet writer buddies, ACTIVELY pursuing higher needs for friendship, self-esteem and creativity. Gosh, maybe I should go back to school and learn my place in the Socio-Scientific Universe?

A Poem From Hunger

(A Sarcasm In Four Verses)

I have nothing to say!

I haven't eaten all day!

Yeah, I AM a starvin' man!!!

Can't deal with stress nor feet

Till I get me somethin' to eat!

Please!! Feed the starvin' man!!!

I cannot do art

No poem can I start

Until after I'm fed, man!

And I could have nothing to say,

in any self-expressional way,

because I am a poor pathetic starving man.

So what do I do with my internet writer buddies? Well for example, recently the question came up among them, "What is poetry? How is it distinguished from prose?" Actually the question arose three different times on two email lists for writers. Each time I offered variations of this.

Poetry and Prose

by © Dr. Wes Browning

Poetry and Prose:

the oranges and yellows

in a jumbo box of crayons.

There are poetry and prose and prose poetry and poetic prose

and prosish poetry and stranger things with odd names like

rants and chants and marigold and corn.

Lay them all out.

Arrange them by rules

See them change gradually

from left to right.

Blend them.

Then arrange them randomly.

Then start over again,

pretending it's all new.

Ignoring Ignorance

Lets talk about varieties of ignorance this month. We experts classify ignorance in accordance with the answers, in each specific instance, to such questions as, "Is it safe for me to ignore this bit of ignorance? For how long? Might ignoring it be advantageous?" Examples of the advantages of ignoring ignorance abound in poetry.

In fact ALL poems begin with a poet who doesn't know how to say something. And almost all end with a poet who doesn't know how to say it, or even if "it" can be said. Only the difference is that by then he/she has a poem. If everyone knew how to say anything that came to mind there would be no poetry, only speech, and the world would be full of it, much like Congress.

For example, latch onto a feeling, like caring for someone. What color is it? How should I know? What does that even mean? It doesn't matter, I'll just write --

a heartbeat

echoes blue

off the walls

of the shadows

of my time --

a vanished

redbird sings

to the child

we touch

violet

together

Note that the question remains unanswered. I'll call it "Violet is the Color of Caring," and add it to my first chapbook.

On the other hand, there are forms of ignorance that should not be ignored

"If the peasants have no bread, let them eat cake." - a suggestion from Marie Antoinette, shortly before having her head removed from her body by an outraged populace.

"Hygiene centers are unnecessary, they can use the bathrooms at Nordstrom's." - the gist of a suggestion from the Downtown Seattle Association (DSA) last month.

Prompting this open letter to the DSA.

Dear DSA:

Congratulations! I had to reach back over two hundred years to find a comparable expression of monumental ignorance founded upon so much lackadaisical indifference. I hope you fully appreciate your good fortune in happening to oppress a people so profoundly uninterested in violence as the good homeless people of Seattle. They deserve from you at least a sincere "Thank You" for that, should a certain callous insensitivity make a full apology for your stupid remarks impossible. Was that last sentence hard to understand? Tough. Figure it out.

But I bear you no ill will. I understand that even ignorance as grave as yours is a disease not a crime. To show that I care, and to encourage your speedy recovery, I am presenting you with this humble poem.

To Sufferers of "Barely-Affective Disorder"

(Affective: displaying emotion, capable of being touched.)

Cheer up! Help is near!

The State relates to those who can't

socially associate!

In fact:

Our Lawmakers assure

that your disorder

has a cure --

Community Service

Work Shelters

Group Therapy.

-- that and more is their prescription

for making upstanding citizens

from those afflicted

with your condition

OH...

And Oh Yes --

along the way,

don't worry

for your personal state.

You'll get GAU pay,... and , AND

Nordstrom's is open each and every day!

(Or anyway until eight)

PC Wimps

The controversy over hygiene centers is still raging. As always there are people working hard trying to break down stereotypes about the homeless. It seems like everyone wants to tell you its wrong to stereotype, that you should see people as they really are.

I say they're all a bunch of PC wimps! Stereotyping is great! It's fun, it's creative, and educational too. The only thing wrong with the stereotyping I hear about the homeless is that it's mostly dull and unimaginative. Let me show you how it's REALLY done, by a master.

Something Needs To Be Done About Those people

by © Dr. Wes Browning

Something needs to be done about those people.

Everyone knows it.

Look at how they whisper as they pass.

Always something to hide.

Riding in cars with tinted glass.

Buying land out of sight.

If they're not drunks they deal drugs.

If they're not muggers they're murderers.

Like that guy that killed and buried those kids

in his basement.

You know the kind I'm talking about.

They don't hide behind those walls just to stay warm.

You read it every day how they beat their own children.

Something needs to be done about those people.

Like that cannibal guy that tortured and raped and ate those boys

in his flat.

Disgusting.

They're all like that. They're all trouble.

Always something to hide.

Their crimes are in every paper.

The alleged Oklahoma Bomber, the woman who drowned her two sons,

the Lynnwood mutilator, are all just typical examples.

Everyone of them's a criminal of some kind.

Always something to hide.

Why else would they live like that?

In houses, apartments, behind walls.

Something needs to be done.

Those homeful people have really gotten out of hand.

Wasn't that instructive? Try it yourself, pick out a bunch of people that almost never get stereotyped, like stereotypers themselves, or satirists, or people who eat peanut butter. Make up your own brand new original stereotype for them. It's fun and you'll be amazed by what you learn in the process.

You can stereotype individuals, too, only then it isn't usually called that. It's called caricature, a respected traditional art, especially in its graphic form. An illustrative graphic example appears at the top of this column, a rendering by my own hand of myself as a carrot. There is nothing wrong with me for doing that. I am not in reality a carrot, I have merely portrayed myself as one in a drawing.

Speaking of caricature and hygiene centers, what's the deal now with our Mayor? He wants to block the building of hygiene centers at BOTH the Glen Hotel AND 9th and Lenora? Where are we supposed to build them, in his office? Is Norm Rice asking for it? Now that I have a whole page to fill I am going to assume the answer is, thankfully, yes!

Thank you, Mayor Rice!

by © Dr. Wes Browning

The Deadline looms before my pen,

that time of month's come round again.

Today it's worse than 'twere before,

they made my column this much more:

I got to write ten lines more rhyme

then any other preev-yus time.

I just about gave up the chore

When Norm came through for me once more!

He says he's for a hygiene place

as long as it won't take up space.

"That's been the problem all around.

Those people always use up ground-

If only we could shrink them small

to fit inside a box so tall,

[he gestures low to show us all]

I'd put them in my entrance hall!"*

Why Thank You very much Norm Rice

As always helpful, kind, and nice.

[* Not an actual quote from our Mayor. This is *caricature*!]

Bread and Circuses

Q. What is a meta phor, anyway?

A. Metaphors are bready things.

Good metaphors are the sacramental bread for our eucharists of meaning. (Not to be confused with the sermons of those eucharists, which are like similes.) Unpopular metaphors are fruitcakes. Over-extended metaphors are burnt toast. The current metaphor will be a little pile of smoking ashes by the time I am through with it.

From what I have said so far, it should be clear that anyone who would write, and publish, poetry without metaphors would eat peanut butter with a spoon, in public.

The True Poet does not use just any metaphor. Plain white bread will not do. The True Poet is, him- or her- self, a baker. If s/he is going to use stale bread, it will at least be his/her OWN stale bread, not store bought.

Nevertheless, there are one or two excellent off-the-shelf metaphors suitable for use by the Lazy Poet.

The Mother of All Metaphors

Grains barely need us to grow.

They are glorified grasses.

They are facts of life.

Facts that would fill fields forever

if we didn't bother to mow.

But from the field to the table

hands must intervene.

As from the fields to the poet

thoughts must intervene.

"Take this, and eat"

is not an abstract proposition,

it is an offer of humanity,

of hands AND thoughts.

Of course, as that poem illustrates so well by its deficiencies, poetry doth not live by bread alone. It also desires the meat of meaning itself, the cheese of rhyme, and the lettuce, tomato and onion of rhythm.

I will finish this month with a poetic cheeseburger:

A Brief Defense of Free Bread and Circuses

Many people have thought

free bread and circuses brought

the Roman Empire down so low.

And the same also say

that in a similar way

our own will collapse, you know.

They say it's a shame,

and the poor are to blame,

for demanding those shows and dough.

But I know it's a lie,

empires naturally die,

with or without the side-show,

And in dying ooze pus,

namely waste and surplus.

For me? - I`d like my share to go.

We're Listing

It's that time of year again: fall is falling, winter is wintering, a new year is yearing... Time to pause and reflect. So I'll do that right now...

There! I've paused and reflected. OK, what have we just learned? Nothing. No: we have actually learned that nothing can be learned from just pausing and reflecting.

This brings me to the subject of List Poems. List Poems are poems that are as easy as pausing and reflecting, provided you take the trouble to learn how to write them. We are about to take that trouble.

To write a List Poem you first need a List. Popular Lists to Use, Include: or Opus 99, Bastards to Line Up Against the Wall, Etc., & creatures that God should have recalled, cigarette brands, foreign lands, electronic devices, foods healthier than white rices, New Age jargon, dime-store bargains, people you've seen in People Magazine, skin diseases, genital diseases, gastro-intestinal diseases, cheeses, animals at the zoo, things on your list of things "to do", things you beat, cuts of meat, things that piss you off, guys with names like Nabakov, fictional places, imaginary races, Biblical names and phrases, musicals, novels, and playses, Papal Encyclicals, Democrats, rock stars, Republicans, words that rhyme with "rats", old shows on TV, Friends of Noam Chomsky, discredited ideologies, famous writers and/or their tomes, popular lists used to write pomes, and various kinds of pomes you can do, to name but a few.

To illustrate I will use my Christmas Wish List. This is a good choice because my actual Christmas list has only two entries, namely a place to live, and hot sex. Thus we are naturally led to the next step in writing a List Poem, which is stuffing it. We must pad the List with extra items which may or may not belong (but nobody really cares!) Ask yourself: "do I want this thing to rhyme? alliterate? scan? or do I want it to make sense?" If you have answered as I would you are ready to pad your creation. The trick is to make stuff up.

Finally rearrange the List so that it sounds better.

Now let's see where these steps can lead us.

My Christmas Wish List

Dear Santa - it would surely be more than enough

if you'd only bring me just some of this stuff:

A hygiene center on every block.

A real pillow, please, instead of a rock.

More Sidrans & Seligs to write poems about,

World Peace, an adequate cure for the gout.

More government cheese, less government slease,

less rain, less un-asked-for "feeling of pain".

A mayor who listens to my friends and me

& not just to people who wave mon-ey.

A bed and a roof above my head

(and a source of bread, I shouldn't dread).

A years supply of tolerable beer,

hot sex with someone I like to be near.

For at least one month not to hear anyone say

that the homeless should all just go away.

And while I'm at it Santa, for just one day,

having to hear "Jesus was homeless, too"

is another thing without which I could do

thank you.