Rain Poem

A. D. WINANS RAIN STORM

RAIN POEMthe rain beats a rhythm against the windshield the wipers flail helplessly like a fish out of waterdemons to the left of medemons to the right of medemons in front of medemons in back of memy brain a barbecue pit feeds on the rolling thunder spits out bits and pieces of poemswords of emptiness words of despair shadow creatures … [Read more...]

POETRY

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I was born with poetry I cried for poetry I bled from poetry seven months out of the womb born at home, eager for the poemin the morning the poems rise with the fog at night they nest in my eyespoetry is my lover she undresses my mind like a burlesque dancerPoems nailed to the walls of my heart.poems jump from the keyboard escape outside fly … [Read more...]

I Am San Francisco

Planet San Francisco / photo credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/eyeonthesky/257477210/">supernova3688 / CC BY

  I have witnessed the waterfront decay the ships disappear the piers given over to tourists and sunbathing sea lionsGone the Haight Theater in the old Haight Ashbury where as a kid I paid a dime to see two movies a serial and a newsreelGone the old Embassy Theater on Market Street where they spun the Wheel of Fortune playing Ten-O-Win with a busty … [Read more...]

FOR DAVID MOE

photo copyright mwandaw / http://www.sxc.hu/profile/mwandaw

Like a crow caws into the night, like an owl with its questioning eyes, like a Shaman lights the night with magic words, like a hawk circles the sky, like a farmer plants seeds, like a magician skilled in illusion, you hurled the boulders of darkness into the face of death played the game out on your own terms forced death to her knees before surrendering on your own … [Read more...]

WHEN A BLACK BOY WALKS HOME ALONE AT NIGHT

image copyright Michael Fleshman http://www.flickr.com/photos/fleshmanpix/6864004618/ Title: Trayvon Martin Occupy March 21

who would have thought skittles and ice tea was a death sentence not even Dr. Ozwhen a black boy with a dream walks home alone at nighthard rain falling lady death whisper in the air a boy with a dream walks home at night to watch an all-star basketball game gunned down by a wanna-be cop and Florida's "stand your ground" license to kill law when a … [Read more...]

Poetry Book Release! A.D. Winans – In the Dead Hours of Dawn

A.D. Winans - In the Dead Hours of Dawn from Bottle of Smoke Press

New Release from Bottle of Smoke Press:A.D. Winans - In the Dead Hours of DawnPoetry, 32 pages. 8 1/2" x 11 1/4". A new book of poems by award winning poet A.D. Winans consists of poems not previously published in any of his previous fifty-three books of poetry. The cover is printed on Fabriano Tiziano paper using hand-set 12 line Bradley wood type and 54 point Satanic … [Read more...]

6 Poems by A.D. Winans

Empty Mirror Arts Magazine

POEM FOR RUTH WEISSshe grooves with time day time, night time be bop jazz time dances with timeless time all rhythm no rhyme birds in flight flap their wings copulate with the wind a magician's illusion where time and words move from celibate to wild orgy feed off the flesh of the other pause in roller coaster freeze stop motion she sings her song another day … [Read more...]

DANCING WITH WORDS

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There are poets who like To dance with words Dance for favors and illusionary Poetry careers But dancing for an audience Isn’t like feeling the rhythm That rubs up against the soul Odetta, Buffy Saint-Marie Phil Ochs, Woody Guthrie, Pete Seeger Billy Bragg Were living proof of thisMoney pigeonholes Power corrupts The spiritual truth The scriptures tell us … [Read more...]

Looking Back

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When I was 18 I was on a troop train heading for basic training when we stopped to take on water or whatever it is trains stop for and after relieving myself I came out of the men's room when an elderly black man asked me where the men's room was and when I pointed in the direction of where I had just come from he said, "No, Sir. "The Colored room." And being from … [Read more...]

A.D. Winans on A.D. Winans

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I was born in San Francisco, and have lived here almost my entire life. I was born at home, premature. My mother said the doctor told her I would not live a long life. Now I'm 71 and the doctor is long dead.My father was seventeen years older than my mother, and they fought constantly... When my mother wasn't yelling at my father, she was yelling at me. This left deep … [Read more...]

A.D. Winans: 10 Poems

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NORTH BEACH YUPPIE BARHard to believe Richard Brautigan Jack Spicer and other Beats drank here As I sit and watch two business men Playing liar's dice at Gino and Carlo's Bar In the heart of North Beach Their faces white as pie crust Wearing double breasted suits And Italian imported shirts The legal mafia making their own rulesThe one with the twisted … [Read more...]

A. D. Winans Looks Back at the Beat Generation

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Generally speaking, counter-culture describes the values and norms of behavior of a cultural group or subculture in conflict with those of the cultural mainstream of the day, a visible phenomenon that reaches critical mass and persists for some time.The Beat Generation was composed of a group of American poets and writers who first congregated in New York and later joined … [Read more...]

A.D. Winans Remembers Jack Micheline

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Jack Micheline, a poet of the Beat generation, died of a heart attack on Friday, February 27, 1988 aboard a Bart commuter train. The transit police at the Orinda Bart station discovered his body, which ominously was the end of the line.Micheline was a "Street" poet who lived out his life on the fringe of poverty, first in the Bronx neighborhoods of New York, where he was … [Read more...]

A.D. Winans Remembers Bob Kaufman

Bob Kaufman, known in France as the American Rimbaud, was one of the original Beat poets to come out of the Fifties. He is rightfully regarded as one of the most influential black poets of his era, but his poetry transcends any race identification. In San Francisco's North Beach, home of the West Coast Beats, he was regarded as the original be-bop poet. As a jazz poet, he … [Read more...]

America

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Drummed out of the infantry of death I came back to you carrying the Poems of my soul Opened the door of life And found only death inside America I have read the state of the union And listened to the state of the economy By statesmen in a state of hysteria America where the Poor and the black Are sentenced to Attica And the rich serve time at San Clemente America … [Read more...]

A Call to Poets

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Poets unite Forget about a career In poetry And concentrate on the Poem Quit turning out Factory assembly Line poems Quit trying to imitate Bukowski.Poets unite Listen to your brothers And sisters Quit being the first poet To read and the first to leave Quit using words As preaching tools When all over the world People are starving Dying and committing … [Read more...]