We Did Interesting Things With Pianos

Jangle Doll

delboywilson — Sun, 21 Aug 2011 05:16:28 +0000

A track from an old album of mine…

Letter

delboywilson — Sat, 11 Jun 2011 08:33:50 +0000

A pile of bits, masquerading as letters
5it in a dusty digital corner
Some Ps, some Ts, Rs and Es
Waiting to be rearranged
Reassigned into something new
Yesterdays news
Some Os and Fs, the letter C
A précis, a thesis, hearsay
An alternative view
My next tattoo
Or Ds and Xs
Love you too
But what D needs now is a radio
A puppet show, a tracking device
Scraping all my little datas
Into a nice ticking packet bomb that
I can download and take home
With a Q or two, N, Ms, 3 Vs
A dictionary, give me
A moment to collect my thoughts
Like a wiki, W, V, lotss of Sss
And a J!
Ok, ok
We’re on our w-A.

June 2011 Derek Wilson

Enemy

delboywilson — Thu, 17 Mar 2011 05:57:03 +0000

The darkness in me
Has a tendency
To resist the light
When all I have to do
Is embrace it
It seems all I can do
Is fight

March 2011 Derek Wilson

Project 2010 – A photo a day, a poem a week

delboywilson — Sun, 02 Jan 2011 05:38:33 +0000

Project 2010 – A photo a day, a poem a week. So there it is, 365 photos, 52 poems, one year in one life.

The end of this month brings to the end two projects I started at the beginning of the year, simply, a photo a day and a poem a week. In embarking on a Project 365, I was attempting to learn more about photography and visual art, and challenge myself to think about creation every day. It certainly did that and more. I am far from a deep of understanding the craft and the techniques of photography as compared to one who has formally studied. Yet some friends have assisted in wonderful informal lessons, often involving a pub, a few drinks and bar full of subjects. I haven’t been using an SLR/DSLR and all that entails (yet?), having tended to focus on the idea or concept.

This year has seen a massive shift in the way photos are taken, processed and shared. In January, the phone app phenomenon was only just taking off. Hipstamatic, for example was released a few weeks before I started the project. I began using it in May. Since then many other apps have appeared that emulate many of the techniques of traditional photography and also attempt to integrate how we are now socializing into the process. Instagram is a good example of that.
But we are at the tip of the iceberg of how photography may develop in the coming years. The phone applications are bringing the elements of camera, film, the darkroom, along with digital processing, retouching and effects all together in a very simple way. I keep looking at the photos I take with my “better” camera and, while it’s by no means high-end, I see that the quality far surpasses the phone photos. Yet, something about the lower-fi photos also rings true. While they may not be a true representation of what was there, they seem to capture how I “think” it looked – they capture the magic, the moment – how we choose to see things…

Then there’s the writing project – talk about capturing only what you choose to see… I’ve gone from paper and pen to finger and screen, and back again, and back again… Each week had been a battle, a war, a chore, a reward. Every day I’ve felt like a failure, at some point, so far from my stupidly lofty ideals. Why did I start these projects? And who even cares at all if I don’t carry them through? No one but me. And so every week I’ve also felt like, not a winner, but a contender. Pulsing, punching, preaching and praying my way through the year. I aimed to develop my writing in new ways and get out of the stagnant lull I had been in. To force deadlines with public publishing so as to stop being precious about pieces.

I also had to learn no to be so precious about the process. The December photos are an example where I handed over the camera to friends for a few shots – because it completely broke my own rules.

Both these projects have taught me a lot about who I am, what I am trying to do, and how to do it. They’ve also probably opened more questions than they answered, but the impetus I started the year with has not only lasted the year, but propelled me into the new year with new ideas and directions.

I will continue adding words and pictures to these pages this year, albeit to a different timeframe. Thanks for looking. Here’s to 2011!

Delboy

Air On The Side Of Grace

delboywilson — Fri, 31 Dec 2010 08:11:30 +0000

He divorced his wife, he created a new life
He jumped out the window and got picked up by the sky
He heard a sad piano being played softly in the next room
It seemed to be piece about afternoons and Augusts after Junes
So he ran out into the snow, cinematically, slow motion style
Across the country, through the woods, Six Million Dollar Man like
Taking giant, sky-assisted, skipping, seven-league steps
How do you leave? (He asked) But how do you leave?
How do you give up all that you believed?
And then his brain ran dry and he ran out of words to say
And his eyes stopped up, so there were no more tears
And the spirit left him with no more ways to pray
And if he did have any, anyway
There were no more people and no more ears
Yet all around him we were sprouting wings
Flapping and flailing and misbehaving
Looking like something in-between
A gorilla in the swim and an angel felled by sin
If only he’d knew now what we know then
The penance, the price, salvation, the Zen
We err on the side of humanity, frailty and fragility
A basic lack of comprehension of what the fuck’s going on
And a general confusion over what goes wrong

So he buttons his coat and settles his debts
Takes a long hard look and a deep, deep breath
And another step and another step

December 2010 Derek Wilson

Creature, Crawling Through The Night

delboywilson — Thu, 30 Dec 2010 07:13:58 +0000

Creature, crawling through the night
Hunting, hurting, wounded beast
That carves survival, warm and sweet
From stone and tile and bitumen
Crawling through the haunted night
Crawling through the dimming light
Hiding within shadows, clinging
Hugging built, erected monoliths
Of awesome, soaring height
Crying in the bitter darkness
Wailing, flailing, licking wounds
Sniffing out a chosen prey
Running diabolically
Till waning moon and breaking day
Crawling through the haunted night
Crawling through the seething blight
Slaying fast while praying
For an absolution, Agnus Dei
Lying, all the while beguiling
Drawing unsuspecting victims
Crawling through their precious plight
Crawling through the haunted night

December 2010 Derek Wilson

A Darkening On The Narrows

delboywilson — Tue, 28 Dec 2010 05:45:47 +0000

We speak in whispers, hint and gesture in subtle, subtle tones
We row a boat across the narrows, bury secrets in dirt & ditches
Toss our soiled tools in the shallows and scamper off
Though the shadows, alone, alone

We scratch our skin with complicated stitches and patterns
Fascinating lattice laces, tracing backscatter on
Underexposed fragments of film, drinking dry pilsners
While the flashes explode, unloaded

We dress with fancy, fantastic splashes of whimsy and warmth
Enwrapped in wonder and cloth that rinses easily
Tubes that slide off slowly and layers that forgive
And forget, lie forgotten, but so close

We watch and wish through tingling ice drops and wild wind drifts
Bodies mingling, children’s tears ringing in our ears
And fears forgotten, no more, no more memories
We sink into these waters, cold and deep

December 2010 Derek Wilson

Litany #13270

delboywilson — Thu, 16 Dec 2010 17:00:06 +0000

I type like a hacker
I hack like a rapper
I rap like a slacker
I dance like a fool

I punch like a preacher
I preach like a dancer
I dance like a teacher
I rhyme like a rule

I drink like a fighter
I fight like a lover
I love like a writer
I pray like a rhyme

I play like a loser
I lose like a prayer
I pray like a boozer
I rhyme like a mime

December 2010 Derek Wilson

Hurricane

delboywilson — Wed, 15 Dec 2010 22:11:46 +0000

I was sinking down somewhere
On the Rue Chartres
Trying to catch a place
To find my breath
You know, enlightenment & peace
And those kinds of things you find
In barrels of beer and devastating
Acts of God with ladies’ names
Check in, check in again
No friends are near
Outside it’s the storm and the rain
And the racket and the rage
And no amount of barricades
Are going to stop the USA from getting in here

December 2010 Derek Wilson

Denialand

delboywilson — Tue, 07 Dec 2010 06:36:44 +0000

I watch TV in bars
I know some TV stars
I eat from salad bars
I watch some TV stars

Everybody’s either talking or eating
Talking, eating, spewing or drinking
Coffee, noodles, the latest googles
GMO via HBO

BMI of 43
Follow me, (don’t) follow me
We can’t connect the satellites
And the street lights
Have all gone out

Wanna know a secret?
Come with me

November 2010 Derek Wilson

No Moon/or/Moon Is Full/or/Clouds Become The Moon

delboywilson — Sat, 27 Nov 2010 23:53:26 +0000

Sitting here
You’d think I was sitting here forever – like
A sage, a saviour, in a Buddha/Christ pose
With rings on my fingers and sand between my toes
Because it’s summer
But summer can’t last forever and when it ends
That winter will wind and its shrill wind will blow
And I, like the sands, not structure, nor permanent
Play off the pretty colours
Making finger paintings in the firmament
Making painted scratches on this parchment
Dusty brush stroke hashes that clumsily pick up
The glancing light, the hidden bright flashes
That bounce around and off and through
The things that end and eternity
The no more, no more
And the things that continue

And finally, I look at you, posturing between reds or blues
Arms outstretched like you’re delivering The Good News
Too good to be true, a fancy fool and gone too soon
And all that’s left now, are the clouds and the moon

November 2010 Derek Wilson

Slipping Beneath A Velvet Rope

delboywilson — Wed, 24 Nov 2010 06:38:11 +0000

These are the days foretold
The days before we all get saved
And we are travelling down the old roads
The roads that the highways have now made obsolete
Singing those songs that will soon be forgotten
The dirges of the days foretold
We all get older and cannot help it
It is our burden and our right
But not like this
This is not how we imagined it
We always pictured something more noble
With deeds and gestures and myths
A battle, a journey or a fight
But like a God-given prophecy
We unfold with consistency
Boring our slow tunnels through the earth
Searching for the warm core
That seems, always, down one more foot
Around one more corner
Below one more stone
Worms. Moles. Blind diggers, all
These are not the days foretold!
This is a disaster!
Emergency!
Ring the bells, sound the alarm!
We are impostors, preposterous and exposed
Overfed and overdosed
Fat slugs trailing toxic slime
But it’s our time, it’s our time, it’s our time!
Please don’t turn the lights up
Please don’t turn the volume down
We whimper like prophets
Bleeding the inevitable from all-seeing eyes
As the bouncers kick our asses
From our own unfortunate lives

November 2010 Derek Wilson

Talking Like A Man On A Telephone On A Plane As It Is Crashing To The Ground

delboywilson — Wed, 17 Nov 2010 08:39:32 +0000

Or we could talk about other things, you know, if you want, I mean, we don’t have to talk about this now
We could change the subject, like, just chat about stuff, ok? Lighthearted stuff.
How your day went and, and how are the kids doing? Or,
Or there was this movie I just saw, it was really good, it was about this guy who got on a plane and
What’s that?
IT WAS ABOUT THIS GUY WHO GOT ON A PLANE AND
WHAT?
Oh, sorry, sorry
I know, It’s hard for me too
You know, I want to say, um, oh? Yes, yes, ok, of course, I will
But I
Yes, you’re right, of course, I’m not sure what I was thinking but
Oh sure, later, when I’m home, yes
I just think we should, well I, no I just think I should say
I, sorry? Another …? No, don’t go, I
(Oh)
(Oh no)

November 2010 Derek Wilson

Snap

delboywilson — Tue, 02 Nov 2010 22:35:21 +0000

Suddenly, I couldn’t take it
It was possibly the smoke
And the girl screaming “Lesbians!”
And the smell of sex, shampoo and perfume
Amongst the mess of male bravado
Young men huh? Boys, huh
Can everybody hear this song?
Can everybody sing along?
While I worry about getting older
Worry when they play Cake on the radio
And dance like a drunken soldier
These people, they all know each other
That’s the advantage they have, I suppose
Their homes are in close proximity
They share a strained familiarity
And therefore, and unfortunately
A common future

October 2010 Derek Wilson

Writers Bloc

delboywilson — Fri, 22 Oct 2010 08:31:34 +0000

We are striving to be writers
Battling with the fear
That our greatest masterpieces
May have already been completed
Something like
Writing the letter d
In crayon, in kindy

October 2010 Derek Wilson

Heartbeat

delboywilson — Sun, 17 Oct 2010 08:33:30 +0000

Sometimes it seems my clothes still wear you
Sometimes I dream my bed still shares you
Sometimes I feel much smaller than I am
Like I could comfortably fit in the palm of your hand

Sometimes my heart beats irregularly, skips
And sometimes I’m acutely aware of this
And long ignored advice that I should get that checked
And unopened referrals and random diagnoses
Exacerbated I’m sure, by addictions, insatiable
And I wonder how, in my thirties
I’ve come to believe I’m invincible

My heart skips again
This time for reasons not physical
And I’m small again
Curled in a ball again
Resting, at 90bpm
Climb the walls then
Watch the room spin
See the colours dim
Close my eyes and know
I haven’t died, again

October 2010 Derek Wilson

(slow music)

delboywilson — Sun, 10 Oct 2010 06:26:09 +0000

(slow music)
(smoke machines hissing)
(wolf whistle)
(laughter)
(music changes, slower, pulsing)
(someone coughing in the audience)
(people whispering nearby)
(shoes squeaking)
(music reaches crescendo)
(audience is silent)
(cheering and applause)

October 2010 Derek Wilson

Beautility

delboywilson — Wed, 06 Oct 2010 08:07:55 +0000

Let me be the angel
Let me bear the wing
Take me in and let me sin
Make tea while I unravel
A gypsy on the travel
Trying to find a beat and a rhyme
And shine a light within

Let me drive the nails
Let me drain the man
Wipe me clean then let me bleed
Pay penance for all these deeds
That satisfy all my needs
Then bring out the golden fatted calf
It’s time for me to feed

Let me be the author
Let me twist the plot
Write me up and spin me some
We’ll dervish through this bright night
Spilling sins like a hell-sprite
Singing hymns of grace and redemption
A gypsy on the run

Let me walk on water
Let me scam the swim
Fill my sails with aims and airs
Steady as she goes, matey
We, resurrected lately
Shall gypsy till our redeemer comes
An angel, false or fair

October 2010 Derek Wilson

Not To Be Used As

delboywilson — Sat, 25 Sep 2010 08:03:11 +0000

See, I am not here
I am froZen, suspended
A pea in a packet
A spaceman in an escape pod
I am not breathing, much
Be my life support
Arrest me, terrestrial me
I got my hands up
And I’ll be dangling on that rope
Swinging, sink or swimming
Drowning in a sea of hope
See, I am not surfacing
Be my floatation device

September 2010 Derek Wilson

Oh Rejection

delboywilson — Sun, 19 Sep 2010 08:19:14 +0000

Let it rain a thousand storms down
Let it drench these Northern places
Let it bleed out over the doorways
Let it dampen the very light of day
Let it rain a thousand storms down

It shall burn with the passion of the sun
It shall rage until all is overcome
It shall scorch even the soaken sky
It shall not douse until kingdom come
It shall burn with the passion of the sun

Let it ripple and rattle and shake
Let it break your dry, brittle bones
Let it shatter every unturned stone
Let it turn the world upside down
Let it ripple and rattle and shake

It shall be disease and infection
It shall be stroke, aneurysm, heart attack
It shall be not the resurrection
It shall be plague and swift and black
It shall be disease and infection

Let it rain a thousand storms down
Let it pour and flood this town
Let it drive us all underground
Let it know it has won this round
Let it rain a thousand storms down

September 2010 Derek Wilson