Tag Archives: faith

Affirmations for my Lost, Abandoned, Misunderstood, Marginalized, and Openly Ignored Tribesmen:

Marvin Gaye, 1971:  What's Going On

Marvin Gaye, 1971: What’s Going On

Berry Gordy told Marvin Gaye to not release “What’s Going On”. He told him it would ruin his career. Can you imagine someone telling you the greatest work of your life is not worthy? Could you imagine if someone said that about your children?

Elia Kazan refused to help Barbara Loden make her brilliant “Wanda” – which, in 1970, was ‘the first feature film written, directed, and starring’ a woman which was made independently and won the Venice Film Festival. Kazan was jealous, infuriated I suspect. I am convinced his refusal to have a beautiful woman who could write and direct better than he could – around him contributed to her breast cancer, of which she died of four years later…

Barbara Loden's "Wanda"

Barbara Loden’s “Wanda”

Carl Theodor Dreyer’s original cut of his “The Passion of Joan of Arc” was found in a closet of a Norwegian psychiatric hospital in 1981.  It is widely regarded as Dreyer’s masterpiece.

John Cassavetes first cut of “Shadows” was found in NYC MTA’s Lost and Found and the man who took it – only screened the film to see if it was original pornography. Eventually Ray Carney acquired it (much to Gena Rowlands’ dismay. She always said Cassavetes had dis-avowed the 1957 version, in favor of the second draft he edited in 1959.)

Vivian Maier’s lifeworks as a photographer was never assessed, seen, or appreciated until after her death in 2009. She was perhaps the penultimate Outsider Artist. In the Emily Dickinson sense. In fact, a year prior to her death John Maloof shared some of her work oline via Slattery: the premiere of her work! She is now regarded as one of the most compelling photographers of the 20th century. None of the people she was intimate with or whom she worked for ever knew she was an artist.

Vivian Maier, Self-Portrait..

Vivian Maier, Self-Portrait..

Lesson? Be careful of what you create, what you leave behind, and be aware of the possibilities lurking. Sometimes you have to look in the opposite direction to find what may be truly holy. Make dangerous choices. Stick to your guns.

Only you know what it is that you are doing.

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Feast Versus The Cave Wall

The food presented at a feast versus the marks on a cave wall:

One is meant for a certain “seen” consumption, the other is the record of personal reflection and feeling.

One is meant for the smorgasbord, the other is meant for the soul.

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So Much Beauty to Offer, But too Ugly To Move

Just remember to write, tuck the face, face the soul

Until the foul
Erodes

Like the million splintered tiny silver angels that floated on that morning when everything changed.

Receive the vision so you may heal the tribe
Write the stories only if you feel the vibe
But don’t outsource your soul

Not everyone
Can have
An Elephant Man

so stay down in the trench and come up just once when night appears
or the day the sun has decided to make you his ally.

 

"A Kangalee Mourning" [photo by Nina Fleck, 2009]

“A Kangalee Mourning” [photo by Nina Fleck, 2009]

*this poem was originally published in the Outlaw Poetry Network

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No More

The author, 2009, Harlem NYC [photo by Nina Fleck]

The author, 2009, Harlem NYC [photo by Nina Fleck]

I am in between shining shoes and pulling a trigger

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It was two days after the crash when I realized I had been given a second chance.

Although I did not know what had happened & only felt the transition taking place –I knew it meant opportunity: A new beginning.  That’s how I interpreted it.  And despite not being able to reference it in a bible or mantra – I knew it was a sacrament that had been given.  If I could have danced, I would have. I’d glide along the edge of my sanity and gently leap off.

Perhaps I already had…

The Triple Threat Who Changed My Life: Artist & Dreamer Nina Fleck

The Triple Threat Who Changed My Life: Artist & Dreamer Nina Fleck

Zero Moonlauten

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All the Good People I Know

All the good people I know are defeated.
Soar
-ing
into themselves,
deep and lonely –
especially the voices stuck inside an echo chamber,
a poet’s words bouncing back and forth,
back
and –
one can’t constantly
turn
oneself on
and yet
if it weren’t for the
dispossessed dreamers,
the unreconciled romantics
hovering
cold
within
that bear mountain
tavern
of a lonely head,
a near-ghosted spirit –
well then,
no beauty would ever
stand a chance,
no flower
would ever be bold
and crazy enough
to bloom
amidst
the ghettos
of the soul.

(c) 2013 by Nina Fleck

(c) 2013 by Nina Fleck

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Truth

Some see truth in a painting, others in a jar of cookies.
If it’s a biblical passage that sets you straight or a steady job — who cares?
People only care — or the system will only care — when you’ve violated its laws
or created
your own.

Book Of Urizen, W.Blake, 1794

Book Of Urizen, W.Blake, 1794

“I must create a system or be enslaved by another mans; I will not reason and compare: my business is to create.”
— William Blake

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For My Son Lost Somewhere Between the Frame of a Bresson film & a Bad Decision

The climax of Robert Bresson's "Au Hasard, Balthazar"

The climax of Robert Bresson’s “Au Hasard, Balthazar”

Like that pickpocket
In the Bresson film
Not no cheap hustler
Just seeking a thrill
In a world-space of cheap perfume
And over-priced apartments reaching for the moon,
I need a cleaning,
I need a fix
I need to meet
My exorcist

Bench-press the Google creeps
Hop inside no more make-believe

He said “You want some He-ron”
I said “I love Gil Scott”
He said “Look here my sagga boy brother,
I’m talking about rocking the horse
Not your mind
speak to me
speak to me
speak to me
clear.”

Tomorrow’s the verdict
But there’s nothing to fear

The Black Jacobins
The white ant-hill
The yellow tear drops
The purple pill

Will speak to me
speak to me
speak to me
clear

There’s a lie I will lay down
A burden I’ll bury
A vision I’ll muster
With no more fury
No more pain
No more torture
No more night sweat
No more day-sighs
A shoe with an old sole
That’s burnt out and died

I’ll find my son
And apologize
His patron saint will speak to me
speak to me
speak to me
clear —

In the prison of static
The mayhem alive
He’ll trade my convictions
With penance

And I’ll learn to stand
If not walk
like a man
Who
At least
Had potential.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” the saint said,
“But make yourself available,
Make yourself small.

With the sewage rising from Astoria, over the bridge
And stuck at the plaza —
The straphangers will give themselves up,
They’ll give themselves up,
Loyalty
Exit
Voice

Like that Donkey
In the Bresson film
I want to lay my burden down
In a Shepherd field
I’ll die
While your sins take flight
And all the horror I placed around your head
Will subside

Forgive me, dear boy,
And speak to me
speak to me
speak to me
clear

(it’s okay, son, you can mumble.
I’ll be right here.)

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