January 26-February 1, 1998: 1 Year Anniversary Special with Bob Holman

Week of January 26, 1998-February 1, 1998

Poetry Super Highway One Year Anniversary Special
Bob Holman

Bob Holman


Bob Holman has produced two PBS series “Words in Your Face” for which we won an International Public Television Award in 1992, and the more recent series “The United States of Poetry” His most recent book is “The Collect Call of the Wild” (Henry Holt and Co 1995) He currently exists as the chief guru at Mouth Almighty Records Bob has won Emmy awards for his work producing over fifty Poetry Spots for WNYC-TV as well as a “Bessie” for Performance Excellence.

Bob has done more to further the cause of poetry and spoken word than can possibly be listed on this server

The following work is Copyright © 1998, and owned by Bob Holman and may not be distributed or reprinted in any manner whatsover without written permission from the author.

The following poems are from Bob’s new CD, “In With The Out Crowd” due out April from Mouth Almighty/Mercury

Levitating in Levittown
(Rock’N’Roll re Revival)

Start with a Bloody virgin Mary & a French toast Host
Breakfast w/ Champions-a Holy Ghost
Holy guacamole! a Papal Bull roast
Get on yr knees so yr disease can be diagnosed

Don’t slosh it w/ the sherpas to some Himalayan height
Visit our heavy hittin’ Tibetan, his 3rd eye’s out of sight!
Be careful yr not blinded by his clear white light
On a toot w/ the Absolute? The price is right!

Levitating in Levittown
All the gurus are getting down
Get a mighty holy high from a roly poly holy
Gonna save yr soul! Gonna steal yr dough!

Brethren & Cistern!

You only live once, so why not make it forever?

Yes! It’s always Sunday at the Levittown Holy Hallelujah Rock’n’ Rollin’ ReRevival Cathedral Spa!

Thrill to personal appearances by: the Three Kings, The 10 Commandments,  the 12 Apostles, the 2486 Bodhisattvas & for one night only-the 9 Billion Names of God!

Come on down to our Holy Hallelujah Hell of Fame & see all-time Champ Jesus Christ Himself defend His Crown of Thorns against that promising young heavyweight, Elvis the King
Yes, act now & receive absolutely free (15.95 postage & handling costs), a rare psychedelic relic: a genuine Plastic Splinter from the Cross; you’ll also receive a thrilling 3D Holy “Winking” Hologram of the Lord (autograph only 2.95 extra); as an added bonus we’ll include the Amazing Resurrection Plant-you can’t kill it, no matter how hard you try! &, for a limited time only-Readers Digest Condensed Books present in fifty pages or less: The Bible!

& for your late-nite ecstasy, get way down at our Traditional Holy Hop, a moment of shared experience in the flesh with all your favorite gurus, Mother Superiors & Father Inferiors, the Flock’s in the Foal for God’s Rock’n’Roll-

So Rev it up, reverend-saving your Soul has never been so Goddamn much fun-& remember-it’s never too late to start all over!

It’s Soul-a-matic Time! A chance like this may not come your way for another 2,000 years –
So bring the whole family & slouch on down towards Levittown!

Amen Awomen & a one two three
Gotta rock’n’rolling holy rolling re Revival
Born Again Again! Born Again Again!
Gotta rock’n’rolling holy rolling re Revival
Born Again Again! Born Again Again!

Why I Say Goodby

You take too much
Of the give’n’take
You lost the touch
Of the shake shake shake

That’s why that’s why
That’s why
That’s why that’s why
That’s why I say goodby

You say I got
Another girl
I say I got
The whole wide world

That’s why that’s why
That’s why
That’s why that’s why
That’s why I say goodby

You wonder why I
Don’t follow you around
It’s not your fault
I get lost downtown

Yr sad I won’t go on
Your shoppin’ spree
But the things you wanna buy
I wanna get for free

Meet you at the corner
Of Love & Hate
Forgettin’ is fast
& I just can’t wait

That’s why that’s why
That’s why
That’s why that’s why
That’s why I say goodby

(read below dotted line only if you dare)
Lots of words fill up lots of space
Even space between words filled
with other words in other words,
as under the wave the speed bump decays

Bbbbut (whimpering now) .buy .but .but .which way should I twist it?
The dial so luminous, voracious, radiant A chunk
of plutonium A time machine, past life channeler,
a fork bender, a jar of smoke from Dostoyevsky’s last cigar
Chuck Berry is stuck
Doin the rooster walk

Abe (Lincoln, formerly known as President) walks out on stage with Chuck to wild acclaim Chuck is shouting something as he does his famous “rooster walk ” Let’s see if we can get a direct feed from his last lungs “This is the birth of rock’n’roll “

Within the cave of the wave
Whose dust are you?
Clarity and precision are my lovers, too

Say, ‘Is that the poem?’ “Billie Billie Billie!”
She’d curl the exclamation into a question
And say, That’s a poem(?)
Still twisting the dial? Still twisting the night away

Lullabye, the world useta be sure it did
So what? The dusty road settles into itself
Whose dust are you?

[The Death of Poetry: Attending a panel discussion at the 92nd St Y on ‘Will Poetry Survive into the Next Millennium?’ with Edwin Torres, Mike Tyler, Cathy Bowman and others, I was shocked to learn the answer depended on the funding of MFA writing programs Thus I wrote the poem, title of which Hal thought, Gee, this’d be a great album concept (cf The Clowns,  Fellini ) That’s when I realized I had to rewrite the poem You’ll find the original in Collect Call of the Wild ]

The Death of Poetry

You were invited there
You overslept again
What’s your excuse this time
You missed the boat/vote/rote/
You missed the goat

The book was printed up
The words all ran together
The pages blank with ink
So the faux po’s used invisible stink

It was a fluke that you were inside of the coffin as they swung it upon their shoulders
Wasn’t it a real nice graveride?
You’re finally inside ‘In’! .inside!
Real nice riptide

Woho the death of poetry
Mercifully fast
Only lasted a millenium of two
The art of the past

No mo po
Get down to bidnez
Poís no show
Ho ho — Good riddance!

The view was dark/hark/lark/bark/park/stark
The view was stark
Time was passing slo e-motion
The day was calm and a-foggy,
cool and a-balmy, April is the cruelest er, coolest

The creeps were creeping out
Launching eulogy missiles at the street
The words’ worth opposite beat
The drummerís melodizing feet

Typewriters on parade
Walt’ní’mily rolling grave
Nothing left save to save
The Death of Poetry

It was a computer thing
A neuter thing
Belligerent knucklehead
Brat art teeth shred
Flesh word battery nozzle
Blue metaphor carousal
Itchy mean grouse kiss

Whatta life death is
The Death of Poetry

Woho the death of poetry
Mercifully fast
Only lasted a millenium of two
The art of the past

Whatta life death is
The Death of Poetry

Dum dum de-dum
Dum de-dum de-dum de-dum

Subscribe to our weekly Newsletter: