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for the last two years i have been lucky enough to have either been a co-feature/invited reader/host to a ton of great poetry events but check this lil factoid out: i only featured solo twice in 2004. once in washington, dc and once for the hidden treasure reading series in castle hill, da bronx.

this means that i am ultra exicted to let ya know that i will be the feature for the January 24th louderMONDAY. i can also let you know that i am incredibly nervous already at the prospect of getting the spotlight at the place where it all began.

i hope to see all your bright and happy faces there especially all the folks that have seen me host and read an occasional poem and asked “when will I see you feature somewhere?”

ask no more, homies! here is all the info

(love ya like 2-for-1 drinks!)

louderMONDAYS

Monday, January 24th, 7:00 pm

featuring OSCAR BERMEO

Stepping out from behind the host’s mic to flip the hotness onto louderMONDAYS is none other than our very own Oscar Bermeo! He is the co-founder of louderARTS staples SynonymUS and Acentos, has had his work anthologized in “From Page to Stage and Back Again”, and is the recipient of the Bronx Council on the Arts’ BRIO Award for poetry for 2004. Werd!

Open Mic & Open Slam sign-up @ 7pm sharp!

13 Bar Lounge

35 East 13th Street @ University Place 2nd Floor New York, NY 10003 * 212.979.6677 4, 5, 6, L, N, Q, R, W to 14th Street Union Square

$5 $4 students

2 for 1 drinks

no resolutions- ahm tired of lying to mahself
no puntuations- math was always my strong suit
no self.healing- all out of snakeoil for the soul
no hate- maybe just a little
no love- i’ve tried but mah friends kepp feeding it to me like castor oil
no coded messages- either ima say it or i wont
no false smiles- if ya think i dont like ya…
no crocodile tears- these are always real
no.stalgia- still clever after all these years
no procrastination- at least not till tomorrow
no end- not till i’ve said my peace
no drinks- the bar is closed

last year was damn good to me… way better than it should have been… i survived the single most humiliating experience of mah life but not after breaking down… meanwhile, around me, as the sandcastles went the tide… real houses got washed away… yet the world still stopped at my feet… one thread kept it all together… the outward expression of it is poetry… at least to y’all… for me, it was a belief in my voice… a truth even my own lies cut thru…

pain is a different thing… ditto for pity… medication isnt helping mah legs… i wonder the stories people invent as i stroll by… no need to wonder… i can see it in the glass of their cornea… no stories/no tale/no reflection… this is what makes me different… different- not better… the story that flashes in my mind when i walk past the millions of page turns that surround my days…

no looking back- its all ash
no pondering forwards- its all flames
no peeking around- you’ll ruin the ending
no holding on- dont want to lose your grip too?
no shout outs- its just me and mah shadow
no island chain- any port in the storm
no way back- the thread is cut
no rescue team- you ate the crumbs along the way
no body move- or you’ll get hurt
no not me- then who else?

i feel the wind down as the year starts to take its last breath and hits its last shot of Jameson at the bar, so for the last time in ’04 let’s take a peek at the key words that got some mo’fos up in here

DIVA POETRY :: aw sheet… i sure know all about that. one of the few times that i have backed off, when the ACENTAS all asked that i stop using the dreaded D word during the Acentos shows. damn, though, i was having so much fun callin’ em that.

SOUTH BRONX RONALD REAGAN :: yeah, man. ronnie may be gone but never forgotten. on a semi-related tangent, the spot that he visited is now a Pathmark of all things making me think about how i’m gonna end up writing “Getting George W to visit Pathmark”

CREME BRULEE RECIPE :: now you got me all kinds of hungry! this must be tied up to the trip the fellas took once to mortons

A WRESTLING MOM POEM :: for the record, my mom hasnt watched a Pay Per View in forever but she was a big fan of the Heart Break Kid, Shawn Micheal ;-)

BUTKIS ZERO :: (nada)

O.B.STYLE :: werd! before the “love ya like” outros was the occasional o.b.pontificatin’/o.b.sayin’/o.b.noticin

CHOLOS IN THE BRONX :: yeah! thats right! ¡pinche putos!

RACHAEL RAY+AGE :: she will never age. my bum leg has let me catch up on mah TV and let me tell you… her recipe for lamb and mustard is workin!

DISSAPOINTMENT POEM :: what poem isnt?

HUGGY BEAR POET :: cue the ’70s music as i walk down the street with mah bad azz limp and cane (for the record, when you actually NEED the cane- you can reduce the sexy factor by 70%)

FUNNY RED SOX POEMS :: there is nothing funny about this last year with da sox… revenge will be ours, dammit

MORRIS THE STEGOSAURUS SONG :: lol… this one cracked me up SO much that i had to bend mah rule of not listing names that people input but while i am at it… ANIS is the unofficial winner for this year

ECUADORIAN CONSUL BRONX, NY :: dats rite, beeches! dis is da home where la patria lives! mad love to all my south american brethern, i was proud to represent the motherland as the center of their ’92 basketball squad in barcelona.

and with that mah happy little web crawlers, i bid you adieu

love ya like google loves spiders

the first time i ever broke night (hung out till the sun came up) was to the tune of U2’s “Sunday, Bloody Sunday” and “New Years Day” from their Under A Blood Red Sky live recording at Red Rocks

it was at a Black Celebration (named after the Depeche Mode tune) held at a basement by 183rd and Valentine in the Bronx. contrary to popular myth, it wasnt all hip-hop and a b-boy stance in the boogie down in ’85. there were some pre.goth sects roaming aroung wearing all black/all the time. after hangin out with the cool kids on mah block (and goin from straight As to B- land in record time), i finally got the nerve to stay out late, hop (as in not pay the toll) the 4 train, almost walk the tracks since the train weas takin fohevah and find my way to this underground party… that they were charging for! i dont recall the exact entrance fee but i do know that i didnt have it. we had to wait for somebody we wuz cool with to come out and then spit on the back of our wrists so that the entrance stamp could be shared.

of course, i had no idea what i was doin ‘cept trying to look cool for at least half a second but everything was different… the music was not rap, this wasnt a house jam more like a basement fest, and the people were all lookin like they came straight out of some weird video.. and then it hit “This is NOT a rebel song”

and it was one of those moments- like when you first realize you can curse in church, when you win your first race, when ya walk around the house alone at 2am- pack your clothes in a floded blanket and plan the runaway, when ya find out your parents real names, when you kiss her behind the tree in the park during recess, when she slips you the nots in the hall, when you make a blood oath, when you first move, when ya make a new best friend, when ya finish home work on the bus on the way to school, when ya first taste her, when you really first taste her, your first A, your first F, your first paycheck, when you grab the check, the taste of scotch, a desperate cur for a hangover, when she walks out, when you follow, when you hear the tap of her heels up the down staircase… all that and a electric guitar ripping chords through a hazy bronx summer three weeks before school and you’re looking at the sun rise over the 4 train as it creeps over University and hits Jerome… yeah… rock & roll

since then, U2 has helped me get in and out of a lot of trouble and they are still kickin it… yeah… rock & roll

love ya like if you were the soundtrack to mah life

Sometimes You Can’t Make It On Your Own

Tough, you think you’ve got the stuff

You’re telling me and anyone

You’re hard enough

You don’t have to put up a fight

You don’t have to always be right

Let me take some of the punches

For you tonight

Listen to me now

I need to let you know

You don’t have to go it alone

And it’s you when I look in the mirror

And it’s you when I don’t pick up the phone

Sometimes you can’t make it on your own

We fight all the time

You and I… that’s alright

We’re the same soul

I don’t need… I don’t need to hear you say

That if we weren’t so alike

You’d like me a whole lot more

Listen to me now

I need to let you know

You don’t have to go it alone

And it’s you when I look in the mirror

And it’s you when I don’t pick up the phone

Sometimes you can’t make it on your own

I know that we don’t talk

I’m sick of it all

Can you hear me when I Sing,

you’re the reason I sing

You’re the reason why the opera is in me

Where are we now?

I’ve got to let you know

A house still doesn’t make a home

Don’t leave me here alone

And it’s you when I look in the mirror

And it’s you that makes it hard to let go

Sometimes you can’t make it on your own

Sometimes you can’t make it

The best you can do is to fake it

Sometimes you can’t make it on your own

Lyrics: Bono

Music: U2

Produced by: Chris Thomas

Additional production by: Steve Lillywhite and Nellee Hooper Keyboards and additional vocals: The Edge

first time played live: 2004-10-16: Riverside Studios, London, England

last time played live: 2004-11-22: Empire Fulton Ferry State Park, New York, New York

thanks to macphisto.net

dear jay-cee, keith, jota love, tina, chook, tanya, carlos, jazzy, arleen and eric:

the good lawd has seen fit to punish me with a mirror image of me circa ’96. it aint purdy and let me just state that its very kind of all of y’all not to have taken me on a mile jog off a 40 meter pier.

yours in christ,

oscar