Monday, February 05, 2007 St Shilpa Of The Damaged Chav Comrades Satanists OK it's over,it's done it's job...finished! Have you ever seen anyone cannonised so quickly as Shilpa Shetty? Is it because she was so bullied and put upon in the Big Brother house or is it she shows a bit more tis'n'ass than Mother Teresa. It's as if were in the thrall of a new goddess. What is going on? The rubbish totally rascsist tabloids hiding behind Shilpas leggy swaddling clothes. I'm stunned by the response. On one hand it could be seen as a great thing that Miss Shetty is the vanguard of new tolerant Britain or am I watching the gradual striptease of a new media dalek sorry I mean darling. I know the trio of evil must be so punished that they have thier tives totally ruined and be on the verge of suicide,that goes without question. But is the bible according to Shilpa Shetty a bible worth complying to. That it is good to come from an upper class hugely religious monied family that demands you marry with the permission of the parents and only within your own culture. Now far be it from me to question the diety Shilpa for she knows everything and must soley be obeyed but what happens to us mere mortals if we can't follow in her slightly hovering footsteps? What if we havn't had the heavenly luxuries so necessary to the enigma of Shilpa bestowed upon us. Are we to remain unworthy chav rubbish destined to forever rot in the bowels of Stepney? It's gone mad as it always does. Whatever lessons that could have been learnt from The Big Brother Debacle have become trivialsed rubbish. Shilpa has proven to be as big a media whore as Jade or indeed Jordan. "A bit more cannonised tit Shilpa. A bit More cannonised ass Shilpa." Photographers baying like hounds after the Christ like blood and nipple of the said Miss Shetty. Theres nothing worse than the human being been seen for the rubbish they can be and I'm sure Jade, Dannielle and Jo now know that. But what comes a close second is watching a modern day martyr rise from the ashes of a reality television show. I still think Charnell Four should be hauled over the coals for the damage theyve caused just as long as they don't bump into Shilpa walking on them. I want a tolerant world as much as the next international socialist but these are the wrong messages and images. Once again if your sexy and beautiful enough we will embrace you. Shilpa for page three. A real success. Comrade Poems X 3:01 PM - 9 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment Saturday, February 03, 2007 Pea Souper Comrades Weather Beaten There has been a atmosphric flurry of weathers in perculiar old Manchestervania. You would think the Prince Of Darkness himself had bypassed Grimsby and landed here in the heart of the North west. When any major vampire lands anywhere there is always an uncanny amalgum of weathers. The past two days have felt as springy and youthfull as late March until the dawn of threeOclock today saw a pea souper dense as anything Jeckyll and Hyde or Jack The Ripper. Only a fewish days back we had a snowstorm of goose feathers and child delight. We were told as children snowstorms were God and the Devil having a pillow fight which I loved because to my little gay inquiring mind it suggested they slept together and phillisophically to me now,that makes a kind of sense. Thats the trouble with athiesm it dissalows such flights of fancy a grounding. I adore the dolly mixture of weathering we've been having it feels so like the human condition...all over the place. I was once told by a Wiccan woman I was A natural witch. When I asked her why she simply said "weather" I new exactly what she meant I love weather. It still thrills me childlike like a brilliant ghost story or a fantastic E. The effects are special as any surprise party and thats what I like about the weather most,it's ability to surprise. I love snow the most beutifull duvet in the worlds abilty to bring the world to a standstill. The way torrential rain can sweep away the debris of MacDonalds. The plastic bag can can dancers in hurricanes and the sweaty exhausted relaxation of a heatwave. The way mizzle can exactly fit your mood or the invisibilty of fog. Weather possess such facinating rythms which wether you like it or not transplant themselves into you. When people moan that the British only talk of the weather I say " shut up dry spell and tune in." I spend a lot of time on my own and I mean that in a good way and the weather almost always somehow seems to comfort. I feel a palpable connection to it and can stare for hours at it through my window or walking through it's derangments. The weathers camp and contrery as any drag queen loud and vulgar or brash and entertaining. It's even a speciality act, havn't you heard it whistling it's symphanys? The drumming of rain and the rippling of breezes...a joy. So whatever the weather Comrades, wether the weather,wether you like it or not. Comrade Poems X 6:44 PM - 10 Comments - 3 Kudos - Add Comment Wednesday, January 31, 2007 Helen Mirren Must Die Comrades Opinionated As you probably know I am a commited republican an explicit commited republican some might say an explicit republican who needs to be commited...but a republican none the less. My hatred for the Royal Family is as boundless as my love for booze yes it's that huge. There are a hundreds of horrific reasons for my anger but none more than the division and stupidity they cause. Why can't we have a racist Jade Goody making millions from her predjudice? While she has Prince Phillip as a royal role model I imagine she feels incredibly empowered to be so. We all pay for that racist to live a lifestyle so decadent as to put Kublah Kahns to shame. Stupidity and division the cultural hallmarks of monarchy. This is why Helen Mirren must die,she is single handedly legitimising the Monarchy she has recieved five million awards for being Elizabeth The Second. Now I'm not being a conspiracy fairy here but it strikes me as odd if not a little unfair on every other actress who's played the Queen that this is the performance the humanisation of Her Majesty after the death of Diana thats getting all the rewards. It also seems rather timely what with this bastion of majesty shining triumphant in the tenth anniversary of The Princess Of Wales death. That it's the Queen recieving all the acolades because that is what Helen Mirren is doing saving the Queen by proxy without Her Horrible Anus lifting even a corgi. Helen Mirren constantly telling the world stage what a wonderfull job our Queen is doing fills me with a revulsion I normally save for the Queen, in many ways she's a Helen Mirror image of our royal atroscity...Queen Helen is now a member of atroscity. A Helen on earth. I also read that Helen Mirrens parents were socialist republicans if that is right how does this royalist harpie sleep at night. I hope I'v read it wrong and that they are harbingers of Thatcherism because that would make so much more sense but if I'm right then I feel thier shame. In Doctor Who and The Ark In Space Tom Bakers early and superior performed Doctor comes face to face with the Wirrn. A parisitic insect like creature that lays it's eggs in what is left of a cryogenically frozen human race. After much dangerous adventuring he defeats the Wirrn swarm saving humanity just so he's free to save them next time. I doubt even the ever couragous Doctor could defeat the swarm of The Helen Wirrn engulfing both Britain and the world. Has Helen Wirrn buried her eggs in the entire Royal Family? David Ike was wrong there not lizards they are huge unconvicing fibre glass insects ready to eat the planet. The Queen Sucks Nazi Cock and shes made from fibre glass. Comrade Poems X 1:44 PM - 23 Comments - 5 Kudos - Add Comment Friday, January 26, 2007 A Sad Day Comrades Lifers It was Dikes funeral today and it was very sad. The chapel was full and there was more love in the air than air. So many people under the one roof feeling something simaller. But it was very sad. Many of the speakers the family and friends of Dike were funny and warm but the ever omnipitent sadness palpable. It felt to me very much a community event one life bringing a lot of different lives together. Mike Gary was remarkable and spoke with a conviction and clarity that was breathtaking. Everyone who spoke spoke well. It was both warm and heartbreaking to see Dikes young nephews and nieces speaking and reciting poetry. I felt that strange thing that I often feel at funerals a perculiar mix of hoplesness and solidarity. The empathic energy in the room invigorating and lonely. I felt so definately the Manchester poetry community and saw so many faces from both the past and present kind of time travelling while sitting still. I mused on how grief makes us all look alike. But most of all that very core notion that the only person missing was Dike, funerals are bastards for that. I thought as I always do at funerals I must tell my people I love them. I love you. I got a very real sense of who Dike was outside of our relatioship and he was a filler by that I mean he filled peoples lives and finding out how much he liked a drink made me want to drink with him. a sad day. A completive day. A day filled with love. Comrade Poems. X 5:30 PM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment Thursday, January 25, 2007 Scottie Road To Harvard Comrades Students Hope the winter chill has you refreshed and not depressed. Had an E-mail from an American pal today not heared from in ages. He reminded me of my Harvard gig which funnily enough I sometimes forget,not because it was unmemorable the complete opposite it's because it feels like an Ozian dream. I had been touring with one of spains foremost political writers Juan Goytisolo. A wonderful man and writer who had been mentored by Jean Genet who told me Genet would have loved Chloe Poems. A wonderful sense of lineage and destiny. We were gigging at Norwich University at a special event based soley around the writings of Juan. Professors of universitys from around the world were in attendance,from devotees of Juan to translators and biographers. It was a most wonderful event and allowed me to be seen by a world audience. My job was to read passages from Juans work but he also graciously allowed me to perform some of my stuff,very generous. I performed both The Effeminate and The Queen Sucks Nazi Cock and brought the house down it was a great event all round. After the show we were in the bar area and I was about to guzzle into a cold and very desirable bottle of Buwieser when I recieved a polite tap on the shoulder. I turned to face a beaming atractive blonde gentleman who preceded to say " Hi I'm Bradley Epps from Harvard University and I would love to do a paper on you." Well you coud've blown me off in a feather-cut. I said "That would be lovely thank you." We discussed the gig and my part in it and generally had a fun time. It was a revelation to be in this forum of highly intellectual people and being bigged up by them. Anyway Brad said he would invite me to perform at Harvard and of course I graciously exepted. We drunk and had fun for the rest of the evening and I felt like a thief who had broken into another world. Nine months past and I heared nothing from Brad and thought it was just one of those situations were everyone loves you after a performance. Then on the 25th of december 2003 I got my invitation to perform at Harvard in the Ocober of 2004. What a gift,I was overjoyed me Chloe Poems not only performing but lecturing at the most respected university in the world. October like a rubbish one night stand couldn't come quick enough. When the date arrived I was as exited as a dominatrix in a room full of subs. I travelled to Boston and Brad met me at the plane station. Boston is so clean like it's been polished by a giant compulsive obsessive. It was like entering a new world. It had just been Hallowe'en and the day before George Bush gad just become Hitler for a second term. Brad was devestated that this serial killer had become President once again. So was Boston, in shops when people heared my English accent they were apologising to me and telling me to say to the people of England Boston voted Democrat. America looked just like it did in the movies. Pumpkins and Autumn graced every door you could actually eat Hallowe'en in the air. Then the gig arrived. I was so nervous. Was I going to translate to these American students who might one day become world leaders and corperate monsters? I needn't have worried the performance was a triumph and my question and answer session also. I sold books and was happy I'd brought a hard line socialist message to the students. They bought books and both Universal Rentboy and Adult Entertainment are in thier Gender studies and Phillosophy libraries. I was reet proud o' mysen. They treated me so well everything was paid for and I even had oysters for breakfast. It was a brilliant experience and gave me a huge leap in confidence. If Harvard loved it then so could anyone. It gave me extra kudos in the literary world and allowed intellectuals to at last take me seriously. It still has a Dorothy Wizard of Oz vibe about it and has me reeling with an adventure story zeal. We tried to tell the gay press about it but they didn't pick it up, well it wasn't Kylies arse or Victoria Bechams tits. I'm convinced were turning straight. Not going to get bitter but just wanted to share that with you. Take all the care you want to. Comrade Poems. X 12:27 PM - 15 Comments - 7 Kudos - Add Comment Tuesday, January 23, 2007 Kylie Stinks Of Poo. Comrades Adopted Hope life is being lived and fun is being had. Kylies back in Manchester and for a lot of this citys gays it's akin to the second coming. Brave kylie battles back and earns millions as she sings. I'm not damning Miss Minouge I simply don't get it. I don't get how a thin weedy straight girl with a thin weedy voice can command such unadulterated devotion. Ok I know its sad shes had a partial mastectomy but I think it's sad if anyone has. It's much sadder to me to hear of people living alone and poor with a terminal illness than any pampered celebrity. The gays love Kylie even more for touching death I think that says somthing wierd. I insist I'm not knocking Kylie I just don't get her. What has she ever said? The most famous thing she's ever uttered is la la la la la la la. Now as a gay man I have to say that doesnt resonate terribly well with me. I don't mind dancing to it I just wont revere it. I had a big row with a gay yesterday for simply not liking Kylie,he nearly hit me he was so enraged it didn't help me laughing in his face but he was being ridiculous and I told him. He hated me simply for having an opinion based on logic, assinine twat. When I said I think Kylie is somewhat responsible for the dumming down of gay culture he went an unflattering shade of purple,definately not his coluor. I don't think Kylie has meant to dumb down our culture I think shes a symtom of a wider dumbing down. I think gay men actually fancy Kylie. Before Kylie burst onto the pop scene fuelled by that triumverate of evil Stock Aitken and Waterman the presence of queer was very evident in the charts from Soft Cell to The Communards queers were doing it for themselves. Then Kylie turns up and the gays stop supporting queer music. What dark magic does she posses. Queers talking,singing and being queer were replaced by a cotton haired cotton voiced child. We lost our chart queerness when Kylie decended on our world. I'm really pissed off with the queens who became Kylifiles. I really feel it should be the likes of Marc Almond filling the MEN arena with gays and not a straight apologist who stood cheek by jowel when Jason Donovan sued and nearly crippled The Face because of thier hideous gay slur. Why do most gay people want to listen to sombody who isnt gay and not saying anything when there are great gay artists to listen to. Thank Christ for Antony and the Johnsons breaking through a little intellectual salvation. I stress I'm not having a go at Kylie I'm just having an opinion on her. No dobt I'll have The Lavander Hill Mob on my heels wanting to rag off my hair or some hit queen taking a snipe at me. I feel dissaponted by certain quarters of the gay world for turning there back on queer and embracing the facile, Good luck to brave Kylie and good luck to every straight girl that gay men buy the records of. The pink pound funds straights whatever next. Comrade Poems X 5:04 PM - 17 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment Saturday, January 20, 2007 Whatever Happened To Baby Jade? Comrades despairing I was decimated by last nights Big Brother for what seems like a gazillion reasons. Mostly i am enraged that Charnel Four let this most watchable debacle enfold. It was there fault,there fault we saw the disintergation of several young women and that it escalated into an international problem. The idea that Jade Goody has caused such a cafuffle has me agahst. I am well aware of the horrors of institutionalised racism because I like many others am sometimes a victim of institutionalised homphobia. It's there and no amount of Queer Eye For A straight Guy is gonna take it away. This is a problem which should be dealt with both personally and politically. Our children must be given an education which not only informs intelectually but emotionally and it can be done. The welfare of all countries depends on the care we give it and get them while they're young, thats what I say. I was disturbed greatly by Shilpa Shettys abuse by at what seemed like a trio of MacBethian witches,it was wrong and it was augmented. Augmented by an ailing TV show that decided making racism entertainment was a viable option to revive its dissapionting ratings. We the voyer have been hung by our own petards. I watch Big Brother because as a Tv format it facinates me and none more so than over the past week. I hold my and up and say I watched it and found it enthralling. I also know there is something in that which is very wrong. It shouldn't have happened. I hated Jade Goodys international humiliation and realised that in a very few weeks we've been sold the death of Saddam and the death of Jade as entertainment. I don't feel good about it at all and am asking myself some difficult questions. I know Jade is more cockney terydactyl than sparrow and was wrong but she has been stitched up by souls more cynical and depraved than any I have known. What could have been handled with care and education has evolved into the the embarresment of the human condition. Prejudice must be challenged and fought in all it's guises but this is the final end. Charnel Four must be held to account for this mess and be made to pay. They were wrong and must admit so. Comrade Poems X 4:11 PM - 30 Comments - 14 Kudos - Add Comment Thursday, January 18, 2007 Arts Attacked Comrades Visionaries I'm art and I'm damn well pissed off. OOOOOOH I squeal in horror at how I am treated. My enemy? The funders of art. Why? Because it seems they know not what they do whilst seeming to know what they do,to me the biggest crime. As art where do I go if I want to do something who do I turn to when I need to express? The Arts Councel probably. You know what I'm Gonna say now Comrades,bet you don't . I accuse the Arts Councel of being anti-art. If your prepared or able to jump through it's many hoops then fine if indeed your an accountant who sometimes wants to be an artist then fine. You may have went to a very famous and well to do unerversity or college and be middle class enough to understand it's intricacy and dogma or your a huge theatre or opera company able to sell extortionate tickets to extortionate people. Arts funding is anti working class and I suspect like Thatcher it believes we somehow live in a classless society. Why is it anti working class? As a working class artist I feel the need to do art, sometimes I want to take my time sometimes I want to to do it instantly. I believe instant art is the most purest. Theres something glorious about totally unthought through endeavour. Its noble and raw. The Arts Council would have you sit in development hell for what can seem like years hoping you can polish and shine the very idea best left dirty. I think it like an obssesive cleaner determined to make it shine or gleam. Iv presided over theatre that has been "in development" and believe me I could do in four weeks what it takes three years to do. In development you can often work with very different casts and crews constantly bringing the project back to square one each time. To me development can at it's worst feel like controll freakery very New Labour, at it's best it can work. The idea that art is forever going to take years instead of months to develop to me again is anti art, opinion soup. I left making theatre because it took too long from idea to production and I used to make great theatre. I talk to a lot of theatre practitioners who feel theatre is in the hands of people who don't understand the urgency of it. Theatre should reflect it's time and so often issues are over by the time youve put your show on. Were artists we have loads of ideas all of the time. I have a deep and profound respest for Studio Salford A theatre group made up of working class actors who in the best traditions of Judy Garland and Mickey Rooney found a space and put on shows. Now Studio Salford while very succssful sruggles for money, it's a crime this theatre is not funded by a goverment body. They make quick and brilliant theatre which serves the needs of both it's local and theatrical communities, a fine organisation who could do with financial support. But maybe if they got funding the very nature of it's output would change to fit into guidelines and rules it wasn't meant for. Arts funding while sometimes beneficial can be the enemy of art. What do we do to make it better? Open up a dialouge between The Arts Council and small theatre and make it realise it's needs. That might mean you leave the theatre companies up to thier own devices leave them mallieble and empowered,trust the artists to make art when they want to and not when the political weather permits. An understanding that art is about ideas and not wholly thought through notions. Forms should be made easier to understand the huge mathematics of budgets should be handled with in house help from arts councils and not left to do the heads in of the theatre companies. A slush fund for instant art and theatre so you can get right in there and make stuff happen. That artists are artists and not secretaries and accountants these are the things that put off artists like me applying for funding. A much bigger understanding of working class art and it's potential. Rules and regulations make for rules and regulations. Iv seen theatre practitioners who have started out making great art get swallowed by Arts Council dogma and make OK or bad art. Collapse into the system of waiting for funding and development. Perhaps it's a sign of the times that controll freakery is feeding art making it gorge on mediocrity. Iv seen live art turn from dangerous to sit com,what was once blood and gore is now Terry And June. As art I want to tell The Arts Coucils that I am art and not a shifting unit of finance and dogma. Fund me and leave me alone and I promise I'll give you art. Comrade Poems 12:37 PM - 15 Comments - 5 Kudos - Add Comment Wednesday, January 17, 2007 Wolverhampton. Comrades wanderers I went an did a lovley do yesterday. I visited Wolverhampton. What a handsome and regal city such a marvel,bold and tender in equal measure. I love wolverhampton it was the first city I properly moved to from Liverpool. There was a move to London but it only lasted a week. It was summer 1980 and what a wonderfull summer it was. I had been attending the Everyman Youth Theatre,made a host of new friends was developing into a shit hot actor and generally being the happiest teenager in the world. There is an exuberant melenchloy around that period for me,it seems to exhist in a post punk new wave sepia. I was growing and developing into someone I had my best friend and partner in crime Brian at my side,everyone was my friend and capatalism hadn't yet hijacked the soul of teenagers. In those days you didn't have to declare yourself socialist you just somehow magically were. Second hand shops were palaces and dingy basements discos. You dressed to impress because the depression was exiting and wasn't going to beat you. We were possibly the last generation to fight back the grandchildren of the revolution who listened to our elders. Then somehow as somehow does a move to Wolverhampton happened. A theatre company there had developed a training scheme for young actors and both Brian and I signed up. It was terrifying,Wolverhampton what was it?Did it bite and if so why. We knew nothing about it but off we went. We upped sticks from Liverpool which was at the time slap bang in the middle of a huge culteral renaissence. Bands,theatre and just being from there really meant something,history had decended and was shaping the city. we were nervouse and unsure but kinda ready to give it a go. We landed inside a culture shock. It was 1980 in Liverpool but it was 1976 here punks,skins and rastas stuck in a timewarp and dancefloor. The accent was like trying to undrerstand cut glass screaching down a blackboared and there wasn't a gay to be seen. We'd landed in our doom. The place we were meant to stay wasn't ready so we had to spend our first couple of weeks on a houseboat it was cold wet and just plain scary. We were going to leave, we were better than this backwater we were from Liverpool the centre of the world. Then that thing happens as it so often does if you give it time,we started to get it. The course we were on suddenly turned brilliant and we developed a keen understanding of the accent. The city became a handsome man and we both discovered the gay scene. We were young and freshfaced in a new town invincible and sexy. The local gay club was called the Silver Web and is still one of my favourite clubs in the world. We pretended to be blitz kids and Dare byThe Human League our bible. Nothing can describe the bedsit freedom and pitfalls exept of course for Soft Cells Bedsitter the other bible. Experimentation was our byword and best of all Brian was alive. I revisited wolverhampton yesterday because I wanted to feel that again,all of it as it were. It was great I was a teenager in a forty four year old trannys body and both the twain met. I could breathe in my youth and memories. I visited my favourite cafe The Copper Kettle which is called something else now and January yesterday felt like January twenty seven years ago. I dont normally time travel as it can get a bit sad but recent developments in Manchester made me want to own that little bit of my past. It was a good thing to do I felt safe and somehow next door to myself. I was beaming from ear to eternity and my smile was infectious. I just wanted to share that because it felt really good. The ghosts of The Selector and Altered Images were my friends and Toyah was starting to sell out. Glory Days. Comrade Poems X 6:13 PM - 8 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment Monday, January 15, 2007 A piece Of Sky Comrades Performance Poets Have you ever had one of those great big jigsaw puzzles so big it's both daunting and exiting? So daunting that you don't wish to embark on it just in case a piece of it is missing but embark you do. There you go onwards and upwards roaring to your goal determined to finish the dammed thing. You start with your first four corners and bit by bit build up the picture. You start to make the harbour appear and then the boats,yachts you long for but cant afford, jigsaw puzzles are a bizzare way to visualise lifestyle. We start buliding up fom the masts touch the sqaulling seagulls and hit the vast expanse of sky,how frustrating huge swathes of sky. You really have to concentrate because there arent really any figures perhaps an odd whisp of cloud to hang your endeavour on, on you plod. That damn sky so pretty and inviting but so hard to finish. The pieces are diminishing and the picture is forming your on the home stretch oh the joy...your about to finish. Then crap as you realise there are not enough pieces to finish the puzzle you were right dammit there is a piece missing. Dike Omeje Was one of Manchesters finest performance poets and his death this weekend has sent shockwaves though the citys poetry community. Trying to describe Dike is like throwing a jigsaw puzzle in the air and hoping it all falls into place. It's not that he seemed a terribly complicated man, on the surface he appeared cool calm and collected but there was far more to him that. Iv known Dike for about eleven years and allthough we were never close friends we had a deep respect for eachothers work and performance skills. We weould often talk of the need for a better poetry cicuit and for better poets to work it. We were both in BBC Three's poetry programmes Whine Gums and SlamPoets. Dike must have won every slam in exhistance he had a way of wooing while performing second to none. Dike had a none threatening sexual charge in his performance that sent the ladies and some of the boys on quite a journey. It is really odd to think that energy wont be around anymore. Dike was a vivid and charming presence on the Manchester circiut and one of it's major players. In much the same way the world wide stage might have Maddona or Prince our stages had Dike...yes he was that big. The difference between huge stars like that and performance poets is we are only a breath away from our audience and it's that breath which is all important it's that breath that connects us. Dike was a star he had star quality those sharp doe shaped eyes could hook an audience in with one well executed flash. He moved through many communities my heart goes out to BrothaTalk and the Speakeasy posse thier lives won't be the quite the same again and to Shirley may,Chanje and Mike Garry. To many people to mention so I'll stop there. Dike was a living legend so his young death will only cement his legacy further. He was commited to making Manchester a better place for performance poetry through his community work and workshops. He had gentle crowd gathering skills and was able to spot trouble in an audience and stop it before it could begin. His comand of the stage was stoic but gentle he could be every inch a man without ever flexing a muscle,machismo lived inside with both his spirit and charm. He was a gifted comedian and could have an audience falling about in just one of his rolling pauses one of Dikes great gifts was knowing when to be silent,rare amongst performance poets. I believe he had a love for his audience making easy for his audience to love him. I believe grief is the shadow of love and loving is the most important thing we as human beings can do. There will be a lot of grief in Manchester right now therefore cementing the love that was there for Dike. Grief is hard and has a way of seeming forever. I think grief is forever and hurts for ages leaving you longing and missing. I know that eventually grief turns back to love so instead of just pain anger and tears the gentle funny memories return,I think it becomes easier to remember. I think those loving memories are the piece of sky missing from the puzzle and I think that piece of sky rests in us all. Grief makes us feel incomplete but love will fill the gap. I will remember Dike as a great and positve force both as a performer and a human being. I will miss him and his energy. I believe his legacy will live on for decades in our lives and memories and then in the memories of memories a kind of humanist immortality. Goodnight sweet Prince. Comrade Poems X 12:57 PM - 5 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment