Dance of Light by Artist Jan Betts
I invite you to listen to the recording of my poem “The Changes Changes” Just click the mp3 link in bold below. The music is also my own. I went a little jazzy-house beat on this one. Please feel free to dance to this poem. I include the words below, but it is more a poem for listening than reading.
The changes changes, jingling change in my back pocket,
so shuffle the cards.
Seems I was a co-star in this movie before,
When I had my suitcase, and a big bruised ego blocking the door
and each day was a lottery that I didn’t play,
and each minute they never called out my number.
If I had a two, they called out a three, and it went on that way.
To state the obvious, I sometimes stand on red and sometimes black
and the little ball goes round, goes round,
and everyone says I’m playing it fine
but I see it stopping… I just see it ending… my bad.
Am I the only one who sees it stopping?..who sees it ending?
Then one and one makes three, and the game is over and I call a cab.
I think the changes changes the billboards and the play,
and along the vacant highway walls, workmen glue a new one up
before they take the other one away.
It begins to look like a collage of some pasted posters present- past,
and the artist wasn’t that good anyway
Then the shuffle’s in and I’m on the bottom again.
And the Director leaves and no one gives me my lines.
So this show is doomed to play out of town, sporadic, every off -Tuesdays,
and I lost top billing a few weeks back,
and could be out of work and in the streets tomorrow
crouching on the sidewalk gambling with my time.
Because the changes changes everything… I guess it’s all my fault… my bad.
Then one plus one makes three that’s how it adds,
and the game is over and I call a cab.
I know the changes changes how I see it all,
and what we think is relative, depends upon the flipping of a coin.
Contrary to what we were led to believe, humanity inside a burlap sack?
It makes the sack worth less and I agree.
Because that’s an old wise Spanish saying.
But I will take it home with me… every time.
I will nurture scorpions and snakes until my nose is bleeding and my tongue goes numb.
“I am a fool for love”, I shout it out, while I ride the karma wheel and the little ball goes round, goes round and I think it’s stopping,
but everyone says I’m playing it fine.
Then the changes changes my attitude,
so that it’s hard for me to clearly see.
I don’t see the point.
I don’t see the joke.
I don’t see much hope.
And I don’t see that spirit running around that everyone says
that they all see, still being very much a part of me.
Then one day,
when I am looking the other way, at dismal sepia-toned memories,
all of a sudden the changes changes everything.
I’m standing on black and and they call out “Black!”
Without buying a lottery ticket, I win. I win anyway.
I inherit a hope chest and it’s filled with hope.
Seems to be my good luck nowadays… so long…goodbye, my bad.
Then one plus one makes two, and I smile your way,
while you open the door for me, in the pouring rain,
and the driver says “Where to? and we share a cab.
The changes changes everything… It changes everything
Karima Hoisan
May 16, 2012
LINC Island SL
Digital Rabbit Hole 