Larry Brody’s Poetry: ‘I Sing Of The Human Spirit’

The secret to becoming Big Larry – or Big Gracie, et al – is to keep dreaming. And singing – that’s a big part of #win

 by Larry Brody

NOTE FROM LB

This one is for all of us, the #creatives actively and lovingly and totally engaged in the #writinglife with all its ups and downs and joys and pains. The most important part of the dream is the #dreaming. The #standingtall. As long as you keep going, know what? You #win.


I Sing Of The Human Spirit

I sing of the human spirit.

My song explodes with a cymbal crash from my soul.

Nothing can stand against my song. My arpeggios

Pierce walls. My major chords shatter windows.

My minors topple fences, while gates swing open

To the rhythm of my heart.

My high notes soar past the atmosphere,

And my bass line moves the planet,

Swinging us ‘round and round.

But it is the spirit that embraces the universe,

And the spirit the cosmos applauds.

 

I dream of the human spirit.

My dream takes me to heights and depths

Far beyond Ego, Superego, or Id. My dream

Raises me and I fly, dashes me down to a fall.

It incites me to attack, and compels my retreat.

In my dream I can win and I can lose, but never

Is there a draw.

My dream frightens me as much as it excites me,

And I quiver and quail more than I

Brandish my powerful arms,

But without it there would be no song.


Larry Brody is the head dood at TVWriter™. He is posting at least one poem a week here at TVWriter™ because, as the Navajo Dog herself once pointed out, “Art has to be free. If you create it for money, you lose your vision, and yourself.” She said it shorter, though, with just a snort.

Are These the 10 Best Structured Films of All Time?

Whether they are or they aren’t, this video remains our favorite kind of critique:

More by the same creators – Cinefix – at…oh, you guessed it?! The CineFix Channel.

LB’s NOTE: I do have one complaint about this post. The narration of the video says “Good film-making isn’t all clever dialog and….” But the blurb under the video on YouTube puts it a bit differently:

Movies aren’t all about the writing or the acting or the fancy camera work. The great ones rely on the underlying structure of the story. It’s time to take a look at 10 of the best structured films of all time.

For the record, boys and girls and fans and, oh, yeah, peeps at Cinefix, one of the key elements of “writing” is “structure.” You got it right on the screen, why the fuck couldn’t you do the same on the web page?

As one writer to another, or a few others, just asking….

Larry Brody’s Poetry: ‘Kid Hollywood Died The Same Way He Was Born’

Aw, for cryin’ out loud. Didja know that when you google ‘Kid Hollywood’ all you get is ‘Hollywood Kids?’

 by Larry Brody

NOTE FROM LB

Ah, back to showbiz at last. But first a few words about today’s title.

Just to  be clear, I don’t really think I’m dead, not in any way . Because from the right angle, with just the proper squint and a frame of mind that encompasses more than we can ever see, it’s pretty clear that nothing ever really dies at all.

Hey, it had to be said, right?


Kid Hollywood Died The Same Way He Was Born

Kid Hollywood died the same way he was born,

In fits of desperation and starts of joy.

Empty life stretched out behind him,

Roads not taken, fences built, barricades

Between the man and the soul. Easy, he thought,

So easy, to leave it behind, to loose his grip on

Failed dreams and unkept vows. Simple, he thought,

So simple, to throw the past into darkness and move

Toward the light.

But the lies clung to him like barbed wire, piercing

His spirit, and puncturing his resolve, and truth

Came and went like miracles performed only

In their own time. Ah, he would see it,

He would grin, and chortle, and laugh:

A turning point, new life waiting, a great leap

For him to take! But the turn would twist,

And he would crash and fall. Deep within,

That most sheltered part of him would shatter,

And, in a way most mythological, re-create.

Kid Hollywood was a fragile one; that was the

Truth that had created all the lies.

But out of that fragility comes the

Serene being so enjoying haranguing you…

Now.


Larry Brody is the head dood at TVWriter™. He is posting at least one poem a week here at TVWriter™ because, as the Navajo Dog herself once pointed out, “Art has to be free. If you create it for money, you lose your vision, and yourself.” She said it shorter, though, with just a snort.

Larry Brody’s Poetry: ‘Everyone’s a Hero’

 by Larry Brody

NOTE FROM LB

I used to think that I’ve had to learn way too many lessons the hard way. Then I realized: So has everyone else:


Everyone’s A Hero

I wanted to be a hero, and searched from cause to cause.

Every moment was a battle, a contest between right and wrong.

Anger ruled like the most powerful dictator,

Shaking my limbs, and contorting my belly.

All those I met were my enemies, forever in the hero’s path,

Small, stooped windmills fighting dragons of their own.

They too warred for humanity, for their children,

And their children’s children, for honor and renown.

To them I was the monster, smack in their Quixotic way.

Our faces twisted. Our voices bore a blade’s edge.

How we thundered!

How we roared!

Our might was awesome. Our clashes were the stuff

Of which legends were made.

Archetypes flailed!

Egos toppled like heads!

Ah, what a world! What a fine, bloody field! What a life!

One day, I tired of the conflict. My arms grew too heavy to lift.

My armor was dented, and there were holes

In it where my self showed through.

When I looked around, I saw that the others

Were in the same shape as I.

Ah, I thought, what a world! What a fine, bloody field!

What a life!

My weapons clattered to the ground,

And I dragged my carcass away.

Everyone’s a hero,

Just for getting through the day.


Larry Brody is the head dood at TVWriter™. He is posting at least one poem a week here at TVWriter™ because, as the Navajo Dog herself once pointed out, “Art has to be free. If you create it for money, you lose your vision, and yourself.” She said it shorter, though, with just a snort.

Larry Brody’s Poetry: ‘Many Years Ago I Was Given A Gift’

 by Larry Brody

NOTE FROM LB

Performance art?


Many Years Ago I Was Given A Gift

Many years ago I was given a gift,

Although I didn’t know it at the time.

Oh, I was aware of my talent, and my

Responsibility, and my Big Chance,

But a gift? A gift was something

That just came to you, and I had to work at

My talent. I had to sweat and moan and

Force it all the time.

Now I have accepted what I was given,

And no force is required. My moaning

And sweating have stopped.

The responsibility, however, remains,

And in that is the true Big Chance.

I understand the meaning of the gift now,

And find joy not only in its use but

Its end, feeling thankful every time the

Right word or phrase or thought rolls out.

I have even learned to say what I feel:

Thank you, universe, for the poetry.


Larry Brody is the head dood at TVWriter™. He is posting at least one poem a week here at TVWriter™ because, as the Navajo Dog herself once pointed out, “Art has to be free. If you create it for money, you lose your vision, and yourself.” She said it shorter, though, with just a snort.

Larry Brody’s Poetry: ‘Guys With Ties’

Found on the interwebs although I saw my tie fighters on the interstate

 by Larry Brody

NOTE FROM LB

No showbiz in this one. No Navajo Dog either. Just, well, you’ll see soon enough. (Alternate titles: LA Life, Life in the Slow Lane, Real Suits…)


Guys With Ties

Years ago, when I was another me—

Striding giant-like over the withering

Turf of L.A.—I saw a fight on the

Side of the freeway. Two businessmen had pulled over

—For what reason I can’t say—and were whaling

At each other, ties flapping in the wind. Guys with

Ties fighting! Not just yelling, or swearing, or pushing

But using their fists just like they had seen on TV.

Traffic was at a standstill, so I watched for a time,

And I realized I was seeing something so important

That it had actually made me feel. Never would

I be able to understand, or communicate with, the

Tie-tacked gladiators, but I could sense their

Frustration and their outrage, their dissatisfaction, and

Their need to draw blood. My pulse quickened,

And my temperature soared. My chest

Tightened and squeezed. I was wearing

Levi’s, and an Armani T-shirt, one of a dozen

I had bought at a hundred dollars a pop, but

At home I too had ties. Hand-painted, silk,

Gorgeous works suitable for framing. Never

Had any of my ties been worn.

When the freeway finally started moving again,

I drove straight to the house, and went to my tie drawer,

Put on a ‘Forties antique. Just wrapped it

Around my Armani, and looked at myself

In the mirror.

Sure enough, I was dangerous. Dangerous

As could be. Ready to tackle the whithering

Dithering road.

But then I put away the tie. I was a wealthy

Man then, and didn’t need such a sign.

Business was for fighters, and while I was a

Warrior of words, they were wasted ones,

Filled with knowledge alone. Without the

Fighters to watch, I felt nothing. A few days

Later, I gave away all the ties. They had become

Nothing but symbols of need.


Larry Brody is the head dood at TVWriter™. He is posting at least one poem a week here at TVWriter™ because, as the Navajo Dog herself once pointed out, “Art has to be free. If you create it for money, you lose your vision, and yourself.” She said it shorter, though, with just a snort.

Larry Brody’s Poetry: ‘I Tried To Write Another Lie’

Mmm, sugar coating. Good for whose soul?

 by Larry Brody

NOTE FROM LB

Time now for a writing tip you don’t usually get in Screenwriting 101. Oh, wait. It’s not a tip at all. It’s a confession. Hmm….


I Tried To Write Another Lie

I tried to write another lie.

I’d written them all my life.

“I’ll just give them what they want,”

I said. “Write about the veneer.

Take out the heart.

Forget the soul.”

But my new muse said, “No. You can’t

Do that to yourself.”

“It isn’t to myself,” I protested. “It’s for

Them. The readers. They’ll

Like everything better this way.

Always have,” I said. “Always will.”

“Let me get this straight,” my muse said.

“You’re going to write a lie because

Your readers want lies. Not because just maybe

You’re the one afraid of the truth?”

I saw myself as a child, head down

Before God, resenting His waving finger

Only because I already knew right from

Wrong. I shook my head.

“No,” I admitted. “I want to lie

Because it hurts too much to

Be true.” I tore up my pages,

And went back to work, starting over

As I already was starting over in life.

My love smiled the smile that

Has earned her my heart.

“Welcome back to the world, kid,” Gwen said.


Larry Brody is the head dood at TVWriter™. He is posting at least one poem a week here at TVWriter™ because, as the Navajo Dog herself once pointed out, “Art has to be free. If you create it for money, you lose your vision, and yourself.” She said it shorter, though, with just a snort.