Posts tagged ‘dream journal’

Spoken Poetry

Performed by writer and arranger:  Mark Seabrook.

Many thanks for that email and so here is a selection, as requested:  Poetry.  By yours truly.  What we have here though is “Found Poems”:  we take a hard cover novel from the goodwill, we pick a title that we are attracted to, never minding what the book is about, and we use the “black out” technique, covering the words that mean nothing to us, leaving behind what does mean something.

The book I selected from the shelves at the goodwill:  Every Living Thing.  That title meant something to me.  Copyright way back in 1992, by James Harriot.  We picked it not only for the title but for the quality of the paper within the book:  we’re turning those pages into artwork as well, and art work needs good paper.  So be selective when you’re creating one of these fun Found Poetry books.  Find a title that means something to you and find one made with quality paper.  342 pages takes time: I started book 1 on October 16, 2018 and finished it on November 25, 2018.  We’re working on book 4.  But here are some selections from book one:  Every Living Thing.  Spoken Poetry performed by anishnabe artist and writer:  Mark Seabrook.

Oops!  My bad!  This one is from:  Infinite Riches, published in 1998 by Phoenix House, author Ben Okii.  Saved from the rubbish heap by yours truly and turned into a one of a kind book of poems and art!  (These can become heavy duty journals along the way!  This is book 2, created December 20, 2018 to May 9, 2019.  So be careful!)

Classic love stories, from the road taken…

Classic love stories…

Classic love adventures…

More classic love adventures…

Some of these, you may have to sign into your youtube account.


Artwork from the pages of:  Every Living Thing.  Sharpie marker on dollar store acrylic paint spread thinly.  Sometimes there is no poetry to be found!  In which case turn the page or pages into visual arts!


Yes…  it can become very telling.  Artwork and poetry, in book 2:  Infinite Riches.


Ball point pen on acrylic paint spread thinly.  Woodland School style artwork by Anishnabe artist Mark Seabrook.


Kooky.  Sharpie marker on acrylic paint spread thinly.  (Not sure where I was on November 9, 2018, but judging by this: going down memory lane…  )

And so there it is!  Spoken Poetry, written and performed by yours truly.  Art work, drawings and so on, created by yours truly.  It is an art and writing adventure!  Let me know what you think!  Drop me a line anytime.


One for the road:  don’t forget to add a little colour to those art pages!  Dollar store acrylic paint with sharpie markers.


Dream Journal: 3:34 a.m., Saturday

i’m on the road this weekend, in the town of London, Ontario, taking in the conference: “Brain, Mind & Body: Trauma, Neurobiology & the Healing Relationship”.


we’re going over some serious subject matter: synchrony, attunement, and self regulation: the neurobiology of childhood abuse and neglect, sense of self in trauma survivors, early childhood trauma, unresolved trauma, PTSD and so on.  we’ve already purchased books like “The Body Keeps the Score, Brain, Mind, and Body in the Healing of Trauma”, Bessel Van der Kolk, M.D., (he’s here, presenting at the conference) published in 2015 by Penguin Books.  and “Affect Regulation, and the Repair of the Self” by Allan N. Schore, published in 2003, Norton.  plus a few other super heavy duty titles we won’t get into here.

so me being native, first nations, aboriginal, indigenous, indian, or whatever the label, and knowing the relationship these people have had with the federal government for the past 150 years, you’ll know some of us and our families have experienced unpleasant things, some of which could be: Indian Residential Schools and/or the Sixties Scoop.  (we’re not talking wars here, or natural disasters, we’re talking government policy with the locals)

anyway.  and so we are here and it is now!  we’re in a nice hotel.  and we’re in a nice room with big comfy beds.

i just woke from this nightmare:

i was alone, walking at night, in winter.  the snow covered earth was brighter than the sky, something i’ve seen many times throughout my own many winters.  it wasn’t a well traveled road, more like a country lane of some sort, and i could see to my right, the snow covered fields and in the distance, low rolling hills and beyond: the mighty forest.

it was one of those winter nights where it was an overcast sky and the gentle breeze was out of the south, mild.  there was no noise or light pollution, kind of like being back home, in the old country, up there on “the island”.

as i walked along this path in silence, every now and again i would pass by a very huge and old maple tree on the field.  and behind these trees, i sensed something was out there.

as i continued, the maple trees became younger, and were growing along what would normally be a fence line.  and whatever was out there, was getting closer.

soon i was entering a hardwood forest, mostly young maple trees, thick and black against the snow covered forest floor and the late night overcast sky.  whatever was out there, behind the huge old trees on the field, was now very close, and not just one, but many.

i stopped, turned to the right, faced the forest and whatever it was out there, moving on me, i could see a piece of it.  in the distance i could see one of them, standing behind one of these younger maple trees.  i couldn’t identify what shape it was, all i could see was a black object.

then there was another one, over there.  and yet another, in another place.  and more of them.

i turned and continued but now i could hear something out there, something moving in the darkness.  and i somehow sensed the colour purple, not the blues and greens i usually walk with.

so i turned to face the things and there they were, in with the trees, in with the forest.  i could see them, dark shapes, some of them moving into the flanking positions.  just when i realized what they were about to do, one of them flew out of the darkness to my right and it was a huge black wolf with eyes blazing red, charging right at me.

whew!  you can bet i woke up in quite a state, here in my fancy bed, in my fancy hotel room.

well in a few short hours it will be day 2 at this conference…