Wednesday, November 9, 2011

babygirl





the light

flickers

the hum of electricity

turns off and on

the neighbors roof turns from brown shingles

to flames

windows disappear

now smoke

the sirens whispers become screams

the closer they come

they seem to yell

“what do you want from me?”

grandma folds her arms

like desperation

babygirl behind her knee mouths the words

“momma, momma?”

like a babydoll

firemen walk away from the fire

like zombies

firemen run towards the house

axes drawn

ready to fight

tonight is blood and sweat

tomorrow ash and bone

the house will always be home

for some

the sirens and lights

are loud and bright

sane yet insane

I feel warm in my bathrobe and slippers

feel the warmth from the fire

on my cheeks

the house crackles and pops

like a campfire

smells

like a campfire

smells

like hot coco

my wife made hot coco

for babygirl

I watch babygirl

sip her hot chocolate

I watch grandma

arms folded

try not to cry

I watch zombies

firemen

I watch

the fire trucks

I try to separate God from the machine

Thursday, August 25, 2011

clothes


From a free write last week. The topic was about what are the objects that define you, inspire you, constrain you.


never underestimate the power of clothes. buttons and shoestrings are the things that hold me together. my tattoos tell them everything about me that they need to know. I am nothing like they say I am. I don’t fit in, I just pretend. my eyes sometimes tell little lies. I am sun freckles and sunglasses. I am a glass of lemonade. I am shade. I am scared. I turn from being a man into an employee, 5 days a week, from 7 to 3. someone loves me, despite me. I can’t sing, I think music. I can’t see like they see, I see photographically. I draw literally what I see. I paint with light. first lines and then shadows, I let them fill in what they see. I feel like my car defines me. certified and pre owned. I wish I were a 59 cadillac, flat black with white, white walls. I want them to remember me. I am you. I want the same things you do. I want our grave marker to say, “SHARE.” I want to be buried with buttons, with shoestring bows holding our casket closed, never underestimate the power of clothes.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011


if I were God

So I’m sittin as this bus stop. I’m a pretty big guy these days pushin 350 plus. This little skinny kid is sittin nex to me. It’s a small bench, this kid is gettin on my nerves. It’s just me and him at this bus stop, oh and did I mention, 4 other empty benches. He keeps asking about my sweater. My wife made it for me. I think he’s snickering and laughing at my sweater. Punk kid. I’m gonna punch his little ass if he asks me about my sweater…one…more…f****ing…time… I member readin a bumper sticker earlier n the parking lot as I was walkin up to this bench, “What would Jesus do?” If I was God I would jump into this kids body and go rob a bank, why wont this kid shut the hell up. Yes, I know its after labor day, there just shoes dude, get over em. If I was God, I would just beat the crap out of this kid, take his identity and take his car. I would stop in the middle of the street and start a conversation with a hooker that I know is a undercover pig. I would get a million tickets n this kids name, come on man, I like the briefcase too, that’s why I bought it. Damn, man, just shut the hell up. I would barrel his car down back alleys and run over alley cats. I wonder if cats have nine; what?, for real, more with the questions, yes, I work downtown, that’s why I am sitting at the busf***ingstop going downtown. If I was God I wouldn’t even want to be this kid, I would be to annoyed with myself, suicide is always an option, I could probably help this kid right here and right now, staged suicides work, I could dump the gun n that burnt out house up the street. I wouldn’t want to be this kid, but I tell you what, I would park outside his bedroom window at four n the morning and honk my horn, letting his neighbor know I’m ready to pick em up. Oh and I would always park n his parkin spot, punk ass. I’d put jumbo on his hood an sugar in his gas tank, got me sweatin thinking about how I’m gonna, well I woulda jacked him up. Finally he’s gone, sit in peace. Thank God that bus aint goin downtown. What would I do if I were God? After killin him of course. I’d help out some poor homeless folks, oh and family, friends, I would definitely help out some friends. I think I would listen to people more, I guess with all the prayers, I’d hafta listen more. If I were God, I’d sit next to someone, anyone and show some interest n em. Hey, maybe that kid was God, ha, fat chance, we had some good conversations though.

Wednesday, March 30, 2011

push





push


better leave while you can
if you can

you wont know when you've gone to far
or far enough

you wont be able to turn back

don't go to slow
you might pass it by

practice
not stopping
practice
stopping

surrender
pulling and pushing
watching

focus
screaming and punching
kicking

surrender
sitting still and meditating
watching and waiting
saying to myself

better leave while I can
if I can

Sunday, March 6, 2011

I was recently interviewed by the famous Dana Root-Bishop of Transformazium. I wanted to post it here as well. I am also excited as I have been asked to be a photo contributer to their log. You can check out their log at www.transformazium.org/log/ . You can check out the Transformazium website at www.transformazium.org .

D - What is photography to you?


E - Edward Weston: Consulting the rules of composition before taking a photograph, is like consulting the laws of gravity before going for a walk.

Read more: http://www.brainyquote.com/quotes/authors/e/edward_weston.html#ixzz1ESXjvwFW

For me, photography just is.


D - What is your personal history with being a photographer?


E - In my head, I do not refer to myself as a photographer, poet or artist, I never have. That is really just what other people have identified me as. I think people put labels on you, or name you as something when they connect with what you have made. The name artist, photographer, poet – just helps all of understand that connection.


D - Where does your desire to share your work with others come from, I mean you could choose to keep it all private.


E - The sharing part happens because it comes from my enjoyment, I want to share with others the things I am enjoying. I really appreciate the connection, the relationship built that we both share something together. Like if we both like the same song, there is a link, a bond. Also, art for me has always been an outlet. I believe all of us need outlets, whether it is TV, cooking, sports, or art. It’s as much for me as it is for you. When you create something, you don’t know what the life of it will be. When I was growing up art was very private for me. It was seen as a feminine type of attribute that contradicted the “tough” life of the neighborhood. I was afraid of letting others see this part of me. I usually shared my art with family or close friends. After encouragement from my younger brother I started bringing more of my art out. I remember he said something like, “ Edward, you are a grown man, you’re almost 40, WHO CARES! None of that tough stuff matters anymore, just be yourself.”

D - Do you think that the fact that your circumstances – in which you made the choice to keep your creative work private, actually allowed you to develop it more deeply within your self.

E - Yes, I was a very private person – and still am somewhat in general, though especially growing up. I never would have been having this conversation with you, much less sharing art. I would not be married to my wife. The ways I have grown with the things I make have allowed me to be who I am today. Poetry and photography have allowed me access to a process of self-reflection, self-healing. Art saves lives and art is one of the reasons I am who I am today.


D - I think so often about this, the power of vulnerability. How dangerous it can feel to be vulnerable, yet how vulnerability is what allows all of us to learn,


E - Yes, vulnerability happens when you have a creative outlet.

D - What is the relationship between your day job and your poetry, your photography?


E - I am very grateful to have a regular 9-5 job, I am very grateful I can provide for my family. Providing for my family is what is most important to me. Family and friends are the most important things in my life. My 9-5 job gives me the freedom to do art on my terms. I know people that their financial productivity is directly related to their ability to interpret other people’s ideas into their work, melting them. I think being a starving artist is overly romanticized and my priority is not art it is my family. I would love to do art full time though I will have to plan it out, even if it is at retirement, to be able to sustain my art through art.

D - At what point will you consider yourself an artist?


E - I will probably never define myself as an artist – I just want to enjoy the things I am doing. I think putting a label/naming anyone puts him or her on a pedestal; I do not want to be above anyone. I do want to be clear though, I do feel very humble when people refer to me as a photographer, or a poet or an artist – I am very grateful and it feels positive, it feels like that is their way of experiencing what I enjoy at that moment, a union.


D - So, a while ago Transformazium asked you to be our “official documentarian.” We asked this because we wanted to formalize our gratitude for the pictures you were taking the work we were doing, the ways that you were capturing the projects we were engaged in…

E - Wait I don’t think it was like that. I think we just found something in common. I love graffiti and art and all of the sudden I saw it happening in a different way in the neighborhood – I saw what you guys were doing with it, so very involved. I liked it. And you saw what I was doing. And liked what I was doing. That is what began the relationship. I don’t see it as a want or a need from either of us. Just the place we meet.


Edward Murray is the author of Stranger’s Pilgrimage. Stranger is a
contributor to Dionne’s Story, an anthology of poetry and prose for the awareness of violence against women. He has most recently been accepted as a contributer to Ginosko literary journal. He is a member, and past president, of the Langston Hughes Poetry Society of Pittsburgh. His poetry has appeared in Writer’s Block at the soulpitt. He is an artist, filmmaker, photographer and poet. He was born and raised in southern California during the 1980’s and 1990’s. He grew up in an economically challenged neighborhood with gangs, drugs and violence. During those times he chose to participate in certain activities and then found relief or therapy from the difficult situations by writing, drawing or taking pictures. He was nick named Stranger because of being away from the neighborhood on many different occasions. Barbara Lewis sang a song named, “Hello Stranger,” this became his adopted name. His last stay in jail provided an opportunity for a reduced sentence in exchange for enlistment in the US Army. He spent ten years in the US Army, where among other things he met and married his wife. They eventually settled on the east side of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. They celebrated seventeen years of marriage in July of 2010.

Flickr: http://www.flickr.com/photos/stranger1970/sets/