Being Bogart and BacallMay 5th, 2010 | By Karma 'Sweetmain' and Valencia Vanner | Category: Parley poetry, Poetry | 678 views
stills from the silver screen
resurrected to bring
swagger and sultriness
back to the scene
the sexiness of Bacall and the demeanor
we enter to hear
of how their story got its start…
Amazing cures grow in the dark. Your union has been like a tonic to the souls of those who have been fortunate enough to see your magic unfold. But we know there was already a wife, when the leading lady walked into your life; the readers want to know even though on screen you’re perfect, now alone in your home, was it worth it??
Misery loved company, and I made a strange bedfellow. Happiness came in the form of a look, like a vintage novel, poised on a beautiful book shelf of stilettos. She said, “Hello” and I forgot about my situation; she was making me feel, as if the world would miss something real, the longer I went on, at home faking. I guess what I am saying is this, worth is measured differently from man to man; and the value, which I am vowed to, is where she is… therefore, I am!
As refreshing as it is to hear him speak so highly of you, the fact remains; there was a wife, before you were given a place in his life, so how can you be sure, that the same won’t play out for you two??
He is beyond the typical man. So I cannot apply typical lenses to view our circumstance. I did not enter as a temptress, so feminine lures where not used to entice, our love was built in the corridors of our hearts, so we are little concerned with any outside device. If what he says is true, then a love of this kind comes once in a lifetime, I guess I should become concerned if we were to live for two.
Bogart, please indulge us and affirm for your fans that would like to ask, whether our favorite duo both on screen and off is going to last??
Our love did not come inscribed with an expiration date. There was no shelf life among the plans of the blueprint of our fate. We just saw the rest of our lives, in each other’s eyes; knew somehow that would suffice and then, planned our escape. I love her to the point of no return!
We know that you both are skillful in your craft, like the brightest two lights whenever you both shine. But when you watch each other perform for your audience, what are some of the things that go through your mind??
Gravity increases, and I fall through myself, fall in love with the performer, the words, the gestures, the facial expressions. If I may use this platform to make a confession, I have a separate love affair with his stormy vulnerability; he tickles my mind in taboo corners with his masculinity. I wonder the price for him to re-enter himself when he becomes someone else. Amnesiac–he forgets the greatest parts of him because he is a better teacher from the low, then climbs back into himself shining his brightest but always concealing pieces he will never show. I love the man still I can’t help but succumb; I fall in love with every character he becomes.
I think about her eyes and her words; how they always seem to slightly alter every scene; and the way her passion will say, that she was not born for a day such as this, rather she was made for me. Her style, her dreams, her grace, and her beauty… She speaks and I am complete… She looks in my direction, and I get weak… But the best part of it is how she will later say that her heart is feeling the very exact same thing.
Many who know you say how since meeting one another, you have made each other better; Share with us truthfully, exactly what it is like to work together??
Never does it feel like work, as we live our art, our craft, and gifts each day. Sometimes what he is doing is so mystifying I lose what I was supposed to say. Watching him work is like watching a god build universes. He takes my breath away and breathes life into his art, then watch in awe when even in his perfection he is dissatisfied and takes it all apart. Then he produces anew; renaissance quality. I stand mouth agape, aware I am in the presence of an anomaly. Loving and graciously we weave together scenes, he is an ocean, a deep cool blue expanse, I am hot bubbling springs. Together flow, we rage, we love, we work, we dance…
Where one might say, they have found their muse, I would choose to close my eyes and listen closely, to truth; and then I would refuse. See, I get to listen to her nails tap on computer keys, discipline her children with logic and thought. Look after her mother and brothers needs, only to find the rest of her time for me. She personifies words; arrange verbs in a way that leaves the sentences grieving. A muse you say… not me; no way! Working with her is much like breathing.
Now, let’s discuss the age difference, if you care to mention: are there any problems, hindrances, or tension?
(Smiles) This age difference makes him an excellent teacher; skilled, experienced, with sophistication and wisdom settled in his features. There are few lapses in pop culture references, recollection of events and nightlife preferences. I often wonder about his regrets, or any dreams he neglects. I sense seriousness as he reflects; I can do nothing about his past but his future I seek to protect. All in all, we stay in sync, and when it comes to pleasing me no younger man, believe me, no younger man could compete. I wouldn’t shave off his age by a minute, I’m excited about every year of his life and I am ecstatic to be in it.
It was Frank Lloyd Wright who said, “Youth is a circumstance you can’t do anything about. The trick is to grow up without getting old.” Her lungs are young, but her spirit houses a wise older soul. I hold her and she never lets me get old. The only problem I am burdened by, is how she hogs the covers, whenever it is cold… (Laughing, as he gently grabs the hand of Bacall!)
Point taken indeed, but before we go, there is something else we’d like to know. You manage to be innovative, groundbreaking, setting the scene for your peers. Can you give any idea of what we should expect in the coming years??
I would say expect the unexpected; we have not neglected to remain poet. We show it by carrying poetry into our intimate moments; immediately after love making, one of us reads it. One of us said it; the words of mysticism, the metaphors of life, the unsung iambic pentameter. Expect love unlike you’ve ever seen it before, and poetry lived unto its highest standards!
Expect more the unimaginable, and none of the same. Expect high visibility followed by retreats of reclusion; yet, you will still hear our names. Expect refinement, evolution, and inventiveness… we are not meant to get old. Expect that we will birth replicas of us, bearing of our characteristics, our nurturing, and the blend of our souls.
…When Camera flashes
Are no longer involved
And the bulbs
Around the mirror
Don’t even flicker
miss the gossip
allowed to fly
having the smiles
few of us
are blessed enough
to see it
of us won’t
see it all
yet, if we can have
only a third
of their love
maybe we too
can find happiness
similar to that
which came with
being Bogart & Bacall
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