Monday, August 24, 2015

Klecko, Finley and the Infinite

Some people get it.
Others don’t.
This dynamic duo gets it in spades.

They bring the snap back to the chat.
The pork back to the pork pie hat.
The insanity back to the madness of creative otherness.

When they blew through Cleveland they offered an inflatable raft of good vibes to everyone in attendance.
There was nothing arid, dank or polluted to the delivering of their punchlines and poetry.
What if poets were just people and didn’t concern themselves with the cult of personality? That’s what I experienced as I watched, studied and drank in this Martin and Lewis comedy team and was reminded that the best poetry is always bare-knuckled and derives straight from the blood and guts of humankind.

Some people get it.
Others think they do and fail miserably as they slink along like a cheap knockoff of the Lizard King.
Nothing Klecko and Finley did was half baked and I believe that’s because their intentions were pure and their ingredients came directly from the creative zeitgeist and not from their peckers.

I feel very fortunate to have been present when they blew up Cleveland, Ohio.
There was nothing sinister, self-serving or politically motivated to the way they presented their fire and brimstone cantos to the rock and roll capital of the world.
What if poets were just people and when they stepped onto the stage they shared themselves with the audience and left the gimmicks and the hyperbole at home? That’s what I witnessed when this tent revival from St. Paul, Minnesota blessed us with their goodness and True Grit swagger.

They brought the sublime back to the ridiculous.
The mystery back to the Brawlers, Bawlers & Bastards.
The regal glow back to the faded love of yesterday’s gone by.

Charles Cicirella

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