From the New York Times...

 

 

Carolyn Hudson

 

Blue: Poetry in Motion
By David Chiu

It is a typical Saturday afternoon on board the downtown D train from 125th Street and Harlem. Inside one subway car, the passengers are doing the typical things that commuters always do: reading a newspaper, listening to music from their headphones, and minding to themselves quietly. For the most part, the mood is subdued, until a young man wearing a jacket, slightly baggy jeans, a knapsack, and a baseball cap walks to the middle of the car. Nobody really pays attention until he introduces himself in a booming but respectful voice as "Blue." He holds up several paperback copies of a poetry book he wrote and hopes that the crowd will listen to him and buy one.

"Check this poem out!" he says. "Buckle your seat beats!" And like the professional boxer he once was, Blue enters the ring and goes in swinging. He rapidly recites his poetry that mentions his father, Harlem, fast food chicken restaurants, Macy's, lesbians, and cell phones-all within a five minute span as the D arrives at 59th and Columbus. Some people ignore him and continue to read or stare at the floor, while others listen and crack a smile. At the end of his delivery, he thanks the riders and says, "Don't beat your children or they'll turn out like me." When Blue leaves the car a woman comes up to him and buys a copy of the book. He seals the deal by personally autographing it and handing it back with a smile.

His poetry slam in a subway car, which he has done for two years now, is as unorthodox as his life story. Derrick "Blue" Wilson was born in Harlem, but as a military brat, grew up in Georgia, Kentucky, Tennessee, and Germany. A former professional boxer, Blue returned to New York in the early Nineties cultured shocked. His observations both at home and abroad would later provide the inspiration for his writing. After a poem he recited at the Harlem café The Sugar Shack was well received by the audience, he continued to write poems. They were later collected into a book he published himself Corner Stores: In the Middle of the Block.

Soft-spoken, confident, and down to earth, the 35 year-old African American is concentrating on finishing his novel and writing more poetry. Currently residing in Brooklyn, Blue spoke about his poetry and the challenges and pleasures of working the subway.

Blue, what is your fascination with words and poetry?

I think the English language is fascinating, the way we say so many things. There are so many ways you can say things, and then the tone of your voice can change it around completely. I just play with the words and this is how it came about.

Do you have a particular approach or message when you write your poems?

I just write about everything I see. I say 'This is it, take it for what you want it.' I just give people something to look at. There's no limits to what you can say.

Why the subway as your platform for reciting and selling your poetry?

The crowd is compact because there is so many people in the subway. You never know who you are gonna meet. I've met a lot of interesting people in the subway who can help me.

Your poetry and self-marketing seems very unconventional.

Being an artist, you can't fit in with the norm, you always have to try new things and see what's gonna work. And if it doesn't work, then at least you said I've tried. I'm not afraid to fail.

Several of your poems, particularly "Bulletproof Corner Stores" and "Urban Renewal" paint a very visual and illuminating portrait of the old neighborhoods in the Bronx and Harlem.

I wrote about living in the Bronx when it was the worst neighborhood in the country, but [ironically] it has the best zoo in the country. I don't pull punches when I write. I think we sometimes look at things but don't really notice it.

"The Password Is Yes" is a very erotic poem but it also makes a sort of commentary about sex.

My boxing trainer used to say, 'Guys say they want the salad, but they're eating a bunch of salad dressing. You got the right answer for everything wrong.' Sex never constitute a means.

You have several haikus in the book, such as "Unlady Like"and "Back Pain" which are short but clever.

[The former] was about a lesbian. 'The girl I like is very unlady like.' I was just trying to find a way to be ironic. ["In "Back Pain,"] I used to work at a barbershop and I noticed a lot of elderly men who wore shoes with Velcro straps, so I wrote that poem.

You spend 8-hour days on the subway reciting your poetry and selling you book. What goes into your daily routine?

I get on the train 8:30 in the morning. I like the rush hour because they are awake in the car. People always look at me weird. 'Who is this guy? What's he got? Another bum with a scheme or something?' When I'm on the train I ain't trying to be disrespectful.
Every now and then, when I have the crowd's attention, I'll recite a poem. I know the whole book from verse to verse. Sometimes I mix them up. They take about 2-3 minutes to finish.

Do you take requests from the commuters?

If someone asks me to do a love poem I'll do one. All it takes is one person to change the mood swing of the whole subway car. If one person is in a bad mood, then everybody is in a bad mood. But the minute someone asks me to recite a poem, the mood changes and everybody wants to hear it. It's funny like that.

What is the typical crowd reaction to your poetry and salesmanship?

I scare them sometimes (laughs). I've seen people cover their faces and ears. I can't please everybody. Sometimes they'll applaud. Once in a while, I have the whole A train in the palm of my hand. They follow my every word. That's the main thing I get out of being on the train-to see the response of what's gonna happen.

You said that poetry is hard to sell. Is it discouraging sometimes?

I realize if I go outside with a bad frame of mind I don't make any money. That's why I go out in a good mood every day. I've been on the 4 train and people had told me to shut up. One lady yelled, 'Give me a break!' I don't care because I know what I am saying has valid points.

But there had also been rewarding moments, whether you sell a book or not. Some will try to give you money. And when they do buy a book, you personally autograph it for them.

Once in a while someone will attempt to and I politely say, 'No thank you.' Or if someone says, 'Take this, that's all I have. You deserve it.' Then I give him or her a book because it's the thought that counts. I really appreciate it when people look at the book and say that they can't get it right now.

I like signing my books because I really believe in myself. I think my book is going to be worth a lot of money someday. I feel that personalizing my book is important to me.

You have spoken at places such as high schools, universities and prisons. What do you want to impart on young people when they hear your words?

All I'm trying to tell people is that you got to be responsible for your own actions and stop waiting for things to come to you.

Being here in New York City unleashes your creative side, doesn't it?

I think in New York you see everything. It's a lot of different cultures. They call it a melting pot, and you see it first hand. I like to get out there and meet everybody because you see so many nationalities. Some people who live in New York take the city for granted. They just sit back. You see guys who live in the neighborhood and never leave. You leave and go to work, and come back and they are still there. There is so much to see in New York and tourists prove that everyday.

You have been doing this for two years now. What still keeps you motivated?

I get out there and give it my best. It's about the art. What would this world be without art?

What is your ultimate goal?

Winning a Pulitzer Prize one day.

 

 c. 2005 The writings and ideas in this magazine, as well as NewBeats and NewBeats.com, are the sole absolute properties of David Chiu and NewBeats .com. Use of any of the material from and reference to the magazine and website is strictly prohibited without expressed written permission from the publisher.