Tanya Davis: poetry

POETRY

Tanya Davis has been performing as a poet since 2000, shortly after stumbling upon (two of her favorite ) poets (to this day) Shane Koyczan and Kinnie Starr at a cabaret show in Vancouver's vibrant Downtown Eastside. Previous to that summer evening, in an art space by the name of Church of Pointless Hysteria, Tanya had not even known that spoken word poetry existed as an art form. She was floored. She wrote her first piece a few weeks later and, with the prompting of friends, recited it at an open mic on commercial drive. The crowd was receptive and so she wrote more poems. Soon enough, Tanya was being invited to perform at shows around town, quickly building a reputation as a unique and rhythmic poet with a style all her own. While living in Vancouver she performed at countless venues, festivals, and shows, both solo and with a troupe of poets who never really did decide on a name...

In 2005, upon relocating to the East Coast, Tanya continued to grow her profile in the Canadian poetry scene with a 3rd place national finish in CBC's Poetry Faceoff. She made her first record, Make a List, a collection of songs and poems over music she composed and produced herself. This was the emergence of her wordy music, her fusion of poems and songs, poemusic. Alongside her work as a singer-songwriter and musician, Tanya frequently performs as a poet, taking stages at writers festivals (Halifax International Writers Fest, Word on the Street); reciting at conferences, rallies, workshops, and schools; and bringing poetry to unsuspecting music audiences, either in the midst of her musical sets or through collaboration with her peers in both live settings and on recordings (Jenn Grant, Don Brownrigg, Caledonia).

Tanya is currently working on a manuscript for her poetry, as well collaborations in video, sound, and music. She takes commissions on like the best homework project she ever had and can be contacted for poetry projects and performance at tanyadavismusic(at)gmail.com

POEMS

Skills/Bills

My skills don't pay my bills
i am only 28, getting heartburn as of late, my insides must be ill
i've been meaning to get my passport for months now i am a slacker
this sucks my soul out, i am after happiness but just keep finding doubt.
a string broke on my ukelele this morning
and although i wrote a new song first but i fear it might be boring, weak bridge, no chorus
i am a weak link in a chain that makes the world better
i try to make my world better but i am exhausted from the effort
i bought a mower for my grass but i only cut half
i'm shuffling funds from one credit line to another trying to keep the banks off of my back
the people i love most are actually cats

i went to school though, and then i quit school and i am proud
i have a job, it's called poetry and music but my muses must be sick, i talk quiet and cry loud
poems are as vague as air and as necessary
i write them for me and so people might get me
i write them for free like i have to breathe
but i will grow old with no pension
i only hope someone might quote something i once wrote or told, in the opening page of a good book i'd like a mention

my house, like my head, is full of clutter
i have no money but still manage to find some with which to buy almond butter
my needs, apparently are extravagant
there is always beer in the budget
because life is rough and instant gratification adds a soft touch to it
i have a sore throat but still want to smoke drugs
i have a complicated faith that makes me want to take more drugs
i have hate for a system that puts people in prison for using drugs, it's them and us and if i go down for this i'll scream and i'll cuss

amidst this i mean to be productive
i write lists to make things visual, fell constructive
maybe i'm just obsessive
sit with coffee and plan goals i'm not yet pursuing
have a refill, an excuse to keep still, more stewing
i talk of health and wellness and think of things that i'm not doing

but i want love in spite of all this
and back rubs and honest questions and due respect
i want poems to save my life
i want karma to save my poems
i want money to come to me, i want my head to be a happy home

Tanya Davis 2006

Lapsed Catholic (guilt! burdens!)

hello. my name is tanya.
my middle name is marie.
that's after my grandma, she was named maria after the mother of jesus and that's how that middle name got to me, i guess.

i am a lapsed catholic.

i admit this as honest as i did any sin i committed, i admit this to be rid of the burden i did sit with
i left the church quickly (in an instant)
after years of conditioning i was nearly convinced of it
but one christmas eve did me in.
one spliff i shared before church with my friends
(the crisp air on the town's edge),
we stood in a circle and passed around insight disguised as illicit substances.

Ooohh, when some people hear this they're gonna think it as a sin!
Or consider you immoral, a disrespectful kid.

- but i mean no such thing (and i'll live with this).

because guilt is an inconsistent burden and we best choose our battles if we're gonna make it worth it
i will dump guilt readily as cruise ships put their waste into the sea
but i will keep it in the holding tank for these things:
         stealing money from real live people
         lying just to keep the boat still
         hurting someone when i know full well
         ignoring my cat when he needs his food dish filled
         ignoring my lovers' needs to feed my own selfish will
         ignoring my head or body on repeat and making or keeping myself ill

if guilt will bring me any benefits i better make the best of it and get it to move me ahead instead of having me dwell in it
and
i'm not going to feel bad for what i did unless it's well warranted
i don't have a heaven or hell anymore about which to feel tormented
or to influence my choices with – i am a lapsed catholic.
i pray to the god of chocolate.
i'll get my tasks done when i'm good and ready
i'll make mistakes some but won't stay haunted.
i'll be as nice as i can given the circumstance that i'm in and try not to offend anyone in the process.

And, if by chance i do:
i hope that they might take a moment
to take some ownership
over their head and its contents
if it was in fact their judgements that took the offense and
not my actions that caused it.
i want to lay my guilt down to rest
i want to take these burdens from my shoulders where they rest:
the pressure to be good enough,
the push to achieve
the need to please
the guilt that i don't need to feel.

Tanya Davis 2007

Chocolate

My mother says it's not a problem
this addiction to chocolate
at least i'm not an alcoholic
well, chocoholism is my business to deal with
and no, it's not fermented
but it is still a condition

i know i got myself in a position here
when it's almost midnight and i can't find any of it anywhere
and i'm willing to get on my bike
and ride
to the store downtown
with its 24 hour selection on the shelf
how it holds my affection when i hold it in my mouth
releasing seretonin, phenythalamine all get out

and every last piece i guarantee myself to cease this
this weakness that surrounds me
but, i'm still eating it
swallow it down until i've gone another round
and then look around
there's only empty wrappers to be found

next time, ya, next time i'll turn it down

but then next time fades the very next day
and i find myself ripping through the wrapper again
a different kind, another name, it doesn't matter, it's all the same

i remember when it was a wunderbar a day
back in residence, studying, indulging in this way
peanut butter and chocolate all wrapped up together, why that IS a wonderful idea,
i have to say
but it goes back way before this
like, in grade ten, i had to have it daily, a chocolate-for-breakfast fix
i did inhale it
all twelve squares, so quickly and monotonous
it was so milky and phenomenal

oh, those were the good mornings
first class, head rush, wired by it
as a hundred grams of chocolate went pouring from my stomach to my capillaries
through my bloodstream, to my brain
and if i felt so inspired by it – i went back and got another one
i knew where the vending machine was

you see, chocolate was my saviour
broken heart? No problem, i've got these mini eggs here, whole bag of them (they were always a favorite of mine)
all different colours and just the right size
pop 'em in with rhythm and then realize
they were all gone
only then did i ever stop to think on what just happened
there i go, try to mend my aching emotions with a sugar rush of seretonin
but,
it does work
at least for the time being
although, i must admit, i do remember sneaking too many pieces than my share
if it were ever set out to share, thinking
no one would notice, no one would care

i guess i didn't really stop to note that there are other chocoholics out there

where did it begin for you?
We'll share our stories in the sobriety of my living room
carob chips and juice to get us through
a meeting of too many memories and
what's your favorite kind? It's okay, we're all here together
we'll pull each other through this time

well, i prefer, well, i don't know, what do you mean, you want names or something?
Just tell us how you feel
okay, i will...

if i had to get my fill up on any one kind i could probably not decide what kind to fill up on, i
have been in love with many a name brand
a flavour, a texture, a melt in your mouth, not in your hand
i have ravished hershey
cadbury has proven worthy
i used to dig rowntree now they have changed their name to nestle and i am not as interested
nevertheless,
i used to dig a coffee crisp at the beginning of a flick
feed my need for caffeine and then finish it
before the title even came on screen
truly, i used to dream of it
and wake up thinking of it
and i still do, believe me, but sometimes i think i consume too much of it
although sometimes not enough of it
like those nights when you just split up with
the current love in your life and it's tough
and you can't stop crying
and the convenience store is really near by
and those family size ones would sure do the trick
the truth is i'd just sit outside
until i finished it
and buy another one for the walk home
and then crawl into bed alone
just me and my stomachache
try and concentrate
think about what went wrong
but i just can 't concentrate for long
with all the sugar i just ate
that's the downfall so i guess it's just best if it get moving on
get myself a healthy habit, like fresh fruit or an exercise ball
but i doubt that'll happen
so i guess it's just best if i don't brood on this too long
all this talkin' about chocolate has got me in the mood for some, after all

Chicken and bathtubs

chicken factory smoke rolls
rises and then hangs there
my friend said
once he saw a chicken standing on the corner
outside the fences
having escaped
and so he
my friend
took it home and put it in the bathtub
and his roomate was not happy in the morning
because people take showers
and they don't like chickens to be in their bathtubs

Press fold press

she used to iron the tea towels, too
press fold press fold press
and make stacks,
on the kitchen counter where she left her water glass
and i would take my pile
- while it was still warm, hot off the board -
and hold it to my chest.
And i never even thanked her
for caring for my clothes like that

The salt of the sea

Watch ship movies to see the people die
fall into the ocean
having had no sex for months before.
Sailors ate meals i would not think to cook,
tied knots stronger than marriage,
burnt their hands off,
to heal them later with the salt of the sea

To do

remember things
first
write them down
neatly
organize your scatter
make lists to make yourself
feel better
punctuation helps
crossing out
is key
means you've completed something
else
you've just moved on
well,
at least it made it on the list

The neatness that i crave

You keep your room so clean
i wish i was an article on your floor
and you would put me away
your perfect hands
and i would always have a place to go
your house
the neatness that i crave
and you

Made in Canada (as commissioned by the CBC)

The highway is a birth place for change
when you're twenty-something and your head is hungry
for more experience than that which represents your age
i was one of those young ones
who stuck out my thumb once
and moved away

the highway is a growing place
it is a starting gate
and there were stars for gazing
and the stars were amazing
tentside
in a field behind
a gas station

when i was twenty in northern Ontario i felt like a brand new Canadian.

he highway is a road that was paved way back when
a concrete river running through our country
i took buses down its tributaries and also i hitchhiked them
before all this i attempted university
mostly just for a reason to move from home to a new city
then i switched schools and degrees
mostly an excuse just to move again

if someone later asked me
what i was doing exactly
perhaps i would have said 'just being a Canadian'

people ask questions like 'where do you come from, and where did you grow up and where is your mom from?'
we ask this because it shapes us and
the places we have lived in the past is a bit of what makes us
so i give my lengthy story
which includes five cities, both oceans, some time in the middle and some coast to coast touring
it includes a little stop in Capuskasing while i planted trees
a trip to the Yukon to see summer solstice from a mountain so steep i had to climb it on my knees

i grew up on the west after i grew up on the highway after i grew up on the east

people speak of travelling in other nations and across big seas
and the experiences these trips gave them
how it changed their perspective on things
how it opened their eyes and affected their character
and they come home with fresh insights and strange narratives

i hold out my hands that have never held a passport
they show me their stamps, i show them the hats i bought
at thrift stores in the towns i stopped

they went across the globe, but i went across the nation
eighteen times in four years, taking five different methods of transportation

first, and most memorable, the slow and steady thumb
with a good friend and a full backpack, words of caution from our dads and moms
the towns we stopped in depended on the cars we got in
and where they dropped us and how far the walk was
to the off ramp or the hostel
and how much coin was in our pockets
and how much rain was in the clouds
and how tired were our feet should we keep going or stop to eat, have ourselves a sink shower.

we stayed in random towns, arriving at odd hours
we put our tents up and our packs down
i kept my head up to see sights i had not seen before
my ears were open to new sounds
i hitchhiked my way across Canada so i could tread new ground

people ask why; i say 'because'
so i could see my first mountains through a strangers car window and think, in fact, those must be clouds
so i could climb a rockface
on the side of a highway
and start crying when i was unable to climb back down
so i could have coffee in Winnipeg
and mushrooms in Kelowna
long rides with lonely truckers so they could tell me stories over and over

so i could see a country that wasn't in any of the commercials.

years later i took a bus
In between these two trips I took cars and planes, even a motorcycle once with a true love
again and again, i crossed this country
with stops here and there
i moved through the drama of the early twenties
all that self discovery
influenced by the prairie wind and the west coast air

i am who i am
made by all that came before this
sights from the side of the highway and my life in different cities i've lived
some day i will get a passport and go beyond this country's borders
even then i would urge anyone to travel still it's furthest corners
take a car west or a bus north
like a true Canadian
explore the gradient
of the landscape and terrain of it
if i was made from this
i give my thanks for it
since i am made a bit from the places i've been
i am grateful for the Canada i've seen
the mark it left on me.

Keep it on my fridge (from the album Make a List)

I could stretch more, complain less
be more dependable and stress less
i could confess my love to all the ones i've always wanted to
tell them what i'm thinking if they ever ask, be honest to myself
let my hard feelings pass
if the people that i love don't pass my feelings back

i could become that person who always looks serene
the traffic doesn't bother me and neither do the bees
i could do more favours
help more old ladies cross the street
savour my chocolate and behave more neighborly
i could do lots of things

engage strangers in conversations make more offerings
donate portions of my wages to poor places that are more worse off than me
i could do all of this and then some
write a list
keep it on my fridge
to keep my attention
but what are my intentions with this
is it about ethics
or having my name mentioned
a frame of reference
to guide my efforts
or a game that i am in
and if i became that magnanimous person, maybe i would win?

Or maybe it's just a means to ease my conscience
make a list and cross things off of it
so that in this messed-up world i could feel content
well, i'd like to think that peace of mind is a selfless goal
but i guess it depends on how you get there, which way you go
and i would like to get there
spend some peaceful time before i get too old
i might be walking in the right direction but often
it's hard to know
am i being too hard on myself or not hard enough at all
do i have enough goals
the right mix of big and small
realistic hopes or idealistic flaws

i don't know all this
it's why i question it i guess
make commitments to improve
lists of goals i should pursue
and then self-reflect
to hold myself in check
and do the best that i could do

Tanya Davis 2006