KURT PELOQUIN
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Dear Daughter, A Poem for Willow Grace by Kurt Peloquin

5/3/2019

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To say that this was a labor of love would be the understatement of my life. My wife Katie and I are so delighted to share that our first daughter Willow Grace Peloquin was born at 1am Sunday April 28th, 2019.

“Dear Daughter” is a poem we created while she was in the womb as a gift to welcome her into the world. It's about preparing for one the greatest unknowns we've ever come up against. How to find hope amidst the fear and ready ourselves to become more than we were. It's a little over 4 mins. We hope you enjoy it and, if you do, please do comment and pass it along. 
Special thanks to the following people for making this video happen:

Ted Maniatakos for filming and editing the project at our home in Bushwick, Brooklyn.
Greg Tiefenbrunun and Andy Green at Duotone Audio for sound design and mix.
Andrew Pandolfino at Nice Shoes for the color correct.
Helios / Keith Kenniff for the music.
Dan Burt for music supervision

And our famous feline Betty, for being such a good sport on the shoot.

They say the future is feminine and we agree.  Grateful to have WIllow Grace here to help lead the charge.

​Love,
Kurt
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We Are Creativity || Spoken Word

7/6/2018

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"Sel Fish" || Spoken Word at Bowery Poetry Club

1/8/2017

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Remember, to Remember...

9/8/2016

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We're Diamonds...They Can't Break Us

8/19/2016

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'From this hour I ordain myself loos'd of limits and imaginary lines...' - W. Whitman.

I have drifted to the temple of sublime where senoritas dine on cotton candy vines. There in the shadows of our grandparent's shrines, a folded blanket reminds us to set down our guards, trade our cards with the stars, and make medicine of our scars. Where there becomes then and when becomes here, we're diamonds my dear...they can't break us.
​​

-Kurt Peloquin
​
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In the white wash of Gaviota Bay

4/28/2016

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e- Day seven, Hobson Bay, California -

​Sipping hot coffee, I cannot help but admire the golden glimmering waves reflecting in the window of our campervan, just beyond the jagged grey boulders protecting us from the rising Pacific.  Seated on silver steel beneath the cries of a California Gull, a nesting Night Heron and, as always, our trusty Raven, I replay the phantom work assignments and plots of racial injustice that kept me hot in my sleep; Worn weary from a week on the road and a lifetime of beauty.  

Finished The Road just yesterday with Sal Paradise in the white wash of Gaviota Bay.  There beneath the rusted red rails and beyond the tar ridden sand, beside cascades of yellow iridescent metamorphic rock, with the gliding wings of vultures four feet wide, the cool green waves rolled over my thighs and I said goodbye to Dean Moriarty and hello to Neil Cassidy, Will Burroughs, Allen Ginsburg, Henry Miller, all by the way of my spirit animal Patti Smith.  

We found Solvang's broken wind harp and 20 minutes of silence along Jesus' death march, beholding the rolling vineyards of their mission, and forgave our wandering ways beside a slow dancing cactus and the angry roots of a wild cyprus.  

We made stop motion films with our GPS and took winding 101 through Santa Barbara's fertile breast, where we made lives of running moms and power brokers, before we grabbed a pound of sirloin and met our faithful road.  

Digging for soft gold along Juan Bautista De Anza's path, where he once led 30 families 1,210 miles from Tubae Precidio to San Francisco 1,240 years ago.  There and then, his soldiers went astray and incited the Yuma and Mojave spirits; Men and families who rose up and burnt Anza's missions and pueblos, killing 103 soldiers and 80 more, mostly women and children, and closed Anza's pass for 44 years.  But Anza's sails persevered and built their home among the eleven blue green rolling hills, along the opposing estuary of our Manifest Destiny.  

We are flower children hugging bone trees, worshiping copper beetles along our dream walk.  Drinking water from droughted land and sweeping sand from our beachside van.  A wandering poet and watercolor princess, pouring whisky and fire in Hobson's purple night; Playing two note songs in the mountain's starlit silhouette.  

​We have finally arrived, to leave again, at last...

​

via GIPHY


via GIPHY

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Rhythm in Peace Prince Rogers Nelson

4/21/2016

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Young Poet

2/29/2016

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To the young poet who once willed the weather warm
    Then burnt his tail sailing a New York City storm

Mothers proud eyes and fathers bad back
    Gripping heart, pulse, contract

Mindful-mystic, hieroglyphic-misfit
    Dawn of too many tomorrows

Become the efforting sun, son, sum
    Courting the drifting spirits
    Gasping for honest lyrics

Allowing the needlepoint blood flow
    To drop, spin, and soul glow
​ ​   Hop, skip, and hopeful
​ ​   Born, fed, and grateful

Gong swipe for the faithful
​    Tasting the salt water
    Embrace the passing rain
​  ​
Upon the faded trail marker
​    To will the weather again














​


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The Ball at The Center of Now

2/19/2016

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I am...

2/2/2016

 
"Who's a poet anyway?"
Says my inner critic everyday.  

"I am"
Says my scared, scarred, sacred heart.

Who dances, dreams, and believes in the gift in all things?
Says the rolling river of righteous rhythm inside my being.

"I do"
Says my wise, worthy, warrior heart.

Still, I am afraid of being those things and fully opening up to "you"  
- The illusion of my audience.

If I trace this fear back to it's seed, I find it exists because I am so grateful and in love with the gift of creativity - that force of life inside each of us that manifests in our own unique ways - and I'm afraid it will lead me to rejection - as it did at an early and impressionable age.  

Secretly, I want my work to inspire yours, because your work inspires mine.  

I want my work to be honest, raw, and perfect.  

And there, among these wants, lives the land mines of my mind - triggering the pressured emotions that constrain my motion; restrain my words and my actions; and inhibit my loving presence with right here and right now.

This labyrinth of longing to be who we are - freely, forcefully, and fluidly - collects a duty on our most valuable resource: time.

So, my friend, are you hiding your light like me?  

If so, then how?  

Perhaps by pouring another drink, scrolling another screen, or searching for another thing?  

It's OK, forgive these habitual rings and try tracing your "why" back to the seed of your heart's needs - to say the silly things, to show us the dark places, stand on the stark stages, and sing us your songs of healing.   

I am a poet, a singer, a dancer, a dreamer, a joker, a husband, a brother, a son, a friend, a child, an artist, and a man.

I am...  















St. John's Hands (song lyrics)

1/29/2016

 
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I heard your silence through the hills
Beyond the violence of my will
I tried to hide from you 
But lied to you still

Said I'm better off alone
Found your letter in my home
Returned to sender like this poem
How do you feel?

I see you here
Inside my fear
Where the darkness dances
Dangerously Dear

I see your eyes
Calling me to hear
That echoing stillness
That brought us here


When I tasted turning fate
I built a stone wall with no gate
Still I found you waiting in the garden
Pouring water on my seeds

Did I tell you all my needs
What did it take you to believe
And break the shell upon my greed
I can see the currents that you breathe

I see you here
Inside my fear
Where the darkness dances
Dangerously Dear

I see your eyes
Calling me to hear
That echoing stillness

That brought us here

Into the fire fleeting light
Upon the salty sands of St. John's hands
Caught the poison bite beyond my sight
Drifted winter into glisten moonlight

Golden water carried harbor dreams
Where drunken teachers told of hollow Kings
We played paper drums on sweet stolen air
& I kissed your hidden stone inside my prayer


I see you here
Inside my fear
Where the darkness dances
Dangerously Dear

I see your eyes
Calling me to hear
That echoing stillness

That brought us here




​



I am your love

1/21/2016

 
When do you need my love?
My permission
My listening
My kiss
My absence
My gifts?

When do I need your love?
Your allowance
Your understanding
Your contention
Your heat
Your heart?

Whenever the sun flares molten light
Whenever the sky sees the earth
Whenever death is met with new life
And the wind dances on the hills

Meet me in the shadows of my sleep
On the sculpted slate of every street
In the crowded trains and generous rain

Feed me in the rich darkness behind my eyes
Upon the horizion of my tears
And in the hollow moonlit mountains of time

I will find you in the shadows of my fear and remember that I am yours and you are mine
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Garden Rain

1/17/2016

 
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Lightly stained rope
Met the first snow
As we held our breath
And forgot time

The namesake of duty and faith
A father's shelter
Wilted protector in the wise garden

A son
A daughter
A son 

Rusted harrow entwined
In English ivy
And years of forgotten rain



​


​


Vestige

1/15/2016

 
I've seen the stark naked smiles of friendly strangers
Fighting with the fleeting days
Asking for permission to build their early graves
Draped in the careful clothing of modern slaves
Holding eternity behind their breast pocket

Locked in the light
Out of sight for years and more
Through tears and memories
Of mountains and beaches
Children playing and all the brutal loss


The glimmers have appeared
In their intoxicating imaginations
Imbibed creation has danced in their fire 
Part by part telling the sum of one

Undone with each word that runs
Each tale begins is borrowed
Grasping the hollow pleasant
Missing the holy present

All the while I sit distant
Resistant to the pull of their ways
Their gaze and the allure 

Until 'their' tears into 'mine'
And my enshrined lies dissolve
And I am reminded of my own end

Of my wasted washing machine
Building a gilded podium only to look down
Holding a found crown through the curtain of an old town

Then a voice begun

Surrender son your time has come
Set true the glue
Walk miles barefoot and bruised

Staring into the earth star
Until your blindness begins
And suddenly all of them I ever saw
I finally see within


Behold the gameful glimmer
Shiver me timber
Let the stories fall
Of wall and wall between the other
Of wall between us all

Fill my chest with your breath
Fill my truth with your confess
Fill my heart with your regrets
And together let us build what's next
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Turn at the End (Song Lyrics)

1/12/2016

 
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I woke up beside heavens gate
Found my bride and buried my hate
Tried to reason still

My hands aren't ready
To carry you through the pain

And the rain, the rain

So give me all you are my child
I’m ready for your dreams
A promise land will find you
I know how hard it is to sleep

Oh, I gave you all my stories
But kept them from feeling their truth
Now I'm ready to follow you
Yes, I promise, heres what I’ll do

I’ll build a home by the river
Take down all of your fears

I’ll build a home with fire 
Yeah, you get what you give


I’ll be home in the garden tending to the leaves
Of our fearless creations
Of all we believe


Oh I threw it away
Oh i threw it to be
I know just why we're lonesome
I can feel the things we need


We were caught in the hour of our fearless fraud
Now we know just why hurting, can take so much of who we are
Oh I gave you freedom, but didn’t take it in return
And I know now, we're in it for the work

So give me all you are my child
I’m ready for your dreams
A promise land will find us
I'll be with you while you sleep
​
I woke up beside heavens gate

Found my bride and buried my hate

​

​




Walk-in Closet

12/19/2015

 
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I am the light in the closet
Frayed wires and dusty lense
Cotton cobwebs and ancient secrets


One window with broken glass 
Patched silver gaff tape and paint the color of buttery atlantic oysters
Thick carpet of frothy lake water
Home to the dandy drapery of my darling wife

She is the the light in the closet
Sturdy iron pipes hinged on hard oak 
Haphazard screws and nails secure and unsure
Daylight shadows and cat hair 

Clothing pins with pink and white toppers
Fur family coat and a chair from Ikea I use to gather our suitcases

Light embroidered dresses and silk head scarves
Quiet tears and reveling solitude


We are the light in the closet
Beaconing our hidden desires 
Heavy old door almost closed

With open silk collars ready for dance
And boxes with almost used sewing machine and a cat box clean
Delicate and dormant fire 

​Awaiting our spark

​

Angel Eyes (Song Lyrics)

12/18/2015

 
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Blinded by belonging
Nearly lost my soul

Off to the races
Of another show


One last thing
Before the road

A kiss on the lips
And a bag of gold


Signs on the surface
Sent from the past

Call it religion
This too shall pass


Father the faithful
Mother the grateful
Brother and sister

Where is my path?

Angel eyes, set me free
Angel eyes, let me see

The Beauty before the gilded doors we keep

Seek all the shelter
Fight with the weather

Find all the places
On this land


Death and the danger
Of a steady path

Making my future
With each laugh and cry


Angel eyes, wait for me
Angel eyes, let me see
The Beauty before the gilded doors we keep


Yes forgive the hurt
For what its worth

We have each other 
And I understand


That time and again 
I can pretend

To be someone
Who's not afraid


While deep in my heart
Black as the dark

There is a fear
That I am lost


Then theres where you are
Under the scars

Begging to be
My only voice


Angel Eyes, now I see
Angel Eyes, alive in me


Hiding your fear
Won’t let you be free


​Hiding your fear
Won’t let you see


​The Beauty before
The gilded doors we keep



An Open Letter to our Wounded World

12/4/2015

 
To friends far and wide,

I'm writing this with a heavy heart, conflicted because I have so much to celebrate in my life, and yet I feel the pain of the world as tragedy after tragedy stream through every screen I see and every story I hear. It appears to me that each story is connected and I had a thought last night that seems worth sharing.

​We've all heard the phrase "its not guns that kill people, it's people that kill people." So, I wonder, what drives people to kill people, be it with guns or bombs, and is anyone interested in talking about that?
About the hatred, anger, and fear that these killers inherit, learn, and live with. About the tortures they must have suffered in their lives (for generations) and, on a very deep level, about all the ways they must have missed out on feeling loved and that they were enough.

I agree that we need stronger gun legislation, that those who take innocent lives (be it civilians or police) should face strict sentences, and that terrorism should be defended against (be it by foreign forces or domestic); yet I cannot help but see these measures as solutions for symptoms. Symptoms of root causes that go much deeper into the lives of every living person. Root causes like all the ways that we suffer, feeling alone and afraid, holding onto our fear and anger until it bursts. How can we address these root issues in our own lives, between each other, and in our communities?

It is so easy to give into fear, but I believe that what we, and the world, need now more than ever is Love. Look to the victims of these tragedies and their families. There is not hatred in their eyes or in their words. They have connected to the fragility of life and the resilient energy of love and hope. It is there where I feel we must return. With that in mind, I humbly offer this advice: Give freely of your love, your compassion, your listening ear, and your beautiful heart to everyone you see, hear, and feel in this precious life. And, if you are one of the people who feels this suffering, anger, and fear building inside you, please know that you are enough and that there are people willing to listen and show you love. I'm one of them.

​With love,
Kurt

Great People Unite ft. Le Chev, M. Wartella, & Charlie Wan

1/1/2014

 
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Everest featured the creative direction and 13 song score of composer Charlie Wan, set to a fictional story of triumph, co-wrote and directed and by Charlie Wan, Lulu Ward, and myself, Kurt Nelson Peloquin.
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Everest was a massively collaborative, mixed media, multi-sensory experience hosted in Juniper Jones (www.JuniperJones.tv) penthouse studio along the East River in DUMBO, Brooklyn. The original 13 song score was played live for a packed house, and featured guest performances by vocalist Danielle Parente, accompaniment by GHST and GUITARS, with dance by Gregory Dolbashian and Loni Landon of the Playground, live narration by Lulu Ward, with emceeing and program direction by me (Kurt Nelson Peloquin).  With intricate set design by artist May Lin Legoff, 3D video projection mapping by Max Nova and Dawn of Man, sound design by Tomas Del Ray, BTS cinematography by Cameron Michael and Sean Biffar (in-post), lighting by Nic Smith, and production support by Kate Power, Rae Donovan, Scott Parenteau, Katie Calcaterra, Mari Shten, Katia Slottke, Michael Drucker, and Maura Siobhan, this was a true example of the power of uniting great people.

Live in the Grey (Interview)

12/10/2013

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In this series we invite you to meet and learn from thinkers, doers, and believers who find success by actively living in the grey.

What Does Living In The Grey Mean To You?

Life is not black & white
Work & play
Live in the grey means
Live your way.

I had the pleasure of joining Live in the Grey for their June Salon Dinner in NYC.   The dinner was one week after Gallup released their 12 year study, “The State of the American Workplace,” which revealed that 70% of US workers aren’t reaching their fullest potential, and 18% are actively disengaged at their jobs (They’re actually trying, not to try).  That’s not good for business, the economy, and especially the people “phoning it in” 40+ hours a week.   This was, and is, the problem Maneesh, David, and their passionate team, set out to solve with four words: “Live in the Grey.”  As we gathered around the table, I was in awe of all the great people joining in.  Entrepreneurs, journalists, activists, and innovators, all of them artists in their own right, came together to help humanity grow.  I asked myself, “What kind of people dare to have these types of conversations and, more so, actually believe they can make a difference?” Then it hit me: LEADERS DO.  For me, that’s what living in the grey is all about.  Leading your life, not letting life lead you.  And here we are, five months later, still at it, and I think it’s working.

Who Is A Mentor Of Yours And Why?

My Grandfather, Charles Nelson, has always been a great mentor and hero to me.  A retired military man, with some serious chops on the piano, he worked his way up to General Foreman and eventually Deputy Director of Logistics at the Fort Devens, US Army Base, in Massachusetts.  There, he oversaw nearly 3,000 Army reservists, had a private plane, and received The Commanders’ Award, the highest civilian medal the US Army gives out.  He married the woman of his dreams and had two of the most amazing twin daughters a guy could ever ask for (Hi Mom & Aunt Linda!).   He’s lived a full life, got the stories to back it up, and is still going strong.  In fact, he’s on a boat headed toward the Panama Canal as I write this.  He’s helped me at key turning points in my life and career with simple lessons like, “There’s always room for the best” and “Memories are better than dreams.”  He’s a true leader.  Love you Grandpa.

What’s The First Thing You Read In The Morning?

My reading schedule varies, but lately I’ve been checking the Daily Quotes app on my iPhone.  Here’s today’s quote: “Seek the lofty by reading, hearing and seeing great work at some moment every day.” by Thornton Wilder.  Very on point, and a nice segue…

What Are Three Things You Make Sure You Do Everyday?Make music, say thank you, and learn something new.

Do You Have A Motto?

Great people unite.  It’s the name of my company and, more importantly, I think it’s an important idea about the power of collaboration, community, and connection.  Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. once said, “Not everybody can be famous, but everybody can be great, because greatness is determined by service.”

Great people serve.  Great people lead.  Great people unite.

Do You Work Differently Than You Did One Year Ago?

Yes.  Being an artist and an entrepreneur, or being artfully entrepreneurial (think about that for a minute), takes A LOT of practice.  For me, the biggest change has been in recognizing blocks, when my productivity is waning, and switching directions or taking a break to re-charge.

How Do You Ensure Your Intentions Become Actions?

Organize them into projects, begin them with verbs, start with the hard ones first, and cross them off every single day.

What’s The Best Advice You’ve Ever Received?

I’ll have to go back to my Grandfather’s quote, “Memories are better than dreams.”  It confused me at first, because I’m a dedicated dreamer, but then I realized: It’s not that dreams are bad, it’s just that memories are better, because it means that you’ve made your dreams come true.  I love that.

What Advice Do You Have For Others Beginning Their Grey Journey?

I’d offer this quote from Mark Twain: ”Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions.  Small people always do that, but the really great make you feel that you, too, can become great.”

It’s so important to surround yourself with people that support your ambitions and inspire you to grow.  My fiance, Katie Calcaterra, is the best example I have (Hey Love).  She makes great suspenders too: www.MaryJaneLane.com.

Finally, if you’ve read this far, your “Grey Journey” has already begun.  However, a healthy thirst for learning, must be followed by a healthy commitment to action.  What are you working on now? How can you bring your ART to that work?  What is your next great project?  What are the necessary steps you must take to make it real?  Who are the great people that can help?    Close your computer, get up, go for a walk, appreciate the beauty all around you, talk to a stranger in a café, breathe deeply, have a glass of water, and when you’re ready, get back to the work of your life.

“GREY” people unite.

Say hello and stay in touch with Kurt at www.GreatPeopleUnite.com 


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  • Producing
  • POETRY
  • About Me