Major snaps to this poem. Kia does a great job at articulating an experience that many young educated black youth experience throughout their academic career. Her experience is pretty similar to what I experienced as a young black female growing up in inner city Queens, NY. I can’t tell you how many times I was called an Oreo or being told that I was trying to be White. I guess if trying to be anything other than ignorant is White, I’m rich vanilla. When did it be come a fad to be sound uneducated? Don’t get me wrong, I do believe that there is a certain dialect that excludes certain audiences because not everyone has exposure to such language, but that doesn’t mean that one should take pride in decreasing your ability to communicate? My ancestors risked too much to give me the opportunity to sit in a classroom and learn, I dare not disrespect what they gave me by engaging back to uneducated dialogue.
Have a similar experience? Please share below!
T’is the night before the the official start of the National Poetry Slam 2011. Not a creature was sleeping, not even the poets. Tonight, Middle East, was rocking until well after midnight. Tonight, one of Cambridge ‘s most popular hub for music, food, and Boston culture was host to Bee-Cool Poetry/Music Mashup . I happened to head over to the Middle East around 8:30 last night to get a lil sampling of local and national talent. I got more than I bargained for and then some. Since it was free to get in, I was more than thrilled about the experience already. But then… there were poets. Junior performers whose hands still shook and the long timers whose voices bellowed through the crowd and commanded attention. There were singers and rappers and those who love to support them. Mosaic played too! They peppered the poets powerful prose with complimentary notes. With standing room only for much of the night you could have mistaken it for a semi-final. Working my way up through the crowd took some time, but eventually I was directly in front of the brave folks who let their voices be heard.
I was so hyped I quickly forgot the plans I’d made of “heading home early since I have work tomorrow.” Hours after ‘early’ and I’m still up after 1:30 because I couldn’t drag myself away to cuddle up warm in my bed while the poets “spit hot fiyah” haha. I couldn’t resist sharing some of tonight’s energy with you. While I didn’t record any of the poets I did note one that I enjoyed.
Please meet, Regie Gibson.
So ready and inspired for the competition this week!
“Ships with guns, filled with men with swords so filled with the love of the lord that they do whatever necessary for their position. “
As a little compliment to the last post I wanted to share these videos.
“Hip-Hop does not wear diamond earrings. Diamond earrings that were mined by African children of war.”
“How I miss the days when hip-hop was fun, how I miss the days when hip-hop was fun, how I miss the days when hip-hop was one.”
“The truth is obsolete. Only two positions:Victimizer or Victim. Both end up in destruction trusting this crooked system. “
Listen to the words of this wise woman.
“CREATE A REAL REVOLUTION WHEN NO ONE’S LOOKING SO THEY WILL NEVER SEE US COMING!”
“We live in a beautiful world but ugly souls push the buttons.”
Check out this month’s new featured artist, Rosebaby. Her spoken word is rather powerful as it addresses the aftermath of the earthquake in Haiti. Her poem is rather timely considering the multitude of natural disasters occurring around the world. I can’t imagine how many people are suffering in the same ways Rosebaby portrays in her poetry. My thoughts go out to all those who are suffering.
It might not be your community but if you understand the essence of graffiti art, you should probably support by at least signing the petition. The great thing about 5 Pointz is that it brings people of varying skills and walks of life. The great concept of the space is that pieces are constantly rotating. The images located in less visible areas rotate on a more regular basis since that space is usually reserved for beginner artists while more visible areas are given to more experienced artists. Artists usually request space by contacting the curator and providing examples of their work and sketches. Unfortunately, they aren’t accepting new submissions for this season until final conclusions are made about the ground it sits upon.
I respect these creative persons and the consciousness they are hoping to bring through consciousness. Check out their piece, Rebel Spotlight on Lyrical Genius Will “Da Real One” Bell.
When I found out Gil Scott-Heron passed away I thought, “I should write a blog post about it!” After scrolling through the multitude of other bloggers who were paying their dues to him I realized everyone and their mom was probably going to write their few lines in respects for this great orator. Nevertheless, I’ve got to climb up on my soap box and at least say a thing or two. I’d feel completely disrespectful if I didn’t acknowledge Gil Scott – Heron and his poetry.
I only recently discovered Mr. Scott and his poetry sitting on my roommates shelf in a book called Now and Then a few month ago. I’d been wanting to increase my working knowledge of poetry for a while, but hadn’t found enough motivation to do so until I flipped through a few pages of the book. I found poetry I enjoyed, poetry written for those who enjoy spoken word. I didn’t look too much into his story until after I heard of his passing. Little had I known that he was also the poet who inspired my reinterpretation of “The Revolution Will Not Be Televised.”
He built much of the hip-hop foundation we hear sampled in current music. Some of his messages are relevant even to this day. One of my favorites, Space Shuttle, happens to talk about the space program (the final trip for the space shuttle Endeavour was today), war, natural disasters, and the state of the nation and the world.
I’ll leave you to chew on one verse of this poem as I pay my respects…
“Tornados and hurricanes,
dead rivers and Acid Rain,
volcanoes ages dead
suddenly just get up and lose their heads.
and tidal waves come down from an angry moon.
It’s earthquaking all the Goddamn time
and the only common denominator we can find…
Space Shuttle / raising hell down on the ground!
Space Shuttle/turning the seasons upside down.
Space Shuttle/and all the hungry people know
all change sho’ ’nuff ain’t progress when you’re poor.
No matter what man goes looking for
he always seems to find a war.
As soon as dreams of peace are felt
the war is raging somewhere else.”
Much respect, R.I.P. Gil Scott-Heron
Ode to the poets! Gemineye is one of my favorite spoken word poets. Genius! Check out his poem, Poetic Bloodiness
Quote Posted on Updated on
”Don’t stop hustling, just change your hustle.” His message about the street hustle being a form economics is dope. He’s encouraging the corner hustlers to put their economic knowledge of the streets towards something that’s going to bring them more than temporary value.
Rhythmic and purposeful, intense and intentional
Mindless movements of sound induced convulsions in response to calls from the base
Intimate vertical experiences between souls
Freak lightening between brain cavities
It digs you
Skittles have never been more revelant
Cause you and I taste the like the rainbow
~ KH & JD
Hair tussled softly
Incomplete facial hair
Dedicated five long minutes
To hear my vocal chords rattle against his ear drum
300 of his precious seconds dedicated to my cause
I’d like to steal a little of your not so “free” time
Kind, empathetic eyes directed towards my being
Presses the small paper into a miniscule square
Places the incomplete form into his pocket
When there is no paper left,
How will I save my stories?
When there is no ink left,
How will I translate my minds eye?
When there is no mike to listen,
How will I share my voice?
When there is no platform,
How will I guide my people?
When there is no you,
Where will I be?
When there is no land,
Where will my legacy live?
When there is no voice,
How will I know of your existence?
When I can no longer feel that heart beat upon the underside of my chest,
How will I feel for you?