Showing posts with label spoken word. Show all posts
Showing posts with label spoken word. Show all posts
Wednesday, 26 January 2011
Invasion
that long awaited disdain
which exchanged jealousy for pride
and cast off the unfortunate
persuasion of an anger
discarding the age old tradition
of its foremothers in an attempt
to outdo its betters
had arrived.
the urgency of the current
emergency was lost on it.
purging the florid joy of which
the atmosphere boasted
was its main priority.
interiority is not to be found
therefore in this speech here.
sensing its own inferiority
in its effort to terminate
the bliss and delight in its wake
condensing the serenity
and requesting for support
that long awaited disdain
retreated disturbed by
the probable possibility
of a putrid checkmate stalemate.
soon joined by an
unmistakeable misfortune
who held a rather fair disposition
and equally followed by a
constipated fear
whose countenance was disrupted
disdain felt its own sense
of discerning pleasure
which was in essence
disgusted discontent.
at the front, the derobed, devested
truth soothes the Bestiality
of all sides
into submission.
fury runs around looking
for someone to blame.
problems, real problems were
ignored.
ignorance had prospered.
it was too late to turn back
the flow of despair
tranquillity runs around looking
for someone to blame.
once acclaimed, twice shamed
that long awaited disdain.
by Comfort Fabian Nwabia, a poet, playwright and actress and part of the youth poetry collective Words Apart.
VIDEO COMING SOON!
Tuesday, 25 January 2011
The Power of Words
I took the words. I loaded them. Took aim and FIRED! but there was no sound. I cocked back my pen, fixed the jam, took aim again and fired! but again nothing happened.
The words that were once my private passport to another world seemed empty.
I once commanded the verbs, the nouns, the adjectives, the adverbs like my own private army completely loyal to me and willing to be strategically manipulated at any time - day OR night.
Able to strike fear into an enemy's heart and nourish the soul in the same poem and all that was needed in the middle...was a full stop.
What I thought flowed from the soul, through the heart, took a right at the brain and exploded from my right arm onto the paper.
I didn't write to topic or to please an examiner and I didnt care who liked it! I wrote for ME and if someone happened to like it then the more the merrier.
The ideas of rhyme, form, pentuplets, sonnets were nice but rather like being told to pick certain sweets at a pick and mix...the final taste just wouldn't be what I really wanted.
The concepts that wordsmiths had struggled to define in rigid formats for millennia came easily to me.
Love wasn't love.
Love was a demonstration of compassion that held A beauty so unique that only the beholder could perceive it.
Hate wasn't hate.
Hate was a manifestation of the souls response to its own misgivings - to the moments that felt like a lifetime of torment - to everything wrong in the world.
I was one. Heart, body, mind, soul and pen.
My own musical instrument.
My loudspeaker.
My comfort and my real voice.
The "like"s, "blad"s, "bruv"s and "fam"s of everyday life replaced by words of infinite majesty and terms of blinding greatness all wrapped in a sheet of A4.
And yet here I sit, words on the paper, life displayed in the ink and the death of my poetry seeming evermore fictional.
By
Eddie O'Garro-priddie - poet and part of the Words Apart collective!
The words that were once my private passport to another world seemed empty.
I once commanded the verbs, the nouns, the adjectives, the adverbs like my own private army completely loyal to me and willing to be strategically manipulated at any time - day OR night.
Able to strike fear into an enemy's heart and nourish the soul in the same poem and all that was needed in the middle...was a full stop.
What I thought flowed from the soul, through the heart, took a right at the brain and exploded from my right arm onto the paper.
I didn't write to topic or to please an examiner and I didnt care who liked it! I wrote for ME and if someone happened to like it then the more the merrier.
The ideas of rhyme, form, pentuplets, sonnets were nice but rather like being told to pick certain sweets at a pick and mix...the final taste just wouldn't be what I really wanted.
The concepts that wordsmiths had struggled to define in rigid formats for millennia came easily to me.
Love wasn't love.
Love was a demonstration of compassion that held A beauty so unique that only the beholder could perceive it.
Hate wasn't hate.
Hate was a manifestation of the souls response to its own misgivings - to the moments that felt like a lifetime of torment - to everything wrong in the world.
I was one. Heart, body, mind, soul and pen.
My own musical instrument.
My loudspeaker.
My comfort and my real voice.
The "like"s, "blad"s, "bruv"s and "fam"s of everyday life replaced by words of infinite majesty and terms of blinding greatness all wrapped in a sheet of A4.
And yet here I sit, words on the paper, life displayed in the ink and the death of my poetry seeming evermore fictional.
By
Eddie O'Garro-priddie - poet and part of the Words Apart collective!
Friday, 17 December 2010
My Country
How many lives were lost?
The ground bled red
With innocent blood
Slave masters, governors even king and queens
Orchestrating mass murder in their serene scenes
Imagine a mother,
wife and daughter’s cries of pain and frustration
Over bloody wars fought for the freedom of a nation
But not just on the battlefield politically as well
The appearance of this land epitomises hell
so the urge to progress independently
and become a country that can stand on its own
I speak critically for those who died before me
Their injustice were never told only
Because of an unimaginable tyranny
Trying to take one people’s hope to be free
I can never know
How many lives were lost?
The ground bled red
With innocent blood
I refuse to shun
The unimaginable truth
That whilst innocent people where being slaughtered
It made the wicked more financially supported
National heroes tried to defy this
And some executed in the process:
Samuel Sharpe, George William Gordon and Paul Bogle
All were men born in slavery and are notably noble
Who contributed to its abolishment as a whole
Where their stories and their role will forever be known
Den ova to de wuman, de Obeah wuman known as Nanny,
She herself freed over 800 slaves
her ferocious Maroons, feared by the British for what they displayed
they were untamed lions strong as
whilst Marcus Garvey renown as he fought to outline
The abuse of Africans at the time
Norman Manley and Sir Alexander Bustamente
Involved in the struggle against colonial rule
Fought using their political tools
Took advantage of an empire going downhill
U see dem yout mi a talk bout
Mi av’ nuf respect fi dem cause
fe dem role in a de liberation of a country
that belongs to me
I will never know
How many lives were lost?
That turned the ground red
With innocent blood
Can warfare be used to release the oppressed into peace?
This dilemma we discuss on the news and the street
But the truth I believe is not in what we perceive
but in what we do
Like heroes in
By Tajhame 'TJ" Jackson a poet, playwright and actor
Tajhame spent his childhood in Kingston, Jamaica until the age of 9 when he moved to North London. This poem was inspired by Jamaican history and his experiences there.
A clip of TJ performing this poem will appear on the blog soon!
Sunday, 12 December 2010
Hypocrisy
In 1945 the US arrived.
Bombed Hiroshima and Nagasaki,
Killing thousands upon thousands.
Now i fast forward 65 years
Still bloodshed in the political sphere,
By the military volunteer,
Hearing shit through the vestibule of his ear.
Everyone hopeful of peace but we aint nowhere near.
The mission, the repetition, obama deception,
The western Influence and the Eastern resistance.
The Saudi King and Arab word's puppet pittance.
Sucked up by America's New World Order,
With Karzai saying "I'm just protecting my borders",
Bullshit, he is sucking his people dry,
Like the Indus River in the month of July.
All slaves to the bureaucracy, open hell mutiny.
A chance for Taliban to execute their battle plan,
But the War isn't over cos they still curse the city man.
But you notice all this cos of BBC news,
On repetition slowly moulding your views.
2/3 of the world has deterring education,
Constant striving of 3rd world nations,
So the rich can fulfil their gluttony,
They should be locked up for 1st degree felony,
Smart suits but no intelligent policy.
I turn to Mali, world's lowest rate of literacy.
99' they deploy the British Army to Sierra Leone,
Where kids die forever searching the shiny bloodstone,
But that's what's on the hands of America,
Till this day expanding military bases in Africa,
To deter violence and uphold the UN resolution.
But 2003 you invade Iraq, how is that a solution?
You say it was to bring democracy,
Don't feed us that bullshit it's all hypocrisy.
Time travelling but our views may disagree,
for a moment of peace but there's no guarantee.
You may run from honesty but can't hide from the truth i speak.
Open you eyes cos your mind is weak,
So now you see there is more to life than your Prada and Burberry,
I do what Malcolm X said, "By any means necessary",
cos I believe.
Bombed Hiroshima and Nagasaki,
Killing thousands upon thousands.
Now i fast forward 65 years
Still bloodshed in the political sphere,
By the military volunteer,
Hearing shit through the vestibule of his ear.
Everyone hopeful of peace but we aint nowhere near.
The mission, the repetition, obama deception,
The western Influence and the Eastern resistance.
The Saudi King and Arab word's puppet pittance.
Sucked up by America's New World Order,
With Karzai saying "I'm just protecting my borders",
Bullshit, he is sucking his people dry,
Like the Indus River in the month of July.
All slaves to the bureaucracy, open hell mutiny.
A chance for Taliban to execute their battle plan,
But the War isn't over cos they still curse the city man.
But you notice all this cos of BBC news,
On repetition slowly moulding your views.
2/3 of the world has deterring education,
Constant striving of 3rd world nations,
So the rich can fulfil their gluttony,
They should be locked up for 1st degree felony,
Smart suits but no intelligent policy.
I turn to Mali, world's lowest rate of literacy.
99' they deploy the British Army to Sierra Leone,
Where kids die forever searching the shiny bloodstone,
But that's what's on the hands of America,
Till this day expanding military bases in Africa,
To deter violence and uphold the UN resolution.
But 2003 you invade Iraq, how is that a solution?
You say it was to bring democracy,
Don't feed us that bullshit it's all hypocrisy.
Time travelling but our views may disagree,
for a moment of peace but there's no guarantee.
You may run from honesty but can't hide from the truth i speak.
Open you eyes cos your mind is weak,
So now you see there is more to life than your Prada and Burberry,
I do what Malcolm X said, "By any means necessary",
cos I believe.
By Poet, SOAS Law student, part time model, writer, actress, and playwright Azkaa Hassam
Wednesday, 8 December 2010
Act*Sane*But*Outstand (A.S.B.O)
More drink
More smoke
Crack a another joke
Take another toke
All got money
Yet all broke
Paralysed is being a bloke
Making people glad
If you act like a lad
More to decanter
Cause its just banter
Smiles on faces
Looking for new places
On a saturday night
All wanna shine so bright
We need a flashing light
Let us be emotionally
And socially epileptic
Text message talk
Leaves us dyslexic
But do you think we care?
We care
About swagger and hair
And if we walk with flair
Without a doubt we'll glare
At the boys on the estate
With no debate
To show we're hard
Eating reshaped lard
The time is no sign
As we shape another line
Make every crime
Till we feel like grime
Noses bleeding
Condoms needing
To be deseeding
Females are our feeding
Impressing the peers
With fake jewels in ears
Loudest music
Is amusing
Not knowing what drugs we're using
What drink we're boozing
But we're never loosing
With a text
With in for sex
Come and go
Nothing complex
Worship the man behind decks
Next morning blues
Vomit on shoes
Must have a been a good one
Yeh really fun
Throat like sand
No money in hand
Inpregnanted a girl
Which was planned
By she was peng and tanned
So fuck it
Front window shatters
Nothing ever matters
Pockets filled
Of un-billed
Broken joint
But that's the point
Living like dirt
But make it grand
Remember act sane but oustand
Rebel generation
Binged out nation
In need nothing lended
Left broke nothing mended
Russian vodka in throat
Left on the same boat
As all her girls
Who are the best looking in the world
And with another drink
She'll sink
To the floor
And left raw
Tongues behind the door
She wants no one to see
But everyone to know
That for him she went low
And made him a man
For the start that was he plan
Sober she's prudent
An A star student
But she wants to act stupid
So she can exploit cupid
But we just laugh
Love bite hidden by a scarf
Sucked till a cut
Called a sket, hoe and a slut
Her slates been painted and tainted
And she can't wipe it
But deep down she likes it
Party girl
Little miss rave
To be left in a daze
For days
Under her allure and haze
That's the mission
To get boys wishing
And dreaming
To get them flirting
And scheming
Until she starts screaming
And masscara starts to run
But she'll make the boys come
And speak highly
The objective is grimey
To find the stimulant
To get intimate
In for the kill
And she's on the pill
Fumble in the dark
We don't need protection
Fake hair, nails and unreal complexion
Never happy at her reflection
But let the party go on
One night we'll forget where we're from
Dance all night
Till the morning light
Rebel generation
Binged out nation
In need nothing lended
Left broke nothing mended
Its all about the nightlife
No strife
Weekend fun loving
Clit strumming
Girls cumming
Kind of fun
So we can snort and bun
And never repent
To our hearts content
The aim
Is to make our name
And let it ring across the land
Remember we gotta act sane but try and oustand
Seri Kholi also a hip hop artist and emcee by the name of Seri Skay and member of the Poetry collective: 'Words Apart'
Rebel generation
Binged out nation
In need nothing lended
Left broke nothing mended
Russian vodka in throat
Left on the same boat
As all her girls
Who are the best looking in the world
And with another drink
She'll sink
To the floor
And left raw
Tongues behind the door
She wants no one to see
But everyone to know
That for him she went low
And made him a man
For the start that was he plan
Sober she's prudent
An A star student
But she wants to act stupid
So she can exploit cupid
But we just laugh
Love bite hidden by a scarf
Sucked till a cut
Called a sket, hoe and a slut
Her slates been painted and tainted
And she can't wipe it
But deep down she likes it
Party girl
Little miss rave
To be left in a daze
For days
Under her allure and haze
That's the mission
To get boys wishing
And dreaming
To get them flirting
And scheming
Until she starts screaming
And masscara starts to run
But she'll make the boys come
And speak highly
The objective is grimey
To find the stimulant
To get intimate
In for the kill
And she's on the pill
Fumble in the dark
We don't need protection
Fake hair, nails and unreal complexion
Never happy at her reflection
But let the party go on
One night we'll forget where we're from
Dance all night
Till the morning light
Rebel generation
Binged out nation
In need nothing lended
Left broke nothing mended
Its all about the nightlife
No strife
Weekend fun loving
Clit strumming
Girls cumming
Kind of fun
So we can snort and bun
And never repent
To our hearts content
The aim
Is to make our name
And let it ring across the land
Remember we gotta act sane but try and oustand
Seri Kholi also a hip hop artist and emcee by the name of Seri Skay and member of the Poetry collective: 'Words Apart'
Tuesday, 14 September 2010
'Words Apart' Free Poetry Workshops.
Tupac was a
Poet,
Kanye is a
Poet
.
And YOU too can be a Poet.
JOIN
:
WORDS APART
This Monday at Canada Villa be part of
the poetic revolution sweeping across
Be part of a thriving community of poets, exchange ideas, create new work and work towards a performance at The Rumi Festival (
Hosted by The Leano and Urban Poet.
With Guest Poets coming in too!
What to bring: Your mind, a pen and any poetry you may have to perform
What time? Every week, Monday Nights at
Where? The
For more information contact: M.Zain in college or email: mohamedzaind@googlemail.com
Sunday, 15 August 2010
Rebellion I Am
Rebellion, I am.
Executioner of the orders.
Indiscriminately firing my words like fatal bullets,
Puncturing the rims of your authority;
inflicting you with agony.
Hear my gun shots loud and clear,
Let them echo in the caves of your ear.
I carry with me an intense heat
Burning like a fire;
fueling this rebellious desire.
The sparks entice me,
with their luminous glow.
The blaze ignites upon your every attempt of control.
I oppose you with a passion
A passion so dire;
It tenses my muscles,
protrudes my veins,
blurs my sight,
heaves my emotions;
for I am only capable of frustration in the face of hopelessness.
They regard it a loss of sanity-
this rebellion,
rebellion I am.
By the talented photographer and poet Zibz Hilwa
Executioner of the orders.
Indiscriminately firing my words like fatal bullets,
Puncturing the rims of your authority;
inflicting you with agony.
Hear my gun shots loud and clear,
Let them echo in the caves of your ear.
I carry with me an intense heat
Burning like a fire;
fueling this rebellious desire.
The sparks entice me,
with their luminous glow.
The blaze ignites upon your every attempt of control.
I oppose you with a passion
A passion so dire;
It tenses my muscles,
protrudes my veins,
blurs my sight,
heaves my emotions;
for I am only capable of frustration in the face of hopelessness.
They regard it a loss of sanity-
this rebellion,
rebellion I am.
By the talented photographer and poet Zibz Hilwa
Friday, 6 August 2010
Here I stand
Here I stand,
Tall and strong in my occupation
Here I stand,
In the shadow of the strong and tall,
Yet I am stronger
I am deeper,
I am love,
I am no heart of stone,
And, in time
I will sow a thousand doves,
That will spread their wings,
And break this stone oppressor,
From its very foundations,
Do not mistake me,
Simply for a frail old thing,
For I was here before you,
Am here with you,
And shall be here long after you have gone..
Even tho you may try to slay me
My life comes from within,
the very earth under your feet.
Listen
My heart beats freedom.
By DJ Steaz
...................................................................................
'This poem was inspired initially by the photograph, and also the experiences I have had and people I have met throughout my life, combined with my journey and experience in Palestine ...an expression of my feelings and thoughts which manifested in these words..the poem is kind of about the Olive tree..but it's really more profound than that..kind of regarding human perseverance, strength, passion, peace, truth and love' DJ Steaz...
This poem was inspired by the experiences I have had and people I have met throughout my life.
Here is a link for the photographers original work:
http://media.photobucket.com/image/olive_tree_palestine/mainstreet99/bethlehemwall1.jpg?o=1
Tall and strong in my occupation
Here I stand,
In the shadow of the strong and tall,
Yet I am stronger
I am deeper,
I am love,
I am no heart of stone,
And, in time
I will sow a thousand doves,
That will spread their wings,
And break this stone oppressor,
From its very foundations,
Do not mistake me,
Simply for a frail old thing,
For I was here before you,
Am here with you,
And shall be here long after you have gone..
Even tho you may try to slay me
My life comes from within,
the very earth under your feet.
Listen
My heart beats freedom.
By DJ Steaz
...................................................................................
'This poem was inspired initially by the photograph, and also the experiences I have had and people I have met throughout my life, combined with my journey and experience in Palestine ...an expression of my feelings and thoughts which manifested in these words..the poem is kind of about the Olive tree..but it's really more profound than that..kind of regarding human perseverance, strength, passion, peace, truth and love' DJ Steaz...
This poem was inspired by the experiences I have had and people I have met throughout my life.
Here is a link for the photographers original work:
http://media.photobucket.com/image/olive_tree_palestine/mainstreet99/bethlehemwall1.jpg?o=1
Friday, 9 July 2010
2 cents
Our first poet and MC Hypothesis sends us an exclusive poem!
2 Cents
By Hypothesis (Samiul Rahman)
Ready aim fire
Put this through the wire
My words bounce back like I’m preaching to a Choir
An open book spoken word open hook broken nerves
Token look smoking herbs,
Grass is greener on the other side hoping verbs
Don’t take affirmative action
While the full stop period still lacks attraction,
Compound syllabuls blown into fragments
Punctuation situation every time I get too patient
Sickest with the incubation
Premature nouns that sound profound
Pound for pound I’m going ounce for ounce
Levitate it off the ground then I bounce it down
A question for the masses
Every time I capture
Exclamation chapters
Pages of phrases hidden between brackets
Can you comprehend the tenses that I packet
Food for thought no preservatives added
I need to state
Conjunctions that are made
So many send me coal in to trade
The winter for the heat hoodwinked and betrayed
Picture what I see when I put ink on a page
I quote commas like Im bringing grammar to life
Pause for a second then like a hammer it strikes
Nail on the head
Your missions are pointless like brail for the deaf
Slash ale on the breath that you fail to reject
I succeed in proposing, prepositional plurals
Go against the grain like Im living in the rural
Obama brought change not enough for a Euro
Human life beside hyphens subject to Zero
Objective adjectives blood paints a mural
So crystal clear like a conflict diamond possessive hypocrisy
I don’t want to go above heads like apostrophes
Only my two cents
On a train of thought
Flipped across the track to cause the brain to spark
Two cents
Words hit like bullets
A million in the chamber let my brain pull it
Two cents
The word is born
And I will spit it until it hurts and these words are gone
Hypothesis is an MC hailing from New York City, Queens. He is now working with other MC's in London to make his first mixtape
2 Cents
By Hypothesis (Samiul Rahman)
Ready aim fire
Put this through the wire
My words bounce back like I’m preaching to a Choir
An open book spoken word open hook broken nerves
Token look smoking herbs,
Grass is greener on the other side hoping verbs
Don’t take affirmative action
While the full stop period still lacks attraction,
Compound syllabuls blown into fragments
Punctuation situation every time I get too patient
Sickest with the incubation
Premature nouns that sound profound
Pound for pound I’m going ounce for ounce
Levitate it off the ground then I bounce it down
A question for the masses
Every time I capture
Exclamation chapters
Pages of phrases hidden between brackets
Can you comprehend the tenses that I packet
Food for thought no preservatives added
I need to state
Conjunctions that are made
So many send me coal in to trade
The winter for the heat hoodwinked and betrayed
Picture what I see when I put ink on a page
I quote commas like Im bringing grammar to life
Pause for a second then like a hammer it strikes
Nail on the head
Your missions are pointless like brail for the deaf
Slash ale on the breath that you fail to reject
I succeed in proposing, prepositional plurals
Go against the grain like Im living in the rural
Obama brought change not enough for a Euro
Human life beside hyphens subject to Zero
Objective adjectives blood paints a mural
So crystal clear like a conflict diamond possessive hypocrisy
I don’t want to go above heads like apostrophes
Only my two cents
On a train of thought
Flipped across the track to cause the brain to spark
Two cents
Words hit like bullets
A million in the chamber let my brain pull it
Two cents
The word is born
And I will spit it until it hurts and these words are gone
Hypothesis is an MC hailing from New York City, Queens. He is now working with other MC's in London to make his first mixtape
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