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Thursday, May 27, 2010

Wednesday Night Open Mic

The Nuyorican Poets Cafe

Yesterday (Wednesday) I attended one of the biggest venues for poetry/spoken word in NYC - The Nuyorican Poets Cafe (Nuyo) - to attend their Open Mic Slam which occurs every Wednesday minus the first Wednesday of every month. I plan on performing next Wednesday (June 2nd), so I thought I'd go down and scout it out and get a feel for the atmosphere.

Surprisingly (maybe just a little bit) it was a comfortable atmosphere to be in; unlike the Friday Night Slam atmosphere that is just heavy due to the oversized crowd and pre-selected competitors.

The host for Wednesday slams is Jive poetic, who's a dope host and even doper poet, who made the Nuyo extremely comfortable for the poets there, especially the new ones. There were tons of poets who had mix styles and varied topics from hip hop to domestic abuse, being from a foreign country, parenting and finally...."dick balloons" aka condoms.

Some poets seemed like they've been up on stage before due to their awesome delivery via flow, gesture...their all around vibe; they seemed comfortable. Then their were others who were brand new, evidently shown when they forgot their lines and desperately struggled to start from the beginning to remember. Even some veterans stumbled a bit. It's always unexpected and frustrating, but we all go through it.

All in all, everyone there was welcoming, as the spirit of the Nuyo always is. Very encouraging group of supporters even against the tough scoring from the judges.

Time to gear up for the stage.

(I should be working on this poem instead of writing this)


Thinking of a Phone Line

I'm a nice guy
with nice ties. Too quick to tie knots
in relation-ships towards a destination seeming like

(Imagine if she went by...Destiny)

and how false it would be,
to call her by name
to text her, thinking
I'm communicating with fate,
consummating a communion crazed with coined-tossed characteristics

her words dropping like anvils
deconstructs schisms of the surreal
til everything becomes what they are
and one world exists,
devoid of fantasy

Tuesday, May 11, 2010

Take(s) Action

Been sleeping for a while now (on my writing), while falling asleep on schedule every night. It's a problem; a formula is needed.

On the other hand, I've been reading on a consistent basis. Very happy about that. Just started reading Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison...and it's dope (even though I just finished the first chapter). Took me about a whole 2 days to get through his intro and actually UNDERSTAND it. He creates light out of contradiction...being contradictory with a very creative character...see what I'm saying (lol). More to come on this book later...

Currently in the process of recreating habits (reading at home...writing on the move) Good luck to me...

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

I'm Beamin' - Official Video

Dopest ARTIST in the game right now.

I present to you the official video of Lupe Fiasco's "I'm Beamin'". This is the first single off of his upcoming album, Lasers, scheduled to drop later this year. Hope ya'll enjoy this.


Thursday, April 29, 2010

You should be here...

From here on out
my conversations will be tangled
and wet - refusing dryers
for discomfort- til I become

Monday, April 5, 2010

I Just Can't Explain This Shit at All

I will sacrifice myself upon a train of bed bombs,
lie flat
while each tick transforms the formation of my heartbeats
to the pulsating of countdowns. Thinking backwards,
I know this all too well
and most times
I erupt from fear

as if my flesh were an alarm clock -
smelling of chemical concoctions and conditions
cocked like gun shots, shower sprayed explosion.
My body's the exposition of embarrassment
centered positioned off the exquisite,
unbelonging to the collection of these marble
sculptures, and sandstoned statues.

Each stare is reminiscent of Medusa;
and then I kill,
without hesitation-
each neck sliced definitely, sculpted perfectly
in the name of justice
by the waist-side

I do not care for justice.
As it is born, I will die.

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Where the Dust Falls

**There was another post (now deleted) before this that began the discussion about the lack of black writers in bookstores. I renege on that earlier statement, and clarify that those black authors do exist, but at the demise of cliche titles that probably don't even sell significantly more than the desired counterparts.**

Art is art. Music, Painting, Literature and/or even Dancing all receive the same praises or lack thereof; which is why I shouldn't be surprised at the lack of "attractive power" that good, creative, black books seemed to possess. I'd expect it with rap music, because, unlike literature, it doesn't take years of formal practice to produce. So why would any music listener feel entitled to listen to music as loose and ill-refined as rap music (nowadays anyway)?

Literature stands apart from such amateurish labeling, but it's subjected to the same pressures of unconscious prohibition. This prohibition stems from the inability of current publishers to relate and/or commiserate with black, contemporary authors.

It's frustrating to walk into a Borders store, go straight to the African American section, and see mostly "street lit" books on the life of thugs, pimps and overwhelmingly so, sex (yes Zane, you). If anything at all, I believe these "street lit" books have their moment of enlightenment and entertainment, but at what expense can this be proven. Do these books sell so well that they MUST be the face of the black, literary world? I strongly doubt that. And it's not hate.

I'm sure Zane has her pleasures. Her gritty details involved in describing contexts that lead to sexual situations, and then those scenarios themselves. However, lets be a little skeptical. Reading Zane is like watching Grey's Anatomy; seeing the same thing over and over, though contextualized differently. Can we get some more knowledge to compete with an, already, overly stereotypical characteristic of minorities?

Monday, March 22, 2010


solid, orderly
biting, exploiting, degressing
stable, penned, painted, sketched
exploring, unlimiting, wondering
loose, digestable

Monday, January 4, 2010