tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2491216916238174262024-02-19T01:20:46.801-08:00Roundhouse kicks!or, kids?That's good.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04113188676735558257noreply@blogger.comBlogger30125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249121691623817426.post-3436139151962984812012-02-22T04:44:00.000-08:002012-02-22T04:45:44.957-08:00I Am Who You Made MeI am who you made me<br /><br />I taste my grandmothers’ breath in the roof of my mouth<br />smell it on the back of my tongue, <br />unable to get her bitter after taste out of me, <br />she breathes through me, <br />I stroke her kink in my hair, <br />that my mother despised in me <br />because they recognized in me <br />their DNA laced into my flesh combined with me<br /> untamed without direction, <br />I avoid my fathers eyes in the mirror of fury, <br />his reflection <br />stares back at me in my pool of blood <br />and I drink my tears in gallons of starry bruised night skies, <br />I eat his eyes for breakfast <br />hold his dead flesh in my stomach for lunch, <br />drink his poisonous misguided lessons for tea, <br />feast on his regret for dinner <br />by which time I don’t have space for dessert, <br />but greed makes me nibble on his memories, and question what I deserve, <br />and though I eat 3 square meals my hunger for love remains insatiated, <br />I try to let go of my need to be appreciated, <br />but its too late now, <br />I’m too old now, <br />I should be chasing gold now, <br />have a family of my own now, <br />I should stop gnawing on this bone now...<br /><br />Justice LyricThat's good.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04113188676735558257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249121691623817426.post-83277825917108176732012-02-22T04:41:00.000-08:002012-02-22T04:43:09.774-08:00Looking-GlassLooking-Glass<br /><br />Black snakes ripple the surface of murky green waters<br />Thoughts cross faces like chessboard laces<br />Interlaced with alcohol induced memories of fading into blackouts,<br />Backed into alleys leading to the crack-house<br />Casting shadows on souls once made of light<br />Now darkened by cravings for impossibilities <br />Consciousness drifting on infinities <br />Dreams hovering in vacuum timed spaces<br />Hearts race to quickened footsteps taking them to their fates<br />Unable to shift the weight of broken promises<br />The symbolisms of dreams fall on crushed spirits<br />Ageless desires burn unequivocally<br />As dawn breaks lilac to the fleshy pink grapefruit of a re-awakening <br />And the familiar sound of traffic rumbling <br />seeps through to accompany the stumbling<br />Before the harsh light from a bare bulb forces us to acknowledge <br />the reality of what we face in the mirror...<br /><br />Justice LyricThat's good.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04113188676735558257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249121691623817426.post-3280940973716940672010-04-26T06:27:00.000-07:002010-04-26T06:28:57.971-07:00Poetry Is...Poetry Is…<br />Wearing your mother’s clothes because<br />At that age no one defines beauty more than her.<br />It’s the first time you realise parents are just humans<br />And prone to making mistakes.<br />Poetry is loving just for the sake of it.<br />Unrequited love. Only confessed to empty rooms at night.<br />It’s 70’s blaxploitation films. All pomp and swagger.<br />Poetry is placing your hands in a cold stream of tap water<br />When the days heat up because the sun is back from hiatus.<br />It is the string of thoughts in my head<br />Begging to be immortalised on paper.<br />It’s all the poems ever written about what poetry is.<br />What the Oxford English defines it as.<br />Incessant faith in a higher force is poetry.<br />It lies in the crevices of excited conversations<br />Of Black women sharing hair care tips.<br />It is my memories of back home. Blurred and selective.<br />It is a hot shower after a 10 hour shift<br />Spent getting harassed by Essex girls<br />Who wear orange minstrel faces.<br />It’s hating someone and not knowing why.<br />Hip Hop, Jazz and Blues.<br />Poetry is,<br />Being hungry and broke at the same time.<br />Arriving home to find mum has cooked instead of dad.<br />It is how everything I find endearing reminds me of you.<br />Sleeping in your bed. Our arguments.<br />It is kissing someone and enjoying it.<br />A genuine smile that lingers.<br />Poetry lies in a well faked smile.<br />Bingeing on borrowed boxsets of The Wire.<br />Clocking the tag line at the beginning<br />And laughing at the joke because you get it.<br />It is big, warm hugs where you stop smelling<br />Anything but the other person’s scent.<br />Knowing someone is truly your friend.<br />Poetry is crying for hours till you feel happy again.<br />Funerals. The mystery of death.<br />It is eating smuggled food. It tastes better<br />Because it’s seasoned with deceit.<br />It is how the universe sprang into existence.<br />Poetry is,<br />Sleep and the world beyond the conscious mind.<br />Defined by infinity. It lives longer than time.That's good.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04113188676735558257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249121691623817426.post-66465537495363441972010-04-22T13:37:00.000-07:002010-04-22T13:39:21.545-07:00KNACKEREDLunchbreak.<br />He rises from his seat and walks away from his desk<br />heading out the office he avoids the lifts and taks the steps<br />Existing the building turning right<br />All the shops, cafe's, cash machine and pub, are on the left<br /><br />A 5 minute walk to the park he finds a bench.<br />He takes his book Out of his bag and begins to write.<br />When he's not writing he recites.<br />Pacing up and down the perimiter of the park trying to get his words right.<br />He repeats this 5 days a week.<br />Monday to Friday.<br />Day in.<br />Day out.<br /><br />He doesnt think he's better than anyone else.<br />He doesn't thnik he's special.<br />He's got nothing aaginst his collegues.<br />He likes them.<br />he envys them.<br />What he does think,<br />is that he doesnt expect them to undetstand.<br />Is that bad?<br /><br />Not that there's anything wrong in...........<br /><br />You know what?<br /><br />This is bollox.<br /><br />Treading over old ground.<br />Repeatedley.<br />Again,<br />and again.<br /><br />I've been here.<br />Done this before.<br />On the same park bench.<br />2 years ago.<br />A thousand times.<br />Where's it going?<br /><br />Ok.<br />I finally got to meet some really inspireing people.<br />Even made a few moves.<br />I feel like it's pushed me on.<br />A lot.<br />A hell of a lot,<br />and I'm gratefull.<br />Honestly.<br />Now though,<br />after a lot of post work grinding.<br />5 days a week.<br />Day in.<br />Day out.<br />The adrenline's gone.<br />The ideas have gone.<br />The spark has gone.<br />I'm completley knackered.<br /><br />I'm still sitting on the same bench.<br />Writing the same tired self obsessed crap.<br />When I return back to my desk.<br />I know I've got a shit load of stuff to do.<br />I've fallen behind.<br />Again.<br />This time I don't have the energy.<br />The patience is gone.<br /><br />All I'm left with is me.<br />My job.<br />Judgeing by the emails I get most days about stats<br />I'm edging ever closer to the sack.<br />The flat.<br />I don't even know who i'm living with now.<br />the revolving door policy has seen me live with 9 peoplle in 3 months,<br />at the last count.<br /><br />What the fuck am I supposed to do?<br /><br />If I make myself I'll,<br />then at least I tried.<br /><br />Sometimes I just wish I was normalThat's good.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04113188676735558257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249121691623817426.post-81430954364463088582010-04-20T13:51:00.000-07:002010-04-20T13:52:22.447-07:00NOTE TO SELFNOTE TO SELF<br /><br />I left home to build a home that I can call my own<br />Devouring time I worry about money that I've blown<br />Booze, weed, clothes, food<br />Unessesary sun holidays sold on the promise of hordes of women,<br /> when all i ever got was sun burn, food poisening and flashing cigarette lighters,<br />from a deaf, dumb and blind mute,<br />whilst eating some greasy English food,<br />I swear that dood could see<br /><br />Home aint home anymore<br />Home belongs to Mum and Dad<br />they broke the bank and bust a gut to pay for that,<br />and it's theirs.<br />Proud owners and rightly so<br /><br />Yea I've got a gaff but it's not home.<br />It's a bed to sleep, shower and a place to wash my clothes.<br />Occasionly I might cook something.<br />The flat isn't mine though.<br /><br />I don't mind working 9 to 5,<br />then utlizing my time outside.<br />Well i do mind,<br />but I accept it's what I've gotta do.<br />The world owes me nothing.<br />I wanted to start something,<br />so i had to choose.<br /><br />Feel numb or be someone.<br />Feeling numb is what I know.<br />Tring to be someone?<br />I've tried with a half commited heart,<br />and got a sore arse from sitting on the fence<br />I might as well give it a go - properely.<br /><br />If I can be someone and make something out of myself,<br />then I can lay the foundation stone.<br />Start collecting the bricks and mortor.<br /><br />Ever since I left home,<br />I've struggled to keep my head above the water so occasionly I lose hope.<br /><br />Every now again life throws a new character.<br />Several if your lucky<br />I'm lucky.<br />One word or gesture with a nature of positivity,<br />can restore or unleash self beleif you never knew was there.<br />If you don't have hope, you won't get anywhere.<br />Sometimes hope's all you got.<br /><br />If everything was easy then there would be no such thing as acheivement.<br /><br />I've got to belive in what I'm tryiing to acheive.<br />Right now I'm talking like I've got my head firmely wedged in my arse,<br />so intravert I've become a collapsed star.<br /><br />On occasion I need convincing of my own little missionn.<br />This is my reminder.<br />It's good for you to see.<br /><br />I'm not trying to pluck a sympathy string,<br />I just want you to recognise the chord,<br />cos you might be me.<br />I know you can loose the faith and feel ignored.That's good.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04113188676735558257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249121691623817426.post-53267032770537103402010-04-16T09:10:00.001-07:002010-04-16T09:10:55.271-07:00My LoverThis drug has blackened <br />My insides.<br />Yet I'll not give it up,<br />Not for a while.<br />It makes me feel pretty.That's good.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04113188676735558257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249121691623817426.post-75083107339521064482010-04-07T19:44:00.000-07:002010-04-07T19:45:51.350-07:00This is not supposed to be therapyThis is not supposed to be therapy<br /><br />I go to therapy on Wednesdays<br /><br />Being on stage is my getaway<br /><br />Or hitting the dance floor on a Saturday<br /><br />I try to stay home on Sundays<br /><br />Cos if I'm lucky mum will make Sunday lunch<br /><br />Roast chicken and potatoes, rice and peas<br /><br />"And, mummy? Don't forget the plantain!"<br /><br />Yes, I know she spoils me<br /><br /><br />I’m supposed to be happy<br /><br />Because most would be if they were this lucky<br /><br />I’m supposed to be the one “living his dreams”<br /><br />The one that they envy and aspire be like<br /><br />I’m supposed to in-spire but I cry out<br /><br />I’m supposed to give hope but I'm so full of doubt<br /><br /><br />I’m supposed to know exactly what I’m doing<br /><br />And precisely where I’m going<br /><br />Because I am a leader... right?<br /><br /><br />I’m supposed to have the answer<br /><br />Or at least ask the right questions<br /><br />I’m supposed to be cruising in the fast lane<br /><br />But I feel so pedestrian<br /><br /><br />He gave me this notebook to write in<br /><br />I’m not supposed to tell anyone<br /><br />But fuck what I’m supposed to do<br /><br /><br />I’ve always done what I’m supposed to<br /><br />I was supposed to get my GCSEs, A Levels and a degree<br /><br />Check one, check two and, yes, check three<br /><br />A whole bunch of Bs and Cs and a 2:1 in my degree<br /><br />English and Philosophy<br /><br />What else was I equipped to be but some kinda writer<br /><br />Well I'm pretty good with kids I coulda been a teacher<br /><br />But even my favourite at school, Mr Rattigan, told me<br /><br />“Never...! ever...! become a teacher. You can do more"<br /><br /><br />My granddad always asks me<br /><br />“When you gonna go back to your studies?”<br /><br />He tells our family back in Cyprus that I’m a professor<br /><br />Dr Dean Atta<br /><br />But I'm far from a Dr<br /><br />My only PHD a Player Hating Degree<br /><br />But I don't stay put long enough for you to hate on me<br /><br />I'm a Poet slash Playwright slash Producer<br /><br />Slash Artistic Associate slash Creative Director<br /><br />Slash confused dot com<br /><br />Online searching for my ID<br /><br />On Facebook faking familiarity<br /><br />RT @you #completeme<br /><br />BBM me, B-befriend me<br /><br />This iPhone is not my phone it's a loan of identity<br /><br />See I can be whatever and whoever I want to be<br /><br />With the right accessory, by any app necessary<br /><br /><br />I’m supposed to be grateful for all this freedom<br /><br />Free to grab opportunities when I see them<br /><br />Because some let things pass them by<br /><br />Fixated on money<br /><br />Trapped by responsibility<br /><br />Or bound by their apathy<br /><br />“Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.<br /><br />Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond imagination.”<br /><br />I believed that first time I heard it and I<br /><br />Still do<br /><br />But am I supposed to be afraid?<br /><br />Cos I’m not<br /><br /><br />I don’t need words from page to reach out and hug me<br /><br />Comfort me or tell me that they love me<br /><br />I just need them to tell the truth<br /><br />Cos I'm supposed to be here<br /><br />And I'm supposed to do this<br /><br />And, no, this isn't therapy...<br /><br />But it sure feels good to me<br /><br />To be sharing this, with you.That's good.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04113188676735558257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249121691623817426.post-87961932080323837202010-04-07T19:38:00.000-07:002010-04-07T19:39:25.607-07:00Shadows and Bricks<object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/OUMDPe3WMTo&hl=en_US&fs=1&"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/OUMDPe3WMTo&hl=en_US&fs=1&" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>That's good.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04113188676735558257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249121691623817426.post-12437744224269449452010-04-07T19:24:00.000-07:002010-04-08T00:20:09.275-07:00SILENCE IS NOT GOLDEN<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy7pC_vy_BAN4NJ8Xh9iweEmqwsf1YAtqk_cfI5zfnv9M4G5I25lYhgptbuSduJUR2xdzedHom0ccYL60PA6zpxvaCJknawJYaW-NGk4gsio2eZVvcLgWbIR8a2rwZrhgKyZ9fkIkZA-8/s1600/DSC_0027edited.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy7pC_vy_BAN4NJ8Xh9iweEmqwsf1YAtqk_cfI5zfnv9M4G5I25lYhgptbuSduJUR2xdzedHom0ccYL60PA6zpxvaCJknawJYaW-NGk4gsio2eZVvcLgWbIR8a2rwZrhgKyZ9fkIkZA-8/s320/DSC_0027edited.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5457588169646662482" /></a><br /><br />SILENCE IS NOT GOLDEN <br /><br />Sunday 18 April 2010 <br />17:30 - 21:30<br />The Broadway Theatre<br />Broadway, Barking IG11 7LS<br /><br />Tickets £5 (£3 concession)<br />Box Office: 020 8507 5607<br /><a href="http://www.thebroadwaybarking.com/">http://www.thebroadwaybarking.com/</a><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br />We have guest performances from fantastic singer/songwriters Aruba Red and Maverick Sabre, Limitless Dance (East London Dance Youth Company), SLAM Poetry Champions Aisling Fahey and Deanna Rodger. Music from DJ Joe Grime.<br /><br />SILENCE IS NOT GOLDEN is a creative response to the forthcoming election and the big issues of the day, using spoken word poetry, music, theatre and dance to create an exciting evening of collaborations and conversations between artists and activists, youth ministers and youth workers, campaigners and councilors, audience and performer, younger and older.<br /><br />SILENCE IS NOT GOLDEN aims to get to the heart of the issues that matter to the young people in Barking & Dagenham, those too young to make their voices heard at the ballot box on May 6th. <br /><br />Focused around a diverse group of 14 young people (The Broadway Youth Board) aged 11-18, who have been participating in weekly workshops at The Broadway, directed by Dean Atta, and collaborating with the hard-hitting all female spoken word collective Words In Motion and highly acclaimed Rhymes Won't Wait collective. <br /><br />In a 3-way collaboration, these groups have created spoken word and theatre pieces dealing with racism, the criminal justice system, fair trade, boarder control, human trafficking, domestic violence, child abuse and many other issues that we too often stay silent about. <br /><br />The evening will be in 4 sections of performance with 4 corresponding conversations chaired by Dean Atta, Sabrina Mahfouz and The Broadway Youth Board members, who will be coming out into the audience with roaming microphones – allowing you to have your say!<br /><br />After the show please stay for networking in the foyer and Words In Motion open mic hosted by Shan Amaru.<br /><br />Special guests confirmed as attending:<br /><br />* Aissetou N'gom (Presenter & Cross-Platform Producer) <br />* Alex Delaney (British Youth Council)<br />* Alys Zaerin (Unite Against Fascism)<br />* Dwain Lucktung (Ctrl.Alt.Shift)<br />* Gary Trowsdale (Spirit of London Awards) <br />* Josh Hollands (Love Music Hate Racism)<br />* Lee Jasper (Operation Black Vote)<br />* Mariam Sheikh (National Council for Voluntary Youth Services)<br />* Naomi Jane (Channel 4 Education Advisory Board)<br />* Rebecca Palmer (GLA Children and Young People's Unit)<br />* Richard Taylor (Damilola Taylor Trust)<br />* Rob Berkley (Runnymede Trust)<br />* Sean McDermott (Barking and Dagenham Youth Forum)<br />* Simon Woolley (Operation Black Vote)<br /><br />Facebook Event Page: <a href="http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=111409545542212&ref=ts">http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=111409545542212&ref=ts</a>That's good.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04113188676735558257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249121691623817426.post-10733473644155519302010-04-04T08:44:00.000-07:002010-04-04T08:46:08.587-07:00Eternal EngineWomen and children first, I hear you cry<br />A thirst to reproduce and survive: it’s demand and supply.<br />Each day I listen to the insides of mine thrive and jive to the internal murmuring of a metal hide.<br /><br />Just in case the rush hour ice age is coming.<br /><br />For once I'd like to strip these fancies, fineries that make me an individual,<br />Expose these mechanisms that make me truly me and watch them work<br />Without my consent: this is mutiny.<br />Mother Nature with her unwanted nuture has forced herself on me; monthly bleeds her morning feeds that go on and on and on.<br /><br />This is a pre-set of so called mind set; it’s game set match to this path of regeneration, a dance that feeds this nation.<br />So here I sit, skirt for the hit, hoping the next card I’ll play will start some motion in the ocean - Don't blame me, I'm living up to Gaia’s love and devotion.That's good.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04113188676735558257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249121691623817426.post-78427214792772555512010-04-04T03:57:00.000-07:002010-04-04T03:59:18.454-07:00What's good?Super Nintendo<br />Spider-man<br />To leave where you are<br />Childhood, depending<br />My mum<br />My mums food<br />Nandos<br />Clothes that look good<br />Girrrrrls that are nice.That's good.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04113188676735558257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249121691623817426.post-41440715902845032082010-04-02T08:33:00.000-07:002010-04-02T08:44:19.064-07:00Ex-footballer.I quickly capture the picture in digital format<br />Stepping to the cold air I'm accustomed to<br />Habit tells me to go left but for some reason i go right<br />, We embrace<br />The colours are new to my eyes<br />They're duller<br />Jokes from frank about the camera on my neck<br />with a click I save buildings forever<br />"A patti-Baguette" he thinks he's being clever<br />I take a quick breath as i see my father<br />at the stall we laugh together<br />I never thought I'd see this building again<br />Greets me like an old friendThat's good.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04113188676735558257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249121691623817426.post-1571282359098404912010-04-01T06:17:00.000-07:002010-04-01T06:20:07.224-07:00Arrrrr....<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CJB%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:EN-GB;} @page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:36.0pt; mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Sometimes it’s impossible to get guys anymore</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">They’re too much of a challenge; I’m too much of a chore</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Don’t spread my legs immediately like some cheap whore</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">So they’re in some other girl before my pants kiss the floor.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I used to be open before and they abused it,</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">But when I was used at least I assumed I would get it</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Long list of catalogue and I was the cheapest</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">So quick buy, bargain sale and then you lose interest. Me.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">And now I come, no confidence with a package</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Guys can never be assed to open jars</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Unless they’re guaranteed to smear it</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">First signs of struggle and they’ll goddamn leave it</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I don’t blame them but you see</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I was abused by the people I thought I had loved</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">So if you can’t see the problems I face</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I guess you ain’t thinking hard enough.</span></p> That's good.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04113188676735558257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249121691623817426.post-37469449706341015912010-03-31T10:43:00.001-07:002010-03-31T10:45:21.119-07:00I Like The Way This Word Sounds<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); white-space: pre; font-family:'Lucida Grande', Arial, Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif;font-size:9px;"><div><br /></div><object height="81" width="100%"> <param name="movie" value="http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fsoundcloud.com%2Fwotifink%2Fi-like-the-way-this-word-sounds"> <param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"> <embed allowscriptaccess="always" height="81" src="http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fsoundcloud.com%2Fwotifink%2Fi-like-the-way-this-word-sounds" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="100%"></embed> </object> <span><a href="http://soundcloud.com/wotifink/i-like-the-way-this-word-sounds">I like the way this word sounds</a> by <a href="http://soundcloud.com/wotifink">Talia Randall</a></span> </span>That's good.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04113188676735558257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249121691623817426.post-11240141417468630082010-03-26T07:57:00.000-07:002010-03-28T06:43:15.746-07:00counted.yes, I'm counted<br />I'm one in a sea of other ones<br />none of us no greater than our own sum<br />too disorganised for collective good times to come<br />and we know where we're from<br />grew up in your palm<br />but given half the chance<br />I'll run up your arm<br />and smack you for not seeing making a fist<br />would have done us harm,<br />for not becoming what you could have been<br />not for not doing what you should have done<br />but would my blow even land?<br />when you're a mini man in a promised promise land<br />Trying to get in where I fit in my position is filled in,<br />"sorry we're filled up, good luck with giving up"<br />never, never. Doctor, doctor,<br />it's my city i think she is knocking on heavens door<br />I want to help her but I'm piss poor<br />don't know why this abuse is being ignored<br />she'd scream if she had a mouth<br />but it's going on behind closed doors, so<br />only through graffiti do her words come out<br />did her shine get lost in the rubble after<br />the second world war?<br />campaign done forgot what she's about<br />we have i love london t-shirts<br />but we're not about love<br />because we're not new york<br />london is about rising above no matter what<br />we're the teeth that grind the diamond in the coal that shines<br />proof that only mediocre minds think imitation works<br />and no politician can hide behind their face, mouth full of teeth hair full of snakes<br />the last time i was inspired by a politician he ran with the slogan "change"<br />we all fell in love but it didn't do anything to the weight of our rain<br />serious every politician apart from the name is exactly the same<br />the bus fairs would have gone up no matter what, i don't get angry at pain<br />because the fact is their greed wont ever stop,<br />never, ever, doctor, doctor<br />my friends mum is having kids to keep bailiffs from knocking at her door<br />is it about who's fucked up or who's fucked up more<br />every artist that gets big is desperate to jump to another shore<br />everyone wants a leg up without thinking about who's getting stepped on<br />real cliched but baby don't forget where you came from<br />in the mean time I'm going to sing the same song but remix the rhythm<br />to no longer have my head in the clouds but walk upon them<br />just to get the people learning that london when got going gets burning<br />I'll be doing not telling, providing not selling,<br />so please don't tell me I'm counted, tell me I'm counting.That's good.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04113188676735558257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249121691623817426.post-16912860318222954322010-03-24T07:59:00.000-07:002010-03-24T08:02:52.824-07:00They Had Faces Like Grotesque MasksHe asked me why I didn't kiss<br />I said too many snakes have bitten my lips.<br />Only poison resides there now<br /><br />It started with uncles<br />Who wanted to spill their incest <br />Inside my thighs when babysitting<br />For my working mother.<br />Their desire of turning <br />A child into a woman so strong<br />They failed to see it was wrong<br />To turn nieces into wives.That's good.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04113188676735558257noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249121691623817426.post-71259193730529326742010-03-24T06:14:00.000-07:002010-03-24T06:23:10.496-07:00UntitledIt’s a man touching your body<br />But never touching your soul<br /><br />It’s being afraid of intimacy <br />Because you are so used to its company<br /><br />It’s saving the world<br />But no one saving you<br /><br />It’s the gift they despise you for<br />It’s the silence that comes after their applause<br /><br />It’s sadness masquerading as joy<br />It's realising your arms are too short to hug away your pain<br /><br />It’s not the cold side of the bed<br />It’s the cold<br /><br />It’s not the phone that never rings <br />It’s the silence <br /><br />...<br /><br />It’s deafening.That's good.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04113188676735558257noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249121691623817426.post-58645519537718743192010-03-18T08:11:00.000-07:002010-03-18T08:12:12.802-07:00The weakness of many tellers of talesShe always talks: giving away too much.<br />The benign immensity of her words he ignores<br />The secret intensity of his words he stores<br />He stacks them on shelves and they gather up dust<br />Hidden and heavy, the weight of their trust.<br /><br />She looses strength with every sentence. <br />And though she chooses carefully she’s<br />Betrayed by vowels and consonants.<br />Stung by sour regret as those sounds leave her mouth<br />Wishing he would save her and just interject. <br />But he’s tongue-tied, mouth dry:<br />His silence is a shield with which he’s protected.<br /><br />He can’t expose himself with words.<br />Instead he makes her read in-between the silences<br />Expresses all he needs in the things left unsaid.<br />He belittles her words as babble, conjecture.<br />So she waits for him to respond to her with gestures.That's good.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04113188676735558257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249121691623817426.post-56659506384016706682010-03-17T07:40:00.000-07:002010-03-17T07:42:17.300-07:00Dusk fell on the streamDusk fell on the stream<br />Time had long past curfew<br />But my mind wasn't yet ready to be freed from the paceful peace of the running water<br />Thoughts followed where it was going <br />Wondering whether it hoped to return or longed to escape<br />Searching for shared fear of the unknown<br />Seeking strength<br />Eroding apprehension and <br />Gathering courage.<br />I wondered <br />Did the force of it's forefathers <br />Drag it downstream<br />Through tributaries it would have never self chosen<br />Or was the current flow free?<br />Direction discovered in passing moments<br />Paths improvised intuitively<br /><br />As I sit at the stream<br />I think of the knowledge earnt in school<br />Worked hard with<br />Pricked ears<br />Still eyes<br />Calm heart<br />Closed mouth<br />Scrating pen on paper like psoriasis<br />Eager to see red ticks<br />Preparation for red brick<br />Pretentious buildings <br />Built for the minds of a scholar by the hands of a slave<br />And I am a slave<br />An unwilling lifter<br />Of the family name<br />To never let it fall to shame <br />trampled down and/i'm <br />drowned in blame.That's good.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04113188676735558257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249121691623817426.post-77791093847792721272010-03-17T00:48:00.001-07:002010-04-04T08:48:51.606-07:00Citizen's Arrest<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CJB%5CLOCALS%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:EN-GB;} @page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:72.0pt 90.0pt 72.0pt 90.0pt; mso-header-margin:35.4pt; mso-footer-margin:35.4pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Table Normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">I want to take you on a tour</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">The inches between my skin and insides</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">My gears that grind your hate and judgement</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">That make you feel the need for punishment</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">To call, insult me on what you see.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Should I apologise for my presence?</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Needlessly minding my business</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">As my body is there as witness</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">And unknowingly I’m committing a crime.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">So here I am. Correction Facility.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">Changing my identity a necessity</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">So I can fit inside with that world of yours</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-GB">While I’m rotting to the core.</span></p> That's good.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04113188676735558257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249121691623817426.post-375154626674062412010-03-16T14:04:00.000-07:002010-03-16T14:12:31.647-07:00The Tears Still Haven't Come<pre>Finally I find the feelings<br />I understand that I may never understand you, and I'm dealing with it<br />There it's dealt with<br />My emotions on this<br />That situation with you is now removed<br />I made u seem more than you were<br />That even you started to believe you was<br />I wonder if I stab my heart, will it bleed?<br />I wonder why I call you dad when I never did to your face?<br />I've been trying to cry about this for the longest, but it's been so hard<br />I'm so scared of what will happen<br />Now I'm struggling to breath<br />The tears hardly hit the corners of my eyes, but I still push my head back wanting them to go back in<br />And<br />I'm drowning<br />Thinking about the card that never came<br />The big 21<br />No love from<br />No, paper or words or money or call<br />No tears<br />Just wonder<br />It's never gonna happen is it?<br />If I see you I will be awkward<br />I would hardly look<br />I would walk away<br />I need them to replace the pain that I'm not even sure is here<br />And everyday I think of you and try my best to cry<br />But it doesn't come and I wonder why<br />Do I know what love is?<br />Did you ever?<br />Let me not go anywhere until these tears have come<br />And I will smile and be nice<br />And maybe not hold back me<br />Not wanting to let go until it happens for real<br />I cry to see if I still can<br />It's me admitting I've got pain<br />I'm confused<br />I don't care that much for you<br />The tears still haven't come</pre>That's good.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04113188676735558257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249121691623817426.post-27926714152872614892010-03-15T14:53:00.001-07:002010-03-15T14:59:36.552-07:00Edgy Corners by Talia Randall<span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(51, 51, 51); white-space: pre; font-family:'Lucida Grande', Arial, Helvetica, Verdana, sans-serif;font-size:9px;"><object height="81" width="100%"> <param name="movie" value="http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fsoundcloud.com%2Fwotifink%2Fedgy-corners"> <param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"> <embed allowscriptaccess="always" height="81" src="http://player.soundcloud.com/player.swf?url=http%3A%2F%2Fsoundcloud.com%2Fwotifink%2Fedgy-corners" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="100%"></embed> </object> <span><a href="http://soundcloud.com/wotifink/edgy-corners">Edgy Corners</a> by <a href="http://soundcloud.com/wotifink">Talia Randall</a></span> </span>That's good.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04113188676735558257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249121691623817426.post-2544491386285919182010-03-05T06:04:00.000-08:002010-03-05T06:10:07.756-08:00Group work- white flag.I don't have a clue<div>Spitting with my silver forked tongue</div><div>the devil and I moved in toe</div><div>an oxymoron: I love my phone</div><div>his power inspires me</div><div>like moonbeams kissing the sea</div><div>Two lovers.</div><div>Walking perplexed.</div><div>White the colour of beautiful truth</div><div>Red. The colour of a beautiful lie.</div><div>Tongues dancing the kiss of death</div><div>who would have thought, what we said</div><div>we'd really do.</div><div>Hands up.</div>That's good.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04113188676735558257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249121691623817426.post-44276189025398412472010-02-24T07:07:00.000-08:002010-02-24T07:51:56.838-08:00InsomiaLights out.<br />I study the stillness of the dark<br />My eyes roam everywhere,<br />My only company: the baby-like cries<br />Of rampant foxes outside<br />And my sister's heavy breathing.<br />She sleeps in a fetal position.<br />I am filled with envy<br />Eyes green, glowing in the dark.<br />I wish I could sleep right now.<br />Maybe in another realm<br />My brain wouldn't be in overdrive<br />And I would be able to survive<br />The sick feeling in my gut<br />That shoots up to my throat<br />Forming a huge lump of emotion.<br />I have to snatch breaths<br />To stop yourself from crying.<br />The type you know once it melts<br />It will melt, flow everywhere<br />Soak you up.<br />It will wet the bed and wake<br />Your little sister<br />When she asks what's happening<br />You would just sheepishly<br />Tell her to go back to bed<br />As if it's easy to fall asleep<br />In a soaked bed.<br />So I just hold the lump.<br />Let it choke me<br />Inbetween shallow breaths.<br /><br />Schemes swirl in my head.<br />I plan how I'll confront him<br />Pretend not to be hurt.<br />If I act upset he might<br />Actually think I care.<br />I convince myself,<br />It's not me who is hurt.<br />Just my pride that's all.<br />A few bruises here and there.<br />Deep down knows the truth<br />Of the full battering of my feelings.<br />The choking my ego received<br />But to admit, would be to<br />Say yes I care.<br />The clock by the bed blinks 0432.<br />Such an awkward time.<br />Or laughing at his jokes<br />When all you really wish for<br />Is long nails to scratch the<br />Fuck out of his eyes.<br /><br />I try to count sheep<br />Hoping that would bring me sleep<br />Instead I wonder why he can't<br />Be mine alone.<br />Mine to keep.<br />She would just have to be<br />The one to fuck off.<br />I hate her. Hate him,<br />Myself and the fact that even<br />With this evidence before me<br />I will not let him go.<br />She's cute. Nothing on me though.<br /><br />I think to myself,<br />If love were easy,<br />I would have fucked her by now<br />Just so I could brag like<br />Been there, done that.<br />Literally.That's good.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04113188676735558257noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-249121691623817426.post-92213402208578652952010-02-24T05:09:00.000-08:002010-02-24T05:11:01.200-08:00Group work- Walk.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 13px; line-height: 20px; "><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: medium; "><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap; ">The laughs we had were great</span></span><br /><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: medium; "><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap; ">staying up so late</span></span><br /><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: medium; "><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap; ">walking, killing some time</span></span><br /><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: medium; "><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap; ">no ones in central london at this hour</span></span><br /><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: medium; "><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap; ">but they left the lights on</span></span><br /><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: medium; "><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap; ">listening to bob dylan and free</span></span><br /><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: medium; "><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap; ">and walks till he's tired</span></span><br /><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: medium; "><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap; ">a bus stop</span></span><br /><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: medium; "><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap; ">a man that thinks he's homeless</span></span><br /><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: medium; "><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap; ">drunken couple</span></span><br /><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: medium; "><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap; ">memories of our moments alone</span></span><br /><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: medium; "><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap; ">he's passed out she's pissed off</span></span><br /><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: medium; "><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap; ">passes on peoples radar when they're begging.</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family:'trebuchet ms', tahoma, sans-serif;font-size:130%;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: medium; "><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap; ">i felt you had love for me</span></span><br /><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: medium; "><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap; ">you think about chatting her up</span></span><br /><span style="font-family: 'trebuchet ms', tahoma, sans-serif; font-size: medium; "><span style="font-size: 14px; white-space: pre-wrap; ">fingers crossed her boyfriend doesn't wake up</span></span></span>That's good.http://www.blogger.com/profile/04113188676735558257noreply@blogger.com0