Where Is The Power Performance

Black Cultural Center's Cultural Arts Festival 2010

Purdue University

The Revolution Will Not Be Digitized Performance

The Haraka Writers rewrite Gill Scott Heron's "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised"

for the Black Cultural Center's 2010 Cultural Arts Festival at Purdue University.

Control+F My Life

Originally written June 9, 2011

I was searching for you.

I stopped at every corner

Searched through every line for you,

and you where no where to be found.

I had even checked my own spine

to see if I had the back bone;

to truly stomach the fact that I had lost you.

I sent my self on a spiral bound of false hope.

Hoping that I will glance at you again.

But all I find are blank white stares

lined with the coldness of icy blue hearts

I’m not sure when I lost you,

If I left you, or just truly just forgot you

I’d rather tell everyone you ran away from me

then I would have an excuse for your absence

How could I be that irresponsible

to crumble you up and throw you away

into a wastebasket of “not good enoughs”

and “I don’t feel like its”,

to hold you back and not letting

you get a chance to show others what you can do.

How selfish.

Not even ready to admit to myself

that I am giving up on you

or at least making it seem as such.

So I search for you in my denial.

Although I know how this search will end

I still continue to examine over the lines

like eye witness testimony that will finally set me free

from this 8 by 11 cell that jails me everyday.

That I bury my self in relentlessly

Maybe

telling myself that I’ve lost you

Will stop others from realizing I’m loosing me

Hopefully, one day,

when I do finally find you.

You will be the perfect piece

Perforated and torn away from me

Only For One Day

Only For One Day

2/14/2011

I want you to whisper sweet nothings to me until my ears get cavities.

I want the smell of roses to corrode my nose with the sweetness of your love

I want you to be crazy and naive and love me for one day

Feed my stomach with the chocolates of foolish lovers lyrics

And play soft music so we can sway to the sounds of digital bliss

Take me somewhere I’ve been to before, but this time make it special.

Let us show each other the love that we should have for each other for today.

Let us stare into each others eyes stargazing at this magical miracle that we have discovered.

Shower me with gifts that tomorrow I may bathe in this memory forever

I want you to be crazy and love me for only one day

I want to clasp your hand and align the lines in our palms

So that maybe we will sync to one another

Then we can download our true feelings through out pockets pc’s

And maybe when we let go we will still have a PAL connection

I dare you to be crazy and love me for one day

Kiss me with the intense of soft lips intended for this occasion

Show me that this relation between you and I

Isn’t as temporary as I know it is

Make my thoughts float so my mind

May swim in this sweet moment

only for a moment on this day

Prepare me for the normalcy of tomorrows sorrows

And yesterdays cries, tell me everything I want to hear

Even though they might be lies. Be obliged

to entertainment with this thought of hypothetically soul ties

I want you to be strange

I want you to be naive

I dare you to be crazy

And love me for one day

Habeas Corpus

09/06/10

I am sitting in my own interrogation room,

Guilty even after being proven innocent.

They throwing the book at me.

Telling me about Miranda

But I don’t know her.

And what does she have to do with me.

Cuffed and stuck in the back seat

Wagoned to the station in bondage

Stripping me down to my last fibers

And taking my mug shot.

My name and face will forever be kept in this dirty system

Wrist bright red and cut deep

Police brutality

I am sitting in an interrogation room,

Guilty even after being proven innocent.

I give them blank stares as they play good cop bad cop.

I’m watching Angels and Demons over my shoulders

but where is Tom Hanks when I need him.

I have been questioned, beckoned, and bartered.

Threatened and undermined with police jargon.

They keep joggin around me in circles

Hoping that I trip up and slip up what they want to hear

Hopping that I collaspe like I fell into mental relapse

And remember something I did not do.

Like I got split personalities and I can

Distinguish the two.

They want me to confess to a crime

That I have no knowledge of

Looking for a scapegoat

So they can close this case up.

Not really looking for the truth

Just looking for an ending.

Go ahead slam your hand on the table

No matter how many time you can ask

My story will be the same.

I didn’t do it!

Detective gritting his teeth

Because he has his own conclusions

Mad cause he’s budging and I aint moving.

Asking me my whereabouts, searching for motives

Thinking that getting in my face will entice me and will entitle

You to make me guilty,

For something

Still not moving.

“Pardon me. Can I please have something to drink”

I know this will give them fingerprints

but like I said I’m innocent, And thirsty.

They bring me back a cup of Folgers.

As hot as this is its making me colder

It feels like time is flying but its only seconds older.

Someone knocks on the door.

I’ve seen this on law and order.

Detectives disappears in the abyss

Leaving me in this room

Listening to the sounds of your accusations.

Why am I still here?

Still trying to maintain my composer

I adjust my hair in the mirror.

Looking into myself in still frame.

Motion pictures featuring me loosing my mind.

Bright lights, spotlight on me.

Starting to sweat a little.

Examining myself again.

I think I’m innocent,

Innocent until proven otherwise

But I’m still here.

And why is it im suppose to be set free

but freedom is still not near

Why are they taking so long outside?

What did they find?

I’ve committed no crime

And if I get convicted they better take this

Time in this room off my sentence.

Back once again to the mirror image of myself

Am I staring at innocence,

Or the face of a no good criminal and future convict.

Hell they way they laid there case out they almost got me convinced.

Got my self twisted and conflicted.

Maybe I did do it?

Maybe the schizophrenia idea wasn’t too far fetched after all

Why else am I still here?

Wait no…

I need to get out of here

no

I need a lawyer.

I need someone else to stand up for me

Because no one else believes me.

I’m starting not to believe my self.

I know I’m not on trial but my mind is running miles

Doing circles to track what is going on.

Finally they come back in the room.

Somewhat relieved but not ready for this tag team.

I’d rather be inside the ring with the WWE.

At least I know it was all acting.

To my surprise,

They only said two words to me.

“You’re free”.

Not asking any questions

Just ready to leave and get as far away possible.

I take a deep breath and walk out the door.

“That’s her! She did it!”

Looking over my shoulder

Because they couldn’t be talking to me.

They just said I was free.

Still not convinced.

They throw fits of rage and anger towards me.

Judging me before I met judy.

They’ve been watching my every move through a window.

The same window I used as a reflection to judge myself

There eyes and ears witnessed everything that I did.

Clearly it wasn’t me.

I guess that doesn’t matter to them.

What ever vendetta they were after

Has now become my problem.

Whether I wanted it or not.

No detective, no police report,

No words would ever let them believe otherwise.

No matter were I go you’ll be judging me with silent eyes.

Taking all my truths and turning them into silent lies.

Your distorted image of me will forever be painted on your retina

Shooting my mugshot right to the back of your head

To be imbedded in your mind forever.

You will see this even when the reality of it all

is presented right in front of you

I am sitting in my own interrogation room,

Guilty even after being proven innocent.

Rapping vs Spoken-Word

Everyone says that rapping is poetry.

But is poetry rapping?

What is the difference????

Good Question

Let's Explore...

Poetry has been dated back to 3000 BC (poemofquotes.com). However, spoken-word is still fairly new. Spoken-word started to develop in the late 80's and early 90's (Wikipedia). The art form is still on the rise. HBO's Def Poetry opened a whole new world for spoken world artist. For some this was the first exposure to spoken-word. When looking up a definition for spoken-word is the performing of something out loud.(Merriam-Webster) There is no exact definition of spoken-word poetry, but we can infer that is the performing of poetry out loud.

With this definition rapping would definitely fit this category. But is it really the same?

According to thefreedictionary.com rap is "A form of popular music developed especially in African-American urban communities and characterized by spoken or chanted rhyming lyrics with a strong rhythmic accompaniment." This constraints rapping to music. This separates spoken-word and rapping slightly. What happens if you snatch a beat away from a rap song or write intended rap lyrics with no beat. Is it then poetry? And if you perform it, is it spoken-word?

Clearly spoken-word is performing of a poem. What is a poem exactly, and does rap qualify?
The free dictionary calls a poem:

a composition in verse, usually characterized by concentrated and heightened language in which words are chosen for their sound and suggestive power as well as for their sense, and using such techniques as metre, rhyme, and alliteration

Looking at definition does rap qualify? Sometimes.
Now, you may have been expecting a concrete answer but there isn't. Some rap artist do take the time to make lyrics that fit this definition. Rap takes advantage of rhyme, metre, and alliteration. Depending on who you listen to it can also make sense. In the end its mainly a matter of opinion on the difference.

To me, the main difference is in the purpose, execution, and quality. I believe spoken-word is the expression of the poem not of the artist. The purpose is to expose to others the true meaning of the words on the page. The quality of the performance defines the quality of the work in order to do the poem justice. Often times (not all the time) in the rap industry, an artist's purpose and execution is based on money. Which decreases the quality of work. It's no longer about the works but the artist.

Any one can put rhymes together and make a rap.
But it takes a more than rhymes to make a rap into true poetry.

©Lyrically Poetic

Chemisty I Biology II Performance

It Was A Chemical Reaction Performance