Spoken word is like a lyrical intravenous cable, pumping the essence of itself into its listeners. Whatever it is chargers forth from the performer, and spills upon the audience, leaving them forever changed. Here are just a few examples of that flow.
Jon Sands, performing at the Nuyorican Poets Cafe
(The poem "Being Human Being" helped refuel my passion for spoken word!!!)
Diego Mosquera, one of the illest spoken word artists I've ever seen perform. The poem, "Gun", is so powerful I think it should be mandatory viewing in public schools!!
Alexis Marie, oh so talented!!...her performance of this poem exemplifies artist and audience in perfect tune.
Brook Yung...all I can say is Google him! This poem is so cleverly written, that to me it is a prime example of 'That piece'. As in, after hearing that, I don't need to hear nothing else, because that's THAT PIECE!!
Enjoy your day.
the Rare Poet
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
And They Call These Moments Miracles...
Good morning world!!!
Everyone who really knows me, should know that poetry is more than a hobby. It is quite literally the 'air' I breathe. And yes I'm aware that this is a figurative statement, but it's just my way of saying that, just as without oxygen, the absence of poetry would leave my body constricted, closed off, and unwilling to function properly.
As several poets are aware, the individual World Poetry Slam will be going on this week in Charlotte, NC. For those who love spoken word, this event is a must. I love this description from the iWPS facebook page:
Well, I wanted to be. I wanted to be ready to delve in the might of their pens, and to soak up their words like an eager sponge. I wanted to taste the camraderie of creativity merging together will spirited competition. I wanted to be ready more than anything. I keep getting this feeling that this may be the one event that I've been waiting my whole life to go to.
But of course, Charlotte is two hours away, and I as broke as the political system in Washington. So I tossed my desire up into the air against my millions of previously made "I wish" statements, and thought nothing more about it. (Well, okay, I thought a lot more about it. From checking the schedule on the official website, to reading all of my poet friends messages about getting ready to go and being excited, my mind has been mostly iWPS for the last few days. But I tried NOT to think about it.)
I've always been a believer that God works in ways that allow us to see his might when we really need to most. In one amazing moment, I acquired the funds that will help me get to this year's iWPS, thanks to the complete and utter awesomeness of a wonderful friend. I'm not sure if this friend will ever understand the amount of gratitude I have for their selfless act. It will never be forgotten.
So now I'm like super exited. My heart beats fast with a slightly poetic rhythm. My eyes dance across scenes in meter. My mind is pouring over every word to every favorite poem I've ever read, and if you know me, you're aware that this list is infinite.
So now I'm geeked up, poetically crunk, on a one way trip to lyrical highs, and I don't really care if I get stuck.
Lol...maybe I'm a bit carried away. Or maybe, through an amazing gift, I'll begin my journey of giving, through my words. Who knows?
All I know is that this morning, I'm extremely happy. That as I sit writing this, I am a living, breathing poem.
And I'm hoping that from here on out, I always wake up feeling this way.
the Rare Poet
Everyone who really knows me, should know that poetry is more than a hobby. It is quite literally the 'air' I breathe. And yes I'm aware that this is a figurative statement, but it's just my way of saying that, just as without oxygen, the absence of poetry would leave my body constricted, closed off, and unwilling to function properly.
As several poets are aware, the individual World Poetry Slam will be going on this week in Charlotte, NC. For those who love spoken word, this event is a must. I love this description from the iWPS facebook page:
"....Are you ready for 72 poets from all over the world that will pounce on Charlotte, metaphorically speaking?"
Well, I wanted to be. I wanted to be ready to delve in the might of their pens, and to soak up their words like an eager sponge. I wanted to taste the camraderie of creativity merging together will spirited competition. I wanted to be ready more than anything. I keep getting this feeling that this may be the one event that I've been waiting my whole life to go to.
But of course, Charlotte is two hours away, and I as broke as the political system in Washington. So I tossed my desire up into the air against my millions of previously made "I wish" statements, and thought nothing more about it. (Well, okay, I thought a lot more about it. From checking the schedule on the official website, to reading all of my poet friends messages about getting ready to go and being excited, my mind has been mostly iWPS for the last few days. But I tried NOT to think about it.)
I've always been a believer that God works in ways that allow us to see his might when we really need to most. In one amazing moment, I acquired the funds that will help me get to this year's iWPS, thanks to the complete and utter awesomeness of a wonderful friend. I'm not sure if this friend will ever understand the amount of gratitude I have for their selfless act. It will never be forgotten.
So now I'm like super exited. My heart beats fast with a slightly poetic rhythm. My eyes dance across scenes in meter. My mind is pouring over every word to every favorite poem I've ever read, and if you know me, you're aware that this list is infinite.
So now I'm geeked up, poetically crunk, on a one way trip to lyrical highs, and I don't really care if I get stuck.
Lol...maybe I'm a bit carried away. Or maybe, through an amazing gift, I'll begin my journey of giving, through my words. Who knows?
All I know is that this morning, I'm extremely happy. That as I sit writing this, I am a living, breathing poem.
And I'm hoping that from here on out, I always wake up feeling this way.
the Rare Poet
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