Slam poetry

Why, like still waters do you,

Palm under chin sit silent?

Why does your face carry the reflection of indifference,

Even as my love I openly display

Why? Do you pass this expression of my honest feeling

You, are like green leaves covered in dew,

River pebbles dark, smooth round

Your smile, makes me feel as if the world is alright

For no reason, I look for you, follow you

For no reason at all, I feel happy when you’re around

For no reason, I, am invisible to my friends

I’m running away but getting closer,

I’m cursing you but loving you

For loving you, but restraining myself,

Wet green cider leaves,

Dark blue and orange sunsets,

Children’s laughter

A puppy licking his owner’s face

I’m thinking of that every day.

So lift up you face, look at me

Listen to the words my eyes say

Respond to the request of my touch

Let me give it a shot.

pic(http://i142.photobucket.com)

I am the independent self reliant all round woman.
I think with my mind, not my heart, I feel nothing
Strutting about aware of my surroundings,
High fives and swinging hips, I know what I want,
And I want it to remain-this way

Shhh
But here he comes, all sure of himself
A man, with a man’s gait, man’s sure ways
He, takes his time speak, to look, to touch
Yeah, his look, he,
With one glance makes my inner woman
Break into a dance, bending and twisting
And I stutter and,
This feeling,
This cottony, weighty, feeling rises from within
My heart beat,
My brain,
My independence
My self reliant heart,
My unfeeling me, begins to feel in ways I never imagined
I, follow his every desire, his every blink,
I, am ready to say yes to everything he says
When I see him, music plays and my mouth curves into a smile
His smile, makes me trace all the small joys I’ve known
All the feelings of love I know
All the nerves that support love awake .

And when I look at his eyes
I’m no longer the independent self reliant all round woman.
I think with my mind, and my heart too, feel a lot of things
Strutting about aware of my surroundings, and of him,
And I want it to remain-this way, his left or right hand, I don’t care,
As long as I’m with him
Close to him
Loving him, with every last bit of love remaining inside
With every last bit of feeling un-accessed.
Loving.

Slam Poetry.


pic{pro.corbis.com}

After 72 hours or something close, ok, lets just say about 3 and a half days, I never cared much about numbers, I managed to understand half the story they gave us to interpret and make a film out of.I created my own story, and showed it to the teacher who said ok fine, I guess there are many ways to interpret it. When I gave him my sketches from last weekend, he looked at them, sat down and explained to me what he was looking for from us, and in his head I’m sure he was thinking{huyu manzi ni chizi} he is Kenyan.
I can’t say I’m getting ahead with my new interpretation, and since I decided it’s easier to just take pictures, the next big problem is how to bring all my characters together. So I put the story board aside and had a look at my other assignments. I did about 200 words of each of my journals{Hero, Singin in The rain, Goddess of 1967}.Then gave up and decided to write a love poem{Slam poetry}
When we had our weekly Open Mic poetry, I was explaining to my friend how deep I got involved writing a certain poem. I was sobbing all through. He asked was it about a guy, and I say, yeah, my fiancé, he left me for a younger woman. So sorry he said. I said no problem I’m over him anyway. After the poetry session, he came up to me asking- are you serious about your fiancé? I had a good laugh. I guess he was curious to find out hold I must be talking like that. It’s more fun to just say whatever comes to your mind first. He is an interesting guy, has about 1000 poems, but what I admire is his quick wit. Like one day explaining to his friend, no you cannot say someone is ugly, you say- they are not easy on your eyes. He started the poetry group, now we poets can share our pieces with others.
I need someone to interview for my broadcasting assignment. Someone working in the media. Production, VJ, Presenter, recording. I’m facing the sad truth that all the people in my circles are either frustrated writers or struggling artists, and accountants.

POEM

We were Meant to Live





Do you remember
The soft, white, papery flowers strewn across the desert fields
How they shone at dawn
When the sun rays
Upon their dewy petals fell?

Do you remember, the fragrant Jasmine
Growing on mother's farm
The green bush that made darkness fragrant-
And the other that smelt like cooked food
The different smells, textures and colors
We know?

Do you remember, water sipping into your dam made of porcelain,
Next to the sugar Cane bush
Do you remember, sunset dividing the fields into two
And the wheat giving the wind a bow
Getting lost in the long grass
Itchy legs when we washed?

Do you remember, the black and white bird
The call of the black and white monkey
The laughter the hyenas shared
Do you remember
Or do you the sounds of the city clog your ears,
And the smells overtaken your nose
Have the bright lights blinded you from color?

I guess,the only exciting thing that has happened to me in a long time is when my friend’s friend got a job in this new Arabic dish café in our Condo, they were having an open house so my friend says-hey want some free food, and I asked when and where. It’s the first time I have tasted pilau in a long time. , when I came back I made a play list of all my jazz music, put my legs up the wall, and said to myself- this is the life- thanks Kim.
So I have been trying to finish off my assignments to avoid the rush, and partly to avoid anxiety. For my Film class, we were supposed to make a story board for this story{blow-up} about some photographer. I asked one of the young guys I hang out with school if he could pose for me and he said okay, then he changed his mind when he couldn't understand the story and asked why don’t I just sketch for you. I gave him paper and pencil, half an hour later he was still drawing a tree with a ruler and pencil. So I thought this is a waste of time and said to him Never mind Lah, we do this another time. I slept at 3a’m with strained fingers from sketching scenes, but was pretty satisfied, until today my desk mate looked at my work and laughed for the entire lesson. She draws very well, . I told her laugh on, at least mine is off the ground.

I am one of those people who stick to the same thing. Like, since my brushing history, I’ve always used aquafresh. When I cam here I couldn’t find it and have bought three different types but still not satisfied, I miss my aquafresh.Especially since brushing is not a very pleasant experience for me, ad when I have to taste tooth paste in my mouth after the ordeal, not nice.
Same with perfume. I used Fa, blue mist for too long, since I was eligible to use it, in form one. Coming here there’s no Fa, no Fa soap. I went to the shop the other day to buy perfume and the only one that didn’t make me retch makes me smell like a clean toilet. Not the bad musty smell when your housemate leaves her stuff in the bathroom. The one you smell after you clean the toilet, take out the mop and come back to close the door. It smells, bluish, and has a sinky tone to it. Ignore me ,I’m mad. When I tried it out, well, Malaysia no Malaysia. It’s like air freshener. Just goes away after 3 minutes, and I’m thinking I should just place it in the toilet to use as a freshener.

Digital Film and Tv


I have two favourite classes, Broadcasting and Digital film. The two are taught by the same teacher. I’d never miss any of them, not because the lecturer knows each one of us by name but these classes are not just some boring 3 hour lecture. It’s the whole experience. The teacher makes it very easy and he is an easy going person who doesn’t get offended when my we start to ask questions we assume he’s supposed to know. The class is made of some characters you won’t forget. There is the guy who talks like a robot and types in the same manner,and Chaiwalla,a Jamal look a like of the main character in Who wants to be a Millionaire, the 2 guys who wont stop laughing and making fun of everyone including the lecturer, actually, everyone in that class is a character.{ok this sounds boring}
Today during our broadcasting lesson , we expected a movie as usual but we instead had slides about history of Radio, which the lecturer had to stop in the middle because some people kept asking strange questions like- When are we gonna visit Astro?{DSTV, GTV}, can we go visit Radio Limkokwing. He went to check if we’d be allowed in the studio, but no one was in studio, so that started another topic on how much the school radio needs a change.
All this time the light were off, coz we were in the screening room and when he switched on, he looks around and there was a new girl at the back, we know her but the lecturer doesn’t. So he asks are you a new student, and everyone starts to laugh, so he asks her a question about movies and pick up lines. She says- I only came here coz I thought you were showing a film. Her boyfriend brought her to class for a free movie- nice cheap date.
We ended up watching RocknRolla the date didn’t go to waste. We had a good laugh , the guy isn’t much of a talker but he is in the school basket ball team, so for him to plan for a class date seemed ingenious.
In the next class, different teacher. Those two boys calling some girl- hey, you girl with a big bum, she turns and one of them says-pull up your trousers. And when we look at him like-man are you crazy? He says- What.., I’m considerate. I don’t want people peeping. Then this girl answers a question and the two of them go like- iiiiiiiiiiii. The lecture asks what? They are like- she so cute. I get amused, I guess coz I’m older than most of them and the stuff me and my buddies did 5 years ago, they are experiencing now, I can’t stop laughing, I feel so old.
Then this guy gets so worked up coz some Arabs called him black, almost starting a revolution-poor guy, get used to it.
I guess this year is going to be fun, last year, I had supermodels in my class who didn't care much about spanning camera's to the left or right, just posing.

Cecilia Gathoni


‘If you loose your imagination you get bullied. It starts with a dream. You build the world you are in.’

This a quote from the Def Jam poetry Presenter, HBO, Russell Simons, which does more than explain the inspiration behind spoke word poetry. It’s all about imagination, and making something out of what you have.
Spoken word poetry is a form of poetry whose lyrics, whether read or performed, are meant to inspire, make a statement, or simply decry a form of injustice.
It evolved from a form of poetry called beat poetry, which involved people shouting and cursing the bad things in the world. Today, spoken word poetry tries to speak out these wrongs, but in a spirit of hope and courage.
When a poem is written and published in a book, unless the reader is quite imaginative, the poem might not have an impact on him the same way it would was it performed. There are three stages of writing a poem. The first one is brewing the idea on your mind, the second is writing it down, the third is publishing.
When poetry is performed, it is taken a further step, which adds more life to it . The impact it will have n the audience can easily be assessed depending on the clapping, a standing ovation, whistling or even requests to perform the poem all over again.
Unlike poetry published in books and other literature, spoken word poetry which in often times will require certain structuring and themes, spoken word poetry gives the poet room to experiment. The topics are varied and the themes keep being re-invented every time....
(My assignment in progress, Communicative Writing skills)