Sunday 30 September 2012
A Pale Shade of White
On Wednesday this week, whilst at the launch for the Ryming Thunder book, my friend and fellow Rubix member Bridget Minamore performed a poem called Melanie. It's a very good piece of writing and inspired me to dig this one out, which isn't actually that old, I'd just forgotten about it
You can read and see more of Bridget right HERE
Friday 28 September 2012
No Need To Apologise
Having recently given up using Facebook (it's been about 4 weeks now...), I've taken to Twitter a lot more than I ever have. I found Facebook becoming more and more intrusive and counter productive, despite being for me, easily the best way to promote an event or something I'm doing (which, by the way I really dislike promoting myself, but I have too, you understand...) but I like Twitter though. When I log in, I generally get a good stream of information and conversation that is mostly of interest to me (and I get a little buzz knowing everytime I retweet something about Millwall it appears on people's timelines who probably wonder how an earth that just happened!)
This week, whilst in the middle of an extensive procrastination workout, I was aimlessly scrolling through Twitter when I noticed someone began following me under the name of @quillbomb. The curious Cat inside of me wanted to follow the trail to the source, thus further distancing myself even further from what I was supposed to be doing. Turns out there was a website listed in the profile, and @quillbomb.is a very very don writer and poet, whom I'm sure most people in the circles I rotate in probably know about, making me, a mug. (well that's nothing new).
I wanted to share a bit of her work which I found very inspiring, as someone who apologies a lot (I don't think it's because I'm English, I'm just insecure) and this is only on the "About" section of the blog, which is called Deapologize and you should check the rest because it's banging!
deapologize’ is a collection of prose and poetry written, simultaneously, in jest and in complete stony-faced seriousness.
Some of the pieces were formulated in a state of half-blind panic.
Some phrases strayed into thoughtspace while the writer was in the limbo
between sleep and wake. Some were written self-assuringly, some
ironically, some in desperation. Most were written in bed while in her
pajamas.
deapologize has been an alphabet soup brewing on the poetry stove for a while now. If there should be a single essence to the collection, it is heralded by the needless human instinct to apologize for simply being. Thanks to this spirit-crushing society of zombies, we are made to feel sorry for our quirks, and idiosyncracies and essentially for everything that makes up our entirely unique disposition.
It is a way of being unapologetic. Of reclaiming our over-expelled ‘sorry’s and simply holding our heads high instead. Of forgoing the compulsion to meekly submit to ideas that suggest we are doing something wrong just by living however we choose to. (Some circumstances are exempt from the state of Not Being Sorry: like if you deliberately set someone’s house on fire – also known as arson, look it up mate, it’s totally illegal – then you should be sorry).
If you enjoy the writing here, you can drop the writer an email [nabilah.husna@gmail.com]. If you don’t, you, too, may drop me her email. She like emails.
This week, whilst in the middle of an extensive procrastination workout, I was aimlessly scrolling through Twitter when I noticed someone began following me under the name of @quillbomb. The curious Cat inside of me wanted to follow the trail to the source, thus further distancing myself even further from what I was supposed to be doing. Turns out there was a website listed in the profile, and @quillbomb.is a very very don writer and poet, whom I'm sure most people in the circles I rotate in probably know about, making me, a mug. (well that's nothing new).
I wanted to share a bit of her work which I found very inspiring, as someone who apologies a lot (I don't think it's because I'm English, I'm just insecure) and this is only on the "About" section of the blog, which is called Deapologize and you should check the rest because it's banging!
deapologize’ is a collection of prose and poetry written, simultaneously, in jest and in complete stony-faced seriousness.
deapologize has been an alphabet soup brewing on the poetry stove for a while now. If there should be a single essence to the collection, it is heralded by the needless human instinct to apologize for simply being. Thanks to this spirit-crushing society of zombies, we are made to feel sorry for our quirks, and idiosyncracies and essentially for everything that makes up our entirely unique disposition.
It is a way of being unapologetic. Of reclaiming our over-expelled ‘sorry’s and simply holding our heads high instead. Of forgoing the compulsion to meekly submit to ideas that suggest we are doing something wrong just by living however we choose to. (Some circumstances are exempt from the state of Not Being Sorry: like if you deliberately set someone’s house on fire – also known as arson, look it up mate, it’s totally illegal – then you should be sorry).
If you enjoy the writing here, you can drop the writer an email [nabilah.husna@gmail.com]. If you don’t, you, too, may drop me her email. She like emails.
Wednesday 26 September 2012
Mid Afternoon Sunset
As I've been posting up a lot of old stuff recently, here's a little something that is recent. I've been writing a lot of short poems of late, and I must say, I'm enjoying it. I reminds of a few years ago when I was just trying it out, mostly for my own amusement.
Mid Afternoon Sunset
It's always
This
Time
of year.
Where
Something
Keeps
putting the potato
Up
the exhaust
Of
my
dreams.
Ruby
Wax
Was
leading
Hymn
practice
At
the packed Catholic church
I
visit
at
Christmas
And
the odd
Easter.
There
was instructions
for
hand
movements.
I
couldn't take it.
To
the disappoint
Of
My
Dad
As
I
walked
Out
Into
The
quiet evening
Feeling
Guilty
But
glad
Of
the
air.
Tuesday 25 September 2012
Rhyming Thunder
It should be a great night and a great book, which you can purchase for a mere £10 from HERE
Words From The Archives: #5 Knackered
Hello Again
Pulled this one of the hardrive this week. I'd completely forgotten I'd written it. At the time, I probably would have hated it, it never got performed. It was the sort of thing I wrote a lot of, but never showed anyone.
As with all the other peices I've out up, I've left it exactly how it was on the screen, ie with spelling and grammer errors etc. This would have been been written around March 2010. I would have been living an ex council flat in Fulham at the time. which was quite stressful. The park and bench mentioned would have been 1 of possibly 2. Either the park / gardens behind the Houses of Parliament, or the small green area off of Vauxhall bridge Road. I don't remember any of their names...
KNACKERED
Lunchbreak.
He rises from his seat and walks away from his desk
heading out the office he avoids the lifts and taks the steps
Existing the building turning right
All the shops, cafe's, cash machine and pub, are on the left
A 5 minute walk to the park he finds a bench.
He takes his book Out of his bag and begins to write.
When he's not writing he recites.
Pacing up and down the perimiter of the park trying to get his words right.
He repeats this 5 days a week.
Monday to Friday.
Day in.
Day out.
He doesnt think he's better than anyone else.
He doesn't thnik he's special.
He's got nothing aaginst his collegues.
He likes them.
he envys them.
What he does think,
is that he doesnt expect them to undetstand.
Is that bad?
Not that there's anything wrong in...........
You know what?
This is bollox.
Treading over old ground.
Repeatedley.
Again,
and again.
I've been here.
Done this before.
On the same park bench.
2 years ago.
A thousand times.
Where's it going?
Ok.
I finally got to meet some really inspireing people.
Even made a few moves.
I feel like it's pushed me on.
A lot.
A hell of a lot,
and I'm gratefull.
Honestly.
Now though,
after a lot of post work grinding.
5 days a week.
Day in.
Day out.
The adrenline's gone.
The ideas have gone.
The spark has gone.
I'm completley knackered.
I'm still sitting on the same bench.
Writing the same tired self obsessed crap.
When I return back to my desk.
I know I've got a shit load of stuff to do.
I've fallen behind.
Again.
This time I don't have the energy.
The patience is gone.
All I'm left with is me.
My job.
Judgeing by the emails I get most days about stats
I'm edging ever closer to the sack.
The flat.
I don't even know who i'm living with now.
the revolving door policy has seen me live with 9 peoplle in 3 months,
at the last count.
What the fuck am I supposed to do?
If I make myself I'll,
then at least I tried.
Sometimes I just wish I was normal
Pulled this one of the hardrive this week. I'd completely forgotten I'd written it. At the time, I probably would have hated it, it never got performed. It was the sort of thing I wrote a lot of, but never showed anyone.
As with all the other peices I've out up, I've left it exactly how it was on the screen, ie with spelling and grammer errors etc. This would have been been written around March 2010. I would have been living an ex council flat in Fulham at the time. which was quite stressful. The park and bench mentioned would have been 1 of possibly 2. Either the park / gardens behind the Houses of Parliament, or the small green area off of Vauxhall bridge Road. I don't remember any of their names...
KNACKERED
Lunchbreak.
He rises from his seat and walks away from his desk
heading out the office he avoids the lifts and taks the steps
Existing the building turning right
All the shops, cafe's, cash machine and pub, are on the left
A 5 minute walk to the park he finds a bench.
He takes his book Out of his bag and begins to write.
When he's not writing he recites.
Pacing up and down the perimiter of the park trying to get his words right.
He repeats this 5 days a week.
Monday to Friday.
Day in.
Day out.
He doesnt think he's better than anyone else.
He doesn't thnik he's special.
He's got nothing aaginst his collegues.
He likes them.
he envys them.
What he does think,
is that he doesnt expect them to undetstand.
Is that bad?
Not that there's anything wrong in...........
You know what?
This is bollox.
Treading over old ground.
Repeatedley.
Again,
and again.
I've been here.
Done this before.
On the same park bench.
2 years ago.
A thousand times.
Where's it going?
Ok.
I finally got to meet some really inspireing people.
Even made a few moves.
I feel like it's pushed me on.
A lot.
A hell of a lot,
and I'm gratefull.
Honestly.
Now though,
after a lot of post work grinding.
5 days a week.
Day in.
Day out.
The adrenline's gone.
The ideas have gone.
The spark has gone.
I'm completley knackered.
I'm still sitting on the same bench.
Writing the same tired self obsessed crap.
When I return back to my desk.
I know I've got a shit load of stuff to do.
I've fallen behind.
Again.
This time I don't have the energy.
The patience is gone.
All I'm left with is me.
My job.
Judgeing by the emails I get most days about stats
I'm edging ever closer to the sack.
The flat.
I don't even know who i'm living with now.
the revolving door policy has seen me live with 9 peoplle in 3 months,
at the last count.
What the fuck am I supposed to do?
If I make myself I'll,
then at least I tried.
Sometimes I just wish I was normal
Tuesday 11 September 2012
Words From The Archives: #4 Coffee Shop
Around about this time, in 2008, whilst on a work / birthday doo at the roller disco in Vauxhall, I fell over, fractured my elbow, got put in plaster and was signed off work for 2 weeks. Despite the inconvenience of not having the use of my right arm for a while and some extremely intense physio afterwards (I was in tears every week) it was one of the best 2 weeks I'd had in years...
I was living in Brixton at the time and had borrowed 2 books from Brixton library which were on the required reading list for this creative writing course I was due to attend at Birkbeck college. The cafe in the poem was on acre lane and had only recently opened.
The poem itself was typical of the kind of stuff I used to write back then and does make me cringe a little bit. The course I took marked the beginning of the end of this sort of thing for me, for now anyway...
I was living in Brixton at the time and had borrowed 2 books from Brixton library which were on the required reading list for this creative writing course I was due to attend at Birkbeck college. The cafe in the poem was on acre lane and had only recently opened.
The poem itself was typical of the kind of stuff I used to write back then and does make me cringe a little bit. The course I took marked the beginning of the end of this sort of thing for me, for now anyway...
COFFEE SHOP IM OFF WORK ON THE SICK I WAS IN THE FLAT WANTING TO ESCAPE IM STARTING A COURSE IN A WEEK GOT BOOKS FROM A LIST THAT I NEED TO READ SO TAKING INTO ACCOUNT THOSE FOUR I STEPPED OUT MY DOOR PUT MY FEET TO THE STREET NEAR WHERE I RESIDE SITUATED ON A CORNER IS A LITTLE COFFEE SHOP WHICH I'VE NEVER TRIED NOW IM NOT MR CULTURE AND CERTINLY NOT SPOHISTICATED BUT I'VE TRIED A FEW THINGS HERBAL TEAS AND SOYA BEANS ONE OR TWO VEGGIES DISHES AND FROM MY FREINDS I'VE HAD MANY SNIGGERS I JUST TRY KEEP ON OPEN MIND BUT I DON'T WISH TO LEAVE CERTAIN THINGS BEHIND IM NOT ADVERSE TO A GEASEY SPOON BUT COFFEE SHOPS? ONCE OR TWICE MAYBE DUNNO I GIVE EM A WIDE BERTH REALLY I DONT DRINK COFFEE BUT IM OFF WORK AND I NEED TO READ AND I DO LIKE A NICE CUP OF TEA SO WHY NOT? I ENTERED IN ASKED FOR A CUP OF TEA THE LADY BEHIND THE COUNTER THEN ASKED ME CAMMOLILE, FRUIT, EARL GREY, BEAKFAST OR GREEN? IN MY HEAD I REPLIED "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEAN?" "I WANT A CUPPA!!" BUT THAT WAS IN MY DREAMS I POLITLEY REPLIED "BREAKFAST PLEASE" SHE THEN SAID "WOULD YOU LIKE MILK WITH THAT?" IN MY HEAD I SAID "THATS A STUPID QUESTION YOU SILLY PRAT" BUT IM NOT LIKE THAT SO I POLLITLEY REPLIED "YES PLEASE" I UNDERTAND THESE COFFEE SHOPS CATER FOR A DEMOGRAPHIC FAR WIDEER THAN THE LIKES OF ME FROM A SMALL INWARD LOOKING A TOWN AT THE ARSE END OF SURREY I THEN HAD A QUICK GLANCE AT THE FOOD ON THE MENU NOW IT OFTEN BAFFLED ME AS A CHILD IN CHURCH THE PROCESS OF A WAFER SUDDENLY BECOMING A SMALL SLICE FROM THE BODY OF CHRIST I BELIVE THEY CALL THIS TRANSUBSTANTIATION CURIOUS AGAIN I WONDERED HOW SOME CHEAP WHITE BREAD, OLIVES AND PESTO MAGICLALLY BECOMES MEDITERIANIAN AND £4.50 SO WHEN THE WOMAN SAID "ANYTHING ELSE?" I SAID NO THANKYOU AND PAID FOR MY TEA SO I GOT MY TEA AND SAT ON THIS AKWARDELEY HIGH UNCOMFORTABLE STOOL WITHOUT A BACK ON A BENCH SURFACE BY A WINDOW AND PROCEEDED TO GET MY BOOK OUT OF MY BAG TEN MINUTIES PAST, AND THAT STOOL WAS HURTING MY ARSE AND THAT LACK OF A BACK WAS HURTING MY BACK NOW I UNDERSTAND THEY WANT AN INTELLIGANT CLINETLLE AND TO DISCOURAGE THE RIFF RAFF BUT DO THEY REALLY HAVE TO INSIST ON PLAYING THIS PONCY JAZZ I LIKE MUSIC BUT NOT THIS ITS GETTING ON MY NERVS IM TRYING TO READ BUT I CAND CONCENTRATE ON THE FLIPPIN WORDS HONESTLEY, THIS COFEE CULTURE WHATS IT ALL ABOUT A COFEFE HOUSE ITS A CAFE BOLLOX TO AN OPEN MIND THIS IS CRAP THE WHOLE THINGS A PARADOX, A MUG OFF FUCK THIS IM NOT A MUG SO I FINISHED MY TEA POLLITLEY SAID "THANKYOU" AND WENT TO THE PUB
Tuesday 4 September 2012
Music, it's all gone full circle!
Greetings!
We all clicked pretty quickly and soon enough a whole project was born. At the moment, a lot of it is still under wraps but here's another work in progress track (Working title Time, Blood Sweat and Tears).
and then finally, as if going back to rapping wasn't enough, I was just last week invited to play drums on the video shoot for Conrad's Hip Hop group Rodium (Cakey Monkey, Joypad B and Killer PLO). I must say, I was a bit rusty too begin with but it was a lot of fun in a dirty old studio round the back of the legendary Tin Pan Alley!
Here's a sneaky behind the scenes video for the track You're A Star.
To top it all off, I've been working on my self produced EP which I hope at some point will see the light of day! Who knows...
Hope you enjoy these as much as I did!
This is a little update to let you know about some music projects I've been working on of late...
For anyone that's known me for a while, or for that matter has ever listened to me talk about myself, which, I do, erm, probably a bit more than I should... the'l know prior to entering the world of Poetry and Spoken Word, I was a rapper and an MC, prior to that I was a drummer, prior to that I was a fan of music! I've been lucky enough to be born into a family of music and have had many different influences around me my whole life.
So about 18 months ago I was offered the chance to go into the studio of Conrad Murray aka Cakey Monkey. I knew Con through working on theatre projects at BAC, and together with Dani Marshall whom I also know from BAC (but did'nt know at the time she possessed the voice of an angel) we put this track together (the working title is Outcast) as a little experiment, it was the first time I'd been 'in the booth' rapping for a few years
We all clicked pretty quickly and soon enough a whole project was born. At the moment, a lot of it is still under wraps but here's another work in progress track (Working title Time, Blood Sweat and Tears).
and then finally, as if going back to rapping wasn't enough, I was just last week invited to play drums on the video shoot for Conrad's Hip Hop group Rodium (Cakey Monkey, Joypad B and Killer PLO). I must say, I was a bit rusty too begin with but it was a lot of fun in a dirty old studio round the back of the legendary Tin Pan Alley!
Here's a sneaky behind the scenes video for the track You're A Star.
To top it all off, I've been working on my self produced EP which I hope at some point will see the light of day! Who knows...
Hope you enjoy these as much as I did!
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