Genuine

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Loving you is not a game

It will not play psychology

With language

Will not toss rhetoric from walls

Or hang deception on emotional hooks

That dangle temptation like foolish tongues

Will touch neither your body

Or your mind

Without permission

instead

Sincerity is the loudest whisper you’ve ever heard

Laughter fills your belly to the brim

With boldness

And devotion lays its head

In your bosom

Deed will play on the strings of vulnerability

Because when it comes to true love

Defenseless is the only way to be

Open

Honest

Real

Genuine

Spoken Word

What is Spoken Word?

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Spoken Word is an oral art form; performance-based poetry that is focused on the aesthetics of word play and story-telling. However, there are aspects of the artistry that indicate it is, indeed, spoken word without the necessity of it being poetry. While Spoken Word Poetry is the foundation of what we think of when we hear the words, Spoken Word can also be any form of speech that tends to focus on the performance of the words themselves, the dynamics of tone, gestures, facial expressions, and more. Poetic components such as rhyme, repetition, slang, improvisation, and many more elements of poetry can be interwoven to create an atmosphere the audience can experience—even in the case it is not organized poetry.

Speeches, Plays, Lectures

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There are many styles of the Spoken Word. One style is based on recorded, public and published works (IE. plays, speeches, e.g.), which many people don’t usually associate with spoken word. But many movements have used this form of speech to intellectually enlighten its listeners, and to prompt a sort of consciousness among those who would otherwise not listen when they’re spoken in the ordinary process of verbal conversation. From brothers like Huey Newton and Fred Hampton and even down to the great Israelite prophet Moses from whom they descend, speeches of such sorts have proven to be very influential in our history. It is because the messiah used parables that many of us are able to understand the wisdom that projected from his lips. Truthfully, how many of you would have understood faith to the extent of understanding, had he not so eloquently compared its strength to that of a mustard seed? Thus Public Speeches in general can constitute a kind of Spoken Word depending on the kind of emotion involved, disassociating it from that of normal speech and landing it right here in the definition of an art form.

Audience Participation

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The most popular style of Spoken Word  is what I like to call Audience Participation, as it involves reciting or improvisation of poetry and commentary performed in front of a live audience (to include blogging!). It is more of a prose or stream of consciousness that includes monologues, poems, stories, speeches, and rap. Yes, rap. I know many of you would not like to include hip hop. Many feel it is a less sophisticated avenue to which many “blacks” seek to degrade themselves. Surely, they say, one can find a better career than to pursue…rap. Yet, rap too, (though today’s music sounds like a form of remixed slavery, but that’s a discussion for a different day), is still an art form, an extension of poetry, and part of the Spoken Word community.

The Vision

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There are two very important elements of Spoken Word I believe an artist must have, and one of them is a vision. The artist vision is his mission. It is that thing he wishes to ultimately achieve with his words. It is the reality of the perception to which his words are projected. It is the act or power of sensing with the eyes in the metaphorical sense; the anticipation of what will be or what will come. If an artist does not have a vision, if he does not have a message, then he is not a member of Spoken Word. Speech is not an idle art, but words live. And they contribute to either life or death. Vision is important because words once spoken perform works unimaginable, soaring into the lives of many and causing them to revolutionize. A word can bring life or death so it is important to know where it is going and what its purpose of creation is in the first place. A word can bring greatness to a people or it can bring sorrow. How we speak and what we speak determines whether or not we are able to see the vision necessary to make a difference. Artists should ask themselves:

 
What is my goal?
What do I seek to accomplish?
What is my objective?
What motivates me to approach the stage?
“Is what I’m speaking on one accord with my message?

 
Do you see the vision? And as a result, do you have a voice?

 

The Voice

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Everyone has a voice. It is “The Voice” that makes Spoken Word possible and powerful. It gives life to the written word. It translates it into a familiar language, takes the contextualized heart, adds vocal cords and commands the artist to play; to play and to paint and to build and to change. For this reason each person’s voice is different (which makes it highly difficult to actually judge poetry which depends on a lot of things). Spoken Word includes testimonies of what each individual has been through or is currently going through. It brings to life the world’s problems: the disease of a love-less world, along with all of its baggage, to create for these individuals a voice that is unique to their personal self and helps them to heal under the covering of truth. Not that every occasion for Spoken Word is gloomy, for the art is called art for a reason; it is because it is beautiful, motivational, and as inspiring and as chill as musical therapy. However, many use it as an opportunity to bounce their voices off the walls of crowded rooms and the chit chatter of people talking. They use it as an opportunity to bring to life the hidden, the invisible, and the unseen. The world teaches us that our experiences are not important to share, and that we should keep our “skeletons in the closet” so that no one may see them. But what is hidden in the darkness is always revealed in the daytime the only question is: Would you rather show transparency so that your testimony can help another, or keep your mouth shut and hide under your tongue only to drown in your own pain and choke on your own saliva when the sun rises?

 
While many of us are part of the same walk, the experiences and lessons we learn are different and should not be shielded by the cover of intimidation or embarrassment; for we can be hiding the one word that can bring life to the one person who so desperately needed to hear it.

 
Every artist  must be able to see the vision and must be able to form for oneself a unique voice. After all, it is the voice itself that makes Spoken Word possible.

Angels Sing

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“Did your forehead ever collapse in your hands when you saw me acting too human for wings? Did you ever for a second consider giving up on me? From angels who flew too close to the sons and sons who did not fly close enough to angels, did you bleed rubies? Or cry diamonds on cold and lonely nights before hearing voice mails from your children, who stuttered your name in the darkness of their bedrooms? Did you ever tighten your fist, after realizing too many prayers ended in question marks?

– Jasmine Mans

A Private Symphony

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When deep breaths are like swallowing hurricanes that stir up in your stomach
like roller-coasters
and leave you holding on to jagged tooth remains of your invisibility
call upon the deliverance of notebooks and journals
or the speedy salvation of the keyboard
make them your masterpieces
Those days
When you feel like quarter notes
beaten and broken in half
those days
when invisibility finds you sitting beside yourself
those days
when all you need is a reminder
simply press upon the pedal of inspiration
dig inside the pockets of circumstance and resurrect joy from the pit of destruction
sing
and strike the cord of your thoughts firmly against the keys of motivation
for your fingers are golden today
and they bleed truth from the depths of an inner consciousness
Indeed, your words are beautiful today
pulling back the symbolic layers of your metaphors and deciphering your definitions
I can see why your rhymes curve perfectly around the waist of melodies
and swim better than oceans
so play
play us a song
like tongues taste new wine, bring the heat of our passion together like fire to chocolate
because you are special today
and all we need is a beat
a cleft
a time signature
a note
a rest
a song…a stepping stone
to play just the right scripture to guide us back to the music sheet
Yea, something like that
something like
a private symphony

Un-Pretty

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She was fourteen when the uglies came
fourteen when she realized that she was un-pretty
You see her mom’s mother’s mother,
and her mother before that
began the process of digestion that would take place through generational blood cells that rejected what they considered…the uglies.
so she regurgitated this face given her by some fierce creator the moment her life began recycling the cycle of teens who refuse to simply look in the mirror
Why should she?
For the laying on of verbal hands became saliva that practiced the breaking down of insults that made this decision mushy, and easy to swallow
and proactive never helped out,
pushing indoctrination further into her mouth until she has no other choice but to chew smooth skin and straight hair with her teeth
was it her fault?
that when she looked in the mirror a strange girl is all she could see
and positive comments slid off of her chocolate skin like empty belief.
Satisfaction never molding this face into something she could see
Beauty
never pushing its mushed up reality down the back of her throat
this
pretty stuff
never making it through adolescence
never making it through to the esophagus
Un-pretty
It was all she’s known and all she could see
never mind her thought process to ever enter the second portion of the digestive tract
for she was stuck
stuck in a world where beauty rocked air force ones and apple bottom jeans
the prettiest trading her cookies in for a better face
this
pretty little face
or that celebrities were simply pretty little liars
because beauty never came with a price
Un-pretty
It was simply a disease, an infection
moving confidence back to the ugly shaped tears that arose in her throat
that generations of house slaves would teach her to stomach
this mushed up ball of ugly too weak to form strong muscles that could stop it from mixing around images of Beyoncé and her sister Solange,
muscles
that could not stop it from becoming pretty plastic properties of Nicki Minaj
WHO forgot to tell this sista…
That in her world of pretty,
pretty was really
un-pretty?