Posts Tagged ‘Where else can I share poetry?!’

In Response to “Contradicting Contradictions”

Tuesday, April 30th, 2013

Where was this passion all semester?! I feel as if spoken-word should be performed exactly the way each author performs it. I’m almost afraid to label it a performance. Speaking a poem rather than having to type it in print opens the door for emotions to be free. When I read Sylvia Plath and Amiri Baraka poetry I can see their passion in their words and punctuation on the page and attempt to read each piece as active as they may read it if they had the opportunity to let their emotions be wild and free on stage. I don’t think I know about the Staceyann Chin performance that you are talking about. To say that Staceyann is  “acting” like an angry black women is to judge and marginalize her performance, to remove Staceyann Chin from her piece, and to throw her into an archetype of an “angry black woman”: this is where I find the issue. I would say that Stacey Chin is being an angry Stacey Chin. The closed mindedness is when to categorize and lable wild free emotions to help you understand it. You basically put the wild free emotion back in a cage when you use “acting like an angry black woman” as a description of art.  I wanted to talk about the saxophone player that most likely looked forward to having the honor of playing along with Amiri Baraka.  However, I do feel that Amiri chose to have a white saxophonist to add to the message of the poem. The poem that we watch by Amiri Baraka broke the allowance of white people, in this country, to always be free from guilt. While they blame the colored people that live in this country (not just black people).  The class fell right back into what Amiri Baraka was trying to break.  The white man became the victim and Amiri Baraka was laughed at.  I wasn’t surprised. Consider Kanye West’s video with the white ballerinas (do u think those ballerina were unfortunate too) and the black people as civilized having dinner(Kanye west took it a step past black and white because even the black people wouldnt accept the women he brought to dinner because she was different and wanted to lable her as weird and strange because of their closed mindeness.) The same point was trying to be made by Amiri I would guess to have the white people do the work and perform for black people for once.  But if we go as far as to say that it was strategic by Amiri Baraka we already begin to criminalize him because we are saying that it was premeditated.  So Molly I must say that I do have a problem with you “nearly ripping your hair out when Amiri hooed like an owl.”  You did not understand the symbolic significance of the owl within the context of the poem so your closed mind could only laugh to set you free from your mental prison as Amiri Baraka successfully got under your skin and aggravated you. I’m sure there are more unfortunate saxophone players out there.  I was very disappointed how the class responded to Amiri Baraka’s poem how we weren’t as open minded as we act. Now look at Kanye West’s Video After we saw Amiri Baraka where will your brain take you.

Breakdown of Adios, Carenage and some Woman stuff

Thursday, April 18th, 2013

07 Transatlanticism

05 Why You’d Want To Live Here “Leaving Carnage”

09 Coney Island

07 Someday You Will Be Loved

11 Beacon-“Take the deep end and swim till you can’t stand”

The title ‘Adios, Carenage’ tells me that Shabine is saying goodbye to an Island. However, the name of the Island that Walcott chooses “Carenage” makes me want to change it to “carnage.” Carenage is a real place though:Carenage is a community in the Republic of Trinidad and Tobago. It is located in northwestern Trinidad, and is administered by the Diego Martin Regional Corporation. Located close to Chaguaramas, it is more of a residential area than a commercial or industrial locale.The name is derived from the practice of “careening” (i.e., beaching) sailing vessels for maintenance, which had been done in the area for many years(Wikipedia).[

In the this excerpt of this long poem he refers to the place he is leaving to a carnival like its a circus that he is tired of being a clown in: “So leave it for them and their carnival.” But first things first, Shabine leaves his wife in the middle of the night:”I blow out the light by the dreamless face of Maria Concepcion.” A. Rogers talk about how Shabine spoke rudely to his dry neighbor but he actually didn’t say anything to her at all:” and I nearly said: “sweep softly, you witch, ’cause she don’t sleep hard.” how would you feel towards a women who was making ruckus while you were trying to sneak out of the house while she was sleeping? Shabine hops in the taxi and it seems as if the taxi driver has driven him a number of times: “a route taxi pull up, park-lights still on. The driver size up my bags with a grin: “This time , Shabine, like you really gone!” ” Since the park lights are on it tells me that the taxi cab is there on call or is easily accessible, maybe it’s in his own mind. The reason why I would change Carenage to carnage is because Shabine talks about that in the rearview mirror he saw a man “exactly” like himself like he could have left his physical body behind:”exactly like me, and the man was weeping for the houses, the streets, the whole fucking island.” Shabine is leaving carnage because he says: “If loving these islands must be my load, out of corruption my soul takes wings. but they had started to poison my soul with their big house, big car, big-time bohobohl, collie, nigger, Syrian, and French Creole, so I leave it for them and their carnival.” It is like all the materialistic shit in the world is too shallow and that he must go to deeper depths. If there is any confusion about whether Walcott is Shabine I think it is clear that he is when he says: “a rusty head sailor with sea-green eyes that they nickname Shabine, the patois for any red nigger, and I, Shabine, saw”  Shabine brings up “colonial” half way through the poem. When he says “colonial” I believe he is talking about collegiate and formal education:I have Dutch, nigger, and English in me. The Dutch had slaves. Sounds a little like he is America because he is a melting pot of a person: “I’m a nation.”  I feel like his misses his wife even though he left her in the middle of the night because he brings her up throughout this section of the poem is positive ways: “But Maria Concepcion was all my thought.” “Strokes of the sun signing her name in every reflection”. However, it does turn dark in the next line when he describes the darkness as a woman: “When dark-haired evening put on her bright silk at sunset.” At the begininning of the poem dawn is brought up if you can remember:”as a seaman on the schooner Flight. Out in the yard turning gray in the dawn”. When he said “dawn” at the beginning of the poem and in that context I thought of it as his own dawn, like he departed is his own mind. Anyway, there is a link between him taking Flight and the woman that is the night that I just mentioned, after the “sunsets” this follows; “folding the sea, sidled under the sheet with her starry laugh, that there’d be no rest, there’d be no forgetting. Is like telling mourners round the gravesideabout resurrection, they want the dead back, so I smile to myself as the bow rope untied and the Flight swing seaward.” This reminds me of dreaming and how people sleep but if you are dreaming all night you wake up as if you were never really sleep.  He leaves his wife but when the night falls there is this other woman ,the night, that he is with or maybe it is that he is constantly haunted by leaving his wife and family.  you know the phrase ‘there are more fish in the sea’ when referring to women? Shabine says to that cliché,”Is no use repeating that the sea have more fish.” He says this because when he is with the sea it is more of a spiritual connection:”I aint want her dressed in the sexless light of a seraph(angle).” He wants her is a more animal way or physical way. Her describes he and his wife on Sunday afternoons and describes her as a squirrel:”I want those round brown eyes like a marmoset” “Those claws that tickled my back on Sunday afternoons, like a crab on wet sand.” He always links himself with the water in some way. He links the sea with the “woman of the night I mentioned early with the word silk when he is describing that Sunday afternoon: “as I worked, watching the rotting waves come past that scissor the sea like silk”  Shabine tells the read that he truthfully loves his wife and family he swear by his mother’s milk and “by the stars that shall fly” from that night “furnace”:”I loved them, my children, my wife, my home” I wouldn’t go as far as to say that it is a Love/Hate relationship because hate is such a strong word but he says,” I loved them as poets love the poetry that kills them, as drowned sailors the sea” Walcott is the poet. Shabine is the drowned sailor:”Shabine sang to you from the depths of the sea” All this to say that Shabine has nothing against women, he just loves himself more. And that since he is man women will always be in his mind whether it be in the form of guilt or the sea that is womanlike that lures him to her.

The “V” is Silent

Friday, March 8th, 2013

The oceans in wood, the ages in waves.

We shred up the years and make them a page.

We grow into sage, must learn to aim rage.

Shackles, tears to ankles in these cages.


At least I’m standing, better than drifting.

In perspiration, tears from eyes to ears.

The sting of floating on your back. On my

Own too, in Velvet, blue. Oh, how could I


Forget You? Who gave me limbs to paddle.

And when they nag, Oh, the saddle engraved


They won’t ride me to the grave. I’ll try my


Best to behave! To behave. But will I

have to cut my mane? I am a Man. Right?


No! I’m a child in heat and I wanna

Dance in the street. Free verse straight to the hearse.