Wednesday, October 31, 2012

Count down to WORD UP Volume 2 starts now...........!!!!!


Volume 2

holds on the

17th of November 2012 
Lecture Theatre, UNILAG Guest House, Akoka, Lagos

Time is 3pm

We will be having all the A-List Poets in Naija, 

the likes of Sage Hasson, Efe Paul Azino, Plumbline, Olulu, 
Bob Ekat, Chiedu Ifeozo, Ivori, Atilola, Nini Efem, 
Enigmatic Olumide, Ndukwe Onuoha, Tofarati, 
Torpedo Mascaw, Soonest, Donna K, Holyblaze, Rez thapoet, Soonest, Increase 
many others.

Soul Music by: 

D Tone, Lumynos, Oyinkansola, Ajibola Adeoya, and Oyinkansola.

We will also have Celebrities such as 

Wana Wana of Inspiration FM, 
Yemisi Jaco
bs of Nigezie, 
IGOS of Wazobia FM, 
Aderonke of Smooth FM 
many more celebs who will perform poetry on stage.

It promises to be a chance to see words being kissed and made to dance.

Pixs of Chill and Relax (October Fever) which held on October 14 2012.

Chill and Relax (October Fever)
A Performance Poetry, Spoken Word 
Soul Music Open Mic Event 
was held on 14th of October 2012 
in Gbagada, Lagos, Nigeria. 

As usual it was a wonderful poetic experience.
We had a poet from ibadan, Street Poet, who came to show us what Ibadan has to offer poetically .

Lumynos made us sing along that, "this love no be lie o, no be wayo, no film trick, girl it's for real......" (watch out for the video).

Atilola, Holyblaze, Bob Ekat, Tofarati, Yommy Bishop, Lahde, Ajibola, Opemipo, Faidat and many others were all on fire. 
Then Efe Paul and his wifey did a poem together, 
and men, 
we were blown away!!!

It was an awesome evening and it was indeed a day to remember.
Check out the pixs below.

All pixs are courtesy of McAtte Photography

Street Poet in action

Street Poet


Bob Ekat

Efe Paul Azino and his wifey.

Olulu, the King not from Zulu

Lumynos strumming on our heart chords

Saturday, October 27, 2012

Friend...!!!! (A Spoken Word Poetry Piece)

"I always prefer male friends to female, they don't gossip" , she said, "and well, they are just my friends", she added. Now my best friend is all broken hearted,
and I'm getting drunk on his behalf,

She says, "they are just my friends".
I saw her with a guy,
they were too close for comfort,
I told my friend,
"well, you know, she is very friendly", he said.

She says, "they are just my friends".
I heard she went visiting the baddest player in da hood.
She went in the morning, came out at night.
My friend asked her about it,
she said, "we were just watching movies" .
All day???

She says, "they are just my friends".
I saw her in the nite club,dancing freely and wildly,
but none of the guys was my friend.
At 3am, she got into one of the guys' car,
well, I guess I can assume he dropped her at home at that time, right???

She says, "they are just my friends".
Now she is pregnant, and doesn't know who is the baby's father.
Is it my friend's?
Nope, they had never had sex
cos she had said, she "is" a virgin.
Pregnant virgin, thats a miracle!!!
Reminds of somebody in the bible.

Well, what can I say?
Too bad she didn't make me too a "friend",
that's why am drunk,
I was not her " friend".

by Olulu

Let's look deep (a Spoken Word Poetry Piece)

Lets look deep,
in between the 2 small hills,
see what lies in between,
explore the depth
savour the taste and cherish the moment.

Lets look deep,
see two twin hills in our view
and feel the heat from the hills,
climb to the top of the hills,
explore the summit,
and maybe suck on it.

Lets look deep,
but I don't just want to look,
want to read the hills like a book,
maybe feel and stir them like a cook.
Better to ask and not be taken for a crook.
so I can enter thru d door,
and own the hills.

by Olulu

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

What Does it Mean to be a Poet? by Nathan Bednarek

I’ve always wanted to write something like this, be it an essay or an article. I’ve always had an idea or a vision of writing my own personal view of what poetry is and what it means to be a poet. I’ve had this idea for a couple of years now. When I first thought of it, it struck me as nothing else but my own reasonably oversized ego. Let me explain...

I have been writing poetry, literal poetry, for about three years now; five years if I include the lyrics to my early raps. Three years ago my poems were... bad. I mean really bad. The kind of ‘bad’ you should be put in prison for. These poems were obese with clich├ęs and cheap imagery. They were completely unstructured, except for the clear rhyme schemes. I was a typical beginner poet, thinking that all poems should rhyme, otherwise it just isn’t poetry. Here’s where the ego comes in. I used to think that I am a poet just because I’ve written something that rhymes. Somehow, I felt glorified and relevant to the world of art and to the development of the already complex human mind, just because I could rhyme a ‘cat’ with a ‘mat’. My ego was of course just delusional thinking.

However, I did not know it at the time, perhaps I chose not to know it, that my ego, being the inspiration for this piece, was essentially what kept blocking me from writing my answer, or my personal view of the question in the title. Only with time did my ego give way to the humbling power of poetry. I’ve learned some of the basic rules, the hard way, and I’ve accepted the fact that if I really want to write poetry I would have to become a student of this art for the rest of my life. You can see where the ego scuttled away with its tail tucked between its legs...

I’ve understood that I would have to wait some time until I had a reasonably mature attitude towards poetry. Even now, in many ways, it is still too early for me to write my response to the question in the title. It is too early even for those who had been writing poetry for decades. Knowing this, I realise that my response to this question will never be complete. I believe that there is no single answer to this question. The answer lies in each individual poet and his/her relationship with poetry.

As I said before, I used to think that being a poet is simply being a person with the ability to rhyme. I quickly learned the important lesson that rhyming is a tool, not a necessity in poetry. I guess the easiest way to put it is that it’s ok to rhyme, as long as the rhyme is not the meaning of a particular stanza, phrase or line. It cannot become the pattern for the poem; instead the poem should become the pattern for the rhyme. Ultimately, rhyming is just another decision a poet has to make when composing his/her piece. It may or may not be used, depending on the poem itself.

Usually, however, there is one necessity in poetry. Imagery. Without imagery, a poem does not ‘capture’ a particular thing a poet wants to express, but simply explains it. If I want to ‘explain’ something I tend to use the simplest words I can find to make it understandable. Imagery does not simply explain something to you. Imagery grabs you by the collar and pulls you to the exact spot in space and/or time of which it speaks. You experience that place and it needs no explanation.

Why am I talking about this? Well, on a very fundamental level, I’ve learned that in order to be a poet you have to learn to see. There is a difference between looking at something and seeing something. When you look at something, you simply acknowledge that it is there. You limit your observation to an acceptance of reality, the same way you look at a watch to check the time. A mere glance is enough to tell you the fundamental reality that it is now 5pm and you are allowed to go home from work, but this is just the outer layer of that reality.

To see something, your patterns of observation have to become more directly connected to whatever you’re observing. In other words, you have to become the thing you’re observing. Let me illustrate.

A bowl is a bowl. You pour your soup into a bowl, which makes it easier for you to eat that soup. This fact is probably the immediate observation you make when you see a bowl. However, if you were to take a bowl, put it in front of you, would you be able to see, or to become the bowl? Yes, this sounds quite ridiculous; a bowl is just an object used for eating. However, if a bowl had a mind, what would it say? For example:
‘I live in a box with hinges
that opens only when a stomach growls-
sandwiched between my sisters,
I am just one in a cupboard pile.’

...Or something like that. Now this isn’t top class poetry, but do you see what I mean when I say that imagery is like becoming something? Not only had this bowl been given an identity, but somewhat of an emotional strain is also visible. It’s empty when it’s not being used. It feels worthless when it just sits in a cupboard. You suddenly begin ‘experiencing’ the bowl and you somehow understand it, even though, in reality, it is indeed just a bowl. Where am I going with this?

Well, one way of answering the question, ‘What does it mean to be a poet?’, simply means that you observe something and then use imagery and other language techniques to express it and to make the reader be able to experience whatever your poem is about. However, this view is somewhat limited to the technical aspects of poetry. It speaks of its function and effect, but does it really explain what it means to be a poet?

I’ve learned that being a poet does not simply mean being able to write good poetry, using advanced and sophisticated techniques to express something, nor does it actually mean to pick up a pen and then start working on a poem.

I’ve observed many things since I’ve been writing poetry, including something very important. The things I observe - the objects, people, places, etc – seem to be carefully selected. Interestingly, I often select the ‘objects’ I observe subconsciously. I don’t just observe absolutely everything that is around me. I am an individual, so only specific things will draw my attention and these things may be the complete opposite of what draws the attention of another individual. However, the most important point here is that the things that draw my attention also seem to capture my feelings. The imagery I use in my poems seems to have a direct connection to my deepest thoughts and emotions. Again, this often happens subconsciously, so I can’t say that being a poet is about self-expression, because sometimes I don’t even realise that there is a connection to my personal life, so here’s my response to the primary question, ‘What does it mean to be a poet?’

Being a poet does not mean ‘self-expression’; being a poet means ‘self-discovery’.
I realised that a couple of months ago and I must admit that when I first realised it, I got quite scared. I wasn’t sure whether I actually want to ‘self-discover’. Why? Because self-discovery can be as much fulfilling as it can be destructive.

However, there is a reason to why I first started writing poetry. I did not know who I was.

I’ve always had a problem with analysing myself and coming to certain conclusions, even if they weren't correct. I was unable to learn about myself. There was a black hole inside of me that consumed everything around and within me, and yet it was still just a black hole. It had no sound, no texture, not even a shape. Self-discovery was something I was incapable of doing. Perhaps it was my age. I was very young. Then again, I am still very young.

I now believe that being a poet has nothing to do with writing poems. Being a poet means finding just the right words that tell you exactly who you are.
I can honestly say that now I know who I am, but that I will keep to myself... J

Saturday, October 20, 2012

Poetry (A Powerful Medium for Literacy)

Up to now, we have read how Mankind has a natural affinity for poetry which began since ancient times and how this form of expression helps the development of language skills. But, even though poetry is such a wonderful tool to lighten up children’s minds, many teachers would argue that it seems to elicit the most groans from students. How can this be?  If we want our students to understand that poetry brings them to a deeper understanding, we need to find meaningful ways to engage them with poetry.

 “It is not an exaggeration to say that all children, at least until adolescence, are natural poets.”
 How does poetry help 21st century literacy? 
Literacy is the ability to read and write proficiently. For the last thousand years, men and women have written on and read printed pages; this was the preferred medium. But now to excel in literacy, people not only must be able to read and write on a piece of paper they also have to be skillful in the use of technology. How can poetry help?
Poetry helps Literacy in two important ways.
First, it improves children’s language skills:
·    “A focus on oral language development through the reading and performing of poetry acknowledges that sound is meaning. When we hear the sound of the words in a poem read aloud, we gain a better understanding of the meaning of the writing.
·    Attention to the language and rhythms of a poem serves to expand oral and written vocabulary. 
·    Students express the kinds of connections to feelings and senses that they experience.
·    Poetry supports the multiple goals of literary development, including making inferences, identifying the main idea, making judgments and drawing conclusions, clarifying and developing points of view, and making connections.” (Hughes, 2007)
Secondly, it gives children material that can be put in multiple technological platforms because poetry is a very versatile art form. It is not only meant to be read aloud but also to jump up from the page so the audience may engage with it. Technology makes this very easy.
“Consider a group of students in an Ontario school who used Corel Presentations to create a Seuss-like poem for a class project. The students combined sound/music, text, and images to synthesize their ideas. In one student’s words, not only was the project “fun” but students were able to “see poetry differently” when they created their poems on screen. The use of new media adds multiple layers of meaning and interpretation of a poem in ways that are not available with a conventional textual format”. (Hughes, 2007)

"Poetry reflects on the quality of life, on us as we are in process on this earth, in our lives, in our relationships, in our communities."

Monday, October 15, 2012

Lets talk about LOVE (a Spoken Word Poetry Video)

Let's serenade the ladies a lil with this fine boy no pimples.
His name? 
Well, only if you can tell me why you need to know his name.

Chill and Relax - THE JUNE FUNK
( A Performance Poetry, Spoken Word and Soul Music event) 
that held on June 17, 2012.

IN MY TRACKS (a Spoken Word Piece)

When I was a boy
I often looked up to mama
‘Tell me what I’d become when I grow up.’
But mama never understood my plight
She called me a lawyer or an engineer
At other times she called me a soldier
Maybe for background or the state of our nation
But really those didn’t satisfy the crave in my world

Yes I want to be great and live large-to touch more lives
Have all the money in the world or command them all
But they seem too small compared to my earthly dream

If you see mama please tell her my dream
I want to record something in the sand of time
Creating a record that no one has ever done
Even if my record was eventually beaten
Either by some nobles or some highly blessed
Maybe their work may not even be as good as mine
But at least I created the record first
They all followed in my tracks
Who could defend it? They all became my clone!

by The Enigmatic: Olumide Bisiriyu
14.06.12. 1:20:1:30Pm
A special dedication to everyone whose heart desire is to be the best in their creative field

Thursday, October 11, 2012

Do u remember the time??? (An Ode to Micheal Jackson)

Let me ask u,
Do u remember the time?
when the Liberian girl changed our world,
and we wanted to scream,
I love u, Liberian girl.
But just so u know, as per the Liberian girl,
well, the girl is mine.

I can see it in your eyes,
that u wanna be starting something,
so don't stop till u get enough.
U can act all dangerous,
or be a dirty Diana.
But before u start asking, who's bad?
well, u should know, I'm bad.
And I wanna rock with you,
cos u rocked my world and u know u did,
and everything I won, I give,
and it doesn’t really matter if u are black or white.

I want tonite to be a thriller…… a thriller night,
whether there is blood on the dance floor,
or blood on the knife,
it ain’t too much for me to jam,
and just beat it,
and shout,
billie jean is not my lover,
she is just a girl who claims I am the one,
but the kid is not my son,
after all, its human nature.

I wish I can tell u to hold my hand and we sing the earth song together,

I wish I could tell u, u are not alone, I am here with you,
but all I wanna say is that, they don't really care about us.
So I’m starting with the man in the mirror, I’m asking him to change his ways,
So we can heal the world,
and make it a better place,
for u and for me and the entire human race.
So tonight,
even if its just for tonight,
we are going Hollywood tonite.

Olulu, (that is not a King from Zulu)

THE CAR...!!!!!

I love cars,
I love to drive them,
To be in control,
Make them jump when I press the controls,
Make them honk and horn for joy,
Service them as often as I can,
And walk away when the joy of driving the car is over.
Thus I have driven many a cars,
And well, crashed a few too.

Saw a car I really would love to drive,
The windscreen is one of a special kind,
With nice and attractive headlights,
A glistening and well tuned body structure,
Solid and well oiled engine,
And with a lovely, attractive and well rounded trunk to match.
It is simply a masterpiece.
I have a lovely dark car of my own,
A true masterpiece too,
And I love my car.
But I still wanted this car too.
I knew I couldn't drive it for as long as I would like,
But I still wanted to drive it.

I made my intentions known,
The car didn't mind,
Cos there seems to be a void I could fill.
But was told the car had a driver,
And that I could tag along if that didn't bother me
So I hopped into the passenger seat
Waiting, watching and biding my time.

After a long while of not getting a chance to be at the steering wheels,
I suddenly found myself at the back seat,
The back seat was full, over crowded and very uncomfortable
I stayed there for a while,
Hoping I could still make it into the driver’s seat, even if for a limited time.
But I had always lived my life according to simple rules
And one which states, “Enjoy it, don’t endure it, or else… walk away.”

I was enjoying the ride no more,
I was enduring it,
Many a request I made was turned down,
And since I was not in control, I couldn't afford to complain too much
So I still tried to enjoy it.
The back seat kept getting fuller, more crowded and more uncomfortable,
But the back seat was never a place meant for me,
I just had to get out
So I jumped out of the window,
No good byes, no reasons, no nothing.
I landed on my behind.
But I was happy I got out.

For a while my absence didn’t seem to be felt,
I also missed the warmth of the car,
I came to terms with the fact that,
I was probably being tolerated and not celebrated after all,
Then I noticed the brake lights were on,
And the reverse lights came on,
The car crept back,
Hesitant, but still crept back,
Didn't ask why I got out,
And I didn't bother to offer any explanation.

Now I stroll along the road with the car beside,
Would I get into the car again?
Well, maybe, or maybe not,
Or u know, on the condition that I get the driving seat,
But that would be selfish
Cos I can’t drive the car forever,
U know, I have a car of my own.
So now I walk,
Even though, I still would love to drive the car.

by Olulu, (the King not from Zulu).