Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Hear no, speak no, see no.

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Thursday, October 22, 2009

Pinnochio.

I'll be reading this at urban juke joint next week friday.

Be cautious to touch
All because rough surfaces can hurt fingertips
Splinters are caught lingering in skin
Where a pen excretes ink, withering on paper
A stage for where a ventriloquist is at risk of exhibiting stitched lips
How can I express silence without speaking
Practice abandonment and begin tweaking the fine points
Carved from parts without my joints having the capability to bend
I sense a trend in this rigor mortis fortune
Let us pretend to portend that I'll morph in to a corpse
Lend life to an inanimate shell
Awaiting my next show, stowed on a cabinet shelf
I'd rather my tale become fiction in book
However, the measure of thread has given to hooks that induce movement; a dance
A chance to prance
A glance by spectactors to romance a stance
Advance? I can't
I'm trapped; attached to that which has the hands
A manipulator and dictator
By strands, I'm stranded
Infiltrated
I've landed on a floorboard for more of the audience's entertainment
Claiming encore, as I bow
Now hollow
Stained with the saliva of termites that bite
I'm not with lacquer or vigor
Worst life to picture, lacking an image of happiness
Tacked with pins
Not having skin has it's advantages, as with this situation
Regretting to serve
Words involuntarily carried would be getting on nerves of mine
Turpentine to reverse a shine I stated was negated, prior to being berated
For the paint chipping away
Visible frays
Supine, I'm locked in a pine box until the day I'm given away or thrown out
Go 'round, merrily
Terribly displayed to all who would watch; a hop and skip to a spin
Into a song and dance, I begin
With a grin whittled, chisel a dimple to my chin
When will it end
I can never cry
Only sawdust will flush from my eye
Digits didactic in tapping to how I'm guided
Provided the lining isn't unwinding, you'll find that I'm tapdancing
Being handled in a manner as "insensitive as sensations my imaginary nervous system isn't resistant to
Is this making sense?
A tempest so tense in timber, it's limber to limbs that are nonexistent"
I no longer feel the flailing
Persistent to witness this ongoing dramatization
Regaling, I'm distances away with a sway and a jig
With a flip of a switch, I am blinking
Winking
Akimbo
Leaning into a parade by a twig
I am him
Parlay from a fig
I am numb from the way of a whim
Standing ovation
Rickety
Fidgeting
Jiminy Cricket
Splitting me in the thicket of wishing he didn't
Geppetto, excessively extrinsic
Pinesol along my eyeballs, lemony finish
Never letting me finish
Extending leaves, ostensibly different
Extensively livid
Incredibly rigid
Will I ever be living is the question emitted
Legibly dimming, impendingly pitting me against a mirror
Apprehensively fitting of a reflection
Depiction... deceptive
Recollection of every chapter from hereafter
I'm pensive
I can't sit, unless placed in a corner
Leaning over, slumped at the shoulder
Lady with turquoise hair; blue fairy
Work your wand and share
Her choice to turn me into a real boy
I care to be realized
I'm here
Stumped at how I'm rooted and growing
Knowingly showing foliage
Shooting and hoping
A writer and poet

G. Arthur ©2009
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Sunday, October 18, 2009

Table tops enabled hop to get hip to a fabled rock.

This is my second installment of artwork at The Coffee Cave(45 halsey street; newark, nj). It's a compilation of a few pages from my new book of sketches. I remixed it a bit and added a little extra. By far, one of my favorites that I've done.

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Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Coffee Cave table(1st wave).

Here are the rest. I'm starting to pick up my own signature style, which I'm grateful for and love! Look for more from me!

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Tuesday, October 13, 2009

Hip-hop's earliest beginnings on table tops.

Sounds nice sliding from the tongue, doesn't it? Lol. I'll upload the other shots of this artwork I did at The Coffee Cave.

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Glocally Newark and I.

http://glocallynewark.com/2009/09/raising-awareness/<br /><br />the red, black and green sneakers in the middle are my design... and, if you scroll down, the guy in the grey-striped mock neck sweater with the big frames... yeah, that was me. i'll be posting more of the photos that i took myself and the process put into creating the design.<br />
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Sunday, October 11, 2009

Impromptu piece for Amiri.

I feel this is a work in progress, as it was beginning life only moments prior to me being called to the podium.

Talking that talk
Walk like jazz
Crack whips like lips
Kiss black
Tap feet
Streets move, as he did
We live genocide in life on both sides
Dyed(died) wings be butterfly under my bold eyes
I see the reverie he is being
Bring reality to the steps
Yes, no one could lasso with a lariot
Laureate
Chariot galloping as steadfast
Feed people this breakfast
Food for thought, brought plates to the table
Enable a brain
Chain letters to slaves
A page
We; rebel
Revel in revolving
Revolution is solvent
Washing away the blood on pavement
Broad statement are the boulevards
Newark
A new arc
Arch roads to go beyond a path he set forth
Forward
For words stretched breath pressed next to injustice
Ingesting and regurgitate this luncheon
He developed a didactic discourse
Of course, it's a course
And I'm insatiable
Take in views he spewed
Newsboy cap
A rap
Jazz infused we use bebop to top
And never fell
Fail we won't, tested for centuries
I'm still listening to a message he sent to me
Echoes in elbows that bend to lift spirits
Clearance to allow for caring to land on hands
Hugs carry
Hearts heavy
Nucleus including us in this opera
Operating on cigarettes that burn similar to ancestors
Breathe whispers that scold oppressors
Belmont and spruce street greet professors
Records span history, as long as hallways
I may be wrong, but I won't be wrong always

G. Arthur ©2009
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2nd piece read for Amiri.

This was written beforehand, at a jazz lounge called Skippers. And it just so happened that Amiri Baraka was there. I greeted him and shook his hand. I was moved by his demeanor and smile, persona and all the knowledge I could only imagine he holds. However, with the location, my words were guided differently, especially with the fervor he showed for the music. A music I love as well. Enjoy. :-)

"Call the pound, he said he'd let the dog's loose!"

Clearly Amiri was in the mountain counting the pebbles that settled at the top
I couldn't stop watching this exotic petal of a flower
She aged so gracefully, the face of dreams
In a hypnotic gown
Towered to a drop of rain, she claimed to be the seasons
Her spirit was gleaming, similarly to the beams reflecting from my mixture of pineapple and cranberry
Barely spoke a word when I heard this one voice
No where in the world, she curled my being into being
Piano handle ample samples to channel apples and candles
Sugar and fire to create and accentuate a cinnamon in my ear
Can you hear what I hear?
The trombone sent me to a humble brown
Travelling a hummed tone to a love funneling 'round
Rumbling from one's bone, a thundering sound
Because these rhythms come from the inside
Cunning linguist to a running of clouds
Bodies afloat to the buoyant boys drumming abound
Breathe deep these reeds sweet to keep seeds in the beat with lungs under the ground
Hugs comfort the lounge
Embrace the riff
Twist the accompaniment into your throat, or so it goes
Flow so the cool soothes to move as a company's mint
Accountable for surrounding grooves in a ditch, switch to the soloist
So low, lips kiss footsteps
Tickling toes and the bottom of your soles
Dancing about to holidays named billy in a route where houndstooth is filling in the now
Spinning in a crowd
Drinks sitting in a smile
With a splash of solid knit ties and bars to hold them in place
In case the sway became ragtime
Polished wit
Wise cracks
Rolled in an ace
Play your cards right
This glass
Wine pours in the same sentiment as the notes the singer whispers in a breeze
Spring forward toward a trickling tease
Sip me
I'm slowly leaking from the peak of the evening
Peeking at this Ella of a woman
Star-studded excellence, dressed to impress
Fresher than produce, produce a beaming bright height of melodies
Assembled in stellar
Tell her she's beautiful
Bounce
Band; rubber band; back and forth in the background
Ventriloquist the kiss of keys in the air, it's a mystery
This affair I have with the misses and mist in ink
Elevated
Womb a tune, loom a bloom
Emanated her greatness from a wistful wink
Red and grey
Blissful pink
Fushcia
Future in the furrow followed by a flute's flirtations
Colored the corners of my cornea
As a trumpet is jumping, trumping the thump from the rousing applause
Rainbow coalition spilling and peeling from the crown of the walls
Even the ceiling's in awe
Drowning the flaws in the complexion perfection intended
Blending the bend of the saxophone
Brass to a class of all elite that reach the seats
People can't refrain themselves or sit still
Maximum impact
Tap your toes
High hats
Crash
Graduate and palpitate
I can't take the wide flash from the bright blast
Might jazz get any heavier
On my heart, I love
Medley rubs my soul in the most precious sentiment
Incredible
Skippers serving musical ambrosia, so edible
And adieu

G. Arthur ©2009
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Amiri Baraka Birthday/Book signing.

It was quite the honor to be included as one of the poets reading for him. At first, I thought my friend, K. Desiree', had sent me an email about attending, not to actually be a part of the program. Nonetheless, I must say, it was quite the experience. Having reserved seating and my name on the bill. Even being interviewed for fios/vios television. Lol, I didn't catch what the camera man said. It was almost overwhelming. I rarely get nervous, however, that was one moment where I was. But, as far as what I read, I shall be posting that sooner than later. One piece was premeditated, while the other was impromptu, inspired by my friend Mia X's performance and just Amiri's presence. I hope he was pleased with my writings.
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