I had the honor of sharing this new piece with a beautiful audience last night at Soul Restoration Thursdays hosted by Celeste and my Mama Deana Dean. I didn't have it memorized yet and I'm still working on the performance end of it but the audience showed me a lot of love and I had a good time with it. This is a poem I started back in 2009. I have decided 2011 is going to be the year of remixing and releasing. Releasing will mean one of two things: 1. releasing the remixes in their new and improved form or 2. releasing the poems completely by eliminating them from my collection of performance pieces. I'm sure this process will continue to develop and take on it's own life but this is the plan for now. Stay tuned for Clara T The Beast coming stronger than ever! |
This goes out to all you amateurs: Your problem is you write with a pencil and a pad, or a computer on your lap with a dictionary, encyclopedia, and thesaurus like a map down a literary path, literally rhyming cat with hat and gat and this and that but that shit’s wack. Me, I write often from my mother's coffin. I’m inside this box writing story problems, but my problem is I can never solve them. Example: 1967, Girl 1 is born. 1985, Girl 2 is born. Girl 2 Is the seed of Girl 1. Girl 1 never grows up. Girl 2 never becomes a mom. In 2010, which Girl Is a woman? I’m guessing the objective is to answer The question it’s all way too subjective. This wasn’t what I expected. Because I am Girl 2 and Girl 1 used to be my best friend But if life was a million dollar question, my life lines not Picking up and I just keep calling. I just keep writing. I write these scriptures like we still Christian Straight from the belly of her addiction to bad food and Alcohol so when I spit its sickening. I write from a cell In Idaho’s state prison where my big brother is sitting Writing his life story like its his reason for living. I write From inside the paint wherehe used to dunk on heads. He shoulda Been a star but like so many brothers he’s a convict instead. So I’m all in his head. I’m all in his body. How does a caged Beast feel? Like a monster probably. So I feel like You can never stop me. Sometimes I dream verses from my niece's crib. Gentle journeys into the life she might live. I write like there's a fight for a bright future in my pen. And I might just win if I can convince my baby sister that loses and wins are more than stars and spins. And life is more than boys and friends, tattoos and trends. She’s convinced or pretends life is contingent upon her light skin. They be hatin. So she fights them. And I’m writing from the other side Of this black girl’s fist, pulling out tracks. And I never miss. I never say I write from my heart because I've literally never been there. I don’t know what it feels like to dig my pen in my left breast, puncture the muscle that pumps blood and the organ that makes breath. I write from places I’ve actually been. I write smoking a black until the plastic melts looking at myself in the bathroom mirror recycling smoke from mouth to nose to mouth. And Back out. Remembering back when. Back then I blacked out what happened but now whispers shout to be let out. A quiet girl refuses to doubt her own voice. Refuses to believe it was her choice. Or bow down to you boys. Please amateur copy. That’s your job. See, inspiration begets Imitation. But your representations will never Capture my imagination. Or most importantly pass the Highest evaluation, which is dependent on how You respond to confrontation. I write from the front of the bus with Ms. Parks refusing to get up. Outnumbered refusing to give up, I spit shots back at the cops that let off 50 shots at that unarmed male black. I trace the graves of slaves who gave a damn about their names so when I call my brother "nigga" I remember his pain. To be specific, I tag hieroglyphics on the sides of pyramids so I never forget where the beginning is. I got one poem spread out in four different places Cause I been writing on my blackberry, my lap top and two pieces Of paper. And I guess that makes 5 cause I been meaning to Write down this one line… Amateur please. Release your subjects from this music box that has got us all singing backwards. Amateur please. Stop speaking like all of the words are in your head when they never belonged to you in the first place. Stop writing like you can finish that sentence whenever you feel like it and when you don't feel it please don't still write it. Amateur please. You don’t have the personality to MC. Amateur please. You don’t have the punctuality to beat me. I heard you tell your fans you wish you could be me. Amateur please. You don’t even have the vision to see me. Get clarity before you talk to me please. Amateur go figure out why that last line you wrote was a joke. And why your spoken word poem made you choke. Why your voice came from no deeper than your throat. Why you see yourself as less. Less than Gwendolyn and Langston. Less than Saul and Nikki. Less than me. When you are not an amateur anymore. You are me. And you are FREE. (2011) |
1.07.2011
Amateur Please (Remix debuted at Soul Restoration Thursdays)
1.04.2011
Moment of Clarity - Shawn "Jay Z" Carter
As you may know I am forever inspired by hip hop and in particular this man right here. This is one of my favorite songs and an inspiration for the blog so I thought I'd share the lyrics.
"Moment Of Clarity"
(Woooooo)
(Yeah)
(Turn the music up turn the lights down I'm in my zone)
[Chorus:]
Thank God for granting me this moment of clarity
This moment of honesty
The world'll feel my truths
Through my Hard Knock Life time
My Gift and The Curse
I gave you volume after volume of my work
So you can feel my truths
I built the Dynasty by being one of the realest niggas out
Way beyond a Reasonable Doubt
(You all can't fill my shoes)
From my Blueprint beginnings
To that Black Album ending
Listen close you hear what I'm about
Nigga feel my truths
[Verse One]
When Pop died
Didn't cry
Didn't know him that well
Between him doing Heroine
And me doing Crack sales
With that in the egg shell
Standing at the tabernacle
Rather the church
Pretending to be hurt
Wouldn't work
So a smirk was all on my face
Like damn that mans face was just like my face
So pop I forgive you
For all the shit that I live through
It wasn't all your fault
Homie you got caught
And to the same game I fault
That Uncle Ray lost
My big brothers and so many others I saw
I'm just glad we got to see each other
Talk and re-meet each other
Save a place in Heaven
'til the next time we meet forever
[Chorus]
[Verse Two]
The music business hate me
'cause the industry ain't make me
Hustlers and boosters embrace me
And the music I be making
I dumb down for my audience
And double my dollars
They criticize me for it
Yet they all yell "Holla"
If skills sold
Truth be told
I'd probably be
Lyrically
Talib Kweli
Truthfully
I wanna rhyme like Common Sense
(But I did five Mil)
I ain't been rhyming like Common since
When your sense got that much in common
And you been hosteling since
Your inception
Fuck perception
Go with what makes sense
Since
I know what I'm up against
We as rappers must decide what's most important
And I can't help the poor if I'm one of them
So I got rich and gave back
To me that's the win, win
The next time you see the homie and his rims spin
Just know my mind is working just like them
(The rims that is)
[Chorus]
[Verse Three]
My homie Sigel's on a tier
Where no tears should fall
'cause he was on the block where no squares get off
See in my inner circle all we do is ball
Til we all got triangles on our wall
He ain't just rappin for the platinum
You all record
I recall
'cause I really been there before
Four scores and seven years ago
Prepared to flow
Prepare for war
I shall fear no man
You don't hear me though
These words ain't just paired to go
In one ear out the other ear
NO
YO
My balls and my word is all I have
What you gonna do to me?
Nigga scars'll scab
What you gonna box me homie?
I can dodge and jab
Three shots couldn't touch me
Thank God for that
I'm strong enough to carry Biggie Smalls on my back
And the whole BK nigga holla back
[Chorus]
"Moment Of Clarity"
(Woooooo)
(Yeah)
(Turn the music up turn the lights down I'm in my zone)
[Chorus:]
Thank God for granting me this moment of clarity
This moment of honesty
The world'll feel my truths
Through my Hard Knock Life time
My Gift and The Curse
I gave you volume after volume of my work
So you can feel my truths
I built the Dynasty by being one of the realest niggas out
Way beyond a Reasonable Doubt
(You all can't fill my shoes)
From my Blueprint beginnings
To that Black Album ending
Listen close you hear what I'm about
Nigga feel my truths
[Verse One]
When Pop died
Didn't cry
Didn't know him that well
Between him doing Heroine
And me doing Crack sales
With that in the egg shell
Standing at the tabernacle
Rather the church
Pretending to be hurt
Wouldn't work
So a smirk was all on my face
Like damn that mans face was just like my face
So pop I forgive you
For all the shit that I live through
It wasn't all your fault
Homie you got caught
And to the same game I fault
That Uncle Ray lost
My big brothers and so many others I saw
I'm just glad we got to see each other
Talk and re-meet each other
Save a place in Heaven
'til the next time we meet forever
[Chorus]
[Verse Two]
The music business hate me
'cause the industry ain't make me
Hustlers and boosters embrace me
And the music I be making
I dumb down for my audience
And double my dollars
They criticize me for it
Yet they all yell "Holla"
If skills sold
Truth be told
I'd probably be
Lyrically
Talib Kweli
Truthfully
I wanna rhyme like Common Sense
(But I did five Mil)
I ain't been rhyming like Common since
When your sense got that much in common
And you been hosteling since
Your inception
Fuck perception
Go with what makes sense
Since
I know what I'm up against
We as rappers must decide what's most important
And I can't help the poor if I'm one of them
So I got rich and gave back
To me that's the win, win
The next time you see the homie and his rims spin
Just know my mind is working just like them
(The rims that is)
[Chorus]
[Verse Three]
My homie Sigel's on a tier
Where no tears should fall
'cause he was on the block where no squares get off
See in my inner circle all we do is ball
Til we all got triangles on our wall
He ain't just rappin for the platinum
You all record
I recall
'cause I really been there before
Four scores and seven years ago
Prepared to flow
Prepare for war
I shall fear no man
You don't hear me though
These words ain't just paired to go
In one ear out the other ear
NO
YO
My balls and my word is all I have
What you gonna do to me?
Nigga scars'll scab
What you gonna box me homie?
I can dodge and jab
Three shots couldn't touch me
Thank God for that
I'm strong enough to carry Biggie Smalls on my back
And the whole BK nigga holla back
[Chorus]
12.20.2010
Opening at the biggest comedy show in Tacoma (this Thursday!)
Catch me this Thursday at Nate Jackson's Super Funny Comedy Show! I've been living, grinding and developing my talents in Chicago for about 3 years now but I'm super excited to debut at this event in my hometown... Tac Town stand up!
I will be headed back to Chicago after Christmas so this may be your only opportunity to catch me on the mic. Don't miss it!
12.16.2010
Strictly 4 My Bitches (Spoken Word)
Excuse me bitch.... I mean Miss, can you tell me where the ladies' room is?
I heard my truth is in there; somewhere written in the stalls.
Or maybe it speaks aesthetically from the pretty pink walls? See, all
I'm asking is what makes me more masculine
than you? Is it because I don't expose my tits, switch my hips,
...color my lips or suck as much dick as you?
Or does it have to do with the fact that I'm not asking you
to affirm my capacity to represent feminine attitudes
or pass society's standardized test of female aptitude.
Or maybe when you see me you think, "Maury, that's a dude!"
I doubt it. See I'm not afraid of being doubted or outed because I'm out with
the old and in with the new. I'm not trying to be a man, but I'm damn
sure not trying to be you. "Who is she talking to?" You,
girlfriend. My sister, my aunt, my cousin, my mom.
Because we don't speak no more and it's been too long.
They told us silence would save us, but they're wrong.
So like Audre Lorde, "I write for those women who do not speak,
for those who do not have a voice because they were so terrified,
because we are taught to respect fear more than ourselves." I'm talking
to myself. To the bitches, whores, cunts, and jezebels, to the
tomboys, baby mamas, sugar tits, oh and the nappy headed ho’s.
And to the pretty girl my age with the perfect life and perfect marriage
Who’s fucking her best friend and will only talk to me because she’s
Either a coward or too embarrassed or she actually thinks I can help.
She doesn’t even know… I’m talking to myself. Because I can no longer afford
to hate and be afraid of men. I must forgive myself for the original sin
and every sin since. I must forgive the men and boys who raped me
of my innocence and the women who pleaded ignorance.
I must forgive my mom for not being enough for my dad and my dad
for trying to find my mother in me. I must find a way to believe
that God's image of a woman was meant for me to receive
and that there are women out there willing to fight for me.
And that I'm worth fighting for. So ladies, what are we fighting for?
As in why are we fighting and what is it we are fight to get? Is it
the blackest man with the biggest dick...the most attractive man
with the most potential to be rich? Our own happiness?
Or each other's approval? Do we even know which is which? Bitch... please!
Oh, I'm sorry... Can I say that? I know a lot of women hate that.
But did you know "bitch" goes way back. The original bitch dates back
to the 14th Century when she was described as women with a high sexual desire
comparable to a bitch in heat. A bitch heat. So basically a bitch is freak.
Or any woman with a capacity to express her sexuality radically.
And since the term radical is actually contingent on the definition of normality
in any given society… a bitch over here may not be a bitch over there.
And if a bitch over there walks over here she may magically
become a woman again. Who do we think we are to name God's creatures
based on anything but physical features? Oh yes… man.
But see bitch is only a word. And I believe there is no such thing as a bad word.
Language is a gift, never a curse. So bitch, you are my gift.
Whore, cunt, jezebel, tomboy, baby mama, sugar tits, oh
And nappy headed ho’s, you are my gift. But it’s the consciousness
out of which our language is birthed that shapes our ultimate destiny
on this earth. We may never see the end of the word, but we can determine
how much a bitch is worth. (Church!) So when I say pussy is power
and grab my crotch. I command every man, woman and child to listen and watch
me take my womanhood back on the spot. I am a sexual being and I love sex.
I was created to give love, pussy, and respect. So I guess
I'm a bitch in heat. But they just say to me... "Bitch make me something to eat!"
All my bitches say, “Hell naw!” The feminists use bitch to describe a woman
who's assertive and strong in a way that threatens male dominance
because a respectable woman is calm. The leader of the feminist bitch movement
is of course Ms. Hilary Rodham. And there used to be Queen Bitches
in hip hop before the industry bought them. Peace to Queen La, Ms. Hill, MC Lyte.
Ya'll were so nice. Only concern was rocking the mic. Now we just got booty shakin
bitches on the stage blocking the mic. No disrespect to baby with the back
But it’s a known fact there are a lot of bitches dancing and ain't no more
bitches rappin. What happen?! What happen? We let it happen.
And I guess you could call this a period piece because this is for my women
who bleed. But seriously, I don't remember the day I started my cycle
but I remember when I became a woman. Not that I changed over time like Michael.
It was much later in life tho. I found myself the day I discovered the one thing
I would literally give my life for. Love. Staring in my mirror, facing my biggest fear,
I saw a woman for the first time, just this year. Baby, I know you love me and I love you too,
but you can’t love me the way you want to. There’s a lot of crap I must first come
thru and this is what it’s come to. Before I make you cum and let you make me cum too
There's something I need that I can't get from you. Of course, I'd love to!
I said I love you, but I can’t love you that way. I can’t touch you that way.
I can’t hug you, rub you, suck you and fuck you that way. Fuck me?! Baby,
Don’t take this the wrong way. This is not to say you’re the wrong person,
you just caught me on the wrong day. I know it doesn’t seem so,
but I’ve come a long way. I come from sleepless nights, and truthfully
I prefer a long day. I’ve been sexing in secret since before I knew what it was; scarred
From being scratched between my vagina lips by a play cousin that taught me
A game called play humping. Why didn’t I say something?! Because
My promise ring given by Christ symbolized that I was too blessed to need sex.
My body shook and milked, telling me it wasn’t true, but my religion successfully
kept me repressed. While in dark closets I exchanged sensations and inhalation with boys and
girls my age and in the same breathe confessed to God and blamed Satan. Too young
to lose faith in human relations, but quickly running out of patience I walked into
dating thinking “fuck waiting, I’m duck-taping my emotions inside a steel box
until I’m done playing. But of course life takes its course; so one day I woke up
in the middle of intercourse to my undergarments all over the floor,
make-up smeared into white sheets and my heart somewhere still running the streets,
where it had been left.
In attempt to put the past to rest, I started with what made sense.
Since I couldn't remember life without my sister I got sister love
tatted on my chest. One word above each breast. Then the dots began to connect,
beyond blood, my mission is to erect sisterhood from its bloody death;
a lesbian consciousness that goes beyond sex and deep into women loving each other
in way that makes us all better. So beautiful woman, if she wants to touch you, let her.
It doesn't mean she's gay. She may just need a mother or a sister And you may
just be that figure. But if she admires your figure and it’s sexual and it’s mutual
then loose control and find the missing pieces to your whole in her soul.
And if you love her you must tell her. Either way you must always respect her
because if you sell her or sex her and forget her you will kill her. And if I find you
I may kill you, for my sister.
Strictly 4 My Bitches.
(August 2010)
I heard my truth is in there; somewhere written in the stalls.
Or maybe it speaks aesthetically from the pretty pink walls? See, all
I'm asking is what makes me more masculine
than you? Is it because I don't expose my tits, switch my hips,
...color my lips or suck as much dick as you?
Or does it have to do with the fact that I'm not asking you
to affirm my capacity to represent feminine attitudes
or pass society's standardized test of female aptitude.
Or maybe when you see me you think, "Maury, that's a dude!"
I doubt it. See I'm not afraid of being doubted or outed because I'm out with
the old and in with the new. I'm not trying to be a man, but I'm damn
sure not trying to be you. "Who is she talking to?" You,
girlfriend. My sister, my aunt, my cousin, my mom.
Because we don't speak no more and it's been too long.
They told us silence would save us, but they're wrong.
So like Audre Lorde, "I write for those women who do not speak,
for those who do not have a voice because they were so terrified,
because we are taught to respect fear more than ourselves." I'm talking
to myself. To the bitches, whores, cunts, and jezebels, to the
tomboys, baby mamas, sugar tits, oh and the nappy headed ho’s.
And to the pretty girl my age with the perfect life and perfect marriage
Who’s fucking her best friend and will only talk to me because she’s
Either a coward or too embarrassed or she actually thinks I can help.
She doesn’t even know… I’m talking to myself. Because I can no longer afford
to hate and be afraid of men. I must forgive myself for the original sin
and every sin since. I must forgive the men and boys who raped me
of my innocence and the women who pleaded ignorance.
I must forgive my mom for not being enough for my dad and my dad
for trying to find my mother in me. I must find a way to believe
that God's image of a woman was meant for me to receive
and that there are women out there willing to fight for me.
And that I'm worth fighting for. So ladies, what are we fighting for?
As in why are we fighting and what is it we are fight to get? Is it
the blackest man with the biggest dick...the most attractive man
with the most potential to be rich? Our own happiness?
Or each other's approval? Do we even know which is which? Bitch... please!
Oh, I'm sorry... Can I say that? I know a lot of women hate that.
But did you know "bitch" goes way back. The original bitch dates back
to the 14th Century when she was described as women with a high sexual desire
comparable to a bitch in heat. A bitch heat. So basically a bitch is freak.
Or any woman with a capacity to express her sexuality radically.
And since the term radical is actually contingent on the definition of normality
in any given society… a bitch over here may not be a bitch over there.
And if a bitch over there walks over here she may magically
become a woman again. Who do we think we are to name God's creatures
based on anything but physical features? Oh yes… man.
But see bitch is only a word. And I believe there is no such thing as a bad word.
Language is a gift, never a curse. So bitch, you are my gift.
Whore, cunt, jezebel, tomboy, baby mama, sugar tits, oh
And nappy headed ho’s, you are my gift. But it’s the consciousness
out of which our language is birthed that shapes our ultimate destiny
on this earth. We may never see the end of the word, but we can determine
how much a bitch is worth. (Church!) So when I say pussy is power
and grab my crotch. I command every man, woman and child to listen and watch
me take my womanhood back on the spot. I am a sexual being and I love sex.
I was created to give love, pussy, and respect. So I guess
I'm a bitch in heat. But they just say to me... "Bitch make me something to eat!"
All my bitches say, “Hell naw!” The feminists use bitch to describe a woman
who's assertive and strong in a way that threatens male dominance
because a respectable woman is calm. The leader of the feminist bitch movement
is of course Ms. Hilary Rodham. And there used to be Queen Bitches
in hip hop before the industry bought them. Peace to Queen La, Ms. Hill, MC Lyte.
Ya'll were so nice. Only concern was rocking the mic. Now we just got booty shakin
bitches on the stage blocking the mic. No disrespect to baby with the back
But it’s a known fact there are a lot of bitches dancing and ain't no more
bitches rappin. What happen?! What happen? We let it happen.
And I guess you could call this a period piece because this is for my women
who bleed. But seriously, I don't remember the day I started my cycle
but I remember when I became a woman. Not that I changed over time like Michael.
It was much later in life tho. I found myself the day I discovered the one thing
I would literally give my life for. Love. Staring in my mirror, facing my biggest fear,
I saw a woman for the first time, just this year. Baby, I know you love me and I love you too,
but you can’t love me the way you want to. There’s a lot of crap I must first come
thru and this is what it’s come to. Before I make you cum and let you make me cum too
There's something I need that I can't get from you. Of course, I'd love to!
I said I love you, but I can’t love you that way. I can’t touch you that way.
I can’t hug you, rub you, suck you and fuck you that way. Fuck me?! Baby,
Don’t take this the wrong way. This is not to say you’re the wrong person,
you just caught me on the wrong day. I know it doesn’t seem so,
but I’ve come a long way. I come from sleepless nights, and truthfully
I prefer a long day. I’ve been sexing in secret since before I knew what it was; scarred
From being scratched between my vagina lips by a play cousin that taught me
A game called play humping. Why didn’t I say something?! Because
My promise ring given by Christ symbolized that I was too blessed to need sex.
My body shook and milked, telling me it wasn’t true, but my religion successfully
kept me repressed. While in dark closets I exchanged sensations and inhalation with boys and
girls my age and in the same breathe confessed to God and blamed Satan. Too young
to lose faith in human relations, but quickly running out of patience I walked into
dating thinking “fuck waiting, I’m duck-taping my emotions inside a steel box
until I’m done playing. But of course life takes its course; so one day I woke up
in the middle of intercourse to my undergarments all over the floor,
make-up smeared into white sheets and my heart somewhere still running the streets,
where it had been left.
In attempt to put the past to rest, I started with what made sense.
Since I couldn't remember life without my sister I got sister love
tatted on my chest. One word above each breast. Then the dots began to connect,
beyond blood, my mission is to erect sisterhood from its bloody death;
a lesbian consciousness that goes beyond sex and deep into women loving each other
in way that makes us all better. So beautiful woman, if she wants to touch you, let her.
It doesn't mean she's gay. She may just need a mother or a sister And you may
just be that figure. But if she admires your figure and it’s sexual and it’s mutual
then loose control and find the missing pieces to your whole in her soul.
And if you love her you must tell her. Either way you must always respect her
because if you sell her or sex her and forget her you will kill her. And if I find you
I may kill you, for my sister.
Strictly 4 My Bitches.
(August 2010)
12.07.2010
11.30.2010
Fans Comment On The Trailer For Nicki Minaj's Documentary 'My Time Now'
Fans Comment On The Trailer For Nicki Minaj's Documentary 'My Time Now': "Fans get a first look at the documentary, premiering Sunday, November 28, at 10 p.m. ET/PT on MTV."
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