Two years ago I was in Trinidad for CARIFIASCO 9 and ended up at this Fringe event called Writers' Block where I was treated to some of the best entertainment I have experienced in my life.
One of the people I met was a young man called Muhammad Muwakil. Many Guyanese might recognise him from this spoken word HIV/AIDS ad with the slogan "Live Up", featuring a group of young people dominated by this fucking annoying girl with an Afro-American accent.
Anyway, one of the items at the event was a poem by Muwakil backgrounded by music from his group the name of which I have forgotten. You can find a simple recital of the poem, "4 am in Belmont" here on Youtube...moving even without the music.
Muhammad recently posted this poem on Facebook and I read it and just had to share it. There is usually a schism between "poetry poetry" and spoken word poetry but in Muwakil's work you find that the two are not mutually exclusive. Enough intro from me:
"ah want dis. allll ah dis an more
Muhammad Muwakil
My sanity howls at the moon, is lonely, seeks the pack, is disgusted, rejects the lot, is lonely. I do not know why I hate school so much, is it the rigidity of curriculum that I shun. I am so tired of being told when and how to do my thing. Shit! I walk among men as a man but I know that I am something else, what? I want to express it lord, I want to write, I want to speak I want to paint and play the guitar and draw and have children and make mistakes and fall down and get up and fall again, and pay and fight and cuddle and go to d grocery and harass meh grandmother and set a vision for Trinidad and be the best writer out of the Caribbean ever and speak d word and swim in macquripe and laugh out loud and kayak til meh body hurt and have friends who ah could trust and play drums an chant down Babylon wit collis and sight up wit modupe and baba and naeem and marlon and chike and skeeto and mark dread mark whas d vibes mark! Oh god broddah das life! an all meh bredren who feel like dis too and to sit dong on meh back step in ah sliders eatin july mango wit d juice runnin down meh elbows and chin and to wake up ah morning and hear dat nobody dead las nite and to turn on d radio and hear ah david rudder on 96.1 or 96.7 or 94.1 a real rudder like banana death song or bahia girl, not one where he singin wit bunji or machel, and to have artist who I could identify wit not people who live and hide behind chains and shades in d vip, and to play jouvert yes jouvert because it have sometin bout it that even though I am a muslim it says something to me, not the winin an jamming but d something d something, and to eat putigal til ah get sick and get sick and drink ah corn soup and feel better and lie dong on maracas beach and fall asleep to the sound of all dem children runnin from d surf and d lollie man and the waves beatin d shore like water envy earth, and d man beatin d pan like we need liks still, and ah want to be proud to say I am a trinbagonian, America have a black president I want a black leader too, and ah doh want no more gangsta politics, you cannot persuade me through fear I have a God and is not you Patrick. And ah want meh children to fly kite and play hop scotch and play in d rain an d drain and catch guabine and get ring worm and fall dong off dey bike and buss dey head and cry fuh dey mudda who is still d most beautiful woman I ever see in meh whole life I want to live and not worry bout food and clothes and economies I want to grow long white locks and not have to worry if the muslim community go extradite meh because of tradition, ah want every man to see man as man and no disrespect, I want to be able to tie up pieces of cloth on meh hand dependin on d mood ah in and not have anybody ask me if I alright I like to tie shit on meh wrist arite das jess me. An ah could go on and on but wha ah really want is to live in a world where the contribution of every single human being is valued for what it is, whether it be ceo or housewife, neither is diminished, farmer or stock broker, carpenter or real estate agent. I want love to spread d four corner and a light to shine outta everybody eye, like d sun always risin in we head, like it always have hope. I only postin dis because ah know dat somebody go read it an get d release I get from writin it and ah want dat too. Ah want to be free. Wha alyuh want?"
5 comments:
WOW!I love it! And yeah, it did gave me release just reading it bro. Indeed...that's talent!
Boy, I want to be free just like you. I want to tie up my head and grow my hair in a dread without my mother and father and teachers and friends getting on real dread beacause I want to be free by growing a dread and still be friendly and not get real, real real dread.
Great and genuine work. Keep the pen to paper and the words rolling off of your blessed tongue.
STAY BLESSED!
youthful flow with old person sentimentality, that type of kool-aid never quenches a serious thirst......but at least a cheap norman rockwell has found caribbean words to mate with
this is not poetry. This is mere rambling and whining. Ru, come on man, you couldn't post one of the better poems, if the guy has some. This caribbean ting of supportin everyting Caribbean nuh goin wid me eh. No real poet go watch dis and believe is real poetry. The belmont piece sound rel good comin from he mout', but wa bout on de paper, bcuz de paper go outlive he. we need to stop being happy for discovering mere talent in de caribbean, and be prepared to give each man his fair share of criticism. I know de excitement of actually findin ah man who writes and seems to have talent, but get over the LSD of the experience ppl, and lets be critical here. If Ruel, suddenly tell allyuh, psyche, dis is not from Muwakil, it is from some sprunger or a bum at de side of de road, allyuh would say 'I knew that couldnt be poetry'. It have maybe two metaphors in there. Come on ppl. I support my Caribbean ppl, not by merely applauding them but telling them what they doin wrong too! and when they aint doing anyting at all.
I believe there is a hype to the name Muwakil and that piece was merely a collection of thoughts strung together, but i think whats important is the ability to express feeling in words , and not be afraid to have a view, he is not afraid to speak out and feel, he method will and has improved. But what is poetry if not a couple of verses from the soul?
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