#applesandsnakes

[intimeitwillpass]

#Meanwhile at #PopBrixton man like @daddydarkrdc has put together a banger of an evening. First up man like @DarkZartist sprayyyyyyying some grizzly BARRRRRRRRZ for the people dem. Next up @mreklipse #ThisIsLife #OwnIt #ItsMine #StraightOutTheBox #RDC #RunDemCrew #TrackMafia™ #TeamMates™ #🔃™ #London #LifeStyle #Canon #Canon_official #Photography #PhotoOfTheDay #MyCanon #RDC #RunDemCrew #Music #Grime #ApplesAndSnakes (at Pop Brixton)

[beatfreeks-blog]

It's the last episode of House of Sound tomorrow the @rainbowvenues and it's a Poetry Vs Music special! Calling all poets and musicians to come and watch these wild collaborations alongside our headline act Mr @sowetokinch! He's travelled the world with his Jazz vibes and poetic rap style and we cannot wait to see what he brings to #HOSMusic tomorrow. Come down to the Rainbow From 6.30 til 10 for a night of music and poetry! Yaaaasss, we'll catch you there, tickets £4 online (Beatfreeks.com/houseofsound) or £6 on the door! We'll put the kettle on and see you there. #music #poetry #tea #fusion #mashup #therainbow #jazz #sowetokinch #applesandsnakes #rap #dontflop #battle #cipher #cushions #jamming #episode #last #event #BirminghamUP (at The Rainbow Venues)

[carminamasoliver]

Dysfunctional

Having returned from a much-needed break in Corrèze, France, visiting my Gran, I have now found the time to write a about my latest poetic adventure (though not the time to go through emails just yet). Over the last few months I’ve been taking part in a series of workshops with different mentors, through The Writing Room with Apples & Snakes. This culminated in a group performance on 13th August.

The Writing Room Showcase sort of felt like the coming together of a dysfunctional family, including some family members you never knew existed. Some pieces were created through workshops with the mentors, some throughout the last few months leading up to the show, and some just days before the event, but through the process we learnt a lot and came together as a group – the room filled with support for those that take on the risky path of the art world…

Ben Jacobs - for the ups and downs of the process, sharing in the strangeness of not making the cut for Young Poet Laureate for London, and the hope for the future. Lateisha Davine Lovelace-Hanson - for her words of wisdom and loosening us up for the performance, making me laugh and taking me out of myself when all I could think of was trying to remember my poetry. Reminding us that we need to “own” our words. Kes Gill-Martin - for a piece that spoke volumes about what we’re all trying to do, which I need as my mantra when I’m struggling with the ideas of ever having kids and a mortgage. Rachel Long - for writing so many beautiful and varied poems I want to hear them all again, including a really witty piece about the Megabus that I could really identify with. For her warm smile and hugs. Sarah Ball -for the way her voice and beautiful words resounded through my mind throughout the weeks we were preparing our poems for the showcase. Temi Lateef – for letting his guard down and speaking of love and its complexities in a way we all know, standing out for what he believes to be good and true. Ruban Nathan – for expanding our horizons, telling untold stories from his travels, and for making me feel better for my splurge in Beyond Retro after seeing his bag at Roger’s session. Lucy Jackson – for writing and performing a great piece, and then acknowledging that a writer’s work is never done – the struggle and enjoyment are one. And for, like me, eating a proper dinner from Thai and Lao at Boxpark (yum!) Kareem Parkins-Brown – for his amazing imagery and figurative language, making my jaw-drop from the first session we were together in, with Joelle Taylor.

Daisy Dockrill – for doing her job so incredibly well and for her never-ending positive energy!

Sabrina Mahfouz – for getting the crowd going with an amazing poem and inspiring us that if we get out there, we can be a success.

Roger Robinson – for the workshop that shook me up and meant that I memorised my pieces, and for coming along and supporting the show, making me feel good about my writing.

Joelle Taylor, Mark Grist and Mixy – for some wonderful mentoring sessions that have produced pieces I’ve wanted to write but haven’t, and for all the mentors involved for showing us the importance of editing and re-working – Ben and I hope to record a version of our joint piece in the future, when we’ve got it to a place we’re both happy with.

Mary Akinsulire – for sending me a kind message when I really needed it, because despite all this positivity, sometimes you can just feel down.

Our theme began with my idea for the unspoken stories of the many people on public transport, and it became a tale of our personal journeys, with a connection between us encapsulated by five lines I ended with:

During the delay I derailed myself, escaped onto the tracks. My emergency was a red light; the signal failure told me to run, reminded me of fields and trees and dreams.

My offering for the showcase can be read below:

You know me as the wallflower

Pressed up against glass, bodies and newspapers. Glass without transparency, bodies without intimacy, newspapers with blurred words.

I peer over your shoulder like a warm breath, trying to work out who you are, where you’re going.

You know me as the wallflower, but, I don’t smile for you. Sometimes, you may witness a sorrow you cannot place. You want to ask if I’m okay, as you wonder why my eyes well, my body swells with a habit I just can’t shake, as damaging as an earthquake, but soft as a petal,

you know me as the strange, quiet one, the one who you can’t quite put your finger on, you linger on me just for a second, move on like a passing thought, a panic - did you leave the iron on?

Mostly, I blend like a colour palette, but my shoulders are a little too bent forward, my cheeks flushed, I sometimes sweat, eyes glance down but speak when met. I am unknown, and that’s as good as it gets

stuffed up inside here like sausage meat. Tired eyes are made up with mascara, hidden with sunglasses. Heads bend down, eyes closed, just resting, or fixed on a game of Tetris, or not even there, but stretching out of the window, out of at patch of sky through a slit of space.

I create characters out of your tattoos, your scuffed shoes, your bead of sweat, your lazy eye, your pink silk tie. Imagine people I haven’t met out of your plum-red lips, your bitten-bleeding fingertips, your eye-brow piercing, piercing blue eyes, piercing voice carried through phone lines, train lines, blood lines

and much as we crane our necks, we wouldn’t see a helicopter crash, so close, shrapnel flying like a wedding bouquet, the carriages rolling like a divorce, eventually leaving Vauxhall for Waterloo, where the beat of footsteps cries out for the river, but is carried underground instead.