SAPC...SAPC

Alright - how honoured was I on Friday night.....I had the mean opportunity to share the stage with the South Auckland Poets Collective. The collective (created by Ramon, Grace and Big D) what I understand to be was formed by some inspiring poets who also helped with youth struggling or trying to find an avenue to make an improvement in life. They did this through spoken word!!!

 I've had some great times performing with Grace and Darren in particularly (who are great poets solely) and have seen the collective perform twice. Their name had grown within youth circles and I was so honoured to be asked to be a guest poet at their book/DVD launch on Friday.

 So on Friday night I wrote a poem to celebrate their night. It was a satire towards Central Auckland to wake up from the image of South Auckland (which is mostly negative). the collective is an example of positivity from  a negatively portrayed environment.

 Our church youth came to support me as well as witness something special and what I felt could be influential for them as well. Well they had to leave early due to time restrictions but the response was great from them.

 I thoroughly was happy to perform with the whole collective as well as other special guests. The collective is goodness. They speak goodness and are great examples of positive spoken word - they truly show how the written and spoken word influences positive light and difference. To the whole collective, you have a fan and a brother in word here!!!! keep it up - to those reading this and want to see more of them (and buy a book or 4) look at them here - http://sapc.homestead.com/

Death of an Aunty

Aunty
The clouds will soak you with their tears
The sun will burn with agony
The dark will shine bright for you
The stars will decorate your home


Aunty
The wind will send forth its gentlest breeze
The ground will soften for you to lay
The mist will cover the tragic loss you are gone
The broken heart will beat of your memory


Aunty
The birds will whistle their call for you
The bees will hum a courageous song
The wolves will howl as your spirit flies
The earth will cry for missing your soul


Aunty
The angels prepare your cloud to rest
The spirits will share their words with you
The world records your life
And will be spoken by your daughter that remains


Aunty
Your husband now holds you
Your daughter now mourns you
Your family will miss you
God will now receive you


Aunty
Now rest without pain
Rest without suffering
Rest without trial
Rest with those you love


You are
An Aunty that is remembered
A Sister that is unconditional
A Mother that will be missed
A Wife that is now home

I love you Aunty Tugbang.

My beloved Aunty Tugbang in the Philippines died two days ago. She was an Aunty that was so good to me. But the real story is about my dear cousin Mary-Ann. She is an only child (like myself) who is a criminal lawyer and to the point of having so much success that she attempted to run for mayor of our little village.


My cousin's father died approx 4 months ago and since then my Aunty's healthhas spiraled downwards and out of control. My young cousin in her early 30's has had to give up work to look over her parents as they both deteriorated in front of her eyes.

My mother has been a support to Mary-Ann, constantly consoling her and bringing her spirit into safer higher ground. My cousin is a rock and my Aunty was great. So in memory of her, here is a poem I had written last night. My cousin will read this at her funeral which with sad coincidence is my Mother's birthday.

Poetry Live - 6th July

Hey blogger,

So last night I was guest 'poeting' at the local poetry hub on K'rd. I was so happy to be there not because I was performing but because of the massive amount of support that was shown. Crazy!!!

I was blessed to have two wonderful bunch of musicians to open for me. Firstly, Bonnie Hurunui (favour for a favour I guess) and Mandy & Joe (in the bongo drums - the man) were absolutely amazing. Just doing their originals with all my boys asking 'why are they not signed?' I don't know either...better hurry. I love them to death - too real too true, just too much. Grateful as for them. Dont sleep on them cos they are rocking up always...check them out www.bonnie.co.nz

Then secondly, the lovely Leigh Fitzjames with crazy Eli Moore on the piano (and soloing on the gat). Crooners that is all I have to say. Damn great together and the sound is so smooth you want to slide along. How happy I was to have them both - and they did a special 'almost in vain' redention of Erykah Badu. Too die for!! Thank you to them so so much.

The poets were absolute fire. They came on with game. So I got to go on intimidated as (oh and did I mention a head cold as well). I was worried because it was a lot of new stuff and I treated the spot as my own personal experimental open mic moment. Well it seemed to have worked ok. I did a special collab with Leigh on a piece called 'Lately'. That worked out too good I thought. I got to do a piece over her singing.

All in all was a great night. I still have to get used to being in the whole spotlight thing. I still am trying to have my work reach the level of the poets that inspire me...I must be doing something right as they keep coming to me with support. Met a guy named Otis last night who said he was recommended by David Eggleton to see me WTF? That tripped me out right there hahahaha

Well bloggers will keep you posted with the next gigs......in the mean time keep writing.

Poetry Updates

My two readers: My apologies for the extreme lack of 'anything' on this blog - work, school and the list of my life took over time to provide any updates. Even my facebook profile has only seen me for a couple of minutes when I actually have a message to respond to.

But as BNTH once sung (as well as others) here is my brain on drugs!!! So let me recap what has happened since I last posted.....

Well can update my profile now - took out Poetry Idol this year. That was cool. I mean really, this year I felt more accomplished and did not invite many people so I can actually get 'real' feedback in a slam. But sharing the stage with some favourties: Grace Taylor (her poetry: too beautiful to even say in words), John Carr (classic!!), Tui-Z (Hawaiian National Slam poet extraordinaire) and a gang of others which were so real. But that was cool (and even messed up my last poem in the final round) but the love and support felt from total strangers was humbling.

So to celebrate here is the actual words to the final poem I messed on: Enjoy!!!

Refill Lines

A young boy stands with a book of refill lines/a pen in his pocket and a stomach full of butterflies/jelly dessert like legs knocking knees together and ripped fingernail tops with the vision of winning/


He stands behind a line full of memorised or pre note taken refilled lines/knowing his style is a little different to the average/to the norm/to the traditionalist sort of poet/the inspired drug induced/the English literature/the doctoral scholar produced/ the humorous comedian/the life blood represent is finished sort of poet/the full of emotion taken away/the well researched/the wannabe journalist and reviewer/the speaks with the hand sort of poet/ the veteran of the page/the haiku and prose written/the might choose a pro written/or the absolute novice learning the game and expressing life stories and how they feel sort of poet/


This young boy standing with his book of refill lines looks and feels intimidated/but infuriated with the fact that maybe his knowledge of his English background and particular style might get him somewhere/

He stands with a line full of congregated letters sitting on refill lines/ with a beanie and baggy jeans cos that is what is in his wardrobe/and acts as a uniform to hide him from the world he is about to approach/and becomes a pre determined gangsta from the hood/speaking that everything might be all good if all the kids could follow like he should sort of poet/the escape out of the ghetto and only has a tendency to speak in phonics or rap ebonics and possibly he smokes chronic ironically sort of poet/a rhymer/a rapper/a wannabe American with an American twang to accentuate words speaking so fast that you can’t help to think it is rap sort of poet/then he speaks against the grain/a descriptive and can adapt to speak about anything from the hood to a pillow to religion to even why he writes such words and styles/with the verbs and vowels he uses to get his point across even if his grammar sucks sort of poet/


This young boy does more than that with his book of refill lines/he goes to war with the mic/he lifts his Excalibur pen and spills it blood on a war torn field that records his life and words/but ends each battle always with a thank you/


He walks off stage gripping onto his refill lines/and sometimes is congratulated/sometimes he is criticised/off course he does/that is how he learns/ his soliloquy given may be the new voice of the world/or an old voice over used/he can be a new type or a stereotype/a freshly painted picture or a hyped up MTV video type/a hand shaken/and praised taken/ and prize-fighting on top of the world reaching a goal sort of poet/a “I really liked your rap”/or “you need to use better words when you perform and stand properly” sort of poet/a walk off with jelly legs standing firm and breathing hard with heart beats tripled/a dry mouth no time to dribble and awaiting the result while having a drink sort of poet/a being around his friends/his family saying “you did good”/a self evaluating never did enough and now has new inspiration to write a poem and restrict it from sounding traditional and now gives it to you right now sort of poet/


Maybe you just witnessed a young boy retelling writings from his refill lines/maybe you have not/maybe you were spectators in his war or maybe you indulged in the battle/but the fight has now ended and like all past conflicts/this one ends with another “Thank you”

Funky Oriental Beats

Ok ok - I have been told off by a bunch of people to "Hurry up and write on your blog!!!" and I see a new follower since everyone just likes running through here and having a look. Congrats to you - I expect to hear the same rant in a month or so - but I will try to keep it up. Need to start writing more now.

Well given that here is something cool to blog about. Funky Oriental Beats. I remember Renee telling me about FOB about 9 months ago and I thought 'oh hell no she is going to get me in that - she is just being nice!!" How wrong was I.

So let me just say to Renee (and to David Tsai - the dragon DVRDCT) that was truly an honour - and this is why. Not only was it a cool experience to perform (which I have not done since....man courage Day in November I think) but the best part was the great people that I met and performed with. Oh that was the joy of the past week. What English assignment the devil on my right shoulder kept telling me!!!!!

I rocked up thinking "Man I am too fresh for this jazz" but the freshness of everyone else was grand. It is always cool to meet up and perform with Renee and Jamie Banks. Renee had me with her Granddad's poem and Jamie always cracks me up - "I could do with a back stretch myself..."


The music was grand. Here I am sitting with the boys and the first act was JJ Fong. She and I attended the FOB performance workshop last Saturday and she had to jet but I think we hit it off ok. This girl has a single and video clip - WTF?? So with the boys nudging me the whole time while JJ dances with her (do I say) burlesque dancers, I got down to her jams - especially her single 'Drive Me Crazy'. The beat for that is crazy. Look out for this one boys - she is hot like fire!!!


Then we had the classical piano people. Mr. 'neo-soul' Eli Moore - brother is bad!! I liked this guy straight away when we started talking about Erykah Badu and Maxwell - I promise to talk more about it bro when I see you next. Plus the guy can do a mean piano piece as well. Jess Tsai was amazing. Not only with her own contemporary pieces but playing that Chinese cello/violin thing - I know I am going to get in trouble for saying that.....but that was great. Then my man Hong, and his rendition of Barbie Girl and his skill playing "Let's Go Bobby!" was the catchphrase going home in our car.....the boy really can melt and destroy piano keys. We got to get the PussyCat Dolls rap down.


Leigh Fitzjames - just amazing with her Nina Simone recital. I actually was blown away in the rehearsal more - most likely cos my nerves took it away during the show. But girl has presence and can tear up any mic....plus she is the bomb theatre organising producing jack-of-all-trades. Keep an eye out and let's do something!!!!!


Now the rapper boys. David Tsai - Mr. Dragon Cry!!! I was all "Man is Prince going to turn in his grave" - joking brother but that was a brave set of raps man. Another Steiny for you - and I felt bad when he got me one and I said I didn't drink!! Need to hook up and those beats were absolute fire. Julian Sammy aka Threat1 - boy rocked the mic. the bonus impromptu freestyle mash up at the end was absolute classic on Thursday night. Friday night? Maybe not so LOL.


And Erik and David. This guys were out of this world. One on the sax and the other on paint barrels ala Talib Kweli and Tamia. Friday night with these guys jamming with Hong and how I thought someone was yelling out they had to brush their teeth....personal joke I guess with Erik and David. That was a highlight and I was too worried I had to follow their act - so instead I had to follow Hong...so I was screwed either way!!!!

To all that came - I think they had a good night. I had absolute mad fun and made some great friends doing it. Here to another year before FOB blows up again next year!!!!

Happiness

Just a few thoughts thrown onto paper:

Did I ever tell you people that I’m rich/Wealthy as anyone could dream/living in a state of luxury and ludicrous nirvana/

I am rich from happiness/don’t go to sleep on me now no, this is no cheesy proclamation/let me explain/
I had prepared for happiness/it is not easy at first to become rich with happiness/I mean I had to go to school to receive the wages I am on now/

I remember my favourite subject – Science/well we only learnt one topic in the class/Chemistry/oooh that proved to be the catalyst when I met happiness/we sure did meet with a spark/and experiment as much as we could/Mathematics I was not that good at/I could not subtract when to stop being someone else and to add up my personality to multiply me/but happiness divided that quickly and equalled whatever personality happiness fell in love with/and foreign languages/I was a bit slower than happiness was in that language of love/but happiness taught me with a flurry and now I speak love in all its dialects/

I graduated from school but that is only half of my success story/don’t get me wrong I was not a straight A student/I think I graduated with Honours at least/and now in my post grad it is happiness I am learning how to master/

Stepping into the work force was hard/did you know you have to work for happiness/man I thought you just learn about it and then you receive it in the end/but you have to actually look for happiness/and where do you start/I could not find the happiness classifieds/trade me does not even have a listing for happiness so I was screwed from the get go/

And who would of known that happiness had opposition/who could hate on happiness/are we not all looking for happiness/ Some people even had the nerve to tell me I didn’t even know what happiness looked like/that I was naive and blind to the fact/but yes even I went down the track of thinking happiness was for all and she would fall into our laps/

I searched the netherworlds/distant lands and unexplored territories for happiness/and believe me I was not left dry/Happiness tried to come to me with different names/I had a long relationship with money/man she was hot/she made me look so damn good until she gave more of herself to others and only a little to me/I soon realised that she was in every man’s pockets/but I still make contact with money maybe once a week or fortnightly/but she was not my happiness/

I went to her friend food/she was nice and good to me/I still see her often/but she was too much of a temptation/I used to explore food so much I thought she was true happiness/but then she started messing with my health/started making me lazy and not want to do anything/so I had to cut her slowly out of my life/I still can’t live without food and she still gives me some on the side/but she was not my true happiness/

And then I met her/she was like me/but she was beautiful/when I saw her my inner spirit jumped for joy/gladness filled my soul and I knew I found happiness/my wife pays me happiness in minute wages/sometimes she forgets and has to recalculate my pay/sometimes it is hourly wages of happiness and at times she also takes leave/she tells me she is sick of me at times/so I tell her if she can provide me with a medical certificate cos I still need my happiness/but those are times I think I must be ripping her off/I try to give happiness back to her for all the happiness she brings to me every day/but every month she gets a bit unhappy/and I would too cos her happiness salary changes from month to month and if I get a little worried from missing a little happiness pay each day/I can understand why she is pissed off once a month with her pay dates changing/

But she provides more happiness than money, food or any of these mimicking forms of happiness try to bring me/if these cousins of happiness are your bosses/you are getting ripped off because happiness comes it much more better ways than those/you just got to keep searching for it/just like me everyday/

Courage Day - 15th November 2009

I had been informed about this at the Montana Poetry Slam. You know you are getting into something when the names on the headlines are good fellow poets you know.
This will be a great night and although I had been concentrating solely on school, my family and church and work and boxing (man no wonder I have not written poetry for a while) it is good to take a break to write a little again. I love the spark of poetry!!!
Anyways, this performance day is in memory and has an MO to voice hatred and stoppage of imprisoned and executed writers all over the world. There are hundreds of horrific stories today of writers that are stopped and taken from all their human rights due to writing something controversial.
Courage Day is in memory of a couple from NZ that went through similar circumstances. I swear if someone did that to me from my writing, I would be just a little ticked off. Well to all my two followers (and other sneaky sneaky passerbys) come along and see how we dooz it. Hell, we got the right to do it.

Morningside for Life

How I love my home suburb in Auckland - I had been thinking of something of an ode to right to it. But the Naked Samoans had done a great job so here are a few words from a personal POV:

Remember when everyone used to run on the train tracks and try to run and run and run and run faster than the speeding train hastily creeping up and then some/there is no Superman in Morningside

Or recall when everyone used to walk to St Lukes Mall during Xmas time midnight closures and pretend to beat each other over on the side of the road until cars would stop us when they pulled over/There is no Hulk Hogan in Morningside

Or the time when we would practice driving at either Briscoes or the Cash n Carry carparks and attempt to really drive but our parents would think we wanted to die and an early vehicle insurance claim put aside even though our names are not on the policy/Right......there are no Schmachers in Morningside

Or maybe..........

Now it is Morningside for life

where the Bro’s live - well TV3 the Bro’s always lived there but even the Bro’s did not know it

The pub was going to be some time

Jeff was also named Alex and Tom and Corey and all sorts of names

There was a Mack and in the bro’s eyes he was sort of a fag - he reads poetry now

we weren’t all Samoans and only a handful of us were naked

even during the evening times there was always sunlight in Morningside

Ahhh bring on the South African rugby riots

that is when we came together

mini skips all in flames, flour bombs and violent rage

Fighting and there was Mum with her hose stopping rugby watchers pissing in our hedge

but if it was next door it was all good/

White walls of factories from my bedroom window

If you could not see that you must be bordering Kingsland, St Lukes or dare I say it – Sandringham?

If you heard our house we were the boys sitting on skateboards

Tony Hawk could not fly like us

Stealing from Sima’s dairy on the corner of Morningside Drive and New North Road

Running through Mount Albert Primary

Even the orange voting character knew where to sell off politics

Helen Clark wanted to situate herself right across the road from Eden Park

More importantly at the end of my street muttering under her breath “oh the humanity”

To explain more “I might be some time”

Morningside – the arguably ten street wonder

Pre poverty best but wannabe middle class number

Charge $10 rugby parks – good luck moving your car out afterwards

1 stage to anything but on 1 stage to the world

Fuelled by us that made Oscar see it International

Morningside stand up – and bend over to take a bow

Not forever but only for life – that is not even owwww!!!

Daniel Beatty