POETRY: THE
WORD SPREADS
Verse inspired by hip-hop and read as performance art goes big-time, from clubs
this week - to the Beacon Theatre
By MARTIN JOHNSON - Newsday
Performance poetry has made the transition from hip downtown clubs to Broadway
show to touring company with its soul mostly intact. The scene began in the late
'80s as scores of writers flocked to such venues as the Nuyorican Poets Café,
Café 13 and the Bowery Poetry Club to deliver their verse in a style and cadence
inspired by another art form: hip-hop. "I loved the visceral energy that you see
onstage and how the words translate to the stage," poet Ishle Yi Park says.
Three years ago, Russell Simmons, founder of pioneering hip-hop label Def Jam
Records and producer of "Def Comedy Jam," launched a new HBO show, "Def Poetry
Jam." Its success led to a Broadway show, which won a Tony Award in 2003 for
best special theatrical event.
Now there's a touring company featuring eight members, including five from the
original Broadway production and two, Black Ice and Suheir Hammad, who appeared
in the very first HBO show. Def Poetry Jam's 51-city tour makes its New York
stop Tuesday and Wednesday nights at the Beacon Theatre (showtimes are at 8p.m.;
tickets are $49.50 and $35).
The poets remain unfazed by the success. "We weren't thinking of being on
Broadway," Black Ice says. "We all just love sharing the word."
We asked three poets - Suheir Hammad, Black Ice and Ishle Yi Park - to tell us
something about themselves using rhymes.
Name: Suheir Hammad
Hometown: Sunset Park, Brooklyn
Age: 31
"I began to write poetry as soon as I began to read," Suheir Hammad says. "I was
a voracious reader as a child; I was a nerd!"
She frequently conceived sequels to the books she read. She was also moved by
hip-hop and Islam.
"I always loved lyricism and I always loved poetic form, and I grew up in the
'80s and loved the idea of the MC as a storyteller ... plus the fact that my
parents are Muslim and believe that their scripture is poetry."
She says all these influences synthesized all coalesced at an early age. "I fell
in love with language and what we can do with these words."
Although she first began reciting her work in 1993, performance wasn't a big
part. In fact, when she heard about "Def Poetry Jam," she sent in a written poem
rather than a videotape. She didn't get picked. That was right before 9/11, and
after the tragedy, Hammad wrote a poem called "First Writing Since." and wWord
about the poem spread on the circuit, and Sshe was invited to audition for the
show.
THIS IS TO CERTIFY THAT MY MOTHER IS NOW NATURAL
By Suheir Hammad
Complexion Medium Certified
not too sweet not quite hot not too black not quite white
what was so middle about her
hands detangled parted and quilted
thick black waves
into braids rolled
grape leaves with style and speed
scrubbed ovens knees and backs of ears
clean with love nails always looked neat
but on closer inspection chipped and tugged tired
her voice singing um kolthom to foreign raised ears
Certified Citizen Natural Complexion Medium
how would hips be categorized
childbearing
or nose semitic
would your butt be your
african trait eyes indian hair mulatto tongue arab
mama you natural woman
of sun water air
given a nation though no land
palestinian woman loss embroidered on your forehead
more than thin -ass pieces of paper which
never certify your aspirations
dreams heartbreaks
you can make vegans eat your lamb with relish
rip your heart out to feed your man
you who makes rhinestones
sparkle diamonds sequin your daughters? ears with your laugh
memorized (but didn't have) dead presidents backwards
and forwards for citizenship a place to lay your head
but always told us
take me home when i'm dead
woman natural medium middle to nothing
never can they certify
what they don't
understand
Name: Black Ice
Hometown: Philadelphia
Age: 32
"I've been writing all my life," says Philadelphia-based poet Black Ice (née
Lamar Manson). "I got into spoken word in '93, and it became an addiction."
Ice fondly recalls the first time he took the stage. It was at the North Star
bar in Philly during a spoken-word-music night called Buttermilk. "I can't say I
was confident, but it worked out."
Ice was inspired by many rap stars of the '80s, including Rakim, Run-DMC, KRS-One,
Slick Rick and LL Cool J. He's worked with many artists in the music business,
including Fabolous, Method Man, Herbie Hancock, Musiq, Earth Wind & Fire and
Jazzy Jeff.
His group Hoodwatch is planning to release its debut recording early next year.
Ice says that the working title is "Accountability," because "our people don't
hold themselves accountable for anything anymore. We find a way to justify
everything we do."
...OR DIE
By Black Ice
Three young cats
strapped with gats
decided to
ride out one night
the inflight drug
used to induce
the hindsight was
dust
the moonlight was robust
but
they couldn't see the beauty in it
their duty in it
was to carry out
another
senseless
killing
Senses and feelings
distorted
they
boarded their vessel
nestled discrete
in crouches
and
underneath seats
they tucked heat
to complete the mission
they
had no decision in
no longer
do they use our
light and dark hues
to create division in our townsmen
now
the red and blue
over-ride our brown skin
we've been conditioned
to let off them rounds
when we see
another color rag
or
hear another brother brag
'bout what set
he claimin'
poverty
drugs and
poor education
should be the target
but
we won't take aim in that
We'll kill or maim
another cat
like there's no shame in that
like there's fame in that
We hang out
them car windows
and
bust them slugs
in the name of genocide
in disguise
so we don't
take blame in that
youngster
there's no acclaim in that
the endgame in that
is either death
or jail
in either case
you fail
a test that you won't
be able to make up
when you niggas/we OK with this?/jrs
gonna wake up
and smell the blood
on your hands
leaking from your
dead homies
out to catch revenge
have another brother
leaking from your
lead/cq?/ homies
you better pick another
level
Because the greatest
trick the devil
ever pulled
was making us believe
he doesn't exist
and that's who the --
you 'bout
to put that homicide in for
don't take another life
recognize your deeds or trifeand decide what the --
You're ridin' for
Name: Ishle Yi Park
Hometown: Whitestone
Age: 27
In a little more than five years, Ishle Yi Park has gone from novice reader at a
bar to poet laureate of Queens.
Park was an avid reader as a child, and she credits says the instruction at
Calvin Harris High School for being was instrumental in her literary growth.
However, sShe was a business student at New York University in 1999, however,
when she began reciting poetry at Bar 13 in Greenwich Village. She got hooked on
the experience and rose quickly through the ranks in the city's spoken-word
scene.
Park applied for the poet laureate post after hearing about the position from
her predecessor, Hal Sirowitz. She beat out more than 75 poets, including
Reverend Run from Run-DMC for the position.
She's now working toward a master of fine arts degree in fiction at NYU and
hopes to write short stories and novels in the future. But she's quick to add,
"Poetry will always be my first love."
SA-I-GU
By Ishle Yi Park
koreans mark disaster
with numbers.
April 29, 1992.
fire. if I touch
the screen my fingers
will singe or sing.
*
we watch grainy reels of a black
man flopping on concrete
arched, kicked, and nightsticked,
rodney king.
here I rub my own tender
wrists, ask my mother unanswerable questions -
why are the cops doing this?
my mother will answer simply, and
wisely, because those cops are bad.
of the looters, because they are mad.
But why hurt us - she chokes
Because, Ishle, we live close enough.
While l.a.p.d. ring beverly hills like a moat,
They won't answer rings from south central
furious and consistent as rain.
where did they hide, our women -
under what oil-stained
chevy did they breathe life?
who pulled them
by hair into riot
for a crime
they did not commit -
who watched and did nothing?
*
the mile high cameras hover,
they zoom in, dub it:
war of blacks & koreans
then watch us rip
each other to red tendons for scraps
in the city that they abandoned,
a silence white as white silence
and we have no jesse
no martin no malcolm
no al, no eloquent, rapid tongue
just fathers, with thick-tongues
and children, too young to carry more
than straw broomstick and hefty bag.
all the women cry
and they hurl what is not already shattered.
*
but two mornings later,
they march over ashes
dust licking their proud ankles
30,000 koreans
sing in a language that
most will never master
a tribute song
to those who came before
and those who will march after
we shall overcome
someday.
