Llaykorn's Posts
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desmondDessi, watch this spoken word clip by this young Somalian who calls himself 'Mustafa The Poet' if you'll like it. It's the best spoken word clip I've seen in months. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FJ-sVZ4ZpG8 |
herald9:You wan dey whine State... ![]() How have you been? |
desmondDessi:Yes, sure. There is actually no mandatory manner in which to perform spoken word. |
desmondDessi:Basically, spoken word is performance-based poetry, but pieces that will be performed as spoken word are usually structured in some slightly different way to most of the conventional poems we see. The structure of spoken word pieces usually tends to focus more on the performance of the words themselves, the dynamics of tone, gestures and facial expressions. In some way, spoken word poetry can be likened to rap music without the beats. I'm talking about some real rap here. ![]() |
desmondDessi:Haha. Click on my moniker, na. I posted some recently. And, these are links to some of the works I posted using 'laykorn', my former account. www.nairaland.com/2316463/inner-mind-short-poem-brief www.nairaland.com/2340382/world-gone-poem-brief-commentary www.nairaland.com/2326935/hades-fantasy-fiction-poem www.nairaland.com/2333412/colours-truth-book-versed-thoughts |
mikuz:Is King's tourney the same as KOP? |
desmondDessi:I hate to post in FFR when I'm not posting bars. Thanks for that. ![]() |
JigsawKillah:You go tay dey explain. ![]() |
GidiQuotes:Do a critique of it na. ![]() |
MuhdG:LOL. I knew. I was just pulling your balls. ![]() |
GidiQuotes:Wetin cause teeth? |
MuhdG:Barawo! |
liricyst:Hey Lyricist T'z like you got this straight from the freezer, this is cool/ Look bro, I know how bad y' wanna be understood/ Y'Prolly thought none would get this message, but yes I do/ It's not new/ I've been in stuff like this myself sometimes too/ It's like being trapped in a world that feels to you Like it's sans peril matchless an' so cool/ But nobody seems to feel all the shiit you do/ Cos like 'em they want your ass dumbed down too/ I don't really think it's also nice, buddy/ Or wise, When rappers always taking about Teks/ Drawing blood,shooting Aks, or oiling Uzis/ It's rasher to ears when they talk 'bout fukin' pùssies/ It's not in rap alone, it's written all over lay's physics/ That's it's really shameful an' silly/ When those we call experts/ Can't break the barriers set by cliches/ Or half-baked niches/ That's why I hate 'em poets Who always talking about life and death/ Or spending all 'em time dissin' the government/ I like artists who go on t' shock the world/ When there's nothing but worn-out hokum left/ But Lyricist, It's not really cool d' way you give life t' your verse/ And like some folks/ I aint ever saying you should turn your back/ Or dumb it down/ But life can still be given, man/ In a unique way that wows a crowd/ Whether scheme be science or maths/ Whether subject be commerce or arts/ Bro, this ain't about switching your style/ It's even dishonorable changing your marks/ But ti's about doing things right/ When you choose wiche'er style/ And I'll leave you with this/ Try to memorize it, read an' repeat/ That's life's always harder on those Who try to be unique/ But when they stay long enough/ Take all the shii n' keep doing 'em thing/ Long enough t' mark the scene/ They grow into kings/ And later rule the scene/ So the style World ne'er wanted to see/ Becomes the voice, anthem in streets/ So, never be sad or take it bad/ When you notice, you never cop a win!!!/ |
Supermiy:www.nairaland.com/Thablaqbonez That's Blaq. |
danbrowndmf:Hehe. See accusation! Na me sit you down tell you say I dey use poem toast babe for Romance section? Olohun a da! ![]() Besides, what girl in this age cares about the indecipherable verses of some poet? It's not by verse; it's by cash. ![]() |
freecocoa:LOL. I know of a few schools that teach this; TKD, anyway. But, the schools always practice a watered-down version of the art. |
freecocoa:Where do you stay in 9ja? There are a thousand clubs who teach this at the National Stadium. ![]() |
mikuz:No, really. You're not the only person who thinks so. ![]() |
danbrowndmf:Hehe. Have you been penning verses before? If you start inking because of women, you'll get bored of the art. ![]() |
I am old now and the moon wanes As the winter settles on the weather vanes, This moment at the back end of my days Of the gutter and the passageways, I've seen it all, the crumbling street The dead leaves fall about my feet, The glories of my life unfurled Are but the silent horrors of the world. In the gathering gloom I press my hands And hope that someone understands, The sorrow and the darkening sky Of grief and the muffled cry. The evening creeps and holds itself A hostage of the coming night, Cradles in its arms and starts to sleep. Waking up to dreams it breaths, it's lungs Bear witness to the gift of tongues. I hear a voice, distant voices and the sound of rumbling. "Remember child, that the ways of youth are wild Do not hesitate nor twist your fate On promises that may never pass Nor lose that time that you must win, It will not pass again". She smiles, her wrinkled face Like paper crepes run highways From her eyes, She has no smell as if the memories Had been washed away. I think of the old days Of perfume and cologne. I am alone. I imagine trees of feathered boughs Lined with wings of dead sparrows I see deaths birth and what it farrows. And even now, I think of the coming light To ward against the deadening night, Dream of warmth and of the rose, Of slumber and the long repose. |
I am old now and the moon wanes As the winter settles on the weather vanes, This moment at the back end of my days Of the gutter and the passageways, I've seen it all, the crumbling street The dead leaves fall about my feet, The glories of my life unfurled Are but the silent horrors of the world. In the gathering gloom I press my hands And hope that someone understands, The sorrow and the darkening sky Of grief and the muffled cry. The evening creeps and holds itself A hostage of the coming night, Cradles in its arms and starts to sleep. Waking up to dreams it breaths, it's lungs Bear witness to the gift of tongues. I hear a voice, distant voices and the sound of rumbling. "Remember child, that the ways of youth are wild Do not hesitate nor twist your fate On promises that may never pass Nor lose that time that you must win, It will not pass again". She smiles, her wrinkled face Like paper crepes run highways From her eyes, She has no smell as if the memories Had been washed away. I think of the old days Of perfume and cologne. I am alone. I imagine trees of feathered boughs Lined with wings of dead sparrows I see deaths birth and what it farrows. And even now, I think of the coming light To ward against the deadening night, Dream of warmth and of the rose, Of slumber and the long repose. |
danbrowndmf:Hehe. You wan write poem for your babe? ![]() I'll be offline the later part of this week. Let's make it next week. |
LarrySun:I don't want the story on NL; for some reasons, sir. |
danbrowndmf:This one wey you wan dey recruit so. I'll talk to the administration team. You'll soon be made the public relations officer of the Rap section. ![]() |
kr0ne:Don't forget he defeated Ejafulator A.K.A _coogar. ![]() |
JigsawKillah:We do 8 ![]() |
kr0ne:LMAO ![]() I think I want to honor the new bro with a whooping; seems he came for me to avenge his bro's death. Haven't seen him around, though. ![]() |
LarrySun:Larrysun, could you please to a dot modify that your quote of the piece? |
Thanks. When is the next class? |
texanomaly:If you ask, Yes, I do. |
MuhdG:Crazy.. ![]() |
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