There must have been about 3 or 4 of 'em. Maybe even 5. I cant really remember. Dont... really - want to remember.. But Anyway, I must, O Blog Master, oh horror of horrors. How can I say this? Second time on the stage & I forgot my lines. There, its out. Its taken me 2 weeks.
I'd spent all morning memorizing. Didn't really have to; I mean, it was my latest poem, therefore it was my best poem. I even went to the Urbis event without my sheets. I'd memorized not one but two poems! After all, Segun had said seven minutes...
I meant to track them down with my 'We of No Name'. Encircle 'em. Pick out the weakest one & fix my eyes on him. I meant to surprise them then, with my 'Invisible Man'. Chase them like prey & jump on their backs, break their necks & leave their chests torn open.
Segun checked me as the guy before me went on stage. I nodded confidently, scrolling the poem on my phone; I knew the lines. The stage-time had been reduced from 7 minutes to 3 but that was still enough for me to track & trace the audience with The Invisible Man.
The poet read his last poem. Segun started his mini-introduction - I started my walk towards the stage, eye on the microphone.
The crowd clapped & then waited. I looked at them, at the microphone - I'd never felt such - clarity... I blurted out the first few lines [Projection! Projection!] & then... My mind - as clear as a cloudless sky - No words, not even the condensed vapor of them. That was the first silence.
I found my way again after some time but I'm sure I skipped at four lines of my poem [I cant really remember. Dont... really - want to remember..] And then - silence again, and again and again. I wanted to die. I wanted jump into the microphone and travel down the cables & reform myself outside; somewhere far, far away...
The rest of it is a blur. I could see it clearly if I wore my specs but I really dont - want - to do that.
The sheets of the poems I failed to recite are still at exactly the same site I left them that fateful morning as I made my way out to Urbis. They're a blemish upon my sight, can bear to even look at them.
But the show must go on, the fight must continue. So bring on the next event...
Which brings me to this here piece of inspiration that came to me in the bath the other day - I wrote it for a certain dictatorial regime that supresses freedom of speech. As I wrote, something came on the News about the so-called regime changing its ways and there it was again - Wordlessness. Anyway, what do you guys think of this; potential or recycle bin?
Untitled
Yes we’ll – take our pens and – scribble on scrolls
We’ll – wring our souls of all protest and dissent
When you – take away our pens and – burn our paper
We’ll – wait till you’ve left and – start again
As long as we have fingers we’ll – write on the soil
When your – trucks run over our notes and – leave your mark
We’ll – take to the trees and – write on the bark
If you – cut down the trees we’ll – look for something else
You can – kill the writers but you’ll – never kill the writing