Poetry, my superpower

Waarom aan spoken word doen in deze tijd, in deze wereld? Dat wilden we weten van de Britse poëet Sukina Douglas. Waar draait het haar om, in deze steeds populairdere vorm van poëzie op het podium, mogelijks als wissel van de wacht? Het antwoord vonden we zo mooi klinken, als een intieme stem in je oor, dat we die niet hebben willen vertalen. Taal is gansch de mens.

My name is called and I slowly make my way to the stage, I wait for the audience to quieten, the lights are dim and the spotlight is on me. The only thing between my heart and the audience is a microphone and stand. Eyes closed, arms suspended and hands that caress the air in relation to the rhythm in my words, my body sways as I deliver the poems I hold within me. I have no book to read from, no music to captivate the audience, no flashing lights or smoke machine, just my words, my truth and my sincerity. In others words just me.

Spoken word is supposed to make you feel something; we write hoping that what we feel can be transferred from our hearts to the audience with no filter. The spoken word artist exposes themselves for the greater good, knowing their expression of vulnerability is an invitation for the listener to access their own shadows.

Spoken word isn’t concerned with facts and figures; spoken word is concerned with truth.

The nakedness of the poet gives the audience permission to gaze at their own wounds and acknowledge them. We inject passion into our words, we use our bodies to tell our story, we employ cadence and also silence, but most importantly we realise the value our words have in this very moment.

Spoken word is both ancient and current; the poets of ancient Arabia, the griots of West Africa, story tellers the world over who shared tales rhythmically around campfires right through to The Last Poets, Gil Scot Heron and Kate Tempest are all inspired by the same muse and drink from the same well. They use their oral tradition to act as mirrors for the societies they come from, to reflect the present reality in a way more powerful than BBC or CNN news.

Spoken word isn’t concerned with facts and figures; spoken word is concerned with truth. A poem written with the intention of being performed, spoken word artists write with the intention of breathing life into their words, their poems are not intended to lay quietly on paper, quite the opposite, they are written with the notion that these words will jump off the pages and put its palm on your heart, or caress your cheek or slap you in the face or grab you by the arms and shake you violently, depending on what the poet chooses to convey and what they want you to take away.

A conversation on duality

I don’t remember the point when I decided to become a spoken word artist, but I remember the moment when I started to write. Heartache and the pen have a very close relationship and after my teenage heart was broken, my pen came to life. I used my words to write my way through pain and found a source of healing in my ability to express myself. I found immense power in being able to use words to encapsulate my reality and identify exactly how I was feeling.

The words were like an affirmation of our existence, a reminder of our collective self

Subsequently I felt as though I could narrate my own future by writing my way out of pain, choosing not to immortalise myself as a victim but as a victor. I could write my own happy ending and perform over and over again until my words became my truth. Poetry was definitely my superpower.

My entrance to the genre came through the African-American spoken word movement of the late 1990s that was heavily connected to the conscious Hip Hop scene of which I was an avid fan. Artists who are regarded as the forefathers of Hip Hop such as Lasts Poets and Gil Scot Heron are actually spoken words poets and this relationship between the two art forms is based primarily on the emphasis placed on the meaning of the words themselves. Spoken word poems frequently refer to issues of social justice, politics, race, and identity which many Hip Hop artists at that time were also addressing. The message was the same, the form was different.

I came of age with the conscious hip hop and spoken word as my backdrop, I found myself in the words and gained empowerment through the imagery. As a young woman of Jamaican descent born and raised in England my identity was always a conversation on duality. The more I started to explore my history and my identity, spoken word became the perfect vessel to capture my story and tell it to all who wanted to hear.

Black bohemian world

Two films that made me fall madly and deeply in love with spoken word, they tell different stories, but both have the spoken word scene as a backdrop.

The first was a film called Slam starring poet Saul Williams that tells the story of a young African-American man whose talent for poetry is hindered by his social background. In a case of mistaken identity he finds himself incarcerated for a crime he did not commit however, his words were his remedy and his weaponry, his sanity and his sanctity.

The most powerful scene in the film is in the prison yard; when threatened which violence from inmates he fights back with words, speaking the truths that he's witnessed in the form of a poetic-rap demonstrating the power of the pen over the sword:

They're trying to imprison my astrology
Put our stars behind bars
Our stars and stripes
Using blood splattered banners as nationalist kites

‘Amethyst rock star’ – Saul Williams

The second film Love Jones is a romantic movie, depicting a complicated relationship between a poet Darius and photographer Nina. Darius tries to impress Nina by reciting a poem called ‘A Blues for Nina’ during the open mic session that captures her attention and leads to a first date:

Say baby, can I be your slave?
I've got to admit girl, your the shit girl
And I am digging you like a grave
Now do they call you daughter to the Spinning Pulsar
Or maybe Queen of 10,000 Moons,
Sister to the distant yet Rising star Is your name Yemaya?
Oh hell nah, it's got to be Oshun

‘Blues for Nina’ – Reggie Gibson

This film presented the spoken word scene in all its glory, a Black bohemian world of cool poetry spots and jazz clubs. It depicted a Black ‘other’ that was sensitive, intellectual, spiritual, artistic and unbearably cool that is rarely depicted in films. Slam presented the power of Spoken Word, Love Jones presented the world of spoken word. These two films certainly inspired a whole generation.

Presence, passion and purpose

I moved to London to pursue my love of language and studied English Literature at university, but it was the spoken word scene that inspired the poet in me much more than my studies. I came across spoken word events and I was captivated. The passion and power the poets seemed to wield with their 15 minutes behind the microphone was electric. These events would take place in intimate spaces; cool bars, art galleries or community centres where people were there not only to listen to words but to have an experience.

Some academics teach the poetry of the dead as though the poems themselves are dead

There was power in these spaces and the spoken word I was witnessing was not just art for art’s sake, it was much deeper. I felt represented and the words were like an affirmation of our existence, a reminder of our collective self; it was a spiritual and empowering. The space cultivated a Black alternative and we were all story tellers writing our own gospel.

This world was in stark contrast to my academic studies. I was taught 19th century English poetry by a lecturer whose monotone voice could put the dead back into a deeper slumber. The lack of enthusiasm in his voice was contagious and I would wrestle with myself to stay awake in his classes, it didn’t help that they were first thing on Monday morning. Some academics teach the poetry of the dead as though the poems themselves are dead, which is a disservice, poems only die when we stop reading them.

The Classical poetry I was studying lay in the pages of books, but the spoken word I was experiencing was alive! I never felt inspired to voluntarily read the works of William Shakespeare, John Milton, William Blake or any other poet who frequent lists of canonical literature. It was not because I did not respect the culture; it was more because I was not represented therein. Spoken word poets didn’t wait to be represented, we represented ourselves.

The lack of mainstream recognition for spoken word is not really a problem for me, I like that it is a fringe art form.

The poetry I was studying was regarded as ‘high culture’ associated with the elite, whereas spoken word had the capacity to be culture for the masses. I have come to respect the mastery in classical poetry, however at the time I found the structure and form very restrictive. Spoken word was liberating to me; the form was free, sometimes it rhymed sometimes it didn’t, some poets would break out into song mid poem and there was urgency in the way it was delivered.

I think the reason why spoken word is growing in popularity is due to its accessibility. You don’t need to be well versed in the structure of sonnets, ballads and haikus; you are not expected to employ metaphors, imagery or similes, unless you want to.

Spoken word doesn’t require you to be classically trained; you don’t need expensive equipment or instruments to partake. The focus is less on form and technique and more on telling your story with presence, passion and purpose. That is not to say that spoken word poetry does not employ the aforementioned techniques however it is not judged by these elements.

Authenticity, sincerity and vulnerability

Spoken word allows the artist to honour their story and make art out of their truth. No matter how traumatic or sheltered our lives may have been, everyone has a story worth sharing. The beauty in these human stories is that they connects us to universal stories that we can all relate to.

Everyone has experienced love, heartache, injustice and we all yearn for freedom and liberty in our own way and the sharing of stories has the ability to unite us. The accessibility of spoken word has the ability to bring poetry back into contemporary culture in a way that archaic poetry fails to do.

I cut my teeth on the underground spoken word scene in Brixton, South London which was an organic and wholesome scene, so the lack of mainstream recognition for spoken word is not really a problem for me, I like that it is a fringe art form that isn’t super commercialised. Even though it is beginning to flirt with a wider audience, there is still something grounded about it. Spoken word has to be believable, it can’t be falsified.

I appreciate spoken word that touches me in some way, that causes some kind of reaction, that makes me think differently, that causes me to feel something, that allows me to see through the eyes of another and feel through the heart of the poet. I have sat amongst established poets with published books who travel the world, their poetry is perfectly written, eloquent and employing all the correct techniques, yet when they read their work I feel nothing.

Spoken word values the real and authentic and celebrates it.

In contrast I have led poetry workshops with asylum seekers and refugees who have never written a line of poetry in their lives, but the poems they produce by the end of the workshop have me brought to tears. I determine good spoken word poetry by its authenticity, sincerity and vulnerability. This is the criteria I hold for myself and also my students.

I believe spoken word is gaining popularity due to the fact that we are constantly bombarded with a form of popular culture that doesn’t really value reality or truth, rather the emphasis is placed on illusion and unrealistic portraits of lives that none of us live. Spoken word values the real and authentic and celebrates it. The simplicity is appealing as well as the impact.

The work of British Poet Warsan Shire being featured on Beyonce’s album Lemonade and also spoken word artists like Kate Tempest performing at Glastonbury has taken the artform into new spaces that has opened up a place for it in contemporary culture. Not as something new, but a resurgence of an ancient oratory form that speaks to a part of us that is often ignored.

BARELY A POET

I am barely poet
And rarely an artist.
I just leak words sometimes in the colour of verses
And with this pen it feels like I’m painting my purpose
But still only skimming the surface.
Sometimes I become a mouth piece
For when my heart wants to breathe letters.
Or when my soul wants to speak better
But I am painfully self-conscious and terribly shy,
I stand in front of crowds with my words in my eyes
My heart on my tongue and a torso filled with butterflies
Only God knows why.
Sometimes I close my eyes
And you all just disappear.
Or maybe its me that’s no longer here.
I wouldn’t really call myself a poet
My teacher said: Sukina, learn to ‘Be’ your poems
Don’t just air them, but wear them like sacred garments.
And I’m trying.
Sometimes, these words come to visit
And dance near my fingertips
Waiting to be known,
Aching to live upon my tongues tip
And I don’t resist
In fact I surrender to a power bigger than me
Sometimes I hold the pen, but these poems write me
Love letters
To help me love better
And ‘soul speak’ unfettered
And in truth
I just want to have conversations with God in these poems.
Sometimes it feels like all I’ve got is these poems.
So with nothing
Save a few tender words upon page
I introduce myself to the world and stage
Poetry in my blood
I guess it’s just the way I’m made
Poetry in my breath
I guess it’s just the way I’m made