Colour Chameleon Brotha

Help me. 

I really need you to

'Cause frankly, on my own

I just can't seem to wrap my head around

Some of the things you do.

You idle on street corners

From sunrise 'til dark of night

Watching other people hustle

While you stand around and pick fights.

You gawk at all the ladies

As they pass round your way

And give whistles and cat calls

Which you seem to regard 

As some kinda foreplay.

You hangin' around 

Refusin' to work

And give others a shake-down 

Like they owe you a part 

Of the fruit of their labour,

Of their sweat and their pain-

Tell me, are you a man

Or some carrion crane?

You watch me as I walk

And make dirty remarks 

In part to soothe a guilty conscience

From the things you do in the dark.

You attack and you threaten,

You harass and beat down,

You puff yourself up

When your crew is in town,

Then come back all humble

When there's no one around.

All these things you do

In the presence of others

But turn around when you need me

And say that we're brothers.

Well, tell you what Mr. Man,

I may be gentle but I am not weak,

I may sound inexperienced but I'm anything but thick;

You may see me walk humble

But I'm certainly not cheap.

And as for the fact 

That we could be family,

Well,

Colour may say you're a brother

But you're a stranger to me.

User Advisory

 I am fragile,

So be gentle.

I am sensitive,

So watch how you handle me.

I am strong-willed,

So pick your battles.

I am proud,

So be careful how you approach me.

If I am a king,

Why do I feel so ignoble?

If I am gorgeous,

How come I feel so unattractive?

If I’m so intelligent,

How do you explain my ignorance?

If I mean so much to you,

Then why do I look so small

When I see myself reflected in your eyes?

I know my worth

But I’m insecure in it.

I am ready for love

But I run away from it.

I am willing to take risks

But I’m terrified of failure.

I believe in logic

But make no sense myself.

I am a rare gem

Yet people like me come a dime a dozen.

I am a Pandora’s box of contradictions,

A ticking time bomb,

A deep well,

A chamber of secrets.

I am an intellectual

With the mind of a two-year-old;

A stickler for rules

Who likes to colour outside the lines.

I like open communication

Yet there is much I don’t tell.

So there you have it.

The door is unlocked,

The way is clear,

The game explained,

Fair warning given.

Now enter

At your own risk…

DOBET GNAHORÉ - Palea - Bridgestone Music Festival - São Paulo - 2008

Homeless

Never had a place

To call a permanent home.

Raised a nomad,

A water child,

The drifter’s heart beats within my chest.

You may welcome me for a while.

For a time I may find contentment

Within your walls,

But never shall I be fully yours,

Nor you mine.

And that is the lesson

We both must learn.

For one day the wind will sound the call

Through the horns of the sea.

Then I’ll be gone again.

I may return,

And yet may not.

Of that I am never certain.

For the Will that guides my feet

Is not my own.

I am not sad,

I feel neither loneliness

Nor self-pity.

This is my life.

This is my destiny.

Don’t weep.

Though hard such words may seem to you,

I merely speak the truth.

Settling would only bring misery,

Like trying to keep a humming bird in captivity.

Like a solitary butterfly,

I was meant to wander.

Belonging is not a word

That fits the contours of my soul,

So I must leave.

The wise say to those who will heed,

Forewarned is forearmed.

And so I say to you,

And wish these words well timed and fitly spoken:

Adieu fair soul,

Friend of my heart and spirit,

I wish you love and happiness-

Heaven knows you deserve it.

La flor

Al amanecer,

Yo vi el capullo

Nuevo, inocencia de verde claro,

Salpicado de gotitas de rocío,

Luciendo en la luz del joven sol.

La juventud de una flor.

Luego, el sol en vía de elevarse

Los pétalos empezando su brote:

Tiernos, flamantes, rojos

Rumbo a un fin no lejos.

A media mañana,

El capullito ya no estuvo.

En su lugar se veía

Una flor-

Florita bonita:

Media-abierta, tímida, novata.

Más tarde, el sol instalado

Bien alto en el cielo

La flor ya fue completa-

Grande, encarnada, opulenta.

Inocencia, novedad, timidez

Recuerdos olvidados de la niñez

De la flor intacta,

Bien sentada

En la copa de sus sépalos-

Viejos protectores, encerrando óvulos.

Está para empezar otra etapa

Bien lista, madura, integra.

In Memoriam

A feeling

Like dancing butterflies

Leading to astounding feats

Of abdominal acrobatics.

Joy, delight,

Brave devil-may-care face

And taking of risk;

Knife in hand,

The world is my oyster.

Willingness,

Initiative,

Drive and strength:

Feeling like I can heal the world.

Then, at a word,

A heedless act

Of innocent ignorance...

Sudden spiraling, dizzying,

Heart-stopping freefall

Into chasms of winter,

Subzero temperatures;

Walling willing tears

Behind thick palisades of ice

And heavily guarded bulwarks.

Adieu to this emotional roller coaster.

The ride stops here.

So I celebrate this Mass

In memoriam of you

Elusive heart:

House of delusive visions,

Menagerie of glass figurines

Feigning the appearance of diamonds.

I stand at your graveside

In mock mourning

Over your throbbing form,

all the while knowing

you will one day rise from your sepulchre

Like some vengeful zombie

Bent on wreaking the havoc

Or nervous euphoria

That is your design.

Awash with regret

for the time wasted

not knowing how to put you to use,

preferring to shut you away.

But in the meantime,

I will walk in free, unfeeling purity.

Back turned to the headstone

which simply reads:

To my heart, in memoriam...

Passive Rebellion

Yes saying,

Over bending,

Bowing and scraping

For fear of hurting,

Of offending.

Knowing all the while

These grand benevolent gestures,

While the outworking of genuine inclination,

Go against the grain

Of what my heart desires.

Tug at the reins,

Get me out of bed.

Foot dragging,

Smile faking,

Anger suppressing,

Self denigrating,

Late arriving,

Phone call dodging...

Purely coincidental,

Or essentially symptomatic

Of a deeper ailment?

Guilty conscience tears away

At the fibre of my soul.

Laughter and joviality feigned and forced

Become a greater chore.

Want to run and hide away

Leave responsibility in the dust-

Oh to conform!

To give whole heartedly!

To be full and true!

Get past this insanity

Free to be me entirely!

Kaleidoscope Night

Vivid reds streak across the sky

Burning oranges lap at the edges

of the thin lines of pale blue

that merge into bands of

sultry, shadowy purples and violets

the flaming sun orb is now out of sight

yet its emissaries seem to follow

even as the train speeds away

in the opposite direction-

toward the darkened dome of heaven

flecked with glinting, silvery dots

like bits of glowing confetti

After a party-

the end of another day.

The train is followed by another body

more discrete

but stern in the beauty of its cold, milky light

commanding awe

as it presides over the affairs of the dark

making sure that obscurity is kept in check-

the beginning of the night.

The streetlights awake,

while somewhere the first lightbulb comes to life

the streets continue to bustle with commuters-

the last shoppers,

day workers homeward bound,

friends out for a sit down at the corner café,

nocturnal laborers on their way to the grind.

The club hoppers and other night time species

will soon appear on the scene,

but it is too early for that yet.

The train keeps going,

its passengers ride on,

some in a hurry to reach their destination,

others a bit apprehensive,

still others sit indifferent-

this is routine,

Just a trainride is all.

Small towns and villages fly by

life passing life

one going at the regular pace,

the other gliding on in fast forward.

So many parallel stories,

the plots running along similar lines

but never intersecting

As evening shrouds the land

I find it funny how

each character in the great novel of the world

could experience the exact same thing

in so many different ways.

La Despedida

Se fue hoy
Yo lo vi

Cargando sus maletas,

Despidiéndose de todos.

Se fue hoy,

Y desde la ventana

De la cárcel de mi dolor,

Yo miré y vi

Los últimos abrazos,

Las primeras lágrimas.

Se fue hoy

Lo vi partiendo,

Llevando con él

El pedacito que corresponde

Al vacío que ha quedado

En mi corazón

Y que provoca mi sufrimiento.

Se fue hoy

Y en el huerto

En el que pasamos lindos momentos,

Se ha instalado el invierno:

Todo está gélido,

Blancura hermosa y terrible,

Sencilla, insensible.

Se fue hoy

Dejándome solo, triste, vacío.

Se fue hoy,

Y no me quedo con nada más

Que recuerdos.

Dawn of Sound

A quiet vibration

Disturbs the silent air.

Gathering momentum,

It slowly grows into a dull murmur

As it ripples through the room.

Travelling across the space,

It begins to interact in waves:

Intersecting, converging and diverging

To create an acoustic vagueness

Like a blurry smudge of sound.

As the fuzzy resonance

Becomes more audacious,

Textures and patterns emerge

Into rhythmic, pulsating harmony.

In that instant,

That space awakens

And vibrates in time with the melody.

In that moment,

There is light;

And with that light,

There comes vision.

The air is now

A thing that is breathed;

In that breath, there is sound:

Sound that moves and quivers and vibrates...

... And in that sound,

There is LIFE.