connecting*the*dots

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Keith Robinson dropping science and experiences on the crowd last week at the C37Words production, Poetry GSO Slam, in Greensboro, NC.

If you felt that as much as I did in person, I’ll leave it up to you to transcribe the lyrics in the comment field.

National Poetry Month is coming to a close in a few days, but Clement Mallory might have just put it to bed last night with a bang.

With a packed house in the lecture hall of the Greensboro Historical Museum, Clement effortlessly moved the crowd as the emcee of the competition, displaying a rare range of lyrics and emotion, delivered across numerous poems as the judges tallied their results.

But there’s something other than talent that separates Clement from his peers.

While he’s making moves as an up and coming performer, it’s his foundation as a teacher and his Brooklyn born and raised personality that makes his approach unique.

The first half of the show consisted of a teen competition and by any “standard” of a spoken word competition, the kids delivered more poetry than passion — mostly standing behind a podium and reciting their words.

But as a teacher, Clement’s concern was visibly focused on the kids growth as poets, performers and their confidence with their own voice, not their current ability to rock the stage. His realness, casualness and sense of humor seeped from his soul each time he addressed the crowd — whether killing time between acts, giving advice to the kids after the adults slammed or while making connections with his next opportunity through an ill shout out.

Before the show was even half-way through, he had the audience completely eating out of his hands.

In the end, the finals of the adult slam came down to two poets battling it out for the first place prize — Monica Daye and Keith Robinson (A.K.A. The Arsonist). If it were up to me, they both would’ve walked away with top honors.

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Keith Robinson (A.K.A. The Arsonist) ended up bringing home the $250 first prize, but it wasn’t because of this powerful drop. Let’s just say that this Marine veteran of the first Gulf War wasn’t feeling the actions of our current president.

Look for that winning slam on next week’s Lyricist Wednesday.

Another great night in GSO.

In five days, it’ll be the four-year anniversary of “Mission accomplished.”

Unbelievable.

btw, Steven Connell is amazing.

Clement is hosting the spoken word jam this Friday night. Come on down (it’s free) and you’ll have an opportunity to get to know The Future of Poetry.

Congrats again on the cover story, man.

I am not angry; I am anger.
I am not dangerous; I am danger.
I am abominable stress, eliotic, relentless.
I’m a breath of vengeance.
I’m a death sentence.
I’m forsaking repentance,
to the beast in his hench men.

Armed forces and policemen
that survived off of oils and prisons until there cup runneth over with lost souls.
That wear over-sized caps like blind-folds
Shiny necklaces like lassoes
Draggin’ them into black-holes
And I may have to holla out to Fidel Castro
To get my other brothers outta Guantanimo

And the innocence on death row?
It’s probably in the same proportion to criminals in black robes
That smack gavels
That crack domes
That smack gavels
That smash homes

Justice is somewhere between reading sad poems and 40 oz of gasoline crashing through windows
It is between plans and action
It is between writing letters to congressmen and clocking the captain
It is between raising legal defense funds and putting a gun to the bailiff and taking the judge captive
It is between prayer and fasting
Between burning and blasting
Freedom is between the mind and the soul
Between the lock and the load
Between the zeal of the young and the patience of the old
Freedom is between a finger and the trigger
It is between the page and the pen
It is between the grenade and the pin
Between righteous and keeping one in the chamber

So what can they do with a cat with a heart like Turner
A mind like Douglass
A mouth like Malcolm
And a voice like Chris?!

That is why I am not dangerous; I am danger
I am not angry, I am anger
I am abominable, stress, Eliotic relentless
I’m a death sentence
For the beast and his henchmen
Politicians and big businessmen
I’m a teenage Palestinian
Opening fire at an Israeli checkpoint, point blank, check-mate, now what?!
I’m a rape victim with a gun cocked to his cock, cock BANG! Bangkok! Now what?!
I am sitting Bull with Colonel Custard’s scalp in my hands
I am Sincay with a slave trader’s blood on my hands
I am Jonathan Jackson and a gun to my man
I am David with a slingshot and a rock
And if David lived today, he’d have a Molotov cocktail and a Glock
So down with Goliath, I say down with Goliath

But we must learn, know, write, read
We must kick, bite, yell, scream
We must pray, fast, live, dream, fight, kill and die free!

UPDATE: Thanks to StaceyZ for a handful of transcription corrections.

Words can’t begin to describe the passion in this drop.