Flashback : Left to our own literary devices...

Flashback is action that interrupts to show an event that happened at an earlier time which is necessary to better understanding.

tiha says:
We all have our foundations, our parents instilled morals and ethics, or the church did it, or your neighborhood posse. When I was a teenager I was truly blessed to have my ears kissed by conscious rap. It was funky enough to irritate my parents, but grooving enough to make James Brown proud to have his beats sampled. I mean 90s rap filled my teenaged life with meaning, I wanted to stand up for my people. I wanted to go dig Brenda’s baby out of the dumpster and make her take it to the hospital.




It made me think Ice Cube was some kind of seer of the people whenever he predicted the next west coast revolt. It made me want to hurry up and be able to vote so I could help fight the power. It made me wanted to illicit change in the way the police treated brown folks. It made me believe that we could accomplish anything if we all stood together, and it made me believe in us as a people. We were united through our angst.



90s conscious rap was the soundtrack to the revolution-that still hasn’t come. I listen to 90’s rap now, and its all still relevant, same struggles, same issues, just a different decade. Really people? We don’t have to reach that far back in our history to know what’s going on. So I’m throwing up my fist, I have on my Tims, I’m back in the alley on a cold Boston night plotting for change, giving my respect to the messages these artists tried to pass on to us. I hear you guys, I swear I do!

alise chimes in:

One way the spirit of the 90's conscious rap is living on is through Spoken Word.



Many of the poets and poetry fans I run into have that spirit of revolution, change, and self awareness. We hope that through each word, poem, anecdote, or story that is told, it becomes catalyst for some young warrior or leader who just needed a push. I hope that beautiful soul saves us all.

peace.

Alliteration: Left to our own literary devices

Alliteration: The repetition of consonant sounds within close proximity, usually in consecutive words within the same sentence or line.

yeah you probably thought the queen of alliteration was going to take this one, well fooled ya! cant put us in no boxes. box deez. now for our regularly scheduled blog:

As I wake up in the morning, my ears are filled with groans and grunts graciously greeting me as I get up out the bed and go forth with my gray rainy day blues, belaying the blue skies and birds bursting with song of soliloquies saluting the new day.

I’m stuck in a rut of self righteous retching and bitching by which I mean regularly realizing that the ruler of my world is me, but I’ll blame someone else for sucking the synergetic energy from my every thought until everything I hear and think sounds the same, the same ole sad song of sorrow for something I so want to attain but purposely put off, pushing away, satisfying the fear born from freely indulging in the self destructive slavery of my mind.

I choose to not change the pace of my world, chagrin charging my choppy thoughts of half felt passions, please wont you listen as I don’t try to take the things I want and continue to treat my tries as sore defeats confirming my constant state of deflated angst. Making no sense as a means to confuse others into thinking I’m trying when really I’m disguising my efforts to remain still and let life pass me by.

I can match up the beginnings of my words to make them mean what I want, but that doesn’t mean that they are what is true. A pretty picture parading in pretence can only hope to hold a heavy value.

Poetic Justice: Left to our own literary devices...

*Recap: We wanted to have a little fun and do something a little different, so we have decided to start some series here on "The Latte Mug." Our first series will be "Left to our own literary devices..." As you may know, Tiha and I love literature, poetry, and theater. We try to live and breathe it as much as possible, and sometimes it enters our lungs whether we invite it to the respiration party or not. (Did I get carried away with that metaphor?... I'm a poet, sue me!) This series will highlight a literary device* each day this week and how it has somehow bumrushed itself into our reality. Ya dig? I thought you would...


Poetic justice: when virtue is ultimately rewarded or vice punished, often in modern literature by an ironic twist of fate intimately related to the character's own conduct.


No not Janet, 2Pac and 'nem, even though that movie is quite a guilty pleasure of mine. "Alone, all alone. Nobody, but nobody can make it out here alone." Sorry, had a fit of nostalgia... Back on track, I have to remember about that whole focus thing...

Many folks get some secret (or public) pleasure when the "bad guy" gets what's coming to him. You know when karma bites someone in the ass like a Purple Smurf (please click the link to see the Purple Smurfs, it is hilarious, trust me). Most folks cheer and laugh when the villain is captured or dies at the end of the movie. It is very interesting to me that people get pleasure in someone's demise. I know, I know, your first response will be, "Well what if they deserved it?" And I will respond, "Who are you to judge?" I'll be on some "he who has not screwed up ever throw the first stone" type of vibe. I say all that to say: I don't get pleasure when the "bad guy" loses, in fact sometimes it makes me sad. I think sometimes poetic justice is too harsh. I think the bad guy deserves a second chance every now and then. Karma should mind her business sometimes, she gets on my nerves and her poetry sucks...


But Jill Scott's poetry is pretty awesome:

Creative License: Left to our own literary devices...

*Recap: We wanted to have a little fun and do something a little different, so we have decided to start some series here on "The Latte Mug." Our first series will be "Left to our own literary devices..." As you may know, Tiha and I love literature, poetry, and theater. We try to live and breathe it as much as possible, and sometimes it enters our lungs whether we invite it to the respiration party or not. (Did I get carried away with that metaphor?... I'm a poet, sue me!) This series will highlight a literary device* each day this week and how it has somehow bumrushed itself into our reality. Ya dig? I thought you would...


Creative license: Exaggeration or alteration of objective facts or reality, for the purpose of enhancing meaning in a fictional context.

I’ve finally earned my creative license, and man lemme tell you that test was a b*tch. I took classes and everything. I studied up with the book, passed the written, but that road test had me shook, straight up.

I ended up getting a BA in Art just to gain the knowledge for the written.

But the road test was a little more tricky. You see, it required that I put myself out there artistically. I had to believe in myself and my art. I had to find my purpose and not be afraid to stand by it. I had to be brave in the face of criticism. I had to be willing to do something for nothing and do nothing for something. I had to balance my art with selling out for the mighty dollar. It took awhile to pass that road test. It was a road I had not traveled since I was a teenager, back when I was carefree and open to expressing myself through art. Back then I didn’t care what people thought, I had something to say and I said it artistically, the world be dammed. I did it for me, not to please others and it was great. But in order to earn my license, I had to capture that essence once again and let it lead me down that same road some 15 years later. After many practice runs, I finally made it down that road with ease, and I earned my license!

So what does having my creative license mean? It means that I’m now free to express in any way shape or form with no inhibitions. Inhibitions in art don’t mix, like oil and water on canvas. I have no excuse not to create; I’ve earned the right with myself and am obligated to the world to share my gift.

How did you prove to yourself that you could do what makes you happy?

Tragic Flaw: Left to our own literary devices...

We wanted to have a little fun and do something a little different, so we have decided to start some series here on "The Latte Mug." Our first series will be "Left to our own literary devices..." As you may know, Tiha and I love literature, poetry, and theater. We try to live and breathe it as much as possible, and sometimes it enters our lungs whether we invite it to the respiration party or not. (Did I get carried away with that metaphor?... I'm a poet, sue me!) This series will highlight a literary device* each day this week and how it has somehow bumrushed itself into our reality. Ya dig? I thought you would...

Tragic flaw: The single characteristic (usually negative) or personality disorder which causes the downfall of the protagonist.

I have many flaws. I 'm only human. Flesh and blood. A (wo)man. I f*ck up, a lot. I can admit that. I'm borderline lazy, I don't speak up for myself, and I don't network when I should. Yet all of those I work on and have developed stategies to combat this for the most part. *where my head resides regularly*

BUT.... I have atragic flaw that will be my downfall: Lack of focus. In fact, it is so bad that it took me 45 to write the first paragraph, because I did the following:

*Checked my facebook
* Made a playlist
*Tweeted about my cramps (which was quite hilarious actually, I said "If cramps were a career I'd Diddy them", I digress, see there goes the focus thing)
* IM'ed with Tiha
* IM'ed with Luvvie
* Checked my email
* Started twisting my hair
* Stared into space (for real)

All of that to write 5 sentences that were already in my head. That is sad. That is pitiful. That is ME. This has become my tragic flaw because I am so scatterbrained that I do not see things all the way through. I get excited about projects or ideas and go gung-ho hard for a little while, but then it fizzles out, and on to the next thing. That is not a way to live or work. So, part of the reason for starting to do series here at the blog is that it will make me stick to something. I'll tell ya, one thing I miss about the cube (shhhhh don't tell anyone) is the structure and organization. I need someone/thing to reign in my scattered brain a little bit so I can follow through with all my delusions of grandeur grand plans, hairbrained schemes great ideas, and world domination goals.

What is your tragic flaw?