Advocate of Wordz

5 Tips To Memorizing Your Poems

Of late (as in recently and as in I should have started doing this a long time ago) I’ve been consistently doing a lot of 45 to 60 minute sets on my own. I have a strong belief that the most valuable thing people can give you is their time, so I believe these opportunities come with a great deal of responsibility. The audience is not the artist’s therapist, they are not there to entertain someone’s venting. They attend to be inspired, entertained and to hear something that makes them feel like they are not alone. Something HONEST. We are all part of something bigger than one person.

“How righteous of me” I think. So every show I arm myself with answers to questions like “what inspires you?” or “who do you read?” or “how and why did you become a performer?”…as always (and rightfully so), the ego hit a stonewall. The most pressing question people have is…”HOW DO YOU REMEMBER ALL OF THOSE POEMS?” HA!

1. I REMEMBER WHAT I LIKE…If I am not satisfied with something I write, it is not going on stage. Simple as that. When I do find something I like, organically I go back to it just like I would with a song or joke or how some repeat their favorite prayers or phrases. If I’m not consistently rereading my poem, if it doesn’t excite me then I’m going to struggle to care about it let alone memorize it. My advice…focus on performing the stuff you personally love that you write, not necessarily the thing you believe everyone else will like.

2. REPEATEDLY WRITE TO REPEATEDLY GET IT RIGHT…When the piece is finished and all edits are complete, I write the final version on a piece of paper. Even though all of my poems are on my computer (easiest way for me to edit them) and I can print them out, writing them out MULTIPLE TIMES helps me become more intimate with them. It forces my brain to slow down, I can speak and type my work much faster than I can write it down with a pen. I do this 3 to 4 days within a one week span. Each specified day, I only write it out once. My advice…write it down a few times.

3. DEODORIZE & OXIDIZE TO MEMORIZE…while cleaning and doing other domestic work I have my music blasting. Unknowingly, I was simultaneously beginning to remember the lyrics and transition in rhythm to so many songs with an uncanny accuracy. And when I added recorded poems of my own to the playlist, I realized I was able to remember them with the same success. My advice…record it and add it to the playlist you listen to the most. Let it naturally sink in, exert no effort.

4. IF IT IS MINE, I DON’T NEED TO REMEMBER IT…if you own a CD, you don’t have to remember the lyrics to every song. If you own the movie, instead of telling a friend about your favorite scene you can show them. In the same vein, you can do this with your poems. Memorizing lines is one thing, but OWNING your work is another. The goal isn’t to recite lines, the objective is to live in them. By this time you should believe in what you have written. You should know point A, point B and the how the journey in between the two goes. Someone should be able to read a line in the middle of your poem and you can pick up where they start. Instinctively your muscle memory should get into the energy and demeanor of that section of the poem. This is how I know I OWN my poem. Its life has become second nature to me. My advice…don’t stop embedding it into your brain after you’re able to recite it. Go beyond memorizing.

5. KNOW THY VOICE…I have and continue to work hard on my own voice. I’m sure subconsciously aspects of my voice emulate other artist I’ve taken a liken to, but I insert a great deal of effort into finding, sharpening and expanding my own. Although I have many different styles of finished work and my topics vary, the under belly of each piece has the same voice. I know my thought process and I am familiar with how I share my perspective with others. My advice…it is OK to talk to yourself, just remember to always listen to yourself. You have your own speech thought patterns, know them.

These are my 5 (sorry Barkley and Wade, you’re not in it!). Give me a shout if these work for you or let me know if you have other techniques I should be sharing. At the end of the day, there are no magic elixirs. Put in the work for the results you desire. If people are going to give you their time and listen, you need to honor them by putting in your time in first.

———————————————————————————————-

———————————————————————————————-

———————————————————————————————-

Behind The Story of 2011 Social Media Post, #1

February 8th

“Is skipping down the Grand Concourse cuz he is soooooooooo happy!!!”

&

July 30th

“Scariest day of my life…P.S. I had to cancel my appearance for the Poetry Festival tomorrow.”

There is much I do not speak on or share. When I do express this specific subject I am about to get in to, I do so in a very vague way like the above status messages above.

April 21, 2010 my son was born. My only child. Something so precious to me and frightening at the sametime. Like all first time parents, there are a great deal of new experiences that were about to reshape my life. But my experience (although not rare), was not going to be what one might expect, especially knowing my history and work with the youth and adopting several dozen nieces and nephews…

A few weeks after breaking up with my son’s mother due to a horrific relationship, one which I could not believe I went through, we found out she was pregnant. It takes two to make a baby but I put stock into believing it is a woman’s choice. Having an abortion or giving birth does mentally and emotionally affect both parties, but physically the burden of either course lies so much on the woman. It is her word that is last on the issue. She chose to have my son and I supported her decision. 

Then came drama. Although I was there and being supportive, she grew to hate me. She falsely assumed I’d get back with her and restart our romantic relationship, even after I made it clear that domestic violence was an incurable turn off to me, hence our break up weeks before the news of my son. The more I was there for her daughters, the more I went to the doctor visits and the more I tried to do what a man should when expecting a child, it furthered her anger. In many ways, I could empathize with her feelings, but I also knew I wasn’t wrong. Maybe another man would’ve handle it better than I, and I’m sure there are valid arguments that I could have done more but I knew I wasn’t being a terrible person or father. I’ll be the first to say I wasn’t perfect and I had a lot to learn, but no one could say I was being a lowlife or uncaring. There is a lot more to the story, but for the sake of not turning this into a book, we’ll fast forward…

Eventually she kept him from me. For months I didn’t see him, so I took her to court. On February 8th (after many appearances), the judge granted me visiting rights. Hence me skipping down the Grand Concourse in the Bronx.

So many memories were being made. Eventually she even let up and let him stay weekends with me before the court ordered it. Things were beautiful…then in July something changed. Not sure what it was but she became angry with me for no reason. My soul kept telling me she was plotting something but I had no idea what or why. On July 30th my son got sick in my care and had a seizure. The following day she blamed me (although the entire staff at the hospital reassured us it wasn’t my fault, because at first I did in fact think it was my fault even though I did nothing wrong…my child’s eyes rolled into the back of his head and I’m a first time parent, there is so much I don’t know).

I just let her vent on and on, I allowed her to chew my ear out. Again, I could empathize with the scared feeling she had, even though her anger was misplaced on me. No one wants to see their child in the hospital, no one wants that phone call on a Saturday night. Who couldn’t understand her being upset? So I just gave her space to say what she wanted and I took it. Not because I was wrong, but for the sake of my son. He needed his mother to expell all that weight and I stupidly thought it would make her feel better to scream on me. I have thick skin and all that burden would be worth it once I saw him again.

July 30th is the last day I saw my son. In early July she had made plans to move during the first week of August. So when I called the following week to see what time I would be picking up my son, she told me she was gone, had left. She said “I’m the type of bitch that would kidnap her child, fuck what the courts say…come get me pussy!”. It was as if the stars had aligned with her plans. She was planning on bouncing and now she felt she had a good reason to at the perfect time of her move.

The courts don’t give a fuck about fathers. So many deadbeats have come before me that the system in many ways is designed to fail for men. The court keeps telling me I have to find her and serve her in whatever county she is in. Men get no empathy there. It showed me how so many men who mean well just give up.

I haven’t giving up. I’m still looking and playing each legal option I have. Without a great deal of money, my options are limited. July 30th, 2011 is the scariest day of my life. Unfortunately my family has not supported me much during this time. Over a dispute I had with a loved one about Occupy Wall Street (she opposed it), she said to me in the conversation “You know what keeps me warm at night? Tucking my son in. I bet you can’t say the same!”.  Welcome to my bloodline internet world! lol.

Whatever wrong doings or mistakes I’ve made as a person or as a father (I admit I’ve made them, I am human and I have a lot of learning to do) the one thing that has kept me sane is, the punishments don’t fit the crimes. I’ve never been that bad of a son, brother or father to deserve this.

So why share some of this now? Well, of late I’ve begun to see how some people truly appreciate my words and work as “Advocate Of Wordz”. People give me their time, their money, their beliefs and their hearts. They find value in what I do and some have even sent me some of the most inspiring emails and notes, how something I said or wrote positvely affected their lives. Most times when I receive those messages, it is because I showed what I am burdened with.

So…I know I’m not alone. I know I’m not the only man to go through this. I know I’m not the first and I won’t be the last. I am hoping, that if anyone who is a fan or follower or as I call them, ENABLERS (lol), is going through this or something like this, I hope you find strength in my story for yourself. I hope you feel less alone. I hope you can escape the strong dark clutches that depression can have in a situation like this. To be honest, I haven’t done so at all. Maybe this is some kind of healing for me. Or maybe nothing will change until I have my son again.

July 30th, 2011…the scariest day of my life. But I’d relive it over and over again if it meant that was the only way I’d see my son again.

———————————————————————————————-

———————————————————————————————-

———————————————————————————————-

Behind The Story of 2011 Social Media Post, #2

March 16th, 2011

“I fell asleep by the window, dreaming of your return. I woke up to see the walkway and lawn untouched. The keys were still hidden under the doormat. Relunctantly I’ve accepted this, but only when my eyes are open.”

So many of you believed this was about a woman, but…

I had awoken from a very odd dream that morning…and when I mean odd, I don’t mean me flying with Ms Piggy then all of a sudden walking along the ocean floor with Kermit the Frog singing “Under the Water, the Fish Don’t Stink”, no that is a damn near every night dream. That’s normal. I mean, odd as in Rafael (my father) was in it, standing next to me and he was speaking with me. 

He spoke of how proud he was of me, gave me sincere advice and was excited to see me conquer more aspirations. This may not seem abnormal to the naked eye, but I have a horrific history with the man. We haven’t exchanged a singe word in 8 years. He’s purposely and successfully put walls between my mother, sister and I, even though he abused us all. I’m not even sure if he knows he is a grandfather right now…I was the only one who stood up to him and I was kicked out of the house at 18 years old because I defended the family. His fists made me the black sheep of the family.

While growing up his mother would ask me to be patient. She would tell me Rafael (her son) was jealous of me. My mother would blame his 15 years on the job (NYPD) as a reason for his abuse. A head doctor told me it is because Rafael never grew up with a father. Men’s Health (yes, I wrote in to their advice column and they chose my letter once) told me Rafael probably felt like a failure and I should help him.

Regardless of it all, as a grown man I’ve always known this was baggage I would have to carry and I honestly felt I dealt with it. It was behind me…after I awoke from the dream, I felt something I hadn’t felt since I was 12. I felt like I was missing out on a father, like I was a horrible son and I realized I’ve always left the door open for him to apologize and for us to start over.

Knowing Rafael, I know that will never come true. Nor will the rest of my family have the courage either. Maybe I’m wrong. But, there is one thing I do know…if he decides he’s saving an apology for his death bed, he can forget it. People save things for that moment and it is selfish. You don’t get things off your chest when you’re afraid of meeting your maker and you want a clear conscious. You do it while you have a lot of life left to live. Death bed confessions are cop outs. So to all who may read this…say what needs to be said now, don’t wait until the end.

As for me, I’ve made my stand and I’ve said all I’ve had to. So if he were to die tomorrow, I’d be sad but I’d have no regrets. I’ve done all I can and my clear conscious is my favorite weapon. So a New Years Toast to you “Dad”, your legacy shall forever be linked with how successful you were in destroying the family. I can’t help but wonder, if you took 1/10th of the energy you used in destruction and placed it in production, where would our lives be?

Behind The Story of 2011 Social Media Post, #3

July 22nd, 2011

“A Word to the Wise…Don’t knock someone when you getting their sloppy seconds. Just saying. =)”

Somehow, somewhere, for some reason some people assume I am “famous”. There are definitely some perks to having people assume such a thing. To be honest, I don’t correct that false assumption all the time (most times I do, but not all). Indeed I enjoy the attention, free stuff and space to shine. But for the record, I am no where near being famous.

Part of that territory comes with “gossip” and my stage name being thrown around in the mud behind my back. Yes it is based on lies and individuals who hate. Because I know this, never do I react or address it. In fact this highlighted status of mine is usually as far as I go. No names mentioned because I will not add any attention to those riding my coat tails.

So the story behind this is…a person on the “scene” dated or slept with an ex of mine (not sure if it is true or not, I could care less and it is not the point…it is also the main reason why I don’t date those who are on the poetry scene because a bunch of these so called enlightened writers gossip way too much, lol). Apparently this individual was running around telling people. Now, I won’t knock someone whose proud to state who they are involved with, but they weren’t referring to her when mentioning it…they kept saying “Wordz’s ex”, as if they were getting clout off of it. As if people would see them as someone awesome because they had something that was once mine.

In response I thought “people aren’t things, I’ve never HAD, OWNED or POSSESSED any individual”. Second thought I had was, although I intend on keeping my distance from this particular ex, she does have a good heart and is trying to have nothing but good in her life so why would you do this to her if you truly dug her? And last, I laughed at this man. How low he must feel. I wondered if maybe he’d like to borrow the private pictures I had of her so he could show others. I wondered if he was hoping he’d taste my cum on her tongue. I wondered if he realized part of her reasoning for being with him (a “colleague” of mine) was a last lash out at me…

Being the narrow-focused blinders-wearing man that I am whose indefinitely moved on, I only had one retort, one piece of advise for him…Don’t knock someone when you getting their sloppy seconds.

…and thank you for referring to her as my ex. She’s a gorgeous woman (shows I have good taste) and whether you realize it or not, you referring to her as my ex has your listener believing I am indeed someone special. Maybe, just maybe, they may have been led to assume that I am famous…

———————————————————————————————-

———————————————————————————————-

———————————————————————————————-

Behind The Story of 2011 Social Media Post, #4

June 4th, 2011

“Is retiring his use of the word “UBER”. Thank you for given your time to my vocab army. The new Complimenting General is now, “GOLDEN”. Indeed =)”

This status message is simple, semi-embarrassing and may have the funniest back story of all my status updates…

While being involved with a very delicious woman, we got into it one night like consenting adults do behind closed doors. I make no apologies nor do I hide the fact that I am an “eater”. I enjoy it, you can me a “Foodie”…so while we were in a “Queening” position (google it if you must), I was feasting (I had been starving for some time) and her entire body jolted. She fought to get off of me (I assumed it was like normal, she dug the resistance and YES it was consensual, I do believe NO means NO unless you have a “safe word” assigned), but I wouldn’t let her go until she clocked me in the forehead…which was a FIRST.

She rolled over and started laughing and shaking. I falsely assumed she apexed and this was a side of her I’d never seen (her over reaction I mean, lol). After a few minutes of unblushing and quieting her jitters, I asked what happened. She said…

“I’ve never felt that before but…I almost pee’d on you!!!”

LMFAOOOOOOOOO. I will never say who this woman is because that is her privacy which I respect, but I told her from this point forward uber would not be my favorite adjective…it would now be…GOLDEN

———————————————————————————————-

———————————————————————————————-

———————————————————————————————-

Behind The Story of 2011 Social Media Post, #5

March 17th, 2011

“How do I tell an 18 year old whose paying his family’s rent to stop selling drugs and go to school? Sometimes these “speakers” of the people and morality make me wonder if they’ve ever stepped into a neighborhood like mine…”

Back Story…

Growing up, I wasn’t the type to constantly be with my peers. Either I was playing baseball or football with the guys 5+ years older than me or I was looking out for those my junior. Either I wanted to be in a position where all the odds were stacked against me OR I was helping out those who needed it. Status Quo and I have never been on speaking terms.

Earlier this year, a junior of mine was locked up by the Feds for dealing drugs. For years I spoke with this young man, seeing his potential and made several attempts to help him. He had an uncanny ability to rap, one of the best freestylers I’d ever heard. With his Jadakiss like flow and a true life story to be told, I saw gold in this young man. Unfortunately, I failed in getting through to him and he’s currently doing a lot of time.

I’ve always known, for these young kids to have successfully sold drugs for YEARS, they had all the tools to succeed in the real world. Math, Science, Law and Business skills are required to do such. You have to know the biology of your product, you have to know how to cut it evenly to keep your customers happy and make a profit, you have to know the law and how to work your way around it, and you must compete on a business level with the other several dozen dealers on the block. You may look down on an 18 year old dealing dope, but I see it as an individual with so much potential that had so little guidance. You can not hold back a dedicated heart. A soul whose willing to die to succeed…shit, this KID was paying his family’s rent and expenses. Two house holds!

So the next time you see the drug dealers on your block, be thankful you had opportunities they didn’t. Be thankful they aren’t robbing you (well, at least the dealers who aren’t thieves too) and catch some inspiration off of them and apply it to your own life. If an 18 year old has the heart to risk his life (which he did) because he couldn’t stand to see his mother, sister and others suffer under these economic difficulties, then you can fix whatever “love” problems your facebook keeps telling us you have.

“There’s a war going on outside, ain’t no (wo)man safe from it…”

———————————————————————————————-

———————————————————————————————-

———————————————————————————————-

Status Messages of 2011

Facebook, Twitter and all their other cousins are great for myself and my fellow attention whores. We post our thoughts, hoping the choir likes it. We smite people we’re at odds with, looking for dozens of replies that agree with said statement. This becomes our proof that we won the argument. Also, some of us post up pictures in secret hopes that someone else (preferably hot) is masturbating to them. This is as close to being TV stars as we’re going to get.

But the true jewel of these “What’s Happening?” websites is, it is a haven for VOYEURISM! We adore judging people, the internet has become a faux pearly gate and signing up for a membership turns us into St. Paul himself. Whose worthy of our grace? Better yet, whose the real life reality TV star we want to talk trash about with our fellow deities??!?!…OR, maybe you’re emotionally broke, so you pay close attention to the philosophical bankers whose updates seem to always be on the money. They are speaking your language, loaning you some insight and you look to cash in on the real life with a golden saying or two of their’s…or you’re Chris Hansen bait and in that case get the fuck off my blog and turn yourself over to the cannibal tribes of the southern hemisphere.

Due to the brevity we’re forced into when responding to these “What’s on your mind?” questions, so much of the story doesn’t get told. There is no VHsocialmedia1 behind the updated status show. What if we don’t know these news feed nurturers personally, how are we going to find out the scoop behind their messages?!?!?!?!

In the spirit of the new year and holidays, I’ve decided to give my enablers who ‘like’, ‘respond to’ and ‘share’ my posts, some insight to a few of my post from 2011. I will choose my personal top 5 updates and share the story behind each one. It will be interesting to see who misinterpreted what or if people will still agree with me now knowing more of the back story. Maybe one of the updates I expand on might reveal an unknown fact about me. Then again, showing what is behind the curtain may take the magic out of the perception you have of me…I mean, you all do see me as the almighty Wizard you aspire to be. Right…right? I better not be the fodder you share at the water cooler! I don’t Snookie with Beiber, I won’t be Trumped by tiger blood!!!

Tomorrow #5 will be posted.