2013 London Poetry Slam Finals - Rachel
Вставка
- Опубліковано 13 тра 2013
- 'Depression' & 'Teach Me' by Rachel Rensby
Performed at the 2013 London Poetry Slam Finals at the Palace Theatre on April 21st 2013 in London, Ontario, Canada.
(4th place, travelling to Montreal for the Canadian Festival of Spoken Word as part of the 2013 London Poetry Slam team) - Розваги
Dude, she nails depression perfectly. I applaud her.
Torisaurus Rexx You should check out "Explaining my depression to my mother - Sabrina Benaim" or "Living with depression - Dan Roman" I think these are the best ones
+MultiFandom I totally agree with you.
I can't teach you. It's not how but here. We live. It is. We were born and we breathe. These things should amaze and astonish. 3 years ago was yesterday, hope you love tomorrow and today.
you inspire me to write
Depression is still a word that haunts me.
Powerful
why are people hating on this? i actually think it's beautiful because of its rawness. to all the people out there saying this is not real poetry, that this is just mere stylized ranting, don't be so callous. This poem is the poet's own experiences. You don't have any right to invalidate those.
+Hannah Keziah Dela Cerna Yeah, you are right. The thing with slams is that require barely any kind of stylized language and is based on the expression of solipsistic emotions as a substitute for psychotherapy. To me, slams are absolutely devoid of content and/or meaning, and are simply a glorified form of masturbation ("look at me! Listen to me dribble on and on about my suffering! Now clap and cheer and rejoice, for you like arrrrrrrrrrrt!")
thats what i call "slamophobe"
I love this poem so much.
Her poem hits home, as I've dealt with depression for years.
you are the speaker of the masses...thank you. bless you... #amazing
I love this so much
chills all the way through - she is so great.
I really love it. especially the second one "teach me" I can connect to that in many ways. I loved it
Just perfect pieces
teach me.
this one poem tells all about me than any of my friend could explain why I am the way I am.
Still my favorite
This was so beautiful. I really like her poetry.
Wtf was the camera man doing
You are wonderful. Thank you so much for this, I got goosebumps and they won't go away.
Absolutely stunning. How freaking wonderful that work was shared and will be shared for eons.
The part about tattoo/piercing pain is actually painful to me. Like it's too accurate. Damn.
Me too
Allison Selman same
love this so much!
This is so accurate on how depression feels.. Amazing.
inappropriate camera pan in 3..2..1... 2:31
*AHEM*... her face is up there...
These are beautiful
thank you for this.
This is perfect.
This is so powerful.
Holy... you just... passed through me.
amazing this is how I feel
AMAZING
An amazing, inspirational poem. You've made me want to start writing again.
Your amazing!
You're such a great poet!!
That was awesome*.*
I feel this
I think I just fell in love.
Love
Decent piece.
Am I the only one who cried?
I did
3:15 to 3:30 hands down best 15s ever.
Wow
She is a good wrestler too
Am I the only one that could only think about the song "Teach me how to Duggie" during the second poem?
Unbelievable
Awaretenacious
you don't have to get it. It's an art form. Thats it, nothing more nothing less. You don't have to get it. Some people dont get photography nor the art of motion picture. some people say that rap is a bunch of people talking fast, no skill required. others say that rock is a bunch of people whining, screaming, and aimlessly making noise. there will always be someone who doesnt get it. You dont have to get it. It arguably outdates music. Sitting around listening to some kat spite rhymes isn't some hip new concept. its were rap came from well spoken word poetry and jazz/funk. ancient Greece would recite poetry in the Olympics. The aztecs would utilize it for community news and entertainment. poetry was not read, it was recited. People were illiterate. It's a way to get shit off your chest. Just because you cannot google the essence of poetry conveniently from your phone doesn't mean you have the right to degrade ones art. I loathe the entitlement of this mindless 10 seconds attention span airheads criticizing everything. just sit back and enjoy the art or move on in my likeness. Talk crap under your breath once youve clicked onto another video. Nobody wants to read your negativity. Spoken word is positive. You dont have to get it. The world doesnt revolve around you.
Ayo this girl is good.
well said :)
Ruben Alvarado
You said it all, this is something that needs to be embraced by more people. Your point itself would probably make a great poem, especially spoken with emotion behind it. Slam Poetry is very personal and I know it's not for everyone but I find it fascinating to see from someone else's viewpoint, to hear their take on prevalent issues throughout Slam poetry.
Who read the whole thing?
British Rap!
Wow. I want to be best friends with this girl. Wow!!!
Is there transcript for this?
This beat/rhythm is way too similar to Rudy Francisco "Scars/To the New Boyfriend" to be called an original.
You can only have so many rhythms and rhyme schemes, some are bound to repeat themselves......
I feel as if she is sampling rhythms from other people her rhythm is way to similar to Shane koyczan
Bucketoriley IT IS i realized that too.
Those boulders were falling on you because I summoned them there using the powers of the SHARINGAN
1K
I am NOT a Poet!
RH-
When I get out, my Jeep friends are still there playing with the
gorilla and other animals. They don't notice me. Better. I move through
the back approaching another pavilion. I pass a kind of derailed roller
coaster. I step over the rails, wobbling, and I enter in a wagon. All
kind of props messing around, pandas, lizards, some naked, licking each
others, but I don't care about this now, what I really care is to find a
freezer, because my head is boiling. And when I find the kitchen, the
door closes on my back and everything is floating inside. White
furniture, knives, appliances... touching the ceilling. Chantilly cans
spreying around, alone. Viscosity falling through the walls. Voices,
murmurs, coming from inside the cupboards. More. The refrigerator is
also floating at half height and my body is as heavy as the entire
universe, in a trend totally opposite to what is happening there. But as
I breathe in that mothballs air, I feel lighter. Still not enough to
float, but enough to be able to jump and reach for the refrigerator. I
manage to pull it down, open the door, take out the packaging, the
grills, and I get inside. But not for long. Because soon someone comes,
open the door and wants to get in too, but there is not enough space
for two, I get out. I go through another door with
curtains, staggering, Pierrot are coming to mess with me, two Pierrot,
three Pierrot, one Harlequin, two Harlequins, three Harlequins,
everything is double and triple here, tailed girls dancing, all them
looking like copies of each others. The super-ape, dub music, echoed
beats with silly medolies. Remixes from the publicity, in slow motion.
Raggatek - jungle - drum n' bass. I get to the dance with long steps,
head down, kapoeira style. One false foot another in the fold. The knees
raised. The golden triangle. The renegade sons of Princess Sheba and
King Solomon. Rum and Yamanja, the princess of the brown sea. Airá, the
god of the whirlwind. Ibonã, the queen of the black smoke. Dada, the son
of Òrànmíyàn, brother of Xangô and Soponna - weak king that almost
haven't reigned. Dadá Ajaká with his wide stray hat. Egungum Mariwó.
Prince of vanity Ojé Xangô - plays merindilogun in the cemetery. Oxum,
owner of the Ijexá nation. Oloxum, guardian of the Osun-Osogbo forest.
Mistress of the waterfalls - dresses golden blue, and wears an abebé and
an ofá. Oxóssi oquê arô. Liberator of the Queto people, liberated them
from the possecion spell. Oxossi Ibualama, the hunter with one arrow
only. Ifá running away from Iku. Obàtálá, king of Pano Branco. Oh Exu,
menssanger between Orun and Aiye - king of Ketu. Iroko with infant
spirit. Ogum, mistress of the war - founder of the Ifé city.
Visvakarma. Ìbejì colobô, the blue monkey. Obaluaiyê. Babá Igbona. Oyá,
mother of the pink sky. Nanã Buruku, appearing in the rain to tell the
mangues. Oduduwa, the head from where the life came. Oxumarê coming on
the haze. Ossanha, lady of the herbs. Oxaguian-yum-piled. Oxalá gives
the palm wine and me going down, into the bottom of the well. Down
there there is a percussion circle, and I throw the shells over the goat
skins of the djambes. Possessed maniac spirits dancing around and
around and around. Toxic pheromones making everything turn dizzy. Opium.
Opium. Opium. Sage. We are all the quasi-human. And a rope descends and
everybody in pulled up, still playing, still dancing, still
divinalizing. And I walk now over the roof on fire and I see, down
there, a giant vinyl plate sort of a dance floor. Transgenic fairies,
politicians, pandas, grabbing each others with passion, slowly, making
scratch sounds on the vinyl, while turning. And from nowhere, the
dragon-ball guy comes again and pulls me inside. And when I fall, there
is bugs in my hair. And the bugs jumping into the fire, provoking big
explosions, and the ravers trying to archive.org/details/nowheresufushufus
Why is all 'spoken word poetry' stylized ranting? I'm not trying to be rude, but I just don't get it. Would someone please explain to me the appeal of this? To me, poetry, whether displayed on the written page, or recited on a stage, should have some form of imagery or metaphor. Anybody can get on a stage and rant. I just don't understand the appeal of 'spoken word poetry,' at least in its current form.
I think that each person is interested in different things. To me a lot of the appeal to spoken word is how raw it is, that people are able to get on the stage and let their emotions out, and therefore make connections with audience members. Also I do not think that all spoken word poetry is "stylized ranting", I think that is rude to say and going out on a limb. There are a lot of spoken word artists out their with all sorts of different styles, and just because you found my poems to be that style to you, I do not represent the spoken word communities diversity at all. And maybe you didn't find imagery or metaphor in my writing but I believe there to be. There are a lot of artists out there who do a much better job of that than me. I think that if you don't enjoy this form of art then to each his own, but it is still poetry and there are a lot of great poets out there who merge page and stage poetry beautifully. I don't think the two are really that far apart in the first place. As I mentioned, there is a huge world of spoken word and what I think you perceive to be its current form isn't entirely accurate. This video is of one 19 year old girl who some how got a few hits on youtube, but before you judge the art form itself I recommend attending a local poetry slam or spoken word show first and seeing what is really out their because it's a beautiful thing.
Because slam poetry is not poetry
If it's not poetry, why do its practicioners call it poetry?
or at least, what i see...very depressing, if not about love than wrist cutting and forceful vomiting
awaretenacious because they are pretentious self-entitled wannabes
DUH
I didn't like it at all... maybe I will in a couple of years or in another time
I feel this