i

feel

as poetic

as a pylon – a bollard

so bullish with bright and dull

– stalking stillborn sounds on city streets -

[wayward hips and clicking heels and so much palaver]

]]> http://rakisingh.com/2009/10/1163/feed/ 0 http://rakisingh.com/2009/08/voting-with-money/ http://rakisingh.com/2009/08/voting-with-money/#comments Fri, 21 Aug 2009 15:52:34 +0000 admin http://rakisingh.com/?p=1041

Representational Voting

I found this image of peace the other day, and I wanted to share it. I enjoy video games and zombies movies but that is where my relationship with firearms ends.

The image reminded me of a leftover one-liner that I jotted down in a notebook back after watching Bowling for Columbine.

I could never seem to fit it in anywhere else and it seemed good enough on its own so I made a backdrop for it. I would wear it on a T-shirt.

Shotgun Design

One day while driving to Cleveland, Ohio to get White Castle…the radio dial slipped and fell onto a Conversative radio program. The first line that was spat live out of the announcer’s mouth was: “Diversity is Perversity.” Being a minority, I never felt so horrified in my life…

I listened to the broadcast for a few more minutes; calls from gun enthusiasts who were going to take it upon themselves to change the system. Change the system, huh? That’s when I looked into it a little more closely.

When I looked up one of the sites they mentioned, I found an entire forum of these guys spouting off and waiting for Walmart to put bullets on sale. Seriously. The revoultion has to wait for Walmart. I thought that was funny and poignant and deeply disturbing.

The design of this one makes it a little hard to read but I love the way it looks, so I’ve included the text below as well.

Spitzer, USA

“the revolution will never come from a gun,”

she said, Gingerly leafing through a Novel

“the constitutionalists of Glocktalk and Barrel

are still awaiting roll backs at Walmart”

Remix Poetry is a type of game I used to play in University. Basically, classmates would give me lyrics from any three songs (any genre) and I would take three lines from each song and remix them into a new poem. The only trick was that I was allowed to add three lines of my own to work as glue.

So, I figured I might as well play the game with everyone and share the results; including full photoshop treatment. Maybe even a T-Shirt eventually. The point is it keeps me writing and you reading. That’s a win-win.

Due to time constraints, it might take me a while to publish the poems (I’m thinking two weeks) but if you donate…I’ll work on it right away. Send me the song titles and artsits name via the contact page or in the comments. If the lyrics are hard to find, then paste them into the message. You can also add your own rules in your message, I’ll do my best to work within them.

This a “falling” poem. In all senses of the word. It was published in Ultraviolet just to prove that I could get a love poem printed in a University magazine.

It also helps that it is pretty and sweet and oh-so full of truth.

littleladyloquacious_final

I wrote this poem during a University English lecture.

The Professor yabbered on about the epicness of Poetry…so I decided to be epic. Call it active learning.

I was listening to a lot of Indie Hip Hop at the time (due to a University project) and I wanted to capture that voice but give it my own personal Punk Rock twist.

There is no right way to “read” this poem. It isn’t supposed to read…it’s supposed to be spoken / rapped / screamed. In the original printing, I exclaimed that readers should go “Finnegan’s Wake  on F*****” I want James Joyce to spin in his grave.

dubbeddeft_edition

Ryan Quinn Flanagan is an awesome poet and a good friend too. Check him out! This poem is based on a true story of burning my lunch while reading his poetry. And yes; it was the first poem I wrote in years. Probably the first I wrote since my Toronto Sun, “Moon” days. Now if I could find a copy of that poem, I’d post it.

print-junkie

On January 28, 2002, Attorney General John Ashcroft, announced that he spent $8000 of US taxpayer’s money for drapes to cover up the exposed breast of The Spirit of Justice, an 18ft aluminum statue of a woman that stands in the Hall of Justice.

Such a waste of money to cover something that was created to be beautiful,  artful, and symbolic. I laughed when I heard, but inside I actually cried a little.

I had just been over to the States where I was questioned by 4 border guards for no real reason other than being ethnic. When I got back home, I bought every Anti-Flag album in a not-so-silent protest. With the Bush administration in full swing, all these events blended in my head, I  started wondering what it would be like to try “dating” the American Justice System – weird, I know.

This poem is the result of that thought experiment:

courtinglady_final