|
NYC SLAM POETS HELP BRICK TEENS FIND THEIR VOICE
By Keith Hagarty
 | | --Photo By Keith Hagarty Urban Word NYC Slam poets Luke Nephew, 25, of the Bronx, and Jamilla Lyiscott, 21, of Brooklyn, show Brick teens the value of looking in the mirror and expressing their hearts through poetry. |
|
Every one of us is a unique soul, with a simmering poet inside, ready to explode.
This was the message of Urban Word NYC Slam poets Luke Nephew, 25, of the Bronx, and Jamilla Lyiscott, 21, of Brooklyn, who spoke with some of Brick's teens this week about the power of poetry and art in a new generation.
"One of the reasons that poetry has been around forever is because it allows people to express things that are outside the box," Nephew told the dozen teens attending the workshop held Monday night at the Brick branch of the Ocean County Library.
"We can talk about all the things we wouldn't otherwise talk about," he said. "Like when you're talking about love and you're feelings, you know, you don't walk down the street with your friend being like, 'my God, there's this girl and she has me feeling like the sun is going to rise every five minutes, and spring is blossoming in my eyes' … we just don't talk like that, so poetry is where we can really get free with our expressions."
In between reciting a sampling of their gritty personal poems to the teens - such as "We're So Close" and "The Fallacy of Race" - the two urban poets presented a series of exercises for the kids, designed to strip away their traditionally self-protective mode of thinking, and help them to explore their own thoughts and emotions.
After presenting their poetry slam workshop in Lakewood earlier in the day, Lyiscott, a Brooklyn native, said she was struck by the vast difference between the two neighboring Ocean County towns.
"The demographics are just totally different," she said. "What triggered the students' curiosity was also very different. In that (Lakewood) workshop, the issue of race and the issue of violence amongst teens was a very, very heavy subject, and a really important issue to them."
With no prior familiarity with the local Ocean County towns, the urban poets were with not only the stark contrast between Brick and Lakewood, but also the kids' enthusiasm towards discovering their own individual voice.
"It was beautiful because when we were talking with the kids, they just have so much to say, but the librarian was telling us that they just feel like they have no way to express themselves," she said. "No outlet at all."
The creativity and deep personal expression coming forth in the raw young poets was something wonderful to behold, said Lyiscott.
"It was so powerful," she said. "You can see the need and the thirst for that."
While the looks and sound of the teens may appear different, the NYC poets believe that deep down they share way more similarities than differences.
"There's that same level of intensity at that age," said Lyiscott. "Of course they come from different experiences, but the same internal conflicts remain, because at the end of the day we're all just people with the same emotions. Love and hurt feel the same."
Seven years removed from her first ever appearance on stage, Lyiscott recalled the butterflies in her stomach as she prepared for her public debut at the famed Nuyorican Poets Café in New York City.
"It was terrifying," she admitted. "I grew up in an all-black community, and from the time you step into the city itself, there's a huge amount of diversity, and only being 14, I wasn't exactly well traveled, so going there with the demographics being so different was just jarring, just a big culture shock, because not only were the demographics so different, but everybody at the club just had such a poetic attitude of freedom."
Within five seconds of setting foot in the club, Lyiscott said she was feeling a growing sense of cold feet.
"I was just like, 'I want to go home' when I first went, but my best friend was like, 'no, you should just do it' and so got up on the stage and I recited some nonsense that I wrote," she said laughing. "From then on though, it just came to life."
While she admittedly still gets a little nervous before any poetry slam session, Lyiscott said she now uses her three-minute recitals on stage to try and channel those nerves into a creative rush.
"When I stand on the stage and I'm expressing myself, having that three minutes to have something inside of me resonate in the minds of so many people is a power," she said. "You have to take on the responsibility of changing the world in that way on a higher level."
The experience of pouring your heart out on stage is frightening for many people, but Nephew believes that intense feeling of solidarity amongst fellow poets at the typical poetry slam is immeasurable.
"After a slam, people are hugging and being really close, and it's just a really beautiful experience because you're sharing your heart," said Nephew. "That's what it comes down to."
While planting the seeds of poetry in the minds of the youth, both Lyiscott and Nephew agreed that the ultimate goal is to open their hearts and souls and look in the mirror and find something new in themselves they may have never shown before.
Perhaps one day, one of the kids they spoke with will join them on stage, expressing their unique poetry to a captivated audience.
"That would be the ultimate, the most powerful result," said Lyiscott. "The point of our coming here is to get kids to realize that they can express themselves on the stage and impact that level of freedom. So for them to come over to the poets' side would be so powerful, giving us even more soldiers."
| 
)