Too much Talent : Open Mic.

This time last week, I was spending my evening on Brick Lane, East London.
My friend had mentioned that she was looking for an open mic night to go to the week before. So I sat on my laptop and searched for what London had to offer. Not fully knowing what I was looking for, I found a few on a night that I was free and took note to go down...If it wasn't too cold out.

My Monday had been quite busy and no one was available to come with me, so the chance of me going out was slim. But I got myself ready and went out on my own. No one was home and really, as the song goes; 'what use is sitting alone in your room, come join the Cabaret!’ So, to the Cabaret I went.

I arrived at Brick Lane, and tip toed along the street (danger area for me, this area) to find the venue. Being the first Monday after the festive season, it was all very quiet and not a lot seemed to be going on. I began to think that the event wasn't on. But after I caught sight of a microphone in the corner of the room, I knew that I could find a seat and get comfortable...well as comfortable as you can when you've gone out on 'ya ones' and trying not to look like a lady of the night.

The open mic session I'd had chosen, was Full Fat: A NIGHT OF OPEN MIC POETRY AND SPOKEN WORD at 93 Feet East. (Free entry).
I felt that I was in my GCSE English lesson. When else do we hear poetry these days? Not very, exactly!! And how refreshing it was.

Hearing topics and life described in rhyme and with such passion. Not to mention the unique analogues and metaphors.

The first poet that really stood out to me was Lion heart, a revolutionary heartfelt poet from northwest London, recently appeared on TV in Africa, USA and the UK for black history month. His poetry book sold out in 5 days and defines his art form as raw and passionate.'
 The way he spoke about his break up with what possibly was the love of his life at the time. The feeling he bought to the poem (even though he's totally over her now) was so open and touching. It had me laughing in agreement and shaking my head at the silly things that went wrong. Wow! Who knew guys were so sensitive and willing to get up and talk about their feeling through poetry. I really learnt a lot from the words he said and wanted to hear more.

Another Poet that grabbed my attention was a young Irish girl, with a thick Belfast accent. Catherine Brogan.
Standing up on a table and shouting across the room, as the mic had failed her. She went on about her frustrating '2 Mile' bike ride, which was no longer due to the building works of the 2012 games. Her energy was electric and the story told more interesting as her accent was embracing and made music of the words.

Dean Atta, another poet that got up and spoke about a subject that he felt strongly about. And one that left me sat there shocked in agreement. It was his debut performance of 'I Am Nobody's Nigger'.
 A poem that has crossed the sea.

I Am Nobody's Nigger by Dean Atta

Rappers when you use the word "nigger" remember that's one of the last words Stephen Lawrence heard, so don't tell me it's a reclaimed word.
I am nobody's nigger
So please, let my ancestors rest in peace
Not turn in their graves in Jamaica plantations
Or the watery graves of the slave trade
Thrown overboard into middle passage
Just for insurance claims
They were chained up on a boat
As many as they could manage and stay afloat
Stripped of dignity and all hope
Awaiting their masters and European names
But the sick and the injured were dead weight to toss
And Lloyds of London would cover that cost.

I am nobody's nigger
So you can tell Weezy and Drake
That they made a mistake
I am nobody's nigger now
So you can tell Kanye and Jigga
I am not a nigger... in Paris
I'm not a nigger in London
I'm not a nigger in New York
I'm not a nigger in Kingston
I'm not a nigger in Accra
Or a nigger with attitude in Compton
Cos "I don't wanna be called yo nigga"

How were you raised on Public Enemy
And still became your own worst enemy?
You killed Hip Hop and resurrected headless zombies
That can't think for themselves or see where they're going
Or quench the blood lust because there's no blood flowing
In their hearts, just in the streets
They don't give a damn as long as they eating
Their hearts ain't beating, they're cold as ice (bling)
Because they would put money over everything
Money over self respect or self esteem
Or empowering the youth to follow their dreams
Stacking paper cos it's greater than love it seems
Call me "nigger" cos you're scared of what "brother" means

To know that we share something unspeakable
To know that as high as we rise we are not seen as equal
To know that racism is institutional thinking
And that "nigger" is the last word you heard before a lynching.

I grew up out of London, there weren't many other cultures where I lived and whenever the word Nigger was spoken, it was in attack, lucky I didn't have to deal with that growing up.
I don't like the word, I don't like it in songs, when youths use it or when people try to 'connect', and it makes me squirm. It is a derogative word, I don't even like writing the word and this poem has pointed out everything wrong with it.

Atta read another poem that was so truthful and made you think. Revolution.  Check it out, look everyone up.

Feeling overwhelmed with all the poetry I made a quick exit for home. So much talent and strong opinions for young minds. I'd recommend everyone to go, even if it’s not your thing, you will enjoy it- the poetry will feed your mind and talent like those artists should be heard.

I didn't get very far after leaving Full Fat, as across the road in Vibe Bar, as I was passing. I heard a guitar. Before I knew it, the sound had filled me into the bar and I discovered another open mic night. This time for musicians. So much talent, on the same street and on the same night. The room had a romantic, bohemian mood about it as couple lounge drinking in the low lit room. The guy playing was possibly Spanish and making his guitar cry. The next musician, a bare footed Aussie lass and her Ukulele. Both were sensational! Feeling tried and a bit too conscious of being unaccompanied. I stayed for those two outstanding acts, and then retired vowing to go back.