Voiceover soundscape for a Public Rec Apparel advert, featuring Major League Baseball Cleveland Indians second baseman Jason Kipnis and an abridged excerpt of a speech by the 26th President of the United States Teddy Roosevelt. Sound Design by Paul Detjen, PCD Productions.

The Man In The Arena

Have you ever been in a hot and humid heatwave in the city,  and the small of your back sticks to the cloth of your garment, now oddly the temperature of a tepid uncomfortable wetness.... immediately with you deftly pry yourself away from this awkward feeling, not sure weather the suns beautiful rays are a blessing or a bother. 

**************************************************************

HEATED MOMENT

Noon had barely finished his circuit 
when I engaged the Sun in conversation,
wondering if her healing rays were a golden ode to pain?

Abruptly interrupted;
shirts' silk thread dripping displeasure, 
at the sudden moistness of its condition.

In return and in much the same verbal position,
I chided this thread,
intoxicated with sticky saline libation,
much less for the distraction
as opposed to the - parley intrusion,

citing;

“My dear shirt it’s impolite to gravitate beyond one's social inclusion”

Instinctively, 
back and fingers joined this spoken foray
distancing themselves in unison 
from the sozzled garments' argument.

Arching and pulling away, 
his company no longer entreated,
whatever beauty he had,
now lost,
in his present 
dis - position.

In agreement and sunshine unabating,
I attempted to continue our once lovely conversation.
But she; 
her glow unwaning,
had moved on,
no longer finding such small talk entertaining.

© Qwey.ku 2014

Heated Moment

On a warm evening, a journey of observation captured in sound, poetic thought traveling on the London Underground:

*******************************************************
Just how does warm weather conjure the inebriated 
and lovers on to London's Tube?
Are sweaty nights an aphrodisiac tune to an alcoholic groove?

Wavering tight stepped shuffles, 
paired with googly-eyed, hand-clasped, lip-locked, snuggles.
Inward thought tooth-picking the corners of mouths,
as cheerful eyes spy The Underground antics of the South.

That off the shoulder dress, stranger clothes, newer shoes; 
a fashionista bazaar.
A fleeting memory is Winters’ white metaled fire.

Hapless in this weather what else to do but smile? 
Is it not so much easier than to revile?

Warm weather has a mission…
dismiss disgust
go on London smile! 
It’s a must.

© Qweyku 2014

Underground Antics

If the rain makes music... should we dance?

Sometimes the rain falls
as if its penning poetry
to the rhythm of its own music; 
a sonic tune of liquid tapestry.

Cleft from a sky immersed
in the scene of a tragedy.
It's tears,
the pitter-patter;
a solemn dance
for all humanity.

An ancient jig this fluid frolic
never tiring of its endless cycle
vesting and revisiting this terra firma
like a lover emasculating the earth
of its desert state, 
or adding to its oceans 
in a bid to be free.

But you’re here again, I’ve noticed
for even through windows
your music plays a clamorous
and rather brazen beat.

Take my hand, why don’t you?

Come.

Dance with me.



© Qwey.ku 2016

Rain Music

This verse soundscape is labelled dejected and angry.

Procrastinated pockets of hope deferred
make the heart choke in a vice-like pressure cooker 
tension filled with the cardiac solution called LIFE

Think about it

Tasting your own medicine is such a bitter pill to swallow
They say“Be the change that you want to see” but NO CHANGE 
I see on paths traveled now and before me

Does this mean the change I want to see is ‘no change’
– a Spirit personified slowly dying yet living within you and me?

Think about it.


Tired of a dead lifes' heart attack? Then SEE THROUGH the change 
you want to be. On your journey bitter pills do digest 
USING the MEMORY of that ill taste to heal and outlive 
the sickness prevalent in this human RACE  ?

Think about it.

WHAT REALLY IS YOUR HURRY?
S L O W  D O W N - Can't you can see ?
The GRAVES'  great joy is to blind & thieve "your grace"
leaving you with just enough energy to kick the bucket,
while robbing you of understanding
that these sweet words origin from YOU to ME
reflecting what 20-20 would let you really see...

You are Kings & Queens

Think about it.

We are all connected unilaterally. Put plainly; we agree to disagree,
in the midst of the fact that there can be no lasting freedom
until there is a weathered wisdom of UNITY.

So(w.) If you see her hold fast, relinquish not, D O N 'T   L E T  GO!
For that's the point when we truly become LOST SOULS.

                                                                                     © Qwey.ku

Music: Beijing Butterfly - Yopo buyout production music 
Poem: https://hellopoetry.com/poem/806540/lost-souls/

Lost Souls

I have been deeply kissed by the Sun.

My skin unmistakably glistening,
reflecting the sensual moistness 
of her tongue.

Scorched by passion
from the very beginning. 
A frenzied possession,
so deep,
now genetically smitten.

A torrid affair by certain perceptions.
Unshakable, defiantly unbreakable.
To wit questionable, sometimes unbearable.

But... 

I must confess her kiss riles me, 
and with it, guilt forgivingly hails me.

so too, the jealously of men contorted, 
merely by the sheer beauty in her embrace.

I am at a loss, I despair, I don't understand it.
Driven mad simply, by the affection  of her face.

This is insane.

© Qwey.ku 2014

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/727371/this-is-insane/

This is Insane

When clouds of self doubt drown your vision in discouragement, pity and unworth, wisdom says higher up, reach for the mountain top. 


Beneath, I amused fear, 
drowning immersed in faith.

Near my final breath I mused Latin, 
the etymology of 'entertain'. 

Tormented; by mistake.
Entertaining fear, over entertaining faith. 

In the quiet silence of revelation, I took stock,
and looked up, 180° degrees, poised and compassed my flesh,
to unbolt the chains of misdirection bound to the recess of my soul.

Unleashed! 
Now to hike the proverbial mountain, cobbled in the boots of Wisdom.

Contemplative.
Afloat, aloft its height, coiffured safe by the proverb
Transfigured, by wisdom of consciousness.

© Qwey.ku

https://hellopoetry.com/poem/696082/pitiful-pinnacle/

Pitiful Pinnacle

We often think our time is "too precious"... we'd be right but often for the wrong reasons. 
In the moment of a heart beat our time is gone, a reason to spend it wisely.


Take heed, falter not, your time is currency,
tied ineffaceably to the heart rate 
of your Fiscal Policy.

Spent but once... Priceless

A (heart) beat irretrievable.

“Spend your time wisely" advised are we
but time invested with family,
often face-value perceived,
too steep a price paid
when quantified monetarily.

such an idea of a lie, so psyche ingrained.
dire submission of modern humanity ever so 
intrinsically sealed we even concede;

“These moments are stolen" 
and our time considered 
too precious

© Qwey.ku

Precious

I heard the dawn whisper "Hope is on the horizon" 
just as her Sun rose clothed in copper orange; 
eclipsing the shimmer of earths waters 
with soul piercing rays. 

Illuminating the day forwards like flames winged with healing 
engulfing paths with the brightness found in the joy of wisdom 

Imparting strength in the sure vision of understanding... 

Hope IS on the horizon

© Qwey.ku

https://hellopoetry.com/Qweyku/

Whisper

BELIEVE not That familiar wicked whisper of dreams destruction.
Especially when it screams..."you'll never achieve!"

For faith is quantified as the intangible and weighed as a tiny mustard
seed.

Ending with.. just believe.

© Qwey.ku

https://hellopoetry.com/Qweyku/

My Book Ends

My lips parted humbled by your resplendence
enchanted by the mystery of your beauty

So I spoke the words of promise
forged on an anvil of insanity
fashioned by a trembling tongue
the fire of fearful fidelity

A passion extinguished by acceptance
reborn from the sated ashes of embrace
reignited with the kindle of emotion
the inferno in the flame of your breath

© Qwey.ku

hellopoetry.com/poem/1812571/hebron/

Hebron

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