Next Man Up, Poetry in Motion

Wesley Knight 0:00
This is a KU NV studios original program. The content of this program does not reflect the views or opinions of 91.5 jazz and more the University of Nevada, Las Vegas, or the Board of Regents of the Nevada System of Higher Education. Here

Donavan LeDean 0:14
we go. Here we go. Move it. Move it. Move it. X, man up. Damn out.

Donavan LeDean 0:29
Hello World, peace and love and welcome to the show. I am your host, Donna van Lee, D actor, author and inspirational rhythmic poet, you're now tuned in to next pairing up poetry in motion, where the mission is to promote good mental health for everyone. This poetry show will motivate, educate and inspire you with spoken word through cultural expression. The poets that will be featured on our playlist today are Tariq Moore, Donovan Lee, Dave Liz Prince, Gabby Moreno, Stefan petway, Michelle Marrero, Zachary, Gutierrez, loved by ACE, moody black and Sheldon Alex Sebastian, this music, poetry show has been brought to you by as je productions, as je productions.com for all your filming and photography needs, you can find a SJ productions on Instagram, or you can call Stewart jlz at 810-336-3926, that's 810-336-3926, now let's get on with The Show. This is X Men up, portrait, motion. You

Speaker 1 1:51
land, keep doing the best you can never face boys, no demands. Doing the

Donavan LeDean 2:07
best you can. We need a leader. You with vision, your paramount to move the world impact the next generation of a young boy and a girl, terror is on a rise, punished headlines throughout the land. We're in despair. Yet I want a peace mission, lending a helping hand. I'm a novice, and territory accompanied by corruption, life, peace, joy. Take it at once the great abduction I'm taking on a fight. Follow my lead, and you lead the way. Boost. Humanity is on us for a brighter day. Thrive. You.

Unknown Speaker 2:47
Drive you

Donavan LeDean 3:04
next, man uptail, passionate

Speaker 2 3:07
women who knew spiritual things, wrap me up in your arms and bathe me in oils, clean me quick, before I spoil. Pour in, ring out, remake me whole. I needed this, I'd be remiss if I didn't embrace the legacy laid before me. If I threw away the crown and renounced the royalty passionate women who know spiritual things, pray for me, please, if you may, if you might, speak life into me with my arms spread wide on my head. How high I call out. Save me. Passionate women who know spiritual things, I'm sorry they mistake your passion for anger. I'm sorry they criminalize your expression of anger. And I'm so so sorry. There's so freaking much to be so angry about, and you never receive the same tenderness as your crocodile crying counterparts. You, women who are mother, father, sister and aunt, who carry the weight of every mistake made by the women before you, by the men who disappeared, by the boys who hurt you, and by the other girls with the same heavy weight, sad eyes and loud burdens, passionate women who know spiritual things. I'm so sorry we ask so much of you. I'm so so sorry you give more than you receive, and I'm so very sorry you only get the scraps of the world to make do with, only to have it stolen by women of passion and spirit. I love you, and I will sing of your praises, and give you your flowers while their scent is still fresh and I can still see the glimmer in your eyes, because at the very least, you deserve the world as you are. What keeps it turning my women of passion, thank you.

Donavan LeDean 4:56
Here we go. Here we go. Next man up. This poem

Speaker 3 4:59
is tied. Of wounded bird. I've been wounded. I've been cured. I've been healed. I've been hurt, I've been blessed. I've been cursed. I've been better, I've been worse. Life's a balance with verbs, putting my trust in the universe even when the odds are against me, I still come up first. Let go of my ego and left it all to Mother Earth. I always had my faith. I didn't need a church. Even at my lowest, I knew eventually it would be my turn, not the most patient, but I'm always putting in the work. I always got pure intentions and keep my word. I sought help when my anxiety and grief collided, my trauma and pride tried fighting. This girl's journey is like deep diving, uncovering new depths to my soul. Sometimes it feels tiring. So seeking is not for the faint of heart. It's facing your pain head on, I've never been a victim, been both Aladdin and Jafar. This journey has left me with scars. Without my art, I wouldn't have made it this far in order to protect my energy, because I got a big heart, let others deplete me in the past. Now I'm in charge. Now I keep myself on guard. Stay sharp. Lately, I've been more in tune with the signs. The other day, I looked into an injured bird's eyes, could see its fear and resilience. It wasn't ready to die. Realized how many times I didn't give up the fight. Reminded me of how many times I've fallen, but took it as a lesson, how many times I've been betrayed. But it was a blessing Mother Nature telling me great things are ahead, even though life's a challenge, this is my rebirth. We're about to witness the ascension of a savage

Donavan LeDean 6:24
next man up

Speaker 4 6:26
a new wave of inspiration, cosmic, plated palette, digesting blood, raw information. Amethyst rock, powdered form, high off imagination, intuitive scans of sensory sensing spirit being laced with etheric being confirmation compared with elephant steps, trampled grass, effects on flesh, attempts of disrupting communication, Eye tile, dreadlocks deadlocked onto signals, phoning home, where I yearn to sell freely and the waves of sound 1000s of times before a single vibration can caress the ground speed of light echoed through a flash seemed to ever Last, transmuting messages to my past and to the present. Soaks of the splash, commuting from a new wave of inspiration, droplets, a pigment of sky, rain down, seeping into four chambers to lie in a flower bed of the hard soil, raising seeding variations of inspiration as thoughts arise, just as Sun and Moon combine the way seen and unseen collide and an eclipse of synchronization, the diamond pointed instant, the moment and mind align, if only I could bottle up this glimpse of time to set freely, to surf in the celestial seas while I ponder Daydream lifetimes, to find lucid words to define how grateful I am for my spirit to unwind, cradled in the hands of the Most High every time I am baptized in a new wave of

Donavan LeDean 8:23
inspiration next man uptail

Speaker 5 8:28
In the absence of the sun. I dream of hope, but my eyes tell stories of a wounded heart. Throughout my trials and tribulations, I have sought a better way to understand myself, to wrap my mind around this life and make it mine. I am in search of serenity, gentle touch, but these karmic entanglements keep me chasing the darkness that lives within combat comes with the price tag, and I must give in to complete the mission. In the end, I win again, because nothing can hold me down. I am here with reason and purpose to encapsulate and translate the multi dimensional arrays of the human experience the light will shine through me guide my way back home. You.

Donavan LeDean 9:27
Next man up, perfection.

Speaker 6 9:31
Perfection is a lesson you learn at adolescence so that you can be singled out, rewarded and not rejected. Perfection is like a hectic erection that won't deflate because it's a shot to the ego while you wanted to make you an enemy of the state. Perfection is an element without the eloquence yet the ingenuity to execute the excellence. Perfection is an assassin and a seat belt that won't fasten because it's out. Fashion and perfection is madness. Perfection is rawness. It knows no bliss, yet it knows it's limitless, because perfection will destroy anything it touches, so it gives Jada a kiss. Perfection is consumption, living in the first and second function, shifting, furiously, serving the world, or rather saving the world from destruction. The path of perfection destroys any things it touches. Perfection is a weapon that loves the loveless. Perfection soars above all things because it's self serving. So if you learn one thing, you need to practice, the balancing, though it may feel like it's a strange thing, it makes you amazing, because perfection is self cheating and beatings into the GS. It is the same thing which will turn the man into an outcast. I put some stank on that.

Speaker 7 10:59
Stank on it. Here

Donavan LeDean 11:04
we go. Here we go. Next man up.

Speaker 8 11:09
A part of me died. Somehow I'm still living so empty and bare, and yet I keep giving. Who am I now, without definition, I'm quite a machine for a man on a mission, a drone, if you will, with full automation and under control, a program dedication, a circuit surveillance with electrified cells with no breaking for breaks or vacations. Oh, well. Oh, well.

Donavan LeDean 11:38
Next man up, brand new.

Donavan LeDean 11:54
Me, tyrant. Me, tyrant. You know what? The only reason why you believe I'm a tyrant is because you never want anything. See, you don't know what it takes to compete. You don't know me. You don't know my motive. You don't know that my intent is legit. You don't know that I'm humble and kind. But see, my kind nature is incompatible to the nature of these ruthless bad boys of the league who's eager to make a name for themselves by breaking your neck on the field. You don't know that a passion for winning and making these men great in their craft incites me to pop them in the mouth to prepare for battle. You don't know that I yell at my men to make them see that they're not ready yet, and it will take much more grit to compete. You don't know that this league is far more ugly, more vicious than I can ever be with my men. See our opponent, they don't care about us. Why should they? All they care about is inflicting pain, winning games and looking good while doing it. Life. If you don't know that, then we can't relate. And if we can't relate, then why are we talking? Look, man, if I'm perceived as a villain, so be it. If everybody's mad at me, so be it. But the records don't lie. I'm a champion. My team are

Unknown Speaker 13:15
champions who win ball games.

Donavan LeDean 13:19
Now, if you excuse me, I got a game to win. I ain't taking no else. Rookie, I ain't taking no L's.

Unknown Speaker 13:27
You know what it is. I

Donavan LeDean 13:29
stand 10 toes down on this one. What about you? I stand

Unknown Speaker 13:39
10 toes down on this What about you?

Donavan LeDean 13:55
Thank you for tuning in to the experiment of poetry in motion. I am your host, Donovan, leading before we dive into our second segment, I would like to pale you our listeners, with the first power message. It's a message about leadership. As a leader, you look at the end game, you stick to the playbook of what has gotten you here, such as a healthy diet or having a support base that you can trust and who values you as an individual, you never fold to gossip. You never subject to temptation that could negate your value or morals, cause in the end you intend to righteously rule the land. Here we go. Here we go. Next man up.

Donavan LeDean 14:38
That girl from way back south, she got me southern dreaming thick and creamy, fine, brown, sweet as mine, best pies. That girl from way back south, she got me southern dreaming Brown. She ain't baiting my soul, body and mind. She presses through the fields of the magnolias. She's funny than thick curves and. The groove of slow rhythm, compelled by Melody, a Humber, Country Girl, striking Fauci sex appeal, never discreet, guitar plays, celebrating her beauty with Southern reals.

Donavan LeDean 15:19
Human moist from the Gulf, moisture ski and sexy stuff, a product of the buyer so fierce she make your knees buckle. She's delectable, like cornbread, oxtails that Southern cuisine, such a treat, like a Louisiana crawfish on my feet. This dream feels

Unknown Speaker 15:37
so real. She got the remedy. This dream feels so real.

Donavan LeDean 15:41
You she's the one for me. Affection runs deep, like OGS for classic and palace and Cadillacs test. What she advertises is factor. She got that fire hot sauce for intellect, that Southern swagger, the culture stretches wide along mosquito creeks and swallows, nothing else matters. She's sweet as Georgia peach, Southern victim. She got that good. Good a seduction, too good of a reality, man, look at how she moving. This is ecstasy. A spoon. Dave, ha, this is ecstasy. I close my eyes. Don't wake me up. She's vivacious like family cookout those Friday afternoons. Two Step Dave, groove R and be eating my soul food. Natural beauty. She wears a natural for Nourse ski in a natural glow. So natural is queen. She calls me King. Can't let this one go. On Google. She's the one for me. Next man up.

Speaker 9 16:50
Hello. So the first poem I'm gonna read is called the colors of you thinking of painting, my canvas is blank. I put it on the easel and I grab my paint. There are several colors that I choose, my favorites being the greens and the blues. I pick up my brush, I begin to paint, trying to envision what I will make, moving the brush up, then I strike it down. My bristles are so soft, they barely make a sound. I move the brush left, then I paint some on the right. My painting is coming together. It's really quite the side. I step back to admire my art, I think about the meaning, and I realize it's from my heart. The meaning is so complex. Where would I even start? Maybe by describing the purpose of the colors in my art, or by telling you the first color I use is the color of your eyes, or how the second is the color of your hair, or maybe how the third color is representing how much I care, or how the fourth color is your favorite and the fifth is mine. I made them twist together, intertwined. The colors together show my love for you. And each time I look at my painting, I'll see our favorite colors and be reminded that you love me too.

Donavan LeDean 17:53
Next man uptail

Speaker 4 17:56
co existing in many realms of thought, a walk in prayer, meditation. I can't evade frequencies. I can't explain speak to me in wisdom's name. I've been on that resonance before. They coined it. Schumann's Babylon. Can't control me. I broke out the show like I was Truman the human programmed analytics can't measure the spirit, thus they can't fully study us. At this point, it's apparent, know thyself, mental, physical and etheric. Lyrics. Tap into your central node, to the soul. You can feel it. Sit in the sun, download codes. I can hear them. There's a natural mystic flowing on Mother Nature's by a rhythm, get on beat, connect with every single living organism, like ancestors before these evil ways of the system, walking the less traveled road. I and I have seen many visions, many nights, sitting still, yet still. I listen. Guidance enters a vessel with pure precision, a choice to make daily. Why do we wrestle the right decisions? Tussling with the test illusions, carrying us away from the way we already know what's best. Come back home, beloved, you no longer have to beat an eagle's chest. Perch inside like an eagle in its nest. Followers Cliff dive into the next trend, since a you always been taking heed to the riddles the elders were testing. Now I'm years ahead with good investments. Just bump my head a little less than nonetheless, an imperfect perfection, a walk in prayer. Avid meditator rounds a dark between each I'm a mediator, a metaphor of sorts, seeing obstacles as sport I must master slow and steady. Wins the race. I learned that in the beginning chapters of a book without middle or end, life goes on. Again and again I write on and on with my mind as my ink and my soul as my pen.

Donavan LeDean 20:15
Here we go. Here we go. Next. Man up,

Speaker 10 20:18
sonnet 34 the discontent for sea dedicated to j, m, W, tunnel I, long for the deep joy of contentment on the Edenic coastlines lost in time now waves flood ceaselessly with current, bending the hall, shredding the cell with brine, the sea spray slashes cross the groaning mass that I'm tied to as a witness and exile. The vessel of story oak, cutting fast, is bound to sink near to an unknown Isle, but I won't drown out my affections now, for there's glory and beauty beholden to not a single eye, and at the prowl the sun sits, dreaming to rise all golden through the blue vapors revealing islands to climb the mist blanketed islands. Poem,

Donavan LeDean 21:27
next man up, I

Speaker 11 21:28
call this love. O, what if I bore you the essence of my soul? What if I laid bare the steps that make me whole? What if I told you this piece was already inscribed, but scattered signs and silence left love to cry the void so deep even poets came to love. If I presented you with tear stained sheets and fractured dreams, puzzles of My Spirit with ripped seams, would you find the time to reconstruct the parts I've lost or abandoned them despite the cost? See, I know my spirit speaks in cryptic tones. My Love can't thrive in simplicity when it is carved in stones. I am a being who finds solace in complexity, structuring stanzas of conflict with this mic next to me, where rhyme rhythms and vulnerabilities dance while emotions echo in a timeless trance and light reflects these letters written in the sand. This penniline is more than mere ink. It is the conductor of sacred spells, healing wounds in translation, pushing gaps of understanding and revitalizing the clock stopped in conversation. But what if I surrender to the beacon of suppression, muzzled by the posed expression? What if I gave up so much of my power that it made my pen? What if I allows your diminished lexicon to read through each layer of these songs I speak, and if your shallowness triumphs the core of my expression, I would feel my essence bathe into a writer's depression as these sacred symbols sank like the petals of a rose, heartbreaks tied would slowly consume the greatest love story ever known. See, I I'm a love poet. My deepest verses stem from the shackles of love bond sculpting soliloquies only for them to be restrained by the ghost that idle in my subconscious mind. I write from flames that burn without a spark, lighting passions and crowds culminated by fears in the dark, from fires that rage with no kindling to ignite forging verses from the voices of angels of the night, this double edge cleaves the flames to watch creativity burn with oh how easily a broken heart can make this trajectory turn. If the lights of this stage were bright enough to expose my scars, would you still applaud my pain and coward at the weight of my wars, if I revealed the true torment of this money, would you marvel at my imagery as crowds adore providing ovation to my symmetry, blind to demons at my core? Would you still find my verses as relentless as before with the reality that this love is fueled by fear? Silence your praises forever. I bear the weight of my soul, this pit revealing the raw truth of a glove. Poet, sin love, my ace is no title. It's an old that only the deepest of pain can inspire. Oh,

Speaker 12 24:17
next man, up down, in my opinion, the greatest action cartoon in the world, besides Spider Man, was the X Men. And who was the most popular X Men? Everybody couldn't wait to see. Yeah, Wolverine. That dude was mean with the growl will let you know he means business with biceps bulging through his yellow X Men, uniform slash types. But you might not want to tease him about it, because he'll be like you're talking to me, and within an instant, you'll be high, telling it faster than the crack head, tasting the hot but it wouldn't matter, because he'll catch you. And with his animating claws, he can take on sentinels. He can take all magnetos. Hitch been take on villains of all sorts. Us, but he always felt still came up short, thus he could never really take on those anti mutant groups with their picket signs designed to administer hate with words that hurts worse than a jave and juggernaut. And had it not been for his fellow mutants to offer him some encouragement, some motivation, some sense of hope for a better future, he would have given up a long time ago, but I always wonder if he would go to the X Men mansion in his room, sit on his bed alone in the dark. I wonder if he reflects and asks himself, why people hate what they don't understand constantly being called a freak. But he counterattacked that notion by considering himself a hero. But heroes are the ones that torment themselves the most. And what's worse, he can't remember his past sounds familiar, but he built a false sense of pride for his animanium skeleton, his ability to rapidly heal, but his inability to die takes him further away from his connection of being human, because he's committed suicide every time the sun settled down for slumber, but he can only stare at the crimson red waltzing down his claws cause immediately his wounds would close. The pain from his puncture is only temporary, but the pain of not knowing who he is feels like a shotgun blast to his soul. But I just want Wolverine to know I understand, and to tell him that sometimes roses do grow in dark places, and that martyrs never asked to die for their purpose, but I know he prayed to die for not understanding his but Wolverine, my brother, you're no different than us, hitting what you don't understand, trying to figure out where you came from, but here with the purpose you're not sure of. And Wolverine, I know you're not sure if there's a God, cause you look at us and wonder if we're made in God's image. Whose image are mutants made? I know you feel like a clock without a craftsman. So you curse us because you feel that God showed us favor, but those people with those picket signs curse you because you favor God, because even when you're disappointed in us, you protect us. You're invincible, indestructible, Wolverine, if you only knew how much we want to be like you. Cause we do everything we can to figure out ways to live longer, to heal faster. It's our inability to understand that everything comes with a price. Every gift is not wrapped in a nice box with a ribbon. Sometimes they appear as anime claws piercing through skin, a skull that can take a bullet and a soul without a clue of its origin. Ironically, my friend, we're just like you, because you're confused on what to do, question your existence, confused of your purpose, sometimes wanting to die, never giving yourself a chance to see how great you can be. That is That sounds

Donavan LeDean 27:43
familiar. Next man up. Let me chime in on this one right here. Man, the people mission. Don't talk about

Donavan LeDean 27:59
it. The government's on, shut down. I gotta find new households for right now. No, well, no shakes, no sport base in duration is minimum wage. Hope I'm at Lenin. Don't force the bay to turn me down from alone. It's time to kind of profile. They got many arrested for committing no crimes. More problems at times, more problems, I don't know, more solo missions trying to solve the Ritz do can barely pay the cardinal on light bill. I'm stressed out. Y'all stand tall with my head high. I refuse to kneel on welfare, on food stamps, but food prices are sky high in two weeks, though, food stamps won't be enough to get by. Workers leave a job. Cause he own strike, cause the pay is low. Inflation spikes got suicides got pill addiction got more debt with no remission, more problems that have more problems. Give it to us a human issue. I'm trying to solve more problems. It's a human issue. I'm trying to solve them.

Donavan LeDean 29:01
Before we end the show, I would like to conclude with the final power message. It's a message about the power of poetry. Poetry creates a safe space to express, create or seek refuge from these toxicities of life, and provides an option of communication whenever the first option fails or when there is no communication at all, because in order for humanity to exist, communication is essential, and for that, poetry is life. Thanks for tuning in to next man up. Poetry in motion. I am your host, Donovan Lee Dean. To see my inspirational and poetry reels, you can go to YouTube at Donovan Lee Dean, also you can find my poetry books, children's books and coloring books on Amazon under my name, Donovan Lee Dean for actor or poets. Bookings, you can contact me via email, DV media, one zero@gmail.com I am Donovan leading actor, author and inspirational rhythmic poet until next time. Peace Day.

Transcribed by https://otter.ai