Next Man Up, Poetry in Motion

Wesley Knight 0:00
This is a Kun V 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 we go. Here we go.

Unknown Speaker 0:15
Move it. Move it. Move it's Yeah, beautiful,

Donavan LeDean 0:24
next man up. Let's

Speaker 1 0:40
go peace and love and welcome to the show. I am your host, Donna van Lee Dean, actor, author and rhythmic poet, you're now tuned in to the next man up, poetry motion, where the mission is to provide the essence of poetry motion, promoting peace, love and growth for the existence of humanity and the culture. 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 Sheldon, Alex Sebastian, blessing, lay soul, Stephan, Pettway, Michelle morero, Zachary, Gutierrez, moody, black and loved by ACE. Now let's get on with the show. This is next. Man up, poetry in motion.

Speaker 1 1:31
What's good world show, you're right. Allow me to speak to you tonight for the people, as I walk through God's precious playground, shade cascades upon me. It's persistent, but why? Pause? I reflect. I go into effect. I see a bruised man who kneels from the compressions of gravity and agony, his flesh is eaten away from the air molecules by the second, soon it will eat away his muscles and tissues. Soon he'll disappear. He needs medic but has no insurance. Pause reflect a shade that cascaded upon me four days finally goes away. A beam of light shines on both of us to highlight our moment. I offered him a smile. He reciprocate. I relieve the tension in his shoulders with the palm of my hand. I give him my lunch left over from a diner two blocks down, with a $10 bill inside, I have a small conversation with him that ended with an encouraging statement, stay strong, King. God got you. He smiled again. Then ended our moment with a thank you. That moment made my day. That moment reassured me the fundamentals of humanity. I realized that humanity thrives with moments like this drive on Wednesday,

Speaker 2 3:40
I let the sun set easy on the days I have left, I am very unaware of the duration of my breath, and I like the ones enjoy without a worry in the globe or the concern of a direction that no one knows. My youth is far behind in the physical tense but my heart remains dead with a strong innocence. I haven't got long in the blink of an eye. So let me have this as I peer off in the sky. I

Speaker 2 4:21
haven't got long in the blink of an eye, so let me have this is up here, off of the

Unknown Speaker 4:32
sky. Here we

Donavan LeDean 4:35
go. Here we go. Next. Man up,

Speaker 3 4:38
passionate women who knew spiritual things, wrap me up in your arms and bathe me in oils, clean me quick, before I spoil, pour in, wring 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. Renounce the royalty. Passionate women who knew spiritual things, pray for me, please, if you may, if you might, speak life into me with my arms spread wide and my head held high, I call out, save me. Passionate women who knew 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. They're 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 heavyweight, 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. My 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.

Speaker 4 6:28
I like to express my truth as I hydrate your soul with poetic flows. I rise, I heal. I feel your spirit break past the empathetic waters to your essence. Do you know you're great? The world is late at your recognition, but not I. I dignify you and I vibrate how you do. I meditate with roots to see seeds sprout. We trees in the eyes of God and of God in the eyes of myself. Self, love is the epitome of happiness. You are blessed, and let knowledge be your lessons, dirt. I question and everything just manifesting in your presence. I move forward with broken pieces because I shine bright like the glorious sun in the summer time I'm feeling mighty fine with my robs, words and body the growth of your spirit. Can you feel it? That's the vulnerability. Talking walls coming down. I see your soul cry. Get high in tune, just like rain splatters at your edge. Let the tears guide you to streams of successes. You're the best ever yet to become better than your mama. Make her proud, wear your crowd loud, speak bold volumes of wisdom, because the kids listening. Can you see the broken homes in their eyes? Communities dying, the papers lying, but stay true. Pinky promises to contracts bring black back, perpetrating from those you appropriate. Ain't that crazy? Remember where you came from, your past and your future is unison and the face of the present, making fears into blessings. I speak for those who voice got lost in the wind. I hear your song. You're not wrong, united and being more than a statistic. Shaking my body for riches ain't my vibe, I melods If I do and like my sage, old age, young spirit, I know better. I write poems to my ancestors to let them know I got them and affirm their abundance. I spit balls from my hood spread love. It's the Brooklyn way bigs in my spirit. Homage through art is how I pay. Dreams are rooted from pain. I'm not in this for fame, but to help my home, young sister, alone, single mama, make it ends meet, struggling artists driving beyond feet, pop stars so his son can eat. Speak for the little ones. Bullets more abundant than books. You're not just your looks. I walked the road last travel to shine light and dark spaces. I love melanin faces. I want my people to win, as I just do. I admire how you heal. Reflection of how I heal too. I sit with purple stars at night, journals to journeys. I wish positive mental minds freedoms from the confines of judgment. I wish you what I wish mines, eternal peace. Keep yourself at ease and just flow. It's lay. So,

Unknown Speaker 9:37
it's lay so, next man up. Hey.

Unknown Speaker 9:42
I hold on,

Speaker 5 9:46
standing on the freeway in my black suit, watching the world around me burning as I fidget and wrestle with my thoughts, my clothes, reflecting on my life going through various. Languages that I cannot speak, wishing that I could speak, being timid and meek and looking around, wishing and praying for a second chance to do things differently. What I can save, who I can save, surrounded with this guilt of feeling helpless, almost wishing that I were locked in a trunk, because anywhere would be better than this empty, open space. Suddenly, I see a wandering dog. I see a senior citizen. I see nomads. I see homelessness. I see people lost. People are lost in the fire, and all I want to do is protect them, but then I wonder, who will protect me. I'm stuck, stuck in this trans thinking of what I've lost and about what we have lost. Suddenly, I close my eyes and I open my heart, hoping that the world will hear my song, we are in the arms of the angel, but we cannot fly away. I can see you, I can see her. I can see your hurt. I can see his hurt. I can see her hurt. I can see their hurt. I can see everybody, everybody, every my

Speaker 6 11:22
heart. Sometimes I see that everybody cries,

Unknown Speaker 11:31
you gotta let yourself go, because

Unknown Speaker 11:38
sometimes, but I

Speaker 5 11:41
need y'all to hold on, hold on. Please just hold on, hold on. You.

Speaker 2 12:15
Turn your face from faking to the one who gives his grace. Slow your pace from racing, pump the brakes and show some faith, rid your load of baggage. It's not easy making space, but that love is possibility, worthy of the chase

Unknown Speaker 12:37
and worthy of the chase.

Donavan LeDean 12:40
Here we go. Here we go. Next. Man, up,

Speaker 1 12:45
yeah, let me chime in on this right here. Man, beautiful, the people mission, no time by

Speaker 7 12:56
governments on shut down. I gotta find no hustle for right now. No checks, no support base in Durham place, minimum wage. Hope I'm at London. Don't force the bank to turn it down from a lot of time to kind of profile the gap minute resting for committing no crimes. More problems on top, more I don't know. One solo mission is trying to solve talk the Reds do. Can barely pay the card no or light bill. Stressed out, yet I stand tall with my head high. I refuse to nail 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 because they own strike because the pay is low. Inflation. Spice got suicide, it's got pill addiction, got more debt with no remission. More problems the top more problems. Give a talk. It's a human issue I'm trying to solve more problems. It's a human issue I'm trying to solve.

Unknown Speaker 13:59
Music.

Speaker 1 14:13
Thank you for tuning in to next man up. Poetry in motion. I am Donovan Lee, Dave. Before we dive into our second segment, I would like to propel you our listeners with the first power message. It's a message about conflict. No matter how cautious you may approach everyday life, conflict can find you. It can be a grievance issue at work or an argument over a parking space. Never let egos take lead. Breathe calmly, talk it out with the opposing party, or bring a mediator into the situation. These suggestions may not work, but it gives you a fighting chance to maintain your freedom or your life, think before you react. Here we go.

Donavan LeDean 14:55
Here we go. Next man up. I.

Unknown Speaker 15:05
Breaks

Speaker 7 15:07
nervous heart. I'm trying to find a way try to COVID sacred and do it. That's the day.

Speaker 7 15:29
Every seven days, go in with a fresh mind and a pure heart. Mistakes were made. Go in with a fresh start. The emphasis is today. The uncertainty is tomorrow. I live another day that's success. Time is borrowed. Carnage is on a regular another family seek grief. Mikes were cut off still. The Tennessee three were able to speak from the crying girl and dying boy slain by soft styles too many bullets to a boy pray for him as they attempt to fight for a law made for all, as they attempt to prevent another body to fall history that might get in the midst of infamy, they're setting aside politics for human safety, making enemies Your vote can the void that we can Your vote can avoid. That may be a bull ain't what it got to be unprecedented as we witness the headlines of an indictment, as the rich make more money on merch poses as victims inciting another riots never quiet. The problem is online war. Foreigners are crowding US borders like refugees after Roe v Wade reversed, more women are escaping red states like refugees, more protest industries like helpless please and dire need of open minds and clear views so that one day witnesses universal health care making headlines on C, N, A, news,

Speaker 7 16:41
Excel, PRAY, WAIT for it. Beast never came. Now beware of a man, force bound to take the Republican God bless us. As we fight for peace on earth, as mankind kills one another, it's gain more turf for drugs, for crops, for money for crop, urgent mess, human to human, heart to heart, change your route for a fresh start.

Unknown Speaker 17:02
Let's get to it.

Speaker 8 17:13
She stands alone. She stands behind a cast iron wall, drowning in self surrender, the loud quarreling from afar consumes her home and then vanishes like the wind. She anchors for another touch, but all the lights are out and there's no one home. She is lost. Find her now. Take that battle from her mouth. She has no friends. When will this end and the family? Well, that's oblivion. She's crashing hard until the very end, she stands alone and she's no one's home, no one can hear her squeeze. Is she enough to save her life? She fights for living to be alive, but when she waits, she's torn into a pieces 1000 times.

Speaker 8 18:27
This place dark for now, but it has to be better than where she came from. For the first time, she is taking in her own breath. She stands alone.

Speaker 7 18:51
Sonnet, sonnet 26 a homicide. Next man up, pick pocket, my heart, vomit, vivid pass with a knife. Threaten me if I love you. Keep the cutting, wrenching, thrusting all toss till I blade snaps my thin cords bleeding through, engrave your initials on my shoulders inside a raw, scabby, raw red, may the wounds be fatal as I shut off with a crimson caught our tongue as life fled death and afterward to loves, pre ambulance of eventual heartbreak will gather my still form, dismembered, distorted, scrambled, croaking to him, pleading as to why his wards, they're drowning with envy and spite the way you dote with tender love and sight, tender

Speaker 5 19:59
love. Do, 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 a growl, I'll 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 crackhead tasting the hot but it wouldn't matter, because he'll catch you. And with his animanium claws, he can take on sentinels. He can take all magnetos hitch men. Take on villains of all sorts, but he always felt still came up short. Thus he could never really take all those anti mutant groups of their picket signs designed to administer hate with words that hurts worse than a jab from 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 ask himself why people hate what they don't understand constantly being called a freak, but he counter attacked 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 caused immediately his wounds with clothes. 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 this purpose, but I know he prayed to die for not understanding his but Wolverine, my brother, you're no different than us, hating 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, because 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. Because 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 the ribbon. Sometimes they appear as aluminum 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 sounds familiar.

Donavan LeDean 23:34
Next man up, Dave, I call this Love

Speaker 4 23:40
Boat. 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 inspired, but scattered signs and silence left love depriving void so deep even poets came slow. If I presented you with tear stain sheets and fracture dreams, puzzles of My Spirit with ripped seams? Would you find the time to reconstruct the parts of love or abandon them despite? See, I know my spirit speaks in cryptic tones. My Love can't thrive in simplicity when it is called in Stone's eye. Am a being who finds solace and complexity structuring stances of conflict with this mic next to me, where rhyme rhythms and vulnerabilities dance, where emotions echo in a timeless trance and light reflects these letters written in the sand, this pine vine is more than mere ink. It is the conductor of sacred spells, healing wounds in translation, bridging gap to understanding and revitalizing the clock stopped in conversation. But what if I surrender to the beacon of suppression muscled by the pose the expression, what if I gave up so much of my power that it made my pen with fire allows your diminished lexicon to read through each layer of these psalms I speak. And if your shallowness triumph the core of my expression, I would feel my essence faith in school right as depression as these sacred symbols sank like the petals of a robe hawk. Breaks tide will slowly consume the greatest love story of a known c I am a love poet. My deepest verses stem from the shackles of love, Vine scoped into lillooquis Only for them to be restrained by the ghosts that I live in my subconscious mind. I write from flames that burn without 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 devil edge cleaves the flames to watch creativity burn with old 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, love, I bear the wake up my soul through this pit, revealing the raw fruit of a love. Poet, sin, love I hate. It's no title. It's an old that only the deepest of pain can inspire. Oh,

Donavan LeDean 26:28
next man up.

Speaker 7 26:32
That girl from way back style, she got me Southern, dreamy, thick and creamy, fine, brown, sweet as mine. Best pie. That girl from way back style, she got me Southern, dreamy, brown, she ain't made it. Invaded my soul, body and my she presses through the fields of the magnolias. She spawning them thick, curves as groove, a slow rhythm, compelled by Melody a hummingbird. Country Girl is striking. Fauci sex appeal, never discrete. Guitar plays celebrating her beauty with Southern reels,

Speaker 7 27:13
moist from the Gulf, moist, apparently by your soul, fierce. She make them knees buckle. She's delectable, like cornbread, oxtail, that Southern cuisine, such a treat, like a Louisiana crawfish on my feet. This dream feels so real.

Unknown Speaker 27:30
She got the remedy. This dream feels so real.

Speaker 7 27:36
She's the one for me. I thought she runs deep, like OGS for classic and palace and Cadillacs rise slow. Bucha, she got that hot sauce with intellect, that Southern swagger, the culture stretches, while the low mosquito creeps and swamps nothing else matters. Georgia, peach, Southern victim, with hospitality, she got that good, a seduction too

Unknown Speaker 28:07
good to be

Unknown Speaker 28:08
reality. Look at how she moving. This

Speaker 7 28:13
is ecstasy. I close my eyes. Don't wake me up. She's vivacious, like family cookout those Friday afternoons, two step Dave, R and B, eating my soul food. Natural beauty. She wasn't natural for Nourse skiing, a natural glow. So natural world is queen. She calls me King. Can let this one go. I'm good. She's the one for me.

Speaker 1 28:41
Before we end the show, I would like to inspire you with the final power message. It's a message about life. There's no set way of doing anything in life. Just do what your heart desires, no matter the failures or opinions. The beauty of it is failure is not permanent, only if you let it be. It's you versus you. Thanks for tuning in to next minute poetry in motion. I am your host, Donna villi Dean, to see my inspirational and poetry reels, you can go to YouTube at Donovan Dean. Also you can find my poetry books, children's books and coloring books on Amazon under my name, Donna villigine For actor or poet bookings. You can contact me via email, DV media ten@gmail.com I am Donna van leden, actor, Author and rhythmic poet. Until next time. Peace, jail, you.

Unknown Speaker 29:46
Dave You.