The Blonde Bombshell –
Quill Wordsmith
Wordsmith@excapethematrix.com
Step once again into the world of orange plastered walls and green window sills. Colors and beauty expressed not just through the vibrant atmosphere of this vegan venue, but also through the sounds and phonetic euphemisms and metaphoric attacks posed by some of Baltimore’s finest poets and novice microphone rapists. It was here that one of the world’s best kept secrets was to be placed on a platform and shared with family, friends, and mature black women with salt & pepper hair that didn’t take her message as accepting as others. One of the worlds best kept secrets. . . .
It must be a very welcoming feeling to be able to perform pieces in your own character, in your own skin, in your very own element and everyone sitting before you - the hundreds of faces, all considered a part of your ever growing family. Littered throughout the room were other CD successors: Temple, Slangston Hughes, and Akil Muzon – several of which are a part of the Torchlight Entertainment family – here to support not just a beautiful poetess such as this but also to support the man behind this venue and the music, Art Of Conversation’s originator, E the Poet Emcee.
After being introduced and getting a beautiful applauding welcome, Hanalyn once again grabbed her limelight and allowed her aura, her boldness, and her words to flow. A different vibe was brought forth in her message. She still had the sass, still had the beautiful romanticism, but there was clearly a new seasoning to her stanzas that could simply be described as “raw”. After much acclaim and attention she introduced the audience to her famed, “Christmas at IHOP” piece, taking the audience on a very erotic trip that included everything you’d find at your local international house of pancakes. The syrup, the butter, the cakes, the toppings, and a whole lot of extra good loving as well. . . . sticky . . . .sweet. . . .and apparently very delicious.
“Bad poetry is when you sign up as the third person around 8 o’clock and don’t get on until after midnight.”
Then the mood took a sudden turn after several requests were called out for the “Jesus piece.” It’s so funny how anything with a God content or Christian undertone would be referred to as the “Jesus piece.” But perhaps this was the only logical and appropriate nickname for such a piece that deals with the topic of sexual child abuse. “God’s Son” asks how should Mary respond if Joseph were to rape Jesus on a nightly basis. Would she intervene and say that this is my son – God’s son? Or would she continue to f*** the man that f****d her son? A very raw and uncomfortable twist to an already touchy topic but the point came across crystal clear and was definitely an eye opener for the listeners.
She humorously closed the set with a piece that wasn’t written by her….but by her significant other. While on the phone with a fellow poet, the conversation led to being about what is bad poetry? Her other half intervened and began getting involved on the conversation and wrote her a piece that required her to “put some stank on it.” Hand clapping in agreement, finger snaps, and ‘I know that’s right!’ were the responses
"The walls in that place had an extra
coating. . .coaxed with the rawest poetry this side of heaven."
“Bad poetry is when you sign up as the third person around 8 o’clock and don’t get on until after midnight.”
It was a great night with beautiful feedback. These were just a few of the pieces that were performed, followed by the second half of open mic poets including the previously featured poet, Jaki Terry. Speaking a revolutionary piece while having wise spells whip through her locks and blowing the crowd away while making them smile in amazement – only an elder such as she could something so amazing. . . . so much youth. Another sister by the name of Blue Firefly got up there and gave a wake up call to the youth of today, reminding them that obtaining their dreams and goals is far greater than the next friend request on myspace or a music video on youtube.
The walls in that place had an extra coating that night, not of the bright orange or green colors that already existed, nor the flamboyant artwork that resided on various parts of it. But it was now coaxed with the sweetest, rawest, most potent poetry this side of heaven. This was truly the result of the explosion Hanalyn, the Blonde Bombshell, released throughout the place.