THE THESPIAN

I remember when I first learnt the word ‘ Thespian ‘; I was about 15 or 16 and it was a cool ‘big’ word to add to my vocabulary.  Quite a few years on, I have a much deeper appreciation of the word and the persons it describes.

Here’s the definition:

Thespian /ˈθɛspɪən/

Adjective: relating to drama and the theatre 

Noun: an actor or actress

(source: Google)

In this poem – titled ‘The Thespian’ – I have used the word loosely  to extend to thespians who engage other forms of arts like dancing. I wrote this some time ago, as I watched a private screening of  ‘Heartbeat,  The Musical’ produced by Lufodo Productions Ltd (Joke Silva and Olu Jacobs’ theatre company) but since it was recently World Theatre Day, I thought it would be a good time to share this poem with you.

Click HERE to enjoy ‘The Thespian’ by msevajohnson.

May your week be filled with Love that surpasses all knowledge.

Yours,

Ms Eva Johnson.

The Thespian (pg 1)

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Average Girl

Happy New Year People! (Yes, I know its late, seeing as one month is already gone…but at least I said it right?)

Instead of getting into any apologies about not posting for ages (since we’ve been here before), I am just going to get on with what I believe to be a very important post and hope that this year I can successfully put up quality posts for you every week (or at least bimonthly *wavy wink*).

This month is National Slavery and Human Trafficking Prevention Month in the Untied States, as declared by now ex-President Barack Obama in January 2012. I wrote a poem titled ‘Average Girl’ some years ago and have recently re-worked it. I performed the poem at the Nigerian Bar Association (NBA) dinner in December 2016. The poem loosely ties in with this month’s theme, but I don’t want to spoil it by telling you all about it before you read (and/or watch) it. The subject matter is of grave importance to me, and I hope to you too.

So please, see it attached HERE for your reading pleasure, and for those who are visually stimulated, I have also included a link HERE to the video of my performance at the NBA Dinner. Please share to raise awareness for victims, like and comment too..for me.

May your week be filled with Love that surpasses all knowledge.

Ms Eva Johnson.

xxx

More Questions

Here’s the last one:

Am I as they say?

Am I beautiful when I sway?

Does my smile light up the day?

Or am I nothing like that voice says?

I am great. Aren’t I?

Then why can’t I believe it.

Why can’t I say what I mean?

Why am I lovely to others & to myself mean?

Can I blame her? Can I blame him?

High standards are good But sometimes leave you feeling less than you should.

Someone help me understand if you would.

-Ms Johnson. 

Xxx

What? Who? Why?

Here’s the second one. Which is actually, the first one I wrote.

What can I do about this nagging feeling
Of something within that keeps hitting the ceiling
Of my heart and consumes my mind
What can I do?

I can’t share it with the world
Or maybe I can with spoken word
That you and even I may know what it is
That tumbles and twirls my soul

Discontent! And Contempt
For him, and her and you
and I
Am aware of my potential
Yet I fear that It may never be harnessed
And become Kinetic

What can a man know unless he is told?
What can a man see unless he is shown?
Who can know a man unless what you see when he is cold
Or can you know? No empirical evidence. Nothing
Just know…

And feel it in
your bones
A raging fire that burns and burns and burns
Till you are soot and ash
And then you ask

What am I? Who am I? Am I
At all or is it all just imagination?
Einstein said: ‘Imagination is much more important than knowledge”
Do I Agree?
I don’t know. You can imagine my discontent.

So many questions with answers, I don’t know
Do I even need to know? I don’t know
These are just my musings
A mere confused ant, in the grand scheme of things.

-Ms Johnson.
 Xxx

Cry!

Hey guys,

Sometimes I feel like this is my diary, and that makes me glad.
Well, I’ve been feeing a little all over the place. So I decided to pick up my pen and write and cry and 3 poems came out of it, in a space of like 5 minutes. I’m not gonna edit them because they’re raw feelings, and if you’re a friend, don’t get worried I’m fine. I may put it up as 3 different posts. Don’t know yet but I’ll put my favourite of three down here now. I think I’ll call it ‘Cry’ , and when you read it you’ll see why.

Do you ever sit around,wasting precious time
And just cry?
Sometimes with tears, sometimes with thoughts
Sometimes with a pen, sometimes with words.

And you don’t know why
And you can’t tell the next guy
So you waffle for a bit
As your heart breaks in bits
And whether you allow or not, your soul cries

Well then, cry! Yes cry!
Let It out!
Scream! Scream and Shout and Let It Out!
You’re only human
Even if you’re a guy, and strong emotions are making you feel like a woman
Then cry!

But don’t do it with the other guys
You’ll never hear the end of it. Social suicide.
But to cry is better than to take one’s life
So take it in your stride and cry!

Don’t fight it like a man
Sweetheart, just cry!
If you feel like you can’t do it alone,
Come and find me and your hand I’ll hold
And you and I, we’ll just cry

And when we’re done, we’ll smile and hug
Get some Icecream and pretend it never happened
Cos it didn’t.
Or did it?

 Ms Johnson.
 Xxx

 

Beneath the Smile Project – Obafuntay

This is a sad…true life story for a friend’s blog – ObaFuntay 😦 😦

obafuntay

Thanks for waiting. In case you missed the preview, find it here, so you know what to expect. If you are not sure what Beneath the Smile is about, please check the preview out.

The project aims at looking beyond the smiles of the next person, to see what’s really beneath, what’s really going on? How people really need help and won’t bother saying anything about it but would rather cover it up with a façade of strength, with a smile.
It’s time to look beneath the smile and lend a helping hand. People are going through real things, these are their stories.

We hope that you’d be kind enough to leave a comment. Your feedback is important to us.

First story, Beneath the Smile I by Anonymous Writer

Today, we have our second true story, re-told by @Its_kash

Please Read.

The ‘Beneath the Smile’ Project.

behind the smile (design)

“Everything is never…

View original post 1,121 more words

Black History Month (BHM) 2 – Do You Know Me?

Hi again,

So here’s part 2 of the post. I forgot to say before, thanks to everyone that came to watch the speech, the spoken word or the dance I was involved in.

Also, thanks for the birthday wishes and gifts. I’m going to put up the poem now.  I hope you like it, or at least get it. I decided to call it: Do You Know Me?

Here’s a link, you can download and print it out and such, if you have drop box: Do You Know Me?-Ms Johnson

If you’re not nearly as keen, here it is all the same:

Black History Month

-Do You Know Me?

We’re in the UK
& that weather shii cray
So I’ve slipped a couple times today
But that’s ok
Weather is not the subject today.
Let’s focus on less sunny issues.

Like:

Do you know what it means to be Chinese
Walk alone and you won’t feel at ease
Never get a mere Ní hâo , except when they need help with Math
I study art & music but no one bothered to ask,
*scoff*

“How stereotypical?” I say in my mind
But deep down, I don’t really mind
So I go ahead & help anyway
I’m ecstatic for the little interaction any day
Even though… its momentary
& friendship is..well..a phenomenon that tarry
I am more things than my language or appearance
Do you know me? I am my likes, dislikes. I love culture

***
Do you understand what it means to be black
Thrown in a box & be thought to lack
Awareness, Intelligence, Leadership, Citizenship
Looked upon as a bad egg, as a black sheep, literally
Only relevant when they need to run a mile or move something heavy
Treated as identical with the other diverse billion of black people
It makes no sense, what on earth is wrong with people
I have never been to jail, I am more than my body,
my hair or skin colour
Do you know me? I am my hopes and insecurities. I love culture

***
Have you got it right what it means to be white
Do you think I am fickle, feeble minded
That I am artificial and perhaps suicidal
That I spend all my time on a tanning bed, with a drink in my hand or
That My legs are constantly spread.
That I practice subtle bigotry, that I am close-minded or greedy
Do you know me? I am my personality, pet peeves. I love culture.

***

 

If you do not know me; do not judge me.
I am not what you heard on the news. I am me.
I am not suggesting that give me one look and you fall in love
But I do pray thee, ‘walk in love’
Give respect & it will return to whom it is due
We are the same in that we are different.
Make the the most of the mosaic that you’re mostly mingled within.
In other words, be like me and love culture.

Ms JohnsonE.
Xxx

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Image by: CopiedImage.png

 

Black History Month (BHM) 1

Hey,

I know it’s been ages…but since I’m trying to study and I am too playful to  couldn’t decide when to put up some of the stuff I’ve been putting off putting up. Anyway, it was Black History Month (BHM) in October and I worked with the Liverpool Guild of Students organising and participating in some events and such.

In this post, I’ll put up the speech I delivered on Multiculturalism & in the next post, I’ll put up The Spoken Word I performed at the BHM Closing Event, it’s called …I don’t know what it’s called yet….I’ll decide just before posting it.

SPEECH ON MULTICULTURALISM

(slightly edited to make sense as a post, as opposed to a speech…please pardon any spelling errors)

Hello Reader,

My Name is Oyindamola Johnson, you can call me Oyin & I just want to say a few words on Multiculturalism, especially in the context of expressing many cultures in a conservative society. Proof of multiculturalism is that more than half of the people listening to this speech reading this post cannot pronounce my first name no matter how hard you try and the rest of you have 1st names that most people in this country (UK) can’t pronounce properly. It’s the same reason that you can mostly still tell someone is ‘foreign’ despite their excellent command of English. That phenomenon is called Phonological Interference, but that’s not something I wish to go into details on now (don’t hesitate to google it, Google Is Your Friend). So we’ve all heard that ‘variety is the spice of life’…I want to look at those times when the spice in question is sour, a spice like Vinegar.

Multiculturalism becomes a relevant concept in communities which, like this one, comprise multiple cultures (as the name implies). The term multiculturalism, can be construed either descriptively ( referring to cultural diversity in a general sense of the make-up of society) or normatively. Kevin Bloor in his ‘Definitive Guide to Political Ideologies‘ said the major normative element of multiculturalism was a society “at ease with the rich tapestry of human life and the desire amongst people to express their own identity in the manner they see fit. I think the main point of conflict here is “the manner they see fit“. People express themselves through religion, dressing, culture, art, poetry, the list goes on. However, what happens when the manner you see fit doesn’t fit the manner that I see fit {I promise that’s an actual sentence, I’m not just biased to the word ‘fit’}

Let me illustrate with a story:

Ugochi moved to London from Nigeria last year. She started at the University of Liverpool in September. She studies Economics, and as is almost always the case, 70% of her friends are Nigerian like she is, 20% are from other African countries, 6% are Caribbean, 3% are Asian & 1% are everything else. By 1% I’m referring to her one friend called Valeria who was born to ambassador parents in in Russia, grew up in Scotland but is half French and half American. So , after a long confusing MicroEconomics lecture today, Ugo introduces Valeria to her Nigeria friends. They smile and say “Hello, How Are You?” ( most of it sounded more like “Ello, Aawa you?” and “Helor, How A Yawwu?”} . As they all walk back home, most of Ugo’s friends begin conversing in their local dialects, Valeria is struggling to keep up. Obviously, she is more than relieved when the time comes for everyone to go their separate ways at the Central Hub. She goes home a bit puzzled, feeling awkward and out of place. Those people seemed nice…but she couldn’t see how they could possibly ever be friends.

Right, so next week there’s a Pub Quiz at the Ken Saro Wiwa Bar. Valeria invites Ugochi to come along and meet some of her friends. As she arrives, most of them are Scottish or English,one of them, distinctively Australian, greets Ugo with a smile saying Goodday Mate (sounded more like “Good Eye Might”). True to the spirit of a bar, everyone starts drinking, cracking jokes and singing old folk songs….that’s everyone, except Ugo. Ugo is an Ibo Muslim (almost as rare to find as a chimera), and its against her religion to drink alcohol, also she’s just moved here so she doesn’t get the jokes or know the old folk songs. So Ugo goes home a bit puzzled, feeling awkward and out of place. Those people seemed nice…but she couldn’t see how they could possibly ever be friends.

My questions to you are: Who is wrong? Is anybody wrong? Is there anything that should have been done to promote inclusivity that wasn’t done? Who should suppress their own culture to include the other’s? Is it the majority or the minority? Should anyone be suppressing anything at all?
I don’t have the answers to these questions but they are questions I would like everyone to start contemplating.

You’ve heard it said, ‘When in Rome, behave like the Romans’…but what if you just don’t know how. My suggestion is this, when in Rome, be aware of the Roman culture and juxtapose it with yours, pick up the good parts and leave the rest. As for the Romans, be mindful to consider those internationals amongst you, try to carry them along and if they are willing, trade secrets about each others cultures. At the end of the day, if we do that with an open mind; we are all more likely to come out as more rounded individuals- part of a global village that is rich in diversity and beautiful because it embodies so many cultures living harmoniously together.

However, that is just my suggestion, the topic is very much open for debate.

Thank You,

Ms JohnsonE.
Xxx

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Needs No Title

Image

Every Other Week or so, I wait for a pinch

Because My Thoughts get too grave by about an inch

So, as usual I’m looking for the easy way out

Waiting for a “My friend, wake up we’re going out”

Many times I can’t believe how my life’s played out

Whether I was completely there, these last 4 years, I doubt

Don’t get me wrong though, I’m still young

Younger than you’d think with my feigned smile,carriage or dressing out on the run

But I’m feeble, fearful and flawed inside

I need someone to talk to

But I’m too ashamed, too soiled, I can’t bring myself to

So, I reduced the make up, maybe it’ll help others see me better inside

The people I pity the most are family, you know

The only ones that really love me; or the ones that love me the most

And I can’t confess to them because they’d warned me “Guard your heart jealously”

No one REALLY knows me, not even me; so my closest friends don’t know the whole story

The feelings of guilt have gotten harder to sweep aside.

I’ll have to find something good to have beside

I am too young to be engulfed by such pain within

If anyone can, please help. I’m A Caged Bird Singing.

 

Ms JohnsonE

Xxx

Image Credit: fenixrysing