Mass Poetry is a reflection on the state of the world-s around me before COVID-19 as experienced through my senses and emotions. The music production got disrupted by the pandemic. So what you’re hearing is a draft but kinda okay, I would say. Enjoy.
Twenty days have never been so short, so rich in experience! Berlin has unlocked so many new senses in my being like in a game, you know? Because I felt like I was in an adventure Gameboy play. Berlin is fascinating. The people are respectful and that is great! The bonus for me was meeting various artists from across the world, going to inspiring cultural events and enjoying the amazing taste of Düners yum yum yum!! Continue reading “From Berlin with a big win”→
Growing up poor in the 80’s in a small village with no electricity somewhere at the border between Rwanda and the Democratic Republic of Congo (Zaïre then), I didn’t know what television was till I was about eight or nine years old. My grandfather’s small radio operating with batteries, which I pounded gently and exposed to sun rays for recharge (miracles of science!), was my only source of music entertainment. I remember the distorted sounds of soucousse, rumba, zouk machine, reggae, funk, and pop due to bad reception when my granddad wasn’t listening to the News about wars ravaging almost every part of Africa. Continue reading “Encounter with The Culture”→
I heard mourning is nationwide, your loss is personal though
Collective memory? But trauma is individual
Commemoration is periodic, your grief permanent
History’s selective as if events were tournaments
Abakinnye karere si ngombwa kubasobanurira icyo “kwipasa muremure” bisobanura. Abakurikira umupira bo sinabibarusha. Si no mu mupira gusa ushobora no kwipasa muremure mu buzima busanzwe. Urugero ni ukujya mu kabari ufite gahunda n’inshuti iza kukugurira ugatumiza byeri ya nshuti yawe igahura n’ikibazo ntize telephone yawe ikazima. Wenda aho wavuga ko harimo n’ubudebe. Uwabivuga nutazi icyaka icyo ari cyo uretse ko ushobora gusanga nawe ari muri ba bantu batunga imodoka igira retorovizeri igura amafaranga aruta umushahara wabo.
Bad news bad boys, no Happy New year for you because #MenAreTrash. Apparently I shouldn’t be saying that and should instead say #IamTrash because apparently there is a good 0.1% of good men out there. But that means you would agree that there is a lot of trash in our system(s). If you think trash is a strong word, let’s go with “prejudice towards women” in general. Continue reading “The System is a Rapist”→