As published in In Focus, Vol. 12, No 1, March 2015
SETH-ADRIAN HARRIS: FLASH IMPRESSIONS OF POETRY-MAGIC
By IRENA JOANNIDES
Seth-Adrian Harris is a poet enamoured and empowered of the word like few others. It seems that the word is, for him, tantamount to the primordial act of creation. Perhaps this is why he often reduces language to its most pure and basic components – words, syllables, sounds. For he knows their power… Strung together like spells in arcane languages, his words explode in a Big Bang of rhythm-sound-meaning-feeling.
His poetry is earthy, urban, cosmic, irreverent and full of reverence, impassioned, vulnerable, real; it enfolds so many seemingly contradictory aspects of life into a sensory assault that leaves you with a big, satisfying “yesss!” His poetry does not analyze the human condition but celebrates it with wit and warmth, laughter and tears; life is to be experienced, not dissected.
Effortlessly stretching his consciousness and inspiration from the root of the Jamaican ackee tree to the Milky Way, Harris speaks forth his truth in “pohymns” incanted to life’s ordinary moments and to the majesty of universe, treating both with equal veneration, for I suspect that he grasps that all there is is All That Is. His collection Sacred Space-Urban Sprawl (Fetus Fiction Press, 2004), selections from which we feature here, juxtaposes, superimposes and melds the mystical and the mundane in the most natural way and with acceptance. Or is it with transcendence…? For even when he dredges up the darkest of racial memories as in “we weren’t packed/stacked/shipped/whipped” he does not abandon the reader to a lingering horror; he quickly transmutes it with lightness and humour.
Harris treats the word, and any portion of a word, as “the Word that was with the Creator.” And since manifestation through energy and vibration (for what is poetry other than a transmission of resonance from poet to reader?) is the creative act par excellence, this creator draws down his unique perceptions, as a series of entrancing utterances, from the realm of ideas to a piece of paper or before an audience…
Before an audience, yes, because Harris is also a spoken-word artist. The adept magician within him knows that, in order to trigger shifts in the fabric of reality “to inform, educate, entertain and engage” as he declares his mission, the word-command must be uttered aloud. He knows that he must emote, enact and energize it with his own life force so that it can journey out into the world and imprint itself upon the consciousness of anyone whose path it crosses.
It’s no wonder that Seth-Adrian Harris is more than a poet; he is also an award-winning filmmaker because, beyond the word, he has many other conjuring tools at his disposal with which to draw audiences into his inner-reality hologram. I urge you to watch his films, to hear his voice, to listen to his dub poetry performances at “Seth-Adrian Harris” on Youtube.
BABY DEWDROP (INTRODUCTION)
the sound is backed by ebony magic and voodoo love child
with rhythms that boom with the heartbeat
check your pulse to read the metronome
cause the prophets of serendipity
are lost in the vortex of cosmic epiphanies
spasm!
shiver!
shake!
oooh the ecstasy of being outside one’s self
in the light of love
the point where there are no peaks
the root of joy
the fruit of pleasure
the orgasm with no end
somebody
anybody
bring in the strings
let the cherubs sing
sound, as captions of cosmic movements
sound, as celestial storyboards
sound, as spiralling galaxies and black hole doorways
suspended on waves of red and orange-yellow hues
sound, as soft glows
juxtaposed
by the
sway
of light-life-force
morning glories slowly open
dewdrops sprinkle across the earth
brace yourselves
the universe is giving birth
to another planet…
it’s the planet of sound.
HOME
home is nestled in the bosom of the Milky Way
where galactic juice
drips
from the chins
of suckling babes
home is the land
of
milk
and
mummy!
DAD
it was the squeak of the front gate that summoned me from my bed
letting me know that
that man was home
that man of few words, quick temper
serious and upright
the man whom I wanted to spend more time with
distant-vacant
he whose seed I am, yet detached from
root-fallen-fruit
I see you searching way up in the family tree
trying to pick the fruits of the past
in order to feed the children of the future
it is a big tree with limbs that hang
low
ripe with the rewards of adapting to climates
and a terrain
that begged
to give birth to the wild
world
that surrounds it
we are separated by space and time
and as a youth, I always wanted to call someone ‘dad’
but you weren’t here in the land of snowflakes and white faces
in the land of maple leaves and make-believes
in the land of
I’ll-help-you-later-if-you-help-me-now
in the land where later is too late unless you help yourself
it was the house you built in the backyard behind Gran Gran’s house
self-accommodating-stationed
I wished I could have built that house with you
together-building
I see you now
a lone soul living in the hills
and I wonder what would life be like if you were around
while I was growing up
I wonder
would I call you ‘dad’?
UNTITLED HAIKU
Bob rastafari
teach St. Peter how to roll
a spliff at the gates
police come trouble
reggae band play de bubble
loud bass. gun shot. run!
cha-os-is-the-in-
a-bi-li-ty-to-see-the
pat-terns-that-ex-ist
a crowded bus stop
girl picks her nose and flicks it
boy says, “don’t waste it”
ackee and salt fish
rice and peas with curried goat
jamaican cuisine
her hot mouth, juicy
in sync with cosmic orbit
her hips swing loosely
…and the angry heart
harboured hatred for the wicked
with no room for love
AMEN RA HAS A MAMA
and I’ve died a death
lived a life
died a death
lived a life
died a death
lived a li-
Amen Ra has a mama
and the sweet nerve of Uncle Sam
trying to make a mason out of me
well I’m amazing the grace
and pointing a trail
back to Timbukfukyoutu
peer amid the Pi Piper’s tomb
get in-prismed
all the doors are opal
all the doors are opal
all the doors are opal
opal
and hope floats…
“In God we trust”
you mean in God you’ve been trussed
and you would only love for us
to break those truss
who knows why the caged bird sings?
soul’s on ice
baby
you don’t take a pee
you leave a “P”
or else
your ass
Amen Ra has a mama
and o’seriousness aside
when you black
you can hide
but this is not a rhyme time
and rhyme was not built in a daze
it took my hands
to build the clocks
from the dots
to mark the days
it took
centuries and centuries
of wind blown entries
to tickle the temples
and lub the lobes
it took
eons and eons
of open faced…
(hold on… THIS IS NOT A RHYME TIME!)
it took
eons and eons
of open faced
dream-on-dreamers
to shake the spear and flow a flow
that no one will ever know
at least
not until now…
now has been dubbed the in-formation age
and I ask you
do you really – really
you wanna be in-formed?
…well…
Amen Ra has a mama
and though it ain’t my business
(and it ain’t my business)
cause every
night coloured magi
in and out
of time
knows
that when it’s time to do the dishes
you best do your plates
cause you don’t want her doing them
…or you could break them at weddings…
the choice is choice
really
Amen Ra has a mama
and over a zillion spooks to carry the boos
to roaming mannequins.
we weren’t packed
stacked
shipped
whipped
(shit! that rhyme)
we weren’t hauled here to cultivate the land
we were hauled here to cultivate the lamb
“baba black sheep have you any wooool?”
well
as a matter of fact
he does
and the moor of three bags fool
and he gave some money to your mother
and ain’t you looking familiar
nappy nappy
kinky kinky
curls that swirl hold worlds of whirls
and the keeey
of life
oh that sheep
he sow kinky
he can’t think straight
but
I’ve died a death
lived a life
died a death
lived a li-
died a life
lived a death
and the only secret in life
is revealed in death
and right now
I can tell you…
if you black
you can hide
if you ain’t…
y’all
can’t
run! fast! far!
enough!
to escape my
Raaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
Amen
SETH-ADRIAN HARRIS is a passionate Jamaican-born filmmaker who grew up in Toronto and Vancouver, Canada. He uses poetry and media to inform, educate, entertain and engage. In 2006 he was the recipient of the Gemini Award for Best Direction of a Performing Arts Program from the Academy of Canadian Cinema and Television for his television movie, “When Moses Woke”. His powerful documentary, “Catatonia’s Incantations,” won him the 2005 World Gold Medal for Best Health/Medical Promotion Program at the New York Festivals and in 2002 his film “Back” won the Vision Award for Best Direction at the Vancouver Videopoem Festival. When asked about his cinematic style, he replies that “film making is the art of transformation.” Mr. Harris lives and works in Toronto, Canada with his family.
ITOTI Productions Inc.
“The direction of higher evolutionary impulses.”
Hi friend. Just a little check in to see where in the world you have landed. Hope you are well. I live in Sydney Australia now which is warm and lovely. I would love to hear from you some time.