Poetic hair biography

This is my poetic hair biography. I will be performing it at the Battersea Arts Centre on Friday 5th and Saturday 6th March.

Dread Dreadlocks

I had to cry for mine
Daddy laid it on the line
Cut those funky dreads
Else find yourself another bed
from my heart I was led

Kicked onto the streets
Sixteen’s supposed to be sweet
Trodding the beat
On my own two feet
Nothing to eat
That was the start
Of me following my heart

Like Samson the strength
increases with the length
of time allowed to grow
Untouched
each new stalk remains
as a vow to my ancestors
I have not forgot,
I will not forget,
until we meet
I’ll walk the streets
if needs be
And shelter under the shade
of my own special tree

I had to cry for mine
Daddy laid it on the line
Called me a filthy headed swine
Said: “you ain’t one of MINE”

Struck from the will cast aside
Churches sang with me abide
Washed me with purified water
Thinking that ought to
Shake the devil out
Cause I must be insane
Not to want to press my tight curls
Into a lifeless mane

Used to let them fly wild,
Running through the rainy streets
Used to let them swing and drip,
now they tickle my hips
When I dance they sway
do back flips,

Wearing them’s a minor
Get them designer
Times change but the 80 binds that
Lay on my head
Do not forget the hurt,
the lies spread
About me and my kind
the dreadlocks dreads

My dreads if they could speak
Would say
No war. Exploitation we deplore
Peace love and unity
Needs to be a certainty
That’s the language of the trees leaves
But it got lost on the breeze
Don’t believe the hype
of the stereotype
I smoke only from the peace pipe
Prophesied by Garvey, he said,

Gather yourselves
into a cultural army
Protect yourselves
with pride and confidence,
Shield yourselves
in your own definitions
Fight for Self worth,
and self-recognition
Use only bullets of truth
for your ammunition
Let them all know
it isn’t just a whim
Your desire not to trim

One day they’ll trail to my feet
And I’ll carry them over my shoulder
Like a long lost friend
To the very end
Waving a flag of red gold and green
Upholding the vow
Of the Nazarene

They’re all mine
as nature intended
These velvety black vines
represent me, uniquely
Forging their way through
the grime and slime
and the changing times
of daily living

One day I’ll forget the time
I had to cry for mine

Up close and personal!

I get asked lots of questions about my hair on a daily basis. Mostly the questions are simple how long has it been growing? Or do i ever cut it? Or do i wash it kind of questions, which I can cope with quite well. However on one particular day a random man ... and it is always random people approaching me... came up to me and stood within a centimetre of invading my personal space and asked,
"When you make love does your hair get all tangled up in the proceedings?"
I know! I thought that myself. How can a total random ask such a personal question. Needless to say I didn't entertain him and walked off with a disgusted look on my face, which I do quite well. The answer just in case you were wondering is...
mind your own bees wax!!!