It's been a while...
But it's alright. Not all of us are born knowing who we are. Sometimes, we get cheated by life. We think we're herdsmen, when we're really carpenters, or that we're paper pushers when we're really paper makers. That's why it's a sweet deal when, after a long blindness, you're suddenly awake and you know, you just know who you are.
Suddenly, everything in your midst confirms what you've just discovered.
This feeling... NO! This awareness is what I'm basing my album on.
It's about peace with myself and with others. A complete turn-around from everything I though I was, to exactly who I am, have always been and was meant to be. I suppose The Hate Song was a representation of this turn-around I speak of.
It's about waking up and realising 'hey, who is this person? I'm not this person that I've been led to believe. I am who I am and not what everyone has said or says I am'.
Catch my drift?
It must be the same, or similar with you and every single being in this world. Everyone is in a constant search for themselves. When they do find themselves, it's like a complete re-birth.
You might lose yourself a few times, and find yourself a few more. The important thing is to anchor yourself to something greater than you, than your mom or dad, than your expensive car, than your high-paying job, than that boss who keeps promising 'tomorrows that never come', than the whole world, than the whole universe.
Who? How about the one that created everything? Is that clear enough for you?
Dove Slimme to perform at #Choices
On #March 3rd, Dove Slimme is doing at again - #Rock Night at #Choices Pub & Restaurant, Baricho Road.
"Come enjoy the Rockin 'tudes and an awesome jam session by yours truly!! Us!! I say end your weekend with a BANG and rock your Monday into submission!! Hope to see you there :)"
"PS: Bring aaaaall your friends!!"
That's what she said...Haha
Check em out on facebook here: http://on.fb.me/1hpgUzi
Trust me it's worth it. If what we hear on radio is anything to go by, these guys deserve sold out stadiums...
https://www.facebook.com/blackwellspoetry
This past weekend has played out a little bit like a scene in a Stephen King Novel.
See, a bunch of us went and camped on the grabbed hills of Ngong. We knew there were buffaloes and other wild ones but decided they wouldn’t attack us if we minded our own business. A stupid thing to do I know but, what is life without one or two of those. Some of us were dumb enough to carry electrics because they thought it would make them look ‘cool’. I had my acoustic with me and had quite the lineup of Mraz and Bublé songs.
Among us was one Buddha, nicknamed thus because of his peaceful nature and the lotus position he assumed whenever and wherever he was. Though not a musician, Buddha learned how to play the guitar against all odds. When he first started, he had no guitar, couldn’t read music and seemed to know nothing but how to beat drums – the traditional kind – with no particular rhythm. Before he knew it, and after only a few months of hanging around guitar wielding self-proclaimed superstars, he found that he could learn any song by ear.
Having been present during those first days when this miracle began can only be compared to watching a gymnast bloom. In this case, the gymnastics was in his fingers. Though not a rocker, Buddha can do Steven Tyler just fine. He not only looks like a black version of him with locks instead of blonde curly tresses, but sometimes I wonder if he doesn’t just sit for hours, studying and imitating his speech.
So there we were on a Saturday morning at 3am, sitting round a bonfire, intoxicated only by the freshness of the mountain air, and listening to Buddha sing “Back in The Saddle” while simultaneously pulling those impossible Jagger/Tyler facial expressions. He was just about to summarize and hand over the mantle to me when twigs all around us began to crackle.
Buffaloes don’t roam at night I told myself, lions were last seen here in the 80s. But then again, murderers seem to favour these woods as a dumping site. Immediately ‘Jaine’s got a gun’ started playing in my head and I wished so badly that I was Jaine. Of course in every horror story, there’s always that idiot who decides he has to go find out what ‘that’ was. In our case, there were five; Steve, Jay, his brother Jared, Omosh and Kama.
They disappeared into the darkness, guitars in hand in case they needed weapons. Against what, I wondered, fireflies? 50 seconds in and there was a horrible screaming sound coming from each of their directions, triggering an equally terrifying chorus scream from those of us left round the bonfire. Everyone grabbed a flaming log from it, ready to burn and thump anything that came their way. All I could think was, we’re all going to be decapitated. Before I could snatch a torch of my own, I heard what sounded like feedback, then what I knew to be the beginning of a Black Sabbath song.
Then it all began to make sense. The electrics, their insistence on parking in a semi-circle, the amplifiers in the boots of their cars; they’d planned to scare us all along. Expected of a band called Shadow Scratchers. As soon as they turned on their headlights, everyone relaxed and even attempted to enjoy their very grungy version of ‘Into the void’.
I never did get to play and fortunately, only figurative aural decapitation occurred. They were terrible.
