"When It Burns" - Sharrif Simmons & Marque Gilmore


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These tracks are released to support Sharrif Simmons and Omari Jazz's documentary film THE SPOKEN WORLD PROJECT: AMSTERDAM. A film about the power of VOICE, LANGUAGE, MUSIC and the importance of the ORAL TRADITION.


released April 25, 2013

SHARRIF SIMMONS - Voice & Poetry




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MARQUE GILMORE the inna•most London, UK

Critically acclaimed drummer/percussionist, future-music producer/composer, live music performance pioneer & cultural arts practitioner with his flagship music performance project DRUM-FM.

Marque has always been involved with the most innovative, cutting-edge musical projects and artists with his patented interactive “Acousti-Lectric Drumz” and futuristic playing/performance/production style.
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Track Name: MUSICAL REVOLUTION(S) - 2013
Musical revolution(s)

You can feel it
when it happens:
a sort of depression
in the hidden places
when conjured thoughts
become louder than mountainside echoes

The wind is almost always blowing
leaving room
for other musical feats
a world feast of Masekela rumbles
leaves the door open for burning beat drummers
occupied with little else than
channeling the message to you

in it´s evolving state
in midst of revolution(s)
spinning at 33

Split threes attached in different directions
makes the heavy 8 split like
four to the floor
four to the floor
at the core of the present illusion
musical revolutions spin
tipped over the wax
it spins in circles
large enough to catch
the next generation
who´ve been cast into fearing life without listening
to lovemaking music
than making lovemaking music
Adobo the pepperfunk
and join the band
that never ignores what people say

Speech was sent to them
by those same weeping angels that
brought you

Little Blind Wonder
Little Miss Ripperton
Sweet Taste of Honey

Breathing blood pressure into
brainy voodoo children with machine guns
voodoo children with machine guns
those same weeping angels
who let poems
long forgotten be
regurgitated like Bird food
for the youth

The musical revolution is attached to
anything uncertain
camouflaged from greed shooting bandits
left stranded over the jaded rocks
under Gory Island
to be dealt with

I suppose there won´t be anymore heroes
for our seedlings
no more music with ten thousand meanings
you tortured souls
music lives in revolution(s)

When it happens
many doors open
leading to marble chambers

Keep tossin´ your pebbles into the still waters
you´ll see the spiral ripples spread
like sound waves that
sex an open nation under a groove
getting down for the survival of it
revivals of it
in cycles of thirty
from be bop
to hip hop
to rootz bop
to musical revolution(s)
You can feel it
when it happens:
a sort of depression
in the hidden places
those same weeping angels
who brought you the beginning
now bring you
the change
Track Name: BLADES (Nectar Mix)

It fell on the only blade of grass
that wouldn´t bend when sprinkled with blood
or blown by the crosswinds

It would stand obsolete
splitting the crimson liquid
splashing it onto the adjacent blades

Angrily he said
the green is now a mixture
the final assault will take place
before the seventh seal is found
or perhaps in the moment when
collective reincarnation occurs
his speech was slurred
he whispered echoes of secret operations
behind foreign borders
the masked messenger receives
a wound above the knee
his wounded knee has
never healed

his wounded knee has
never healed

He whispers:

I know you are a priestess
You are earth´s mother
If you could only blow kisses to our wounded clocks
the potraits of time would heal us when we speak
And ever so often you need to be touched
so let me touch you
I do know you are a priestess
your mother played alphabet games
with the village alchemist
her favorite was turning hematite
to rock water

How was she to know
that they would call for her son
they loved his hair
so they took it
flew him to pure swamps
overrun by mosquitoes and anaconda
the tree version of the blue tiger would
visit him
when the acid soaked out of his headband
his foot pressed down on a clay mortar
sending a violent pain through his mother´s heart
another rainbow shines over Vietnam
another drop of blood
is split by a blade of grass
another drop of blood is
split by a blade of grass

I don´t recall why they told me her name
I guess it was to move me into believing that change comes aligned
with expectation
the flyer said: let´s create our own nation
we hear of wars and the rumor of war
and the rumor of words
shooting like stars

he told us he needed
the anthrax to communicate
an unseen meaning
the collaps of a nation
the natural ruins of empires
the wars and the rumors of war

I touched the blade of grass
as the master reached for my shoulder

what part of this magic don´t you understand

He lead me through a valley of blue crystals
I saw the remainder of corrupt constitutions

Nothing will remain standing

All things must change.
You can´t take my fingers
for Omari Jazz Addae

In his eyes is where you see it:
a wealth of lifetimes
burning like tiger stripes

Little thunder
bouncing through pulses of light
floating on rivers that cut through mountains
forging new ways of seeing time

This one is an original!
returned with a clear sense of purpose
reaching for what has yet to be attained

Give me those drumsticks!
taken away with rude surprise
You can´t take my fingers!,
he replied

It´s in his eyes
shaped like crescent moons
piercing like the eagle
a spirit holding two sharpened axes
a child with a heart like a brilliant sun
so young and willing to face his wishes
sometimes stubborn
sometimes willing to help clean dishes
born a twin to rhythm, rhymes and music

He told us:

Turn from the TV
Look into the light

We heard his little mouth speak
with a big voice

I´m a poet

playing double time
drumbeats and rim shots
impulsively creating
like Pisces do

The who what where why
and the how of you
is too much to contemplate
it would be easier to meditate
on the end of infinite space
than to imagine the meaning of
your purpose on earth
Dreaded Angel
feared from the day of your birth

He´s going to be a trouble maker,
said the nurse
knowing you will burst
under the pressure
of her world
that lonely woman
who felt your radiance run through her
like Hannibal´s sword

He´s going to be a trouble maker,
her whisper was a warning
that some day you will lead the charge
pushing forward through the
cosmos with abstract speeches

You can´t take my fingers
was his defiant reply

The open sky
inviting you to watch is as it weeps
“Why does it rain?”
you asked before you could even speak

It´s a sunny day!
you now say
as the seasons change
and you along with them

Little thunder
with mean streaks
and the will to fight
the drum is your heart beat
crashing symbols and high hats
wanting what can´t be seen
surviving through losses
in ways your elders couldn´t do
determined to live, love and laugh
to the fullest

Give me those drumsticks!

Taken away with rude surprise
you can´t take my fingers,
he replied.
Track Name: ONE THOUSAND PIECES (Nectar Epilogue 2013)
One thousand pieces

there are long silences in me

they come to me
as they have come to millions

in them are roads
narrrow paths
with no signs or light
nor intimidation

only the silence of pure darkness
undisturbed by the beat of the dragon´s heart

i place my foot slowly
onto the path
the sensation invites me to walk further

i breathe silent air
no earth on my feet
without movement
i float along the thinning street

there are more silences
now than ever in my life
a universal peace that rips me into a thousand pieces
each part is suddenly renamed

i am Allah
i am Krishna
i am Jesus
i am Buddha
i am Vishnu and Ogun
i am Shiva
i am Osiris
i am Odin and Zeus

Pavrati and Kali
Elegba and Oshun

i am one thousand pieces
bursting into the midnight canvas
my colors are no longer of this rainbow
i´m walking in unison with the answers to my questions
and the deep nest of black clouds

i am Elohim
and Thor
in parade with the Valkryies
i am the madness of King George
i am Isis and Rah
Ahnknaton and Horus

a clap of miracles and lightening shatters the dark sky
the illumination blinds me
sinking me further into the silence of the still mind
in my mind i see this same road
on it walks a child
it is a girl
her features are thin
her skin is deep black
her hair is even darker
and sparkles with grey streaks
she is no more than seven years old
i reach for her hand
from her hair she removes a scroll
and whispers in my ear
i, too, am made of
one thousand pieces