We had a full house at the GPI Bossa open mic in June. New familiar faces were there, and friends from years past stop by. One even had on a mysterious disguise. You never know who will show up at GPI. Here are some highlights…

Luis saw demons walking next to him, and now we check out his verbal collage, because we’ll be the force of energy coursing through our veins.

Lucy read of Stockholm Syndrome. Religion used as the great weapon for the perfect heist; Africa at first fought tooth and nail, but the transgression was so well orchestrated that her own children don’t even know what took place—they have forgotten. She says to Africa’s children, take back your Orishas.

She also paid homage to Maya Angelou by beautifully reading Phenomenal Woman.

Grim wants to know who’s got a camera, are you watching, are you aware of the sea butterflies and their plight, are you aware of all the names for yourself, are they right? Do you know your galactic signature?

Melanie recited The Trumpet—yesterday’s dreams are today’s cumulus nimbus. And the sun calls for the world to wake up; a hummingbird will appear to soak up.

False Prophet is one of the few good Men in Black, who knows forgiveness and trust.

Denise read OPP by Andrea Lord: I come as women dark as knight; I do come like a warrior.
She also found a native community in the District of Columbia, this place ripe with the songs of our ancestors. When will the voices of native women lead our nation again?

Shahid always feels like somebody’s watching him, while he takes the green out of the pockets of politicians.

Camila OPPd an Urdu poem by Nosha Gilani, after translated by her: I feel wherever I flash my eye an accident.

Tree Child played his guitar and sang, out here on the streets where the water roll dirty I see a lot of people hurting, and I feel bad that I can’t help every single one. (His name gave him shoes while he was singing the blues, and he still has no soul.)

Jessica was the hostess with the mostess.

Mike and Basher strummed, drummed, and danced something that I can’t see, something that is not even reality. Blessed earth for a high crime, blinded by the desires of a single soul on fire. (They realized they’ve got something to say [and interpret with movement].)

See you at Bossa again on July 8^th!

– Jessica