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Nash's Rhyme Conglomerate
by William Anthoney Nash; co-published with NRC Publishing & Promotions
79 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #01-0156; ISBN 1-55212-756-7; US$15.95, C$21.00, EUR13.65, £9.46
This book is a conglomeration of various style and poetic rhyme covering a number of topics while simultaneously integrating life experiences.
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About the book About the author Sample excerpts Catalogue info
About the BookNash's Rhyme Conglomerate is a collective reflection of the struggles endured by the physical survivors of this world. It reflects the brilliant aspirations of one black male soaring to be great, beyond all physical and psychological barriers set upon young black men in today's society. We must break the cycle of contentness and strive for our deepest dreams. We must change to remain as a people, making alterations and adaptation to the fabric of life. We must respect the environment in which we reign, our history and the life changing experiences which encompass our life cycle chronology.Never forget where you come from, no matter the circumstance. Protect and nurture your thoughts at all times They are precious commodities. Positively project your inner most feelings,while being conscious of those that may attempt to deter you on your personal path to success. Poetry is the tool I have chosen to eliminate the pains and pressures of life. This book illustrates personal truths on love, hate and society in a vaguely biographical fashion. All poetic ac-counts are real. The poetry you are about to read are words formulated from inquisitive thought patterns bringing forth the uncensored, uninhibited words. Words giving birth to truth.
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About the AuthorWhile making a home on Beech Street, with three jobs and an in-house beauty shop, a young desperate single black mother combs her son's hair as she prepares him for a day of education, not knowing the problems the day may bring. Years later, the stress and pain of work and rough surroundings had taken its toll. As the boy's father stayed locked away as, more of his people perished for the deep dark nothingness of the fast life. Only jailhouse letters made his heart feel better. Watching the ghetto out the front living room window he cried in his Mickey Mouse pajamas. The mother was so young, striving for independence but she was just caught in the middle. Feeling quite helpless with tears streaming down his face, the young boy knew one day that things would get better for him and his mother. "I am a poetic ghetto journalist". After the death of close family members and friend I knew I had to make a change and save and protect those I could with the Lord's help," explains Nash. William Anthoney Nash jr. was born and raised in Louisville, Ky. His poetic voice began to develop at an early age. Nash first began writing his junior year of high school. The summer of 1999, after he graduated, he began to teaching poetry to intercity youth with The Neighborhood Dept. Later that year the first blue prints for "Nash's Rhyme Conglomerate" was completed. Immediately a very ambitious 19 year-old Nash began marketing himself to a multitude of conventional publishers, but the increasing levels of skepticism from white as well as black owned publishers and literary agent hindered its progress. The controversial idea of a Nash's Rhyme Conglomerate lay dormant. After a three year hiatus, the dream now continues through the collaborative assistance of several multimedia companies and publishers. Nash has self-published, essentially creating what is now known to be NRC Publishing and Promotions Ltd Co. (www.nrcpublishing.com) where he manages, promotes, and publishes several underground poets. Nash has since been published in Timbuktu, performed at The Harriet Tubman Cultural Center, The Underground, Scribes and Vibes, Café Kilimanjaro, Expressions of You Café. He has also worked locally with such companies as WW2 Productions whom have honorably hosted jazz and poetry show with Jessica Care Moore and the Last Poets. Nash is currently organizing a Nash's Rhyme Conglomerate II, an urban anthologies which includes over 50 new NRC poets from all over the world. Nash has poetically graced the usage of syllables and vowels to articulate the pain which scream from our urban ghettos. He has shed light on the societal injustices which has plagued Black Americans for decades. He also soulfully exercises his talent by covering a number poetic topics with NRC first and newest authors Celine Derenoncourt and Nossfortue in the newly released "Nash's Rhyme Conglomerate."
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Sample Excerpts
"CONQUER AND BURN"
Burnt by societal fire to acquire seemingly essentials
In random and sequential order
My battle configurations wings and quarters
War to win
Descending from skies like squirming giants
Sparing casualties casually
Laughing at armored chest that forcefully flex
That won't stop my quest
My lyrical rampage
Seeking mental justice for us!
The mediators, the idea marinators
My war lines cut like equators
Hot until turned cold
Like leaky faucet or drafty closets
I lock down all deposits
And access denied
If you already then tried
Then you know about the ones whom already died
Showing that my mental weaponry and arsonist arsenal kept me alive
As you slept easily thinking you were in fact the victor
But sorry to tell you I tricked ya!
Breaking all sweet dreams
It seems the appearance of the weak has redeemed itself to conquer once more
Tally new scores
Tilting outcomes away from the tactically dumb
Reality makes me numb like coke crumbs
Yet swift like oiled gearshifts
Pivoting in diagonals and 360s quickly
Dressed for occasion
Against societal fires that are blazing
His style salty and faulty
My style amazing
Or just a maze
With blocked entrances and circled routes
Hearing screams like "let me out because I'm claustrophobic"
I weaken them all like aerobics
This if your fate you chose it
Pleading and bleeding
Exclaiming unarmed and unalarmed massacre tactics were enforced
They had rocks and sticks
We had chariots and horse
On course terrain
Blocking the main entrances with hay stack flames
Panicking my enemies in Burning Battle Games
And binding P.O.Ws with rusty chains until extremities obtain gangrene
My next movements strategized by my African Queen
Who loves to fight
Still mad about equal and women*s suffrage rights
Holding me close at night
Needle and threading knowledge in my mental hems
Everything I needed to conquer them
"TUNES"
My tunes be like battling brass trumpet
With rattling triumph snares and animal hide drums
Banging over white men and their guns
Beating through my ancestor's villages
Smiling bold round and brown faces
Good vibration from home type places
Them tunes Daddy used to by ear with shear talent
Mama's back home from the grocery
With brown bags full of food for thought
She bravely bought for us to carefully consume
The same type of food she feed me in her African womb
That knowing of knowledge
The skill to untwist societal knots
Which bound my people bloody and sobbing to "Massa's" auction blocks
Black bare feet
No socks
Sunken heads of shame on piers and docks
Trying to understand the meanings to these damn chains
Or the large lashes
And whelps that hurt when they slept
Star shaped scars on backs
Or the reason God left them like that
But the knowing of knowledge kept our minds growing
Like tunes played through magically wombs
Giving birth to deep thinkers and precious providers
God thank you for the babies insider her, her, and her
Black beautiful
Intellectual sexual
Manifestations of all that represent struggle
And simultaneous triumph
Over America's filthy ways
And stupidity sickness plagues for days days days
My sista hitting notes too soon for any of my mans to understand
So play on, play on my sista
But remember your band's tunes aren't tunes
Unless you got god playing with ya!
Take Flight
An artist's articulations
Waves like brain pattern fluctuations
Through blue inkblot dot drops
From the top of ball point pens
Bought from souvenir shops
On Florida's docks
Giving birth to rhythmic rhyme
Read in jazz clubs and coffeehouse shops
With flows that don't stop
Flowing like concentric rings
Or a deranged fugitive with an escape route
And a private plane on old runways in Maine
But these words take flight
Inspite of what you may like to hear
From ignorance clogged ears
The unexposed and disclosed define fear themselves from within
Like saying they can't do it because they are women
Or he's black
Just because the 60's and 70's produced burnt-out macks addicted to smack
But can't afford it
So they settle for crack
And a nap sack next to rusted railroad tracks
Leaving single black mothers with bundles of bills struggling on their backs
On cold December nights
I wish the best for my mother
And let my words take flight
