underdog academy

Urban Diary

Christian

Mortal Man

Urban diary

By: Christian Richardson

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untitled 01.

“Home,
is where the Hurt is...
A post circumstance perspective.
A perpetual predisposition
in a climate
too warm for winter,
too cold for love,
but just humid enough
to Hate ourselves...
The Heart of the city...
Leaving holes,
Where it kept beating,
our children
to the punch.
Our residents parked
permanently in gated
communities,
a rat race
Among boys.
trying to see who
can get nowhere
the fastest...
trying to see
how many burdens
they can carry in each casket.
The Gem city.
So much weight
on our shoulders
on the West side.
We always wanted to be
the closest thing
athlete.
The closest thing Dunbar.
A hometown hero,
A Colonel White parallel
between five oaks
and witch trials.
Where there is only enough rope
to hang on by a thread.
but just enough tree,
to be a raisin in the sun...”

 
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Untitled 02.

“These bones...
are the Storm.
Surrounded on all sides,
imploding at all times.
and they just want to tell the Truth;
that the Silence
is just a calm
In a storm that will never settle...
That this Body of water.
will always remain 60% fluid identity.
That I will only ever know myself;
in waves.”

 
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Untitled 03.

“It's dark here.
And
It always smells like yesterday
No matter how much
I thrift, throw, and tear
I am still very much a sheep
trapped in wolves clothing
attempting not
to swallow myself whole.
Meanwhile,
Holes
as big as my reflection.
Empty yet still full of shadows
tongue heavy
speaking a language
only winter could understand.
breathes deep...
In hell,
Or some other location
To be determined,
to be damned,
Or
to be diagnosed...
Exhale.
Escape....”

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Urban Diary

By: Christian Richardson

Son | Brother | Artist | Member of Underdog Academy | Nobody Important

You can keep up with Christian at:

instagram: @ c_rich123

twitter: @c_rich123

twitter: @underdogacademy

uapoetry.com

Christian and all of the members of Underdog Academy have participated in the Mortal Man series. On June 29, 2019 they will be hosting: Underdog Academy presents Broken English 101: “Stories Within the Margin” at thePNC Arts Annex - Theatre in Dayton, OH.In this installment of the Broken English series, UA dives into the vantage of the young black male in order to provide perspective on the culture, dialogue, and climate. With a UA only roster, come get to know the minds and the men behind Broken English. Get your tickets early and enjoy a full service bar with table service available! Seating is limited! Tickets available here.

Mortality.

cover
 

Mortal Man

Mortality. 

by: Matthew Vaughn

 

11/26/17

Sitting diagonal to a queen two moons past comfort, I try not to breathe too heavy. Afraid I may frighten her into forever, I speak softly, but with bass enough to be felt. I have never met this beauty, but she is fairly familiar with my face. I am told I resemble Her brother, my grandfather. I find this to be truth when a smile awakens to the mountains of Her cheekbones and a whisper is screamed into my spirit, “How are you doing?” I recite a half truth and tell Her I am well, feed Her hand into my own, and watch as Her wisdom dances still. We share a brief kiss of the eyes, mine, drifting above Her brow to the grey coils wrapping towards a crown.

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Tears of another elder cause a chaos in my chest. I witness the pain between two weeping rivers of remember when and a future without. A loss of hope engulfs the hearts of Her lineage, a gain of understanding sweeps them with purpose. Traveling word informs me, she is given the remainder of the week. Directly into the ear of my mother, and to the lip-reading eyes of my grandmother, “I'm ready to go,” is Her calling.

 

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I write this story without a drop of sorrow, not because I am strong, but because I was only awarded with a moment, and, fortunately, a living and mysteriously nostalgic one. Death often attacks without consideration for those outside of its grasp. It usually does not wave goodbye nor express its love one last time. But it is one last time that we get. Whether or not we know it is then is for the moment to reveal itself to passing truths. This year, a year of unexpectedness, my first year at a college and my first year losing a friend from college, a year which my father's mother volunteered mortality and was denied in her effort, a year which my mother's mother shivered at the mere mentioning of such… as we still await her results, I have learned how troubling the acceptance aspect can be. This is, however, a glorious reflection on the light we have casted in whatever amount of perceived time we are here. It is intentional in both the process of mourning we endure, in whatever way that may be, and the clarity and lessons learned following. Although mortality is on its way, we can still live with enough purpose to enjoy and be enjoyed in everlasting life. In the hearts of our homes. In the memory of many spirits. In the love we spread which lasts, without conditions, into eternal.

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Alexandria Austin 9/16/96—9/26/17

Shirley Williams 4/8/37—11/27/17
 
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Matthew Vaughn

Mortality.

Student + Spirit + Poet + Tree + Maroon Arts Group + Member of Underdog Academy

instagram: @MatthewVaughnUA & @underdogacademy

twitter: @MatthewVaughnUA & @underdogacademy

inquiries: underdogacademy937@gmail.com

website: uapoetry.com

Be sure to keep up with Matthew on social media and please leave comments on this page to offer words of encouragement, to share your story and to keep the dialogue going.

Footnotes On Loving a Broken Man

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Mortal Man

Footnotes On loving a Broken Man

by: Atlas

On days, I rebuke my reflection Times, where I begin to wallow in self-doubt and pity.

Eventually, succumbing to my past failures On those nights, when I come home defeated And I feel I can’t live up to my name.

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(Please.)

Wrap your heavenly wings around my physique. Compress your flesh upon mine. And (hold on.) Cling to me like memories of the fallen remind me what an functioning heart beat feel likes,

(Be silent.)

Wipe tears that escape my pride Off my cheek bones

(And as I resist, in showing you emotion.)

While my ego attempts to engulf Whatever’s left of me in order to save face. Remembering, what the absence of my father taught me. What the absence of my grandfather taught me. Remembering what my mother taught me. That there is no safe haven for men; boys whose hair is coarse and skin sun kissed.

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That being frail is not an option, being tender is not an option. That black men; boys cannot be broken. when those words prove false. And my own esteem shatters across our living room floor When these eyelids overflow And streams of disdain pour down your back. (Squeeze me tighter.) Remind me that I’m not the sins of my father. That I am not incompetent or a failure. Or colored from the same brush Everybody will eventually paint me. Remind me, that (I too deserve love) I too am worthy of peace, vulnerability, of feeling safe.


 
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Some of my oldest memories of my childhood were me looking for affection and it was consistently met with resistance.

I wrote this because men aren’t allowed to be broken, especially me being a black man. I could go over the statistics and data of how we as black men are treated unfairly in society. However, no one really gives a fuck and at times it is extremely frustrating and infuriating.

I can only speak for me and I personally was always taught that I couldn't show ANY vulnerability or emotion. That was like a cardinal sin growing up. Some of my oldest memories of my childhood were me looking for affection and it was consistently met with resistance. When little girls fall and start crying because they scrape their knees, we stop everything to make sure they are ok. When a boy falls and start crying because they scrape their knees, we ignore him or tell him stop crying; we call him names sissy, punk, or a girl. We give negative reinforcements at an early stage that showing emotion is not a quality boys should have.

We as society promote hypermasculinity and stoicism, especially in the black community; then 15-20 years later after he's been conditioned to be a "savage" or lack empathy we complain about how he does not know how to say I love you and mean it or why he cannot properly express himself. We also chastise and vilify him for that same reason. Men are just forced “Man up,” especially when dealing with emotions.

This poem is me recognizing what has been instilled me and why it's problematic. That there are an abundance of broken men out there who want to show love and be loved, but that concept is so foreign to them. Lastly, masculinity will continue to be fragile until society is truly open with allowing it to be vulnerable.

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Atlas

Footnotes on Loving a Broken Man

Vet. Artist. Teacher. Student

Atlas is a spoken word artist and member of Underdog Academy.

Be sure to engage with him and follow his journey.

instagram: @atlasthepoet & @underdogacademy

twitter: @Da2KcoolJ

facebook: Kyle Flemings & Underdog Academy

and also at uapoetry.com

please comment on this page to keep the dialogue going.

 

what is woman?

leroy bean

this guest blog is by leroy bean, author of the love and theory of womanology. 

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a spoken word poet  from dayton, ohio starting my new artistic journey as leroy bean. after being apart of underdog academy for over 2 years, i have had the opportunity to perform at many colleges and universities such as ohio state university, ohio dominican university, university of cincinnati and more. i was the 2017 litfest poetry slam winner for the university of dayton and was chosen to be published in both their orpheus and writ literary magazines. i am the host of the underdog academy's expressions open mic and now i am finally releasing my second chapbook - the love and theory of womanology.

this complete project includes a chapbook with 37 poems, including a 7 poem series, 16 haiku's, and a pantoum. also includes an audio book that isn't your traditional read along on tape. the audio book is all put together over instrumentals to provide a completely separate experience from the chapbook itself even though the poems have not changed. one gives you room to implement your own imagination and the other sits you in the center of my imagination and feel for the project as a whole and the individual poems.  i've always approached my poems from a different perspective; creating story's or satirical poems to get my point across.

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in december 2016 I was inspired by music, conversation, and just consistent signs pointing me down this path to create a chapbook dedicated to woman. after reaching a new point on this journey for developing a better understanding for love and compassion for all life, i realized that i have been blinded by my male privilege. from the experience as a black male in america, i have witnessed oppression first hand and was able to transfer that comprehension to the relationship between man and woman. it was made clear to me how much of a habit sexism was alone and although i did not install this way of thinking on my own, it is still my responsibility to recognized my mistakes in order to grow as a human. this lead me to build a chapbook, metaphorically giving woman the power that was bestowed upon men, "in the beginning", with genesis by characterizing god as a woman that not just created but gave birth to the universe. also emphasizing on the characteristics that woman are deemed weak for, such as their love and support. also bringing important woman characters to the forefront such as mother nature, eve, and the roll of "the mother" in american society.

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upon the ending of the books creation it dawned on me that if i really wanted to help influence as much of the community as possible then I would have to bring the book to life. this lead to the event, "what is woman?" where I teamed up with ap2 photography and ted's own big dave to help bring the vision to life; men using their platform to help bring shine to the woman's perspective and experience. although this is a release event for my new chapbook, the book is far from being the face of the event. this premium art experience showcases nothing but the strength and struggles of women. using the power of art and it's influence on people, we dedicated paintings and photo shoots to the diverse beauty of woman and counter the countless shaming that society puts on women that don't fall within it's standards. what is woman? showcases female vendors and performers to portray the wide-range of talent that women have. It will be held in a business owned by a woman to show their strength and intelligence. what is woman? will challenge the audience with that very title by having a panel discussion to assure that the voice of the woman is heard. even if it is only in front of 50 to 100 people, i know it will still be effective because at the end of the day, communication leads to solutions and  seeds will get planted to initiate a ripple of change in the minds of the future. 

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what is woman will take place satuday, september 2 at third perk coffeehouse & wine bar in downtown dayton, ohio at 7:00pm. tickets are limited and are available to purchase on eventbrite, “includes the option to preorder the book as well.” 

cleavon by prophessorx

merely a man

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last night i had the honor and pleasure of attending my brother – cleavon’s (known to many as x or prophessorx) book release launch at third perk coffeehouse & wine bar in dayton, oh. to say that I’m proud of x would be an understatement. i’ve been fortunate enough to witness and observe a lot of growth and confidence in x as a man as well as in his poetry and writings.

the chapbook is titled: cleavon by prophessorx and consists of 20 different poems/haikus that are captivating, powerful, unapologetic and emotional. x performed a selection of these writings in front of a crowd of family, friends and fans of his work leaving them inspired and eager for more.

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If you are interested in purchasing a physical or ecopy of the book “which i highly recommend,” you can do so on his website proph3ssorx.com or by contacting him directly at proph3ssorx@icloud.com.

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follow x on his website: proph3ssorx.com on instagram @proph3ssorx and on soundlcoud.

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there’s a destiny that makes us brothers; no one goes their way alone. all that we send into the lives of others comes back onto our own.
— brotherhood