Translator: Joseph GeniReviewer: Ivana Korom My name is Harry BakerHarry Baker is my name. If your name was Harry Baker,then our names would be the same. (Laughter) It's a short introductory part. Yeah, I'm Harry. I study maths. I write poetry. So I thought I'd startwith a love poem about prime numbers. (Laughter) This is called "59." I was going to call it"Prime Time Loving." That reaction is why I didn't. (Laughter) So, "59." 59 wakes up on the wrongside of the bed. Realizes all his hair ison one side of his head. Takes just under a minute to work out thatit’s because of the way that he slept.
He finds some clothes and gets dressed. He can’t help but look in the mirrorand be subtly impressed How he looks rough around the edgesand yet casually messed. And as he glances out the window, hesees the sight that he gets blessed with of 60 from across the street. Now 60 was beautiful. With perfectly trimmed cuticles,dressed in something suitable. Never rude or crude at all. Unimprovable, right on time as usual,more on cue than a snooker ball but liked to play it super cool. 59 wanted to tell herthat he knew her favorite flower. He thought of her every second,every minute, every hour. But he knew it wouldn’t work,he’d never get the girl. Because although she livedacross the street they came from different worlds. While 59 admired 60’sperfectly round figure, 60 thought 59 was odd.
(Laughter) One of his favorite filmswas "101 Dalmatians." She preferred the sequel. He romanticized the ideathey were star-crossed lovers. They could overcome the oddsand evens because they had each other. While she maintained the strict viewsimposed on her by her mother That separate could not be equal. And though at the time he feltstupid and dumb For trying to love a girl controlledby her stupid mum, He should have been comfortedby the simple sum. Take 59 away from 60,and you’re left with the one. Sure enough after two monthsof moping around, 61 days later, 61 was who he found, He had lost his keysand his parents were out. So one day after schoolhe went into a house As he noticed the slightly wonkynumbers on the door, He wondered why he’d neverintroduced himself before, As she let him in, his jawdropped in awe. 61 was like 60, but a little bit more.(Laughter) She had prettier
eyes,and an approachable smile, And like him, rough aroundthe edges, casual style, And like him, everythingwas in disorganized piles, And like him, her mum didn’t mindif friends stayed a while. Because she was like him,and he liked her. He reckoned she would like himif she knew he was like her, And it was different this time.I mean, this girl was wicked, So he plucked up the courageand asked for her digits. She said, "I'm 61."He grinned, said, "I'm 59." Today I’ve had a really nice time, So tomorrow if you wantedyou could come over to mine? She said, "Sure." She loved talking to someonejust as quirky, She agreed to this unofficial first date. In the end he was onlyready one
minute early, But it didn’t matter becauseshe arrived one minute late. And from that moment onthere was nonstop chatter, How they loved "X Factor,"how they had two factors, How that did not matter,distinctiveness made them better, By the end of the night they knewthey were meant together. And one day she was talkingabout stuck-up 60, She noticed that 59 looked a bit shifty. He blushed, told her of his crush: “The best thing that never happenedbecause it led to us.” 61 was clever, see,not prone to jealousy, She looked him in the eyesand told him quite tenderly, You’re 59, I’m 61, together we combineto become twice what 60 could ever be. (Laughter) At this point 59 had tears in his eyes, Was so glad to havethis one-of-a-kind girl in his life. He told her the verydefinition of being prime
Was that with only oneand himself could his heart divide, And she was the one he wantedto give his heart to, She said she felt the sameand now she knew the films were half true. Because that wasn't real love,that love was just a sample, When it came to real love,they were a prime example. Cheers. (Applause) That was the first poem that I wrote and it was for a prime number-themedpoetry night - (Laughter) - which turned out to bea prime number-themed poetry competition. And I became a prime number-themedpoetry competition winner, or as I like to call it,a prime minister. (Laughter) And this is how I discoveredthese things called poetry slams, and if you don't knowwhat a poetry slam is, it was a format come up within America 30 years ago as a way of tricking peopleinto going to poetry events by putting an exciting wordlike "slam" on the end. (Laughter) And each performer gotthree minutes to perform and then random audience memberswould hold up scorecards, and they would end upwith a numerical score, and what this meant is, it kind of broke down the
barrierbetween performer and audience and encouraged the kind of connectionwith the listener. And what it also means is you can win. And if you win a poetry slam,you can call yourself a slam champion and pretend you're a wrestler, and if you lose a poetry slam you can say,"Oh, what? Poetry's a subjective art form, you can't put numbers on such things." (Laughter) But I loved it, and I got involvedin these slams, and I became the U.K. slam champion and got invited tothe Poetry World Cup in Paris, which was unbelievable. It was people from all around the worldspeaking in their native languages to be judged by five French strangers. (Laughter) And somehow, I won, which was great, and I've been ableto travel the world since doing it, but it also means that this next piece is technically the best poem in the world. (Laughter) So... (Applause) According to five French strangers. So this is "Paper People." I like people. I'd like some paper people. They’d be purple paper people.Maybe pop-up purple paper people. Proper pop-up purple paper people. "How do you prop uppop-up purple
paper people?" I hear you cry. Well I… I’d probably prop up properpop-up purple paper people with a proper pop-uppurple people paperclip, but I’d pre-prepare appropriateadhesives as alternatives, a cheeky pack of Blu Tackjust in case the paper slipped. Because I could build a pop-up metropolis. but I wouldn’t wanna deal with all thepaper people politics. paper politicians with theirpaper-thin policies, broken promiseswithout appropriate apologies. There’d be a little paper me.And a little paper you. And we could watch paper TVand it would all be pay-per-view. (Laughter) We’d see the poppy paper rappersrap about their paper package or watch paper people carriersget stuck in paper traffic on the A4. (Laughter) Paper. There’d be a paper princess Katebut we’d all stare at paper Pippa, and then we’d all live in fear ofkiller Jack the Paper-Ripper, because the paper propagandapropagates the people's prejudices, papers printing pictures of thephotogenic terrorists. A little paper me.And a little paper you. And in a pop-up populationpeople’s problems pop up too. There’d be a pompous
paper parliamentwho remained out of touch, and who ignored the people's protestsabout all the paper cuts, then the peaceful paper protestswould get blown to paper pieces, by the confetti cannonsmanned by pre-emptive police. And yes there’s still be paper money,so there’d still be paper greed, and the paper piggy bankerspocketing more than they need, purchasing the potpourrito pepper their paper properties, others live in povertyand ain’t acknowledged properly. A proper poor economywhere so many are proper poor, but while their needs are ignoredthe money goes to big wars. Origami armiesunfold plans for paper planes and we remain imprisonedin our own paper chains, but the greater shameis that it always seems to stay the same, what changes is who’s in powerchoosing how to lay the blame, they’re naming names,forgetting these are names of people, because in the endit all comes down to people. I like people. 'Cause even when the situation’s dire, it is only ever peoplewho are able to inspire, and on paper,it’s hard to see how we all cope. But in the bottom of Pandora’s boxthere’s still hope, and I still hope'cause I believe in people. People like my grandparents. Who every single day since I was born, have taken time out of their morningto pray for me. That’s 7892 days straightof someone checking I’m okay, and that’s amazing. People like my aunt who puts
onplays with prisoners. People who are capableof genuine forgiveness. People like the persecuted Palestinians. People who go out of their wayto make your life better, and expect nothing in return. You see, people have potentialto be powerful. Just because the people in powertend to pretend to be victims we don’t need to succumb to that system. And a paper population is no different. There’s a little paper me.And a little paper you. And in a pop-up populationpeople's problems pop up too, but even if the whole world fell apartthen we’d still make it through. Because we’re people. Thank you. (Applause) Thank you very much.I've just got time for one more. For me, poetry has been the ultimate wayof ideas without frontiers. When I first started, the people who inspired mewere the ones with the amazing stories, and I thought, as an 18-year-oldwith a happy life, it was too normal, but I could create these worldswhere I could talk about my experiences and dreams and beliefs. So it's amazing to be herein front of you today. Thank you for being here. If you weren't here, it would be pretty muchlike the soundcheck yesterday. (Laughter) And this is more fun. So this last one is
called"The Sunshine Kid." Thank you very much for listening. Old man sunshine was proud of his sun, And it brightened his dayto see his little boy run, Not because of what he’d done,nor the problems overcome, But that despite that his dispositionremained a sunny one. It hadn’t always been like this. There’d been times when he’d triedto hide his brightness, You see, every starhits periods of hardship, It takes a brighter lightto inspire them through the darkness. If we go back to whenhe was born in a nebula, We know that he neverwas thought of as regular, Because he had a flair about him, To say the Midas touch is wrong but all he went nearseemed to turn a little bronze, Yes this sun was lovedby some more than others, It was a case of Josephand his dreamcoat and his brothers Because standing out from the crowdhad its pros and its cons, And jealousy created enemiesin those he
outshone Such as the Shadow People. Now the Shadow Peopledidn’t like the Sunshine Kid, Because he showed up the dark thingsthe Shadow People did, And when he shone he showedthe places where the Shadow People hid, So the Shadow People hadan evil plan to get rid of him, First up -- they made fun of his sunspots, Shooting his dreams from the sky,their words were gunshots, Designed to remind himhe wasn’t very cool And he didn’t fit in with anypopular kids at school. They said his head was up in spaceand they would bring him down to Earth, Essentially he came from nothingand that is what he was worth, He’d never get to goto university to learn, Only degrees he’d ever showwould be the first degree burns From those that came too close, they told him he was too bright, That’s why no one everlooked him in the eyes, His judgment became clouded So did the sky,With evaporated tears as the sun started to cry. Because the sunshine kid was bright,with a warm personality, And inside he burned savagely Hurt by the words and cursesof the shadowy folk who spoke holes in his souland left cavities, and as his heart hardened,his spark darkened, Every time they called him namesit cooled his flames, He thought they might like himif he kept his light dim But they were busy telling
lightningshe had terrible aim, He couldn’t quite get to gripswith what they said, So he let his light be eclipsedby what they said, He fell into a Lone Star State like Texas, And felt like he’d been punchedin his solar plexus. But that’s whenLittle Miss Sunshine came along Singing her favorite songabout how we’re made to be strong, And you don’t have to be wrong to belong,just be true to who you are, because we are all stars at heart. Little Miss Sunshine was hot stuff, The kind of girl when you looked at her you forgot stuff, But for him, there was no forgetting her, The minute he saw herher image burned in his retina, She was out of this world,and she accepted him, Something about this girl meant he knewwhenever she was next to him, Things weren’t as dark as they seemed,and he dared to dream, Shadows were nowhere to be seen;when she was there he beamed, His eyes would light upin ways that can’t be faked, When she grinned her rays erasedthe razor-tipped words of hate, They gave each other nicknamesthey were "cool star" and "fun sun," And gradually the
shadowydamage became undone, She was one in a septillion,and she was brilliant, Could turn the coldest bloodedreptilians vermillion, Loved by billions,from Chileans to Brazilians, And taught the Sunshine Kidthe meaning of resilience. She said: “All the darkness in the world cannot put out the lightfrom a single candle So how the hell can theyhandle your light? Only you can choose to dim it,and the sky is the limit, so silence the critics by burning.” And if eyes are windows to the soulthen she drew back the curtains And let the sun shinethrough the hurting. In a universe of adversitythese stars stuck together, And though days became nightsthe memories would last forever, Whether the weathermansaid it or not, it would be fine, 'Cause even behind the cloudsthe kid could still shine. Yes, the Sunshine Kid was bright,with a warm personality, And inside he burned savagely, Fueled by the fireinspired across galaxies By the girl who showed him belief. Thank you very much. (Applause)
Post a Comment
EmoticonClick to see the code!
To insert emoticon you must added at least one space before the code.