UgLy….

This week was the launch of the first Film Festival in Antigua. I was only able to participate in a limited capacity due to other obligations, however, I was able to make two  significant contributions. One was my film Dinner, which I wrote and produced, and it was directed by Christopher Hodge. It’s the same film that was shown earlier this year in the Reggae Film Festival in Jamaica. See link below for that adventure.

https://bak2moi.wordpress.com/2011/06/05/wine-dine-69-no-i-mean-it-really/

The other is a film that I’d found to be quite dark and intriguing. It is a production called “UgLy”,but It had already been shot, with no dialogue or voice over, so there was an element of unfinishedness (is that a word?) to it. It was put in my hands, to see if I could wrap my poetic mind around it and come with some kind of verbal accompaniment. I watched it over and over  for a day to get a feel for it and I came up with the poem below. As soon as I get a final copy of the film, with the voice over dubbed in, I will post it. Until then, try to get your own visual of “Ugly”, from just my words. That way, when you see the final product, you can compare the image you conjured up in your mind, with the director’s vision.

“UgLy”

by Tameka Jarvis-George

We all pick the tragedy in our lives that best defines us,

And every single one of mine, has led me here.

I can smell her on your sheets.

Her fragrance… it’s cheap.

It makes me sick.

My insides feel wrecked,

So I guess I’ll just wreck it some more,

While I try to take the edge off..

And get my bearings…

What the hell is this guys name??!!

What kinda woman am I?!

Who are you?!

What is this?!

Sirens outside, the doppelgänger to the screaming in my

cranium.

I feel lousy,

And I don’t know what I’m doing here.

You’re so wasted, you probably can’t even feel me here in

 your space,

Analyzing your crap and knick knacks,

CSI-ing, analyzing my surroundings and coming to the

 realization

that you’re probably just as lousy as I feel.

I’m trying to get a clue about you, cause…

I don’t know where I am, so I can’t leave,

But I can’t let you wake up,

Sensing my discomfort,

Considering what I probably let you do to me last night.

My inability to remember your name irritates me,

And I am grateful when I see your wallet,

So I do quick mental check of your ID,

You are John Doe no more.

I even hate your name…

She’s got horrible taste in men, just like me.

Your girl that is.

Is that why you approached me last night?

Did I remind you of her mediocrity?
 
“I’m a director baby, you said…

You wanna be in my movie?

I can make you a star,

Take you places real far,

Show you things you ain’ ever seen..

Blah, blah, blah…..

Lets go back to my place….”

I was drunk enough,

Too drunk to know any better, 

Seemed like a good idea,

But now I’m sober enough to not remember,

And I’m glad that nothing’s real clear.

All I see is your crappy camera, and you’re sparse little

world of

wanna be creativity and artistic rebellion.

All I wanna do is slam it into the wall and see it smash to

a thousand pieces,

But instead I become you, retracing my steps,

 documenting my possible missteps as a misfit with your

 favourite pick up artist in hand.

Flashes of you and us are trickling back to me,

And the little that I am remembering, disturbs me to my

core.

I wanna wash you outta my hair and offa my face like

that singing chick in ‘South Pacific’.

I wonder if you know what a loser you really are.

I bet I looked a lot prettier last night,

But the joke’s on you.

I guess a few shots of tequila and rum can make anyone

look as pretty as I looked last night.
 
But I see me now.

I see me so clear,

Screaming inside like a banshee on crack.

My face is her face.

I try to re-apply my war paint,

In a psycho attempt to make myself beautiful,

But I can’t seem to draw a pretty line beneath my cornea

To make my eyes look as big and as beautiful as you said

they looked last night,

But it doesn’t matter any more.

What’s done is done,

And you’ve already done me.

I get it now!

You needed me!

You needed me to be her,

at least for one night..
 
But just like joy comes in the morning,

Everything else shines through even clearer in the light.

And I see that look of finality staring back at me,

When you finally muster up the courage to open up your

eyes,

And see my UgLy…

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About bak2moi

I am a woman trying to balance motherhood and womanhood, while pursuing her dreams. Hopefully I get to keep at least foot on the ground during the process.
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2 Responses to UgLy….

  1. Pingback: Playwrights and Screenwriters (the Antigua-Barbuda connection) | Wadadli Pen

  2. Pingback: A & B Writings in Journals and Contests | Wadadli Pen

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