Shaquille-Aaron Keith © 🇹🇹 🇬🇧 ($haqavelli DeCarlo)

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝’𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐧 (𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟏) - 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧/𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐞 𝟒𝟎”𝐱𝟒𝟎”, 𝐎𝐢𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐀𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐨𝐧 𝐂𝐚𝐧𝐯𝐚𝐬; “What does it mean to be innocent? What does it mean to be a child? One is mandatory The other is a choice, Both are states of mind. I reminisce on days of Looking after Gods creatures, I cared for them as if they were my own, Sworn to protect, sworn to feed and nurture And on my life, to never leave alone. Accidental murder is what happened next, Over feeding of my love, To my loves I believe is what made God vexed. But it wasn’t on purpose, Am I now a sinner at 6 years old? Have I broketh the commandant The bible once foretold; ‘Thou shall not murder’. Troubling, I am only a child but I feel as though I Should be on death row, The taking of an innocent life deserves punishment, The law of the land says so, Uttered by the words of my elders who’ve come before me, And I dare not argue back, Every child must bare their first sin, The breaking of life’s contract”

‘𝑺𝒐𝒖𝒕𝒉 𝑳𝒐𝒏𝒅𝒐𝒏 𝑵𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒘𝒌𝒔’ (‘𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒔 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒅’) - 𝒘𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒏/𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒎𝒆 153 𝒄𝒎 𝒙 123𝒄𝒎, oil on canvas: Welcome to south London Home of the brave, Air max, trackies, Foreducci’s and braids. Nothing but mist in the air, We wear the night sky more Than our good manors, The smell of fried food occupies my senses, Bus journeys and unruly youts hoping fences, Where your attitude is often on offensive, And repping the wrong ends in the wrong ends can cost your life But that’s not quite what’s comprehended. 15 and unwilling to learn, No one to teach me about loans and banks. So it’s easy to turn to the fundamentals of brick phones and shanks, Some say its only for protection, Could it be because hugs are ‘weird’ And being bad is How we seek affection? Attention? A one way trip to isolation, Then detention… Saved by the bell though, Now out of this hell hole, I flee the institutional premises, The beast roams the street and I wear the skin colour of its nemesis. I see it, Flashing the blue and red warning, Thoughts of what they do to their prey Is better than witnessing the stories That are known to be quite haunting. So I blend into the background, My hood up and Ears consuming a 145 BPM, Looking for girls with a pubescent hunger, I can feel the danger But proceed with my mating call Of asking for the BBM. Once Mesmerised by skets like Keisha, But these days I’ve been known To greet them with a Smile, followed by a ‘Bye Felicia’ Superstar dreaming in the South east metropolis, Night fall is filled with Survival and Any time could be a south east Apocalypse… With friends, And When these Adventures Come to an end, In the ends. one needs to retire And usually pass curfew, Storming pass the living room, Someone states loudly ‘I damn well heard you’. It’s a worried mother Who asks for a recall Of my day, I respond with A reply that says ‘nothing’… That’s how I usually dismiss these talks, Because there’s Not much to discuss in the adventures, Of; the south London nighthawks.

‘𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 (𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞/𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞)’ - 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧/𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐞 𝟓 𝐟𝐭 𝐱 𝟒 𝐟𝐭, 𝐎𝐢𝐥, 𝐈𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐯𝐚𝐬: Everyone, From Children to spouses, Homes and houses Uprooted more than uplifted. Ctrl’d, Alt, delete, Then of course, evidently Shft’d. I see the ghosts of what use to be, And High rises with high prices Are surely of no use to me, They weren’t for us truthfully, So Ruthlessly I walk through the street, The one called ‘memory lane’, Its strange how it doesn’t feel quite the same And everyone’s unfamiliar, No kinfolk, More white blokes, Can’t quite cope, And new builds built perpendicular Also known as; The gentrified signature. I can no longer walk in denial. The truth, Much like the sun, Can only remain hidden for a while. A better future promised Through poetic purgery, Residents left With a broken heart That’s Damaged beyond ‘Heart repair surgery’… No more mr jones grocery store, Because wholefoods Is whole felt A whole lot more. Elephants with no castles? Adjusting to new surroundings That I recognised in the days Of being just a rascal. No more community park, No where to walk, smoke and think after dark… We were just some flowers growing in the garden of ‘endz’, It wasn’t always fruitful but it was fun to pretend. Till They hoisted us by our stems And severed our roots, even had the audacity to clip us by our shoots And now I wonder… If I should save up for stocks? It seems like a rational remedy, So Buying back the blocks Can become my new Retail therapy… But till then They’ll use force by any means, So we kiss goodbye to the home of our Childhood dreams, A disease it seems, One that spreads like wild fire, Inescapable, With no chance of a vacation, I’ll never forget that man-made my worst nightmare, The one called; ‘gentrification’.

THAT’S WHAT I’M ON!! @shakka.d.badmon ⚔️🎨🏛️ . . We talk about the details hidden inside his paintings, storytelling through art, meeting Kerry James Marshall and why he refuses to respect art he thinks is absolutely shit. One thing about Shaq, his conviction is fully his own. . . Drop a ‘👑’ if you resonated with this! . . [WAV S2 // Shaquille Aaron Keith] . . #contemporaryart #londonartists #creativeprocess #independentartists #deeptalk

𝑪𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑳𝒆𝒔𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒐 - 𝑶𝒊𝒍 𝑶𝒏 𝑷𝒂𝒑𝒆𝒓 | “I went to Lesotho 4 a wedding & I’ll be honest… I’d only ever heard of that country a handful of times so I didn’t know what 2 expect. I was surprised by all the beauty, it’s a very different vibe 2 Cape Town ( a LOT less gentrified, THANK GOD) and so picturesque. Had 2 cram into a car for 3 hours to get to where we were staying from the airport. Along the way I saw so much lush greenery & the soil is the same colour as copper. The mountains are stunning & the weather is so hot that I had to keep drinking sprites (my favourite ‘soda’ & it always tastes better in Africa & the Caribbean). It was surprising when the locals kept telling me to come back & ski on the mountains (I was actually surprised they had snow because of how hot & humid it is). They have a lot of herders here & they’re always moving cows/cattle (I don’t think I’ve seen this many in my life). They’re so big & majestic & seem so peaceful. The herders wear a long blanket like shawl called a ‘Basotho Blanket’ & a hat called the ‘Mokorotlo’ which also appears on the flag of this radiant country. They look really cool & there’s a mystique about them I can’t put my finger on. There was a herder outside the wedding (which was a magnificent ceremony) but the beauty of Lesotho itself kept stealing my attention.”

“More than words… a prophecy”

‘2𝒇𝒂𝒄𝒆 (𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒌)’ - 𝒐𝒊𝒍 𝒐𝒏 𝒑𝒂𝒑𝒆𝒓 | Every morning I would wake to the sound of stalls being set up in green market square, I would also hear the sounds of the bars being uninstalled every evening, in between that time were stalls set up of different sellers showing their wares (maybe to attract tourists and other/wealthier locals) some seemed disinterested in their own product but not Lucas. He was a guy I spoke to a lot especially last year and he’d always educate me on the masks in his stalls even if I wasn’t buying. He was just passionate. A mask he had shown me already inspired a painting I did before called ‘Thee Second Commandment’ (big red and black based painting with cowrie shells and horns) he told me it was a Chokwe mask but there was another one he identified as a maiden spirit mask and it had two faces. It reminded me of the laugh now cry later masks used in theatre 🎭 it also made me think of how proper can have 2 faces… Unlike the Chokwe mask, we didn’t get into the story of it but it was a mask that was made with a mystique that eerily scorned itself into my mind. One I’d never forget but couldn’t stop looking at.

Home away from home

‘𝑩𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 𝒊𝒏 𝑴𝒖𝒊𝒛𝒆𝒏𝒃𝒆𝒓𝒈’ - 𝒐𝒊𝒍 𝒐𝒏 𝒑𝒂𝒑𝒆𝒓 | “Today I went to Muizenberg, a place in CPT I frequent often. It’s a coastal town & it makes me feel like I’m at the edge of the world. The train running alongside the ocean is definitely something I see like a wonder of the world… however, I noticed that once you walk from Kalkys → Muizenberg after Kalk Bay station (where the rastas wearing upcycled coffee bags hang out) you can feel the after effects of spatial apartheid that still lingers. I tend to not find people who look like me on the main st. But rather gentrification & it’s oyinbo conductors. It saddens me. So many beautiful homes there, none occupied by black/coloured people (many of whom frequent the beaches here with their families)… but today I saw some women walking up that same route & it was a mother ‘backing’ her child that stood out to me… for a split second I saw the beauty in this area. It’s not when a new coffee shop has opened, or when there’s a house on a mountain facing the sea. It’s when you see it inhabited, in use of everyday life by its people & those who REALLY deserve to be there.”

MZANSI 🇿🇦❤️

If your soul feels heavy, make time for a sunset…

The most beautiful hotel in the world, Thank you for having me and making the most accommodating stay @belmondmountnelsonhotel @belmond 🇿🇦