Audition Notice

Hello fellow Artists!

Producers for the popular, SABC 1 show; Intersexions, are currently casting for the second season. Auditions will kick off in Johannesburg, and move to Cape Town and Durban thereafter. The show is plotted around the "AIDS infection chain", and first premiered at the end of 2010 with 25 independent but interrelated episodes. 

For those of you who are interested in auditioning for the show and would like more information, please click here. The producers have uploaded scripts onto the TVSA page, which hopefuls are expected to familiarize themselves with, and rehearse ahead of the first auditions, taking place this weekend, 4 August 2012.

The venue information and times for auditions are as follows:

Johannesburg

Date: 4 August 2012

Time: 10h00-17h00

Venue: Bassline, 10 Henry Nxumalo Street, Newtown   

Information for the other cities have so far not been made available, but do keep referring back to the TVSA homepage, or here if you're looking to audition in another city.

Source: TVSA

REMINDER: Botsotso16 Book Launch

Just a reminder, for anyone who might have already forgotten- the Botsotso16 Journal launch will take place on the 7 August 2012 at 17:30 for 18:00, in the enchanting Melville; 7 Ave (Cafe De La Creme) 

The night will feature recitals by other poets, and room for socializing, and meeting new, like-minded people. Two of my poems are being printed in the published journal, and I've been invited, as a contributing poet, to come, and receive my two complimentary issues, and recite one of the poems published. 

For more information, please click here 

DEDICATION: My Friend Is A Contestant on SAs Got Talent

Holes and Poles,

I've been really excited by the meteor falling, earth shifting, soul touching news that my doll, Mercy a.k.a Medusa (If ya play nice, Bobby) will be a contestant on this years SAs Got Talent competition, televised nationally, and much like, Idols and the X-factor, judging is left to the viewer and contestants are eliminated each week, based on the number of votes they have received nationally via the standard 'TEXT' format, and recently, as with shows, such as, Idols; voting on social media platforms such as website forums and MXIT.

I've known Mercy for about 3 years now, and since we've met; literally, we've been like Boesman and Lena-two peas in a pod- with our crazy antics, which sometimes include; imitating people around us, acting, sing, other activities (cough cough), and all-natural and academically inclined conversations over, gender, sexuality, most notably; American serial killers, and our plans to pack up, and then move to the LAND OF THE FREE and THE HOME OF THE BRAVE.

Mercy cannot only sing, but she acts, is a heartfelt-inspirational and credible poet, with mystifying verses and 'created' realms and qualms, which inevitably cause one to be vexed under her poetic magic, and to be awestruck. She's an Artist in every sense of the word; I've even witnessed her demonstrate amazing fine arts capability, leaning towards what seems like, the most authentic fashion collection I had ever seen. When she's not being an artist and ardently honest, Activist, she's reading towards a law degree at Wits University, and I trust that her graduation will be yet another one of her many feats.

Mercy, doll, I wish you all of the best as you take this really brave step toward realizing your dreams. I commend you, not only on your ambition, but also for you deathless bravery, but also, your one-woman strength and agility. You're so talented and funny, and trust me, everybody wants a friend like you around! Isn't it crazy how, at the onset of this year, we both spoke about how this was our year, and how we were going to do, what we were really meant to be doing, more sternly this time- and look; here we both are, embarking on new and exciting chapters, and while I may be just as busy doing castings, auditions, publishing, writing, designing, etc. I will never lose the space in which I would be able to keep thoughts for you, and think of you, while you do nothing but...RISE!

Love you doll

ALL THE BEST
As the Italian's say: IN BOCCA AL LUPO!

I Have A Dream

What a Wonderful LAUNCH

On August 2012, 17:30pm for 18h00, Botstotso Literary Journal will be launching their 16th edition, printed journal, in which TWO of MY poems have been included! I am so excited and really looking forward to reciting as the launch, and meeting all the other published poets. Come through if you're interested, and share in this great moment with me!

[POEM] Star Fishing

Star-fishing along the white shores

Of the moon,

Some are angels, others are demons,

Some are unsure in this valley

Of galaxies to adore,

Some are just lone planets

Floating by the hurl of gravity,

Others are fallen and sunken

Like plains of deserted land,

Or empty milk cartons scattered

Along a vacant lane,

You had your face turned away, slightly only,

Part of it concealed by your dog-like hair,

With your Valentine tongue caressing

Your lip beneath, gnawing at the peel,

Your beauty spot moved somewhat

Along with your decrepit, truck-stop eyes

Of Isle blue, and your junkyard mind

Some place else, toward the place

Where I sat,

And you watched me with your

Risqué torso gyrating against

The luminous orbs floating about your frame,

As if you were born to a magical name.

You removed your shoes when

The first meteor collided,

And then your sweater when

The second one merely did

So much as scorch your vanilla locks,

Until the gyre of angel dust, revolving,

Like a mass of weeds upon a seabed,

Sent you right back to the womb

Of your own destiny,

Before I was awoken by the panting,

Of my own bewildered imagery.

 © Copyright. 2012. Raeez Jacobs. 

[POEM] Keeping

Both these hands can no longer keep,

Ribbons shove them downward

And so do other hands,

What are they now?

Are they still hands?

That really depends,

You say to me,

As if you know anything

About being free,

As if you know what it’s like

To hold onto anything,

As if you know

What it feels like to keep,

Or to be kept

Yet, under the drunk moon

You still wept

Like an infant without a womb

Or a plant without

A root

Expecting me to keep

Your foot,

Keep your foot

Underneath the bearded sunlight

As if you had been told

That I am the keeper of

Things,

That I love moving my fingers through them;

Hair, overgrown grass, flowing water

And the fingers

Of the occasional

Mystery,

Yet some of them were heavier

Than the chins of the Gods

Or the carriage of the moon,

Love, the only thing

I can keep

Now;

Fragile as a skull-leaf

Is myself

© Raeez Jacobs. Copyright 2012. All Rights Reserved.

Ms Spears Lately

I must say, the alleged soon-to-be, Mrs. Trawick, is rooking rather HOT these days. Spotted here landing in Miami, following her recent role as new judge on American hit TV show, The X Factor. The pop star is reportedly spending a lot of time in the gym, eating healthy, and staying focused on her career; a massive turnover from her outre downward spiral, just a few years ago. Some of the star's recent victories include getting certified on VEVO for over 100 million views on her "I wanna go" and "Till The World Ends" videos, both released as highly successful singles from her number 1 album, Femme Fatale.


P.S. I love her outfit here- she is completely owning this all-black, dark, ragged-edged look, with those killer skyscraper heels!! :p

Academy of Drama and the Performing Arts

For those of you who don't already know, this autumn I will commence a short, yet very reputable drama and performing arts course, coordinated by Brumilda Van Rensburg, and other exciting SA actors, and writers, etc. The course is going to be fulfill in so many ways, and I cannot wait to reap the rewards. 

The world of Performing Arts has always appealed to me, from a very young age. I love acting, singing, imitating, painting, sketching, designing, writing, producing and directing. I love that I am so inclined towards the artistic realm, because if you're an artist, you will know that art is the greatest liberty, and that the greatest expression, arguably, is art!

For those of you who may be interested in doing the course this autumn, or at a later stage, go to this site for all information pertaining to the course. I eventually settled with the Brumilda Academy, because it is not only a training academy, it is also an agency that helps students find roles in all the different parts of the performing arts; from TV to Stage productions. It's a fun, eccentric, and seemingly challenging course that will definitely, as it seems, equip one for a career in the drama and performing arts field, even if as just a mere beginner. At the end of the course, students are conferred with certificates and a show reel of performances and photos, etc, that will shape a portfolio. Even the final exam sounds fun, though I won't give too much away.

The course is affordable, and runs on Saturdays, starting August 4, with classes from around 9h00 to 17h00, taught by different actors, etc, every week on a different subject. 

[POEM] Skylark Under the Moon

Ocean face, back

To the ground,

Toes curled to the afternoon sun

Like a protest placard

With your soul, and dainty hands

In your pocket of fluke,

Dukedom lives in your

Sun-smooched hair,

Your life is anarchy;

No doleful-bringing amends

Or capital lettered postcards

From peculiar corners,

Sun berry eyes in the twinkle

Of nights first ever known star;

Your gaze sets all of velvety,

And regal manufactured paradise, ablaze.

You’re folk art, writhing- the folk dance,

Prancing about as a Lady cat

With your crowned tail haloed

By the gyre of the firefly beetles

Wheedled by bliss to skylark,

In the honey-coated moonlight,

Laughing as a tickled serpent,

With your clouds of ripened joy,

Becoming the home in which you will stay.

© Raeez Jacobs. 2012. All Rights Reserved.

NEW: Poem (Unwelcome Season)

Unwelcomed Season

You left the door

Ajar, in a half-hearted hug

To welcome

The sauntering

Chill of winter

Inside the dorm,

Consecrated by a former

Inferno,

Inside where I lay

Reminded of the year-long

Lengths

Within each and

Every day,

You left the door,

Ajar, in a manner most

Appropriate

Of those deemed

Imbecilic by our class

Whose actions

We fail

By strict attention

To our own regard

Of one another

And the accord

With the poems

Inscribed

Onto the

Gleaming

Sword,

You left the chill

To ice

The heat

Once circled

About our reclined postures

And our upward feet,

Freezing over

The exchange

Of words

Most gentle to the ear,

The songs willed to hear,

Played by the bands

Of union

Not about our fingers;

But invisibly roped

Around our bodies

Tighter than

The clasp

Of motherhood

To a son sent forth

To manhood,

Or the emotion

Within an empty

Cup after

Having granted

Thirst

To its last,

And only pair

Of lips chapped

By conditions

Most surreal and unknown,

You my love, had left

The door open

Inside my infernal dorm

Where all had been kept warm;

Even the memories

And the items upon the walls,

Just like me

Had unusually

Assumed some peculiar form,

Unexplainable even

By the word

Given in utter declaration

By the obscured mirror,

My love let the heat

Remain about my feet

While I accompany my comfort

Seated upon this chair

With orbs floating about my hair,

Keep your presence in

The testimony of that mild inferno

So that the cold remains

Stranger to all the beauty

In the this world

We know,

And

The shooting stars

At our luck-dependent glows

So suddenly through the night, hurled

To the moon and back,

Not as you

Have now,

From spite

Inserted before your grin

 A glare I had never

Yet clinked my glass of gin

To,

For now

This is that sin

Growing at your face,

Causing the cold to

Land death bites upon my neck

And occult marks along my back,

Shy of our romance

The cold is your pretence;

Leaving the door

Ajar

To let it in

As you would

A guest of foreign descent

Arriving by horse and cart,

The murky hands of winter

To freeze my emotion,

Perhaps of the idea

That I may

Dance to the cavalier

After the

Fury of cold’s entire day,

But I assure you

From the part of me,

Most known to your eye

Such an act,

Would be the reason

I mysteriously die,

And in the wake of night,

Wrapped in the arms of desolation,

Seeking closure

Shaking about as a clown on edge,

The question why,

Would leave you demented

Upon a precarious hedge, until

You too wish to close your inquisitive eye

Fold your arms, and die.

-Raeez Jacobs

©Raeez Jacobs. 2012. All Rights Reserved

Damn you HOMOPHOBIA

New post + Poem

Aloha Slores and You cute little wide open doors!

I know I haven't blogged in a while, but I have been really inundated with agency work, script reading and attending workshops while staying high, cool, and super-Ray. It's important that I keep this page updated, so since I haven't been doing that, here's a spanking new poem for you to drool over (read) [LOL]:

Tale of the Hawk

I don’t believe a single word muttered

Nor seat myself atop your wings

Fearful of your sometimes wanton, but mostly purposeful stings

As you live a life I proclaim shuttered.

 There’s nothing magical about you now,

At least not to the fairytales before which enthralled minds bow,

The stories telling of princes, kingdoms, fairies and garden gnomes expressing royal fidelity

Maintain every spark ignited, even by ho-hum soliloquy,

Unlike your majestic stride easily permeated by personal security,

And quickly turned to mockery upon inspection, before you desire opinion from a referee,

You survive on acquired instinct and prey on the weak

Unaware of how, when inflicted with pain, even the inanimate lend a voice to speak.

You’re like an abandoned place

Reserved for decay and lost in time’s ever-running race;

Rusted, unpromising, unforgiving and without glimmer to deliver any more virtue,

Your windows remain eternally opened, even to cursed air

So that all ignominy settles upon your mistreated facade,

And the fragments of sin ricochet, but then eventually slam into frame so fractured, yet hard.

Broken, defeated and unable to reclaim

Shame has been cast into your name,

Though haughty gestures and pride had told you otherwise,

There are more truths than your own, now you must realise,

Abnegating your disposition to behave as does a brute,

Especially in the company of love dressed in a regal suit

It’s your character in need of assessing,

Not your body in need of redressing

Since your masquerade

Allowed me to be the bird on which you preyed;

Your bow-ties get you laid,

The deceiving smile gets you richly paid

And the sinister puzzle ensued upon hand-shake, is the answer to why the cycle could never fade;

Bent on deception,

Intrigued by hurt, and enemies with guilt,

You are the embodiment of diabolic conception

And as your eyes open to each new day

You devour any form of alteration

And intoxicate yourself on mundane hearsay,

Accompanied by your sly desire to be the hawk most stuffed on prey

Each and every single long, short, hot or cold day,

As long as you can proclaim, haughtily, that you’ll always stay.