Marco Carbone (1966)

Carbone was born in Genoa, and calls himself a “street poet, self-taught musician, drum maker”. He is a veteran of the Italian reggae scene and has been active in the Genovese sphere for about twenty-five years, self-producing small collections of verses and “Januaican music”, his personal reinvention and re/creation of Jamaican music in a Genoese context. Carbone tells us about a reality where “similar sounds of different languages are pursued, new words are born from the contamination and mingling of different ethnicities and cultures, all in search of a way out of this current system that dictates absurd rules to preserve the privileges of a few at the expense of the welfare of the many… the Genoese language, which for centuries has made its own words from the various Mediterranean languages it has encountered or with which it has clashed throughout history, mixes in this global world with the Jamaican culture and the sounds of reggae in a mix theorized in some ways also by the Creolité movement, which tends to the valorization of kréyol as a new culture in its own right, a melting pot of various cultures and traditions, which precisely in the Caribbean have found a strange way to mix…”. He further adds, “So, open doors to contamination, which for languages is the only way to stay alive…”. Carbone’s poems, intended primarily to be sung and “interpreted” by their author in dub poetry or reggae style, are collected in numerous out-of-print self-publishings.

Invocaçion à Ogun

Here the god Ogun (the Niger River) is identified, in the Brazilian syncretic rite of Umbanda, with St. George, the traditional dragon-slaying patron saint of the Genoese, as the one who will restore order and some form of social justice among us.

Grande Cavaliere de l’Umbanda
tanto che batte o cheu in sciâ mæ conga
San Zòrzo da Cà longa
coraggioso e invinçibile sordatto
de Nòstra Scignoa di Naveganti
vegnî e dæghe recatto.
Comme ei sconfitto o dragon
– cao mæ San Zòrzo –
co-o permisso de Nòstro Segnô Onnipotente
vegnî à difendine
co-a lansa e a spâ
n’emmo beseugno despeaddamente.
Voî sei o difensô di oppresci
e de quelli che patiscian e ingiustiçie
vegnîne ’n aggiutto
e dæne a fòrsa pe affrontâ
i nòstri avversäi
che avian euggi ma no veddian
avian bocca ma no parlian
avian pê ma no me staian derê
avian man ma no porrian offendime;
difensô sensa poia
protezzine e no n’abbandonâ
San Zòrzo da Cà longa
fiña che dua o seunno de sta conga.

Laddro ’nta neutte

A millenarian and religious yearning for justice is evident in Carbone, frequently expressed even by means of verbatim quotations from Scripture, curiously mixed with proverbs, popular sayings, and expressions typical of Genoese.

Mantëgni a teu lanterna de longo açeisa
fanni che no ghe manche l’euio, ch’a no l’arreste sensa,
che o speçiâ o se mangia o succao
e o caigâ o va co-e scarpe rotte^[1]
«e mi – o l’à dito – vegniö comme ’n laddro ’nta neutte».

Doviëscimo tutti cantâ cansoin d’amô,
ché l’amô o luxe splendente ciù che o nasce do sô.
Doviëscimo tutti cantâ cansoin d’amô,
ché l’amô o l’à ciù fòrsa do cianze e do dô.

Mantëgni a teu attençion de longo allerta,
ché se se særa ’n porton ’n’atra pòrta a s’é averta,
coscì l’amô o ne mostra cian cianin i seu segreti.
Comme ’n laddro ’nta neutte
o vegniâ quande no ti l’aspeti.

^[1] “o droghê o se mangia o succao e o caigâ o va co-e scarpe rotte” (“the grocer eats sugar and the cobbler walks with broken shoes”): Genoese sayings, indicating situations in which those who work are unable to make up for their toil or efforts, failing even to provide for themselves.

Poexia descäsa

Batto i pê ’n sciâ tæra nua
o ritmo o m’impe e o gia e mi gio o ritmo o gia e mi gio…
poexia descäsa
comme ’na prinçipessa mediterranea pòrtime ’n gio
famme vedde pòsti
famme vedde sciti
questi pê son tòsti pe viagi infinii
ti poexia descäsa
che t’arrivi à træ oe de neutte
ti me descreuvi i ritmi t’ê ti che ti tracci e rotte
poexia descäsa
portâ da-o vento ’n deutta
à ’n concon de stradda
de badda pe fâ do sciato e ’n pö de caladda
poexia descäsa ’n verso libero mi scrivo o seun
nisciuña constriçion
poexia descäsa
irriverente iridescente neigra comme ’n caffon
poexia descäsa
comme ’na dònna africaña
ch’a va à piggiâ l’ægua pòrtime ’n gio
ti n’aviæ fæto stöie tie
ti n’aviæ sentio lengue scie
ti n’aviæ visto gente rie
e à atra marçî o sangue e mi ascie!
poexia descäsa
co-i pê consummæ in sciâ stradda da libertæ
e paròlle son prie
ti t’ê amaa comme o teuscego ma in bocca doçe comme l’amê
poexia descäsa
aloa comme ’n’ava de scioa ’n scioa pòrtime ’n gio
poexia descäsa
ganja e prefummo de reusa oua famme addormî
che pe sta vòtta peu bastâ coscì…

O vitello d’öo

In many cases with Carbone we are faced with “service” poetry, in which the urgency of denouncing the injustices of the capitalist and globalist system overrides all other considerations.

Palanche capitali dinæ
innarsan o vitello d’öo
tutti i crimini giustificæ
da-o profitto
basta che t’aggi guägnou
no conta l’etica
né a morale
no conta ciù ’n bello bellin
l’unico valore moltinaçionale
o çerca de fâne sentî
tutti pægi, sua e guagna dinæ
tutti pægi, consumma e spendi dinæ
tutti pægi, ’na neuva omologaçion
tutti pægi, nisciuña differençiaçion
’n neuvo sfòrso ghe veu, caa gente,
’nte questo globale ipermercou
quande t’accatti e ti spendi palanche
çerca de savei chi t’æ finançiou
o solo voto chi conta in veitæ
’na gossa ’nto mâ quant’a peisa
o dâ o teu portafeuggio
co-a teu libertæ
de fâ intelligentemente a teu speisa
stanni attento à comme ti adeuvi e palanche
stanni attento à comme ti spendi i dinæ, cao
o boicottaggio o l’é l’unica arma
mi no catto o cacao meravigliao

Verso ’n amô

O seun da paròlla o l’à o potere
’na magia ch’a ròlla ’nti versi
fòrmole foue tiritere
diti mascime proverbi
che lentamente
l’ammalòcca o tempo.
Mi viagio ’nto spartio de l’esperiensa
navego ’nte’n mâ co’n brutto vento
aspeto ch’o s’aquete
e luxe o sô
e arvo e mæ veie
açeise
verso ’n amô

Ascose rotte

Daring juxtapositions and word coinages, unusual associations of ideas in surrealist style are characteristic of Carbone’s poetry.

Son ’n arröba dub^[2]

Comme ’na lamma ’nto bitiro
penetra a mæ poexia foue basse
zoene meze nue dansan mai cresciue
comme stelle ’nta neutte
’n gælo de luña o l’ammia l’oriente
e ’n seun carego o l’é do resto chì ’nti pê
passe son e nuvie che ammaccian o çê
ascose e rotte son e rotte do cheu
ascose e rotte son e rotte do cheu

O bleu
o bleu che veddo staseia
o bleu da neutte
o se deslengue ’nte ’n’aurora ch’a bogge
fregogge pan e stelle a-o mattin da stæ

Ti o sæ
che mi ascì son innamoou
de l’ægua de fonti e do ben
ma à vòtte
comme ’na spiga de gran me sento segâ
’n mezo a-o fen

Ma unna mattin ò ’na seia
sotta à un ærbo de figo
ò visto arrobattase zù pe i scæn muxicali
o ritmo e e poule
mentre inte ’n spartio o presente o xeua via.
Ah! l’armonia comme a l’è diffiçile da attroâ

^[2] “arröba dub”: from “Inna rub-a dub, a style of reggae with lots of percussion.

Reixe neigra

Gh’ò ’na reixe neigra
ch’a sponta feua
l’erboo o no secca
gh’ò linfa neua
m’arso ancon
neigro son neigro
comme o carbon.

Ma rosso bruxa o feugo
ch’o l’arde drento
’n calô che sento
anche feua de chì
pòscito vegnîte ’n pö de ben
se ti t’ammii drento
ti o veddiæ ti ascì.

Neigro travaggio neigro
’n gatto neigro
ch’o l’attraversa a stradda
porriëscimo vedde se sta stöia
riuscimmo à fâla de badda maniman

Blackheart man^[3]
comme ’n ramadan
l’òmmo neigro
co-o sacco o te piggia
mia che bacco
l’é arrivou o barban
e mi son a pegoa neigra
da mæ famiggia.

^[3] Blackheart man is a 1976 album (a milestone in reggae) by Bunny Wailer.