Shara Lunon aka Sha-Raw the panther paw, aka RaRa bird no.3, has dedicated herself to the art of voice. She studied Ethnomusicology and Vocal Performance at the University of Florida, focusing on the operatic technique. During and since, she has experimented in the vocal stylings of electronic/dance, hip-hop, and R&B in such groups as MSNRA, Jovian Junction Orchestra, and Wizard Women. Shara has also been a member of the Church of Holy Colors/Milagros art collective, and aided in the formation of the Elestial Sound record label. Recently relocated to the big apple, she hopes to further her work in codifying her style of "hiphopera".
Translation from Portuguese:
At the bottom of a well, memories arrive.
In silence, you are blind
You forget that your body exists;
You forget that your life exists,
Like the sky forgets it has clouds
Like an apple forget it has seeds
Like the air forget it makes the wind.
A river of memories flood
Blinding all senses
Are the images happy? Are they not?
At the bottom of the well
All you can see is yourself.
The stars are falling all around my bed,
You kissed not me, but one instead.
Did our lights confuse? For I am here.
That star was dead. Only shiny and shear.
Littering eyes, of sights so near.
It glints so pinched; so intentionally instant you forget,
Again, love again blues said mr L Hughes.
Again, love again blues I say it in twos
For three is sacred and one is just too few.
I say it from my lips to the ears of you,
If blue be the hue then let royal be the cue.
Look to the skies and midnights for truths.
Add in some navy and periwinkle for views,
For the shades of it only goes for miles
Kind of like stings of pearls on have their styles
If it came to it, the my lips would only smile
At the tint and hint of the bluest of piles
A love like this is like Coltrane and Naima;
Like breath of Dizzy or the hand of Fatima.
Press against the palms feel the heat of ambition
Watch it explode continuously infinite.
If I am dead, then all this is done.
Like the stars burning bright my light will still come.
I let the waves take my journey to the extent of the one
Sanders play that horn so my chords can strum
Sing the songs so rarely sung,
And quest for love beyond bells rung.
My arrow is aimed at the blazing sun and,
When my wings melt then I’ll have begun,
You see to be kissed in burns I must have flown
From the wisp of the clouds my light is shown
Reflecting the radiance of what once was,
Spinning the wheels of color from below and above.
If blue is the color, I’ll take it with gold,
So that I kiss the sky endlessly bold.
Sem título (Letícia)
Me disse com uma voz, ou, com
as palavras de que meu coração sair.
I said with a voice, or with the words that my heart left.
Eu ouvi ou eu li que ele foi
pra um outro amor.
I heard or I read that it went to another love.
Me disse que eu sinto nada, ou,
eu sente tudo.
I said that I feel nothing or I feel everything.
Eu me lembrar, não, talvez eu esquece se ele foi,
ou ele ficou na mesa numa fruteira.
I remember, no, maybe I forget if it went,
or if it stayed on the table in a fruit bowl.
A fruta do meu espírito.
The fruit of my spirit.
O sol ascenda, e ele começa bater
The sun ignites, and it begins to beat
Mas nunca comigo.
But never with me
Só vive quando ta longe de mim.
It only lives when it is distant from me.
Bem longe de mim.
Greatly distant from me.
Black History Month
Got a chip of the world sittin’ on my shoulders.
Feelin’ pressure in layers folding over.
Weight of expectation from this dark pearl growin’ bolder,
As my heart of metal is only gettin’ colder.
So I found a tribe that steeps its growin’ culture,
From Zebulun to Zulu, young elders becomin’ older.
Savin’ black history, present, and black future,
‘Cuz what they teachin’ today lacks stature.
So fuck this ‘given’ month I do it avidly.
From sun up to sun down I sing it gladly:
We shall overcome but won't hit prosperity.
Like misery and hate, ignorance keeps company.
Worse is that it goes unnoticed.
Blinded the eyes through packaged doses.
Dope dog sniffed out, ass’ shitty grosses.
Gots the habit now, and the cycle keeps goin’.
For in the eyes of Uncle Sam it's cheaper to sell it.
Keep Uncle Ben down then send him to jail; it
Drives more than Ms. Daisy, but to Davis it compels this
Fight for freedom ‘cuz the civilities are just basics.
For it is true more people are hurtin’ than are eating.
For it is real that more profit is gained in killin’ than in feedin’ them,
And we hold these truths to be self-evident.
Beyond that, we hold them to be relevant and prevalent.
And it’s amazin’ how it’s gone on for centuries,
And how suppression imbeds itself in genetic memories.
It goes so much deeper than veins so tainted,
Ghettos and projects are only where they placed us.
The mind is what has been so deviated, so wasted
Conditionin’ then degraded to demean Negro races.
Thoughts of black brutes rally against their brethren,
Turnin’ in their brothas and sistas thinkin’ they gon’ win.
Your chains are the same but are within,
And maybe I don't know shit ‘cuz I'm no African.
My name is formed x and has no sentiment.
My skin is only ‘dipped’ with pigment, like it’s not legit
But I am at no cost anyone’s victim.
I am not a big-lipped big-butt untamed mane.
I am not the image of uncivilized, criminalized, or untrained.
I am no Aunt Jemima, no mistress, nor slave;
I scream of beauty and chant of change.
I stand here, eyes opened, glaring at you.
I know who I am, where I'm from, and what I do.
And since I am stripped of my heritage I'll make mine new.
Breakin’ down the box to sojourn the truth.
And if I’m just the pour ghetto chil’,
Then you fucked up teachin’ me to read.
Learnin’ for myself how to write and think.
This ‘given’ month you so admirably beseech,
Is just to mask your pile of shit that endlessly reeks.
Stainin’ the sheets, red white and brown.
It’s airin’ out for the public to see now.