Obalaye thinks he knows why weekly poetry sessions at the Greenwich Tavern are so popular: “When someone finally screams the truth, people come to hear it.”

        Must be a lot of truth going on there: The Wednesday poetry slams have gone from a handful of friends to a room packed elbow-to-earlobe with people sipping cocktails and listening to poets.

        Or, as 144k calls itself, spoken word artists. There are seven of them performing with 144k, an artistic collaborative that produces the Wednesday slams, a mix of open mike night and performances by group members.

        It's not always easy listening. Some of the members have an edgy message.

        Group leader Obalaye (pronounced OH-ba-lie-ah), for example:
       Concentration camps are already set up
       They lock up
       More Brotha's and Sista's in these
       camps today than in the history
       of this nation.

        “We're not Hallmark.

        “I'm in a rage. A screaming rage so deep that you gotta run and hide. It's deeper than anger. I'm enraged with myself, my community, my country, society.

        “What transcends that rage is the spiritual, and that's my writing. There's truth in there, and truth is where healing takes place. But it can be so offensive, so hurtful before it feels so good.”
       How should one act once he realize
       That all he was taught was nothing but lies
       

Poetry a living
               Obalaye Macharia — the name was given to him by an oracle in a Nigerian village in 1992 — goes by his first name, grew up in Winton Terrace, lives in Over-the-Rhine. looks 30something but considers himself ageless (“an ancient representative of the truth”). Oh, and he manages to support himself with poetry, something many have tried but few have managed.

        Part of his success comes from Book of Spoems (Njonjo; $10) a 63-page self-published volume that arrived in January and has already sold out its 700-copy first run (although he has given some free to people who couldn't afford a copy, a stunt that gives his manager fits).

        “People buy Spoems at the performances. I hope they understand it's meant to be read aloud with passion. Some of the words I make up, like Spoems, don't make sense unless you voice them.”

        Spoems is Obalaye's word for “Poems meant to be spoken.” Like this one:
       It's beginning to eat away at me
       Because once you know the truth
       You know you're not free.

        “We do them aloud because poetry screams for community.

        “144k is a community, a true artistic order full of people who do it because we love it. We're writers, actors, artists, a master's candidate, a street urchin, we even have a Bible scholar.”
       

Diverse audience
               So here's Obalaye amid his Wednesday community: It's a full and vocal house at the dimly lit Greenwich, a Walnut Hills restaurant/jazz club/tavern and cocoon for emerging poets. Obalaye's soft, almost hypnotic voice is seducing the crowd; he's talking as much with his hands as his mouth, sometimes embracing, sometimes clenching, always in motion.

        The crowd here, teen-agers to senior citizens, is a diverse mix who show up, Obalaye says, “to cry, laugh, get angry.

        “We appreciate love, and some of us write about it. But we also gotta say that it all isn't peaches and cream. Not all roses are red.”
       Me
       I want to fall in responsibility
       because when falling in love
       there's no stability

        One thing about Obalaye, he doesn't mince words. “Our group is so happy to be able to share our message, but we're not going to alter it for anyone. Don't be afraid to tell the truth. You may be shunned, you may not be the most popular person at the party, but you'll stand tall.

        “That's one of my goals — the truth, no matter the cost.”

        Other goals? “Several right now:

        • “To put Cincinnati on the map for spoken word. To make it the place people think of when they hear the phrase.”

        He and the rest of 144k hope to realize that goal in February when they go on a national tour of traditionally African-American colleges. They're booked every day of the month.

        • “To realize the significance of our name. 144k is from the Book of Revelations, and that's part of the reason we took it. To emphasize that the Spirit is our true leader. But we also use it as a number — we want 144,000 members.”

        • To rock the city with The Revelation, a play/spoken word performance they'll do Saturday at the Aronoff's Jarson-Kaplan. “My real goal is to make sure that whoever walks in there will not walk out the same.”

        It's like the question he asks in Spoems:
       We've walked this planet for
       Millenniums and what have we learned?

        If 144k has its way, Obalaye says in Spoems, we'll learn to care for the planet: “Today our mothers starving/Devils continuously carving.”

        We'll learn to accept each other despite differences: “Who Am I! Well, I am your Brother. Can you see me now? Well look again.”

        And more important, we'll discover the Spirit: “First start with yourself for you must look within. Because that is where god's language and culture begin.”

        Other performing members of 144k, many of them published, are: Kofi, I.E., Iriel Sayeed, Eric Jackson, Olufemi Oluchi and Zephyr. 144k appears 10 p.m. to whenever, Wednesdays at the Greenwich, 2440 Gilbert Ave., Walnut Hills. For information on 144k, call Clarence Stephens Jr., 719-3229.

Young Dylan built 'Breach' on faith
Theater couple acting happy
Colleagues talk about the Frachers
Wish List donations outpacing '99
5-year-old would love digital piano
Arts group must start advocating
Group wants to unite dancers
Obalaye screamin' the truth
Pops warm for the holidays
Father's throat cancer leaves son afraid of silence
Kids open, honest about disabilities
Get to It