Clear – Artist Profile

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Ladies and Gentlemen… Brothers and Sisters from near and far! You and Yours brings to you “Speaking from Experience (Growth)” showcase at the State Theatre on the 1st and 3rd of December 2016

Clear’s Speaking From Experience Synopsis

– Clear gets to share his life-time experiences with everybody on stage, performing poems of different topics in life.
– It begins with the band introducing him the crowd, as his stories unfold bit by bit
– Each every poem, besides the intro and outro. Each instrumentalist will have an item to play and support each poem by Clear.
– There will be poems of all kinds of levels of life. From emotional poems to poems based on life
– At the end of the showcase, all kinds of experiences will be echoing through out every persons heart beat

Accompanied by:
Cromwell (percussions)
Nkosinathi (saxophone)
Thebe (bass and lead)
Bongani Give thanks (keys/piano)
Lebo (vocal)
Boitshoko (vocal)
Tiisetso (vocal)
Kagiso (vocal)
Busisiwe (stage manager)



Torsten Tebogo Rybka, known on stage as Clear aka Clear as Fire. Born in South Africa and was raised by his parents and siblings in Ga Rankuwa Unit 8, a small township area that is a 40 minute drive away from Pretoria. Ever since he was young, he had a driven spirit and a hidden talent for the arts, especially with music and words. Once he found his feet within the arts, he grew a heartfelt passion with hip hop and poetry. Most of his early years through child hood, he would take time to write, find places and people to share a word or two. His greatest influences came from the likes of Common, The Roots, Talib Kweli, Dead Prez, Wu Tang Clan and many more. Ever since that moment, life would not be the same.

In 2007, he became a member of a poetry club known as Silent Thunders. Where poets met and recited poetry for each other twice a month. The following year, he was nominated and elected to be the chairperson of the poetry club. Then onwards in 2009, he studied photography at the institution of T.U.T (Tshwane University of Technology) that is where he found a poetry movement known as “Street Poetry Society”, which was at the main campus. He crafted his skills in hip hop production, developed his rhyme scheme and flow for hip hop from there on. As he was being taken serious, that is when he started to up his game. Taking a couple of pointers from artists from across the board and locally, he saw a gap in the art scene to fuse the two elements of expression together, hip hop and poetry.

As the year 2013 came along, he took a leap of faith to release a free downloadable E.P. that consists of 7 tracks (4 hip hop tracks and 3 spoken word poems) which he uploaded at He worked with the likes of Obie the soul, Nelius, Sbu, Nadya and Naphtali. That gave him a break through, to perform at stages such as “Nights of the Poets” at the State theatre, Arts and Culture events and other poetry movements in and around Tshwane. A year later, he released a single spoken word track, titled “Walk a mile in my shoes” that he released at The future plans he has for his music and spoken word poetry is to travel with it, perform to as many people as possible, whether it is local or international and to record a second E.P before releasing a full length album.

Clear: “I believe and know that music is medicine, as well as poetry. I would love to heal the world through the medium of hip hop and poetry, from whatever illness it is going through. It is possible; it will take 1 rhyme at a time, 1 note for every line.”

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Lost Continent

Africa’s skins got skinned from limb to limb, to see how it’s soul shines in shimmers of diamonds and gold;
By these seamen, that brush her curves with their wooden ships to step on her toes, and to pull up her bushy skirt.
To plant a seed of an unexpected child, which became a heavy burden to her known as colonization.
They stab her with flag poles claiming to own her, as they rape her with shovels, undressing her to see how much her body is worth on the global market.
They wouldn’t do the dirty work themselves, so they used her children for they are in brown pigment.
Then they got starched up, from all the potato picking that they have been doing everyday.
Most of her children were auctioned, measured by means of appearance which aided to settle the price tag.
They Scared her with boarders just to convince us that they are natural stretch marks.
They sucked her dry for her vitamins and minerals, to be left dry and to suffer from malnutrition.
Her children who are left, are left to pick up the bits and pieces that are left, just to put her back together again.
For they were self centered as she was the centre of the map, for she was the centre of attraction.
After Being Abused and misused for selfish benefits, her body parts are spread all over, over seas.
Now… We are baring witness to the after effects that The American dream is Africa’s worst nightmare.
We rested our strength through gods when we fell praise to the paper size Benjamin Franklin.
Gravity gave up on pulling us down to earth when we started to float on by with spaceship to Mars.
The perspective of culture has surrendered when we wished upon a star twinkle banner.
And now We are paying the price, after all of our forefathers were sold for just a bag of rice.
Identity is now a top crises, as our homes are boxes boxing us in, away from the thousand of acres of land that centered us.
Ebony skin tones got weaved out lite to be straight, just because we relaxed and let our hair down.
Our ego and pride has changed to be a tradition of letting our culture fade out by the minute.
The chains and necklaces on our necks are symbolic to the new way how we hang ourselves.
Our roots shrunk when our tree trunks began to bend and dance to social winds when ever they blew.
For we are blind folks that followed urban folk laws, who can’t even read Braille.
freedom is a counterfeit illusion that lives in our minds, and us going back is a forged signature language that lives on our mothers tongue.
Where are we as a people in this equation? Being Lost in the wilderness that was once ours.
We look deep into the mirror with a deep strange look, for we can’t recognise ourselves anymore.
We fail to see our roots, for our land has been converted into concrete jungles where we can’t be grounded.
We are constantly at war with ourselves for the future, for it is always a mission to get back.
So now… Where to from here?
– End –


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