I have always been a fan of verse, first written and then spoken. Not in the freestyle, rap kinda way but a cool easy reading of poetry from the heart.
In college, a friend of mine was a big fan of what was affectionally called The Black House. Every week he and I would go together for poetry slam or whatever it was called back then. It was cool, new engaging. I was even tempted to scribble my name on the list and bear my soul. I never did.
Like music, the more popular the scene became the more crowded the list got. People started to copy whatever was hot and got the most applause at the previous session. Pretty soon you could summarize all of the recited poems into 3 categories: afrocentric, ghetto tales, and the sexual.
Imagine man in dashiki, playing a flute then he starts, "What is higher? What is learning? What is higher learning?" Uhm, no thanks.
I was at Myowne's blog and all of these fun memories came back to me.
I would like to start a poetry feature here on Talulazoeapple. If you would like to be featured email me your poems at Talulazoeapple@yahoo.com.
“Imagine man in dashiki, playing a flute then he starts, “What is higher? What is learning? What is higher learning?” Uhm, no thanks. ”
ROTFLMAO. Whew! I have never liked spoken word. I went to school with a girl who was really good at it, but after her I just could not get into it. (shrugs)
It just gets too repetitive and predicatable.
You are so right!!! I stopped going to one I frequented in Grand Rapids because of that very thing. And yes, there were three categories of poems – the ones you just described. It got old to me and a bit vulgar. But in a way I do miss being in the poetry scene, and I can tell that I have gotten a bit rusty reading in public. The one I read at last week was refreshing because it was “pure” poetry, none of that masked garbage that turned me away from readings before. So with that said, I will be sending some poems your way. Thanks for stopping by my blog. It’s much appreciated!
I enjoy your blog. It’s really honest.
Why did you stop going to poetry jams? Was it the ham?
What it the cracker with swine? Stale cheese and cheap wine?
Tell me, my sista, why did you stop going to the poetry jam?
It’s not over, it’s not over, it’s not over….
ROTFLMBO!!! Boy stop, please. I can’t take it.
You have answered your own question. LOL