I just went to a Poetry Reading at Cafe Sarajevo. Lucy’s verse was good. I can always imagine her sitting there feeling what she’s talking about. I wrote poetry most everyday in high-school, and I recognize that she’s got some really real shit.

I didn’t like everybody’s poetry, but that’s just subjective me. I got respect for anybody who writes poetry, cause that’s them. Personally, though, I think White (what?) Poetry can be a little out of touch.

My favorite poets are Biggie and Jay-Z and Nas. And I kinda like 50-Cent. I just can’t listen to him that much because he’s a bad role-model. Eminem too. I’m not saying it’s a race thing, but shit, put some energy into it. White people pretty much abandoned Spoken poetry for Written poetry. Except Eminem, he’s smart as fuck. And Yeats.

Was reading my friend Jay’s storybynumbers blog and he had a verse I liked:

Just past five, dark, but warm: there was nothing to rush home for, nothing to say or think or mourn; instead his feet took the spotlight, and with each dim lamppost he passed, he lent its golden light freely to the wet walkway below. He trot upon the reflection thoughtfully and completely, fully, completely, tragically hip with his right hand and left he waved in walking rhythm, one and then the other, to the yellow lines of grass on each side; and they too took to the golden glow, and told him where to go, and even when: here and now they favored. He liked this song. The sky, pacific and blue-grey, its cement and wet tar: tonight they were mute by his attention, as were the planes and cars and their commanding yellow lines. Only trampled grass and trace lamp light invested in his simple thoughts and shared the warming currency. Then a bird shit on him and it really ruined his mood.

Posted on Wednesday, November 26th, 2003 in Poetry.