All this time
The Sun never says to the Earth,
“You owe me.”
With a love like that,
It lights the whole sky.
The way is full of perils and the goal far out of sight.
There is no road to which there is no end, do not despair.
In times of youth, drinking is better.
With the joyful, linking is better.
The world is a mere temporal inn;
With the shipwrecked, sinking is better.
Gil Scott-Heron - Winter in America
Today is Gil Scott-Heron’s 62nd birthday. Scott-Heron is one of the greatest songwriters and poets of the last half century and his influence on music is sadly overlooked. Without Scott-Heron, it’s very likely that hip-hop would be vastly different or would not exist at all. Scott-Heron’s lyrics were always meaningful, usually focusing on politics, social activism, and racial issues in the 70s.—
Should’ve been asleep when I turned the stack of records over and over
So I wouldn’t be up by myself
Where did the night go?
Should go to sleep now
And say fuck a job and money
Because I spend it all on unlined paper and can’t get past
“Dear baby, how are you?
…you have a good camera, that DOES NOT mean you take good pictures or are a photographer
…you have images of you from a photoshoot as your facebook picture, that DOES NOT mean you are a model
…you have a fanpage on facebook of your “music” which consists of beats made in GarageBand/3 basic power chords and recorded from a Macbook microphone, that DOES NOT make you a musician
…you have a Tumblr account in which you can “express your emotions” more than you can on facebook/twitter, that DOES NOT mean you are a fucking poet.
Let me take the time to focus on that last demographic there. The “poets” of tumblr.
Some of you people need to get a grip on reality in the internet age. SOME of you (Mo and mesa, for example) have very well-written poetic stuff on your pages, but MOST of you post empty, hollow, cliché ramblings about “love” and “life” and other shit you don’t know ANYTHING about.
And why the fuck are all of you Tumblr poets so damn depressing? There can be uplifting poetry, you know? Not all of it has to be:
Blood feels like the frozen streams of weakness
Running through these veins of regret
Yet if I am so cold
Why do I feel as if I am in Hell?
And if I am in Hell
Where is Beelzebub with his pitchfork
And throne of Brimstone?
The role of Satan in my personal Hell
Is played by the skinny jean-wearing boy in my Psych class who wears more eyeliner than me and won’t answer my texts…so now I’m depressed and ranting about it on Tumblr OMG IM SO POETIC!!!
Shut the fuck up and sit your sad-about-everything ass DOWN somewhere. I swear, you motherfuckers are like a gloomy Charlie Brown strip, and every time the girl with the red hair doesn’t respond to your love letter, you go on Tumblr to post a million “poems” that just say “Good Grief” in more words.
If you’re gonna be a poet, learn how to fucking write, and ESPECIALLY learn how to write about different subjects. Your Middle Class Subruban Caged Bird is singing, and I don’t GIVE A FUCK WHY. You’re not Robert Frost or Ernest Hemingway or Langston Hughes, you’re some stupid ass hipster with a blog. Learn the difference.
Oh, and yes, as a matter of fact, I am mad. You emo bastards piss me off to no avail.