So here we are,a post with some substance.
If you'll look to the left you'll see that I claim to be "artistically inclined". I will never deny that for a moment,considering that I work hard at what I do (when I choose to do it),and I am proud as a mahhfuckah.Any written work of mine that you've read was worked on for at least 2 weeks on and off,word is bond.Chill though,I don't plan on boring you with how talented I think I am,I'd rather talk about my influences and mentors.
Unless you live under a rock,that lives under the sun,that lives underneath the shadow of my ever inflating my ego than you know that Notorius is officially in Theatres. Not that I even like Biggie, but I recognize his skill with words (no matter how simple or incoherent they might have been). The real reason I brought up Biggie was in order to bring up Tupac,who was a master of words.Not only did he have a skill but he knew how to OWN IT.
Sorry Biggie.
I am from the suburbs of New Jersey,I went to private school for 5 years,I lived in Chestnut Hill,I live in Mt.airy.Never will I ever be able to say that I understand "the struggle".At the same time some artists have the ability to make you live whatever it is that they have spoken/written.When Tupac's in love,I'm in love. When Tupac mourns for the people,I mourn for the people. When Tupac says he fucked Biggie's wife and had him sleeping on the couch,I nod in agreement. My point is there's a difference between being able to relate to people,and having people being able relate to you. Whenever I write I try to do that,put someone where ever I happen to be in life.
To be honest most poets bore the shit out of me,and this is coming from a poet.Having said that, any poet who can make me sit still and read without a beat deserves triple OD kudos,props,praise,acclaim,glory,distinction,and every sneaker that I own. Sike,they can't have my j's. I doubt a 17th century poet would want them anyway. William Blake dawg. "Tiger,tiger burning bright" will never ever die,this is immortal poetry created by an immortal poet. Because even in death,his words live on and on and on.
I was in 7th grade watching "The dangerous lives of alter boys", "Tiger,tiger" was the poem read at the funeral scene. "Did he who made the lamb make thee" stuck to my soul, and anything I've ever written has been devoted and perfected to my fullest capability ever since then. It only takes a few words to provoke an interest,I try to do that.
Blah blah blah blah blah. You understand what I'm getting at, even though I've left a number of my favorites out (Common,Dante Basco,lemon,maya angelou,Lupe,Langston hughes,more more and so many more). Writing is life for me, and the only reason I've lived it is because I've been motivated to do so by said people.
(The actual motivation behind this post is the fact that my camera is dead,and I left the charger with Cami/Trent)
.N ari
P.S. "7r" prepare yourselves,cause we've got some stuff for you.
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