Find out why
I wish I could
Love his smile

Fun Friday ride
be up five hundy
by midnight

LAX - NYC - IAD
police pursuit
sweet deal, high five

some things never change
test driving
the second story when
it rained

create authentic
strained
a charmed life, so good to me
day ended perfectly

awesome cake
a little bird
told me
so blessed to have you, baby

The last few passengers hopped on catching their breaths with a huff and a puff and taking the remaining seats where they could, while handling their bags in one hand and their mufflers and hats with the other. It was just an ordinary day for them. A day when work and reaching their office on time was the only thing they could think about. A day when half their time on the launch was spent worrying if the Tiffin box packed so lovingly by their wives toppled over to create a mess. A day when they couldn't stop and stare. A day when materialism came before appreciating nature’s beauty.
Kolkata woke up one fine chilly morning to a sky set ablaze. There was always something about Kolkata and its lights that intrigued me. The perfection with which every corner was lit just as much as it should be, the hidden eye candy which could only be seen if you look into your soul to appreciate. Worshipers from all over flocked to the ghats to offer their prayers. And with the mindless honking of the city behind them and the open river in front, they dipped themselves in continuously to be forgiven of their sins. As they lifted their folded hands above their heads to pray and dipped themselves, they made the water all around them make huge ripples which were lost in the vastness of the mighty river. And with that, they were forgiven of their wrong doings, or at least that’s what they believed.
The engines roared to life as one of the crew, miserably opened the ropes and threw them on board after ringing a bell. I stood in one corner of the launch eyeing Kolkata, taking every bit of it in - its morning awakening, its old red bricked buildings, or at least the ones which still stood straight, its ghats green with moss and over crowded with devotees, its icy cold winter morning, and the current of the river beneath the launch floor. Kolkata had woken up to one of the coldest days in recent history. 9 degrees and the wind was up. On the Ganga it felt as if I had come away to some faraway land, away from the hustle and bustle of the city, to find peace.  Silence surrounded me and the only sound faintly audible was the low whistle of the breeze brushing past my cheeks kissing them which felt like tiny needles poking me all at once.
The water looked like liquid glass, floating away to infinity and beyond, as far as my eyes took my vision. As the launch turned to face its destination the Howrah Bridge came into view. Standing tall with its two gigantic pillars the sun peeped from between the cables to shine on the water creating a river of gold while the sun’s reflection seemed a ball of fire just within our reach.  The bridge cast huge shadows causing a sudden darkness to arise in the water which otherwise seemed ablaze.  

Across the river the world waiting for me felt distant. Was civilization actually that beautiful? Or did nature just wrap its covers around to hide the flaws of mankind, his ruthlessness, his ignorance towards other beings and its lack of humanity? The dashes of green popped out of the corners of towering buildings, as sun cast its golden rays on them creating shadows on the opposite side.
The small boats sailed on as the launch took me from bank to bank. The rowers sat at the back on the edge with their rows half immersed in the water. And as the currents made them flow by, the ripples came and hit our launch and travelled back into the vastness and disappeared. They sailed through the disturbed water, and its shadows sailed alongside. The rivers serenity was contrasted with the blobs of weed floating by, entangled with driftwood and mixed with shiny cloths, probably the leftovers of the previous durga puja celebrations.
The sky was a game of colors by now. The sun, still a ball of fire, was slowly creeping upwards, the light grey clouds just behind it shot rays of gold down through the gaps they found on the world below, the sky otherwise was a play of grey, blue, red and orange set in order from the ground upwards without a definite point of distinction. A group of three birds, crows most probably, flew overhead enjoying the sun’s late arrival to the cold morning.
My hands reached for the railing. I gripped the rods tightly looking for security. I looked around me to spot the different lives sailing with me. Some on their phones, some sat with their eyes glued to the cold blank floor, as if they didn’t deserve to be uplifted by nature’s display of her beauty, some staring down at their watches to scrutinize each second to realize how late there were while others stood with a blank expression staring out onto the river, probably going over what they did wrong, playing the images on repeat, making themselves miserable. Me? I stood leaning on the railing looking out also. But I wasn’t in my misery. My misery was behind me. I looked forward to life. And for now I looked forward to my destination. And amongst the crowd I was alone. This was my moment and mine alone. No one could have robbed me of this moment, and no one can make me forget.  
The river gave me peace of mind. Its tranquility and its continuity made an energy of constancy flow within me. A belief that this too shall pass, that every moment shall pass. Never ending was its path. A path which life had chosen. Who are we to disrupt it? Who are we to stop? Life flowed on. And times were not always smooth sailing. There will be waves rocking you, making you lose your balance, there will be rocks at the bottom, sometimes holding you together while other times damaging your base. With time and distance the river will get polluted, but it all depends on what you want to show and what you choose to see. It will be used, to its maximum capacity, with only a handful of souls to stop and think about it and do something about it to the best of their abilities. Things varying in all sizes will cross it, sail by without paying any heed to the water beneath it making them sail smoothly, never appreciating it, and soon it becomes a part of them which they pay no attention to it. It will always be there though. Its existence will always prevail over it being ignored. And when you stop to think, it’ll be there pushing you along the way, to your destination, where you will have to say goodbye to the picture perfect moments, the soul touching feelings and the voice within you which screams in its silence to set yourself free.

a mouth full of cavities
and lungs full of algae infested waters
from sitting too long with no 
escape
from what traps us in these ominous, dank 
gorges.

gaunt faces with sunken eyes
from nights too haunted to sleep
swollen tongues with words unspoken
from submission to
silence
in the face of constant
deceit.

words
left in the veil of fog that masks the ground
every morning over the once green pastures,
stripping the color from the world,
leaving everything
grey 
with the corruption
of what once was
what still is
and what will
remain.

we lose ourselves in the unapproachable
reality
of what we have created
what we were born into
what we will never
escape.

we lose ourselves.
we lose ourselves.
we are all
gone.

we were always empty anyways.
walking amongst the hollow men.
we are the hollow men.
we
create
the hollow men.

we weren't always the hollow men.

tell me how to fill these holes that 
are found in our teeth
in our lungs
in our
souls.

where did all the substance go?

And now my heart has been 
torn 
from my chest and is 
pounding on this empty table before me. 

I watch as it slowly fades back to 
stillness 
and I wonder if I could have saved it. 

I wonder if I could have saved my 
sanity. 

I wonder a lot of things. 
Most of the time my mind is 
racing,  
retracing the steps I took to get here. 

I wonder what cracks I must have stepped 
on to send my world 
crumbling 
beneath my feet. 
I wonder what cracks I must have stepped 
on to create these 
fissures 
in my soul. 

And now I'm terrified 
that I will slowly leak from this 
chasm 
the same way this water runs 
in ripples down the hill outside my window. 

I wonder what I could have done 
to keep from 
falling 
to the floor.

When I get in a car
and I look out the windows
I see faces of full storied people

and I create scenes in my head
about what their lives are like
so I pretend that the man in the corvette
is going to pick up his daughter that he
hasnt seen in months

and the girl driving the truck
is going to the mall
so she can buy a dress for
her highschools annual mini ball

and the family in the mini van
is going on vacation
to a beach in florida
but first they have to stop at the
gas station

but this is all in my head
and none of it is probably true

the man is probably buying some ciggerettes
while the girl most likely goes to see a boy
to give him lots of sex
and the family is going out to eat
at an arbys but the dad just lost
his job so he cant buy his two daughters
anymore barbies

but thats also in my head so im not really sure
and so I stare at the window until I think some more

and there's a wreck on the side of I-35
so I take a moment inside my soul
to wish whoever goodbye
and I picture their lover at
their funeral
clenching chin about ready to cry
but maybe I'm just overthinking
maybe they made it out alive

at the nearest stop light
in my favorite city
sits a homeless man at the corner
clenching a sign scribbled with
"Will take any"

We keep on driving
it starts to rain on the way
I wonder what the homeless man
is thinking as he's drenched in
gods dismay

and the sky is crying hard now
for the lives of the full-storied people
but maybe thats all in my head

because in 20 minutes its sunny
I get out of the car
and forget what I thought

At her desk, paper and pencil forsaken
She sought to create as she contemplated
But the feelings were mixed and shaken
By the quakes of over-complication

Energetically bound, her fingers stroked
As new words would emerge from her mind
And the keys were played like musical notes
Hinting at a thought somewhere betwixt the lines

So she's standing on the edge
Of a book that she's read
At least a thousand times
And the moon disappears
As the storm draws near
But she knows it's alright

Her eyes were closed as she absorbed
The entanglement of perceptions
Owned by the world so wildly perturbed
And dreamed despite delusional deceptions

They had spread throughout her head
As a gas might fill any kind of chamber
With poisonous conundrums that fed
Off the ink that runs on and off the paper

Now she's standing on a cliff
Scribing ancient glyphs
On a computer monitor
Then she thinks of just herself
For once, not anyone else
And comes to find her alcazar

Inside are hooded, masked silhouettes
At a ritual to create disharmony
Heads low, palms up they whisper a hex
Hoping to destroy her sovereingty

As the boiling rage begins to rise
She walks slow as her figure transforms
Walking on all four, she multiplies in size
And let's out a lioness' fearless roar

The wizards hit the walls
But the shadows stand tall
Until a beam of light emerged
From her mouth came wisdom
And the shadows fell victim
To her willpower determined to purge

And she wakes from her nap
She looks up at the screen
And types away
She writes away

Adept an enigmatic
I smile
At the distance
I'm Creating
The walls
I'm building

If I was honest when I met anyone
I'd have to display a disclaimer
That I tend to fuck up royally
If there's any chance of touching me
And I'm not talking sexually

So if you look at my past
Any of the most recent
I've pushed away all of them
All of them who were decent

Maybe I'm weary and less vigilant
Maybe things are blurry
Like the moments after an accident
But some managed to sneak in

So I get creative and emotional and crazy
When I put my mind to it oh I'll find a way
Cause now I laugh when I cry
Thinking about each and every damn one
Who said they loved me or understood me or would wait for me or forgive me or fuck me or find me or save me or be there for me
All of those who would try

To find me in a maze of memories past
The walls I've built
Have turned into parapets and balconies
From the heights of the castle
Clouds surrounding me
I can see for miles
But I can't escape this safe haven turned prison
It's impossible to visit but you can break in
If you find your way tell me
How you got in
Cause I'm lost to myself
And need you to tell me
How to be good and true again

So you're  welcome my pretty
To come inside
To the labyrinth of my heart
And ask the question why
It's not the monsters that
Will eat you alive
You'll just get lost
Then bored
Then you'll walk out

So I learned to do it first
To cause less hurt
I learned to be cold and hold it
At the most opportune touching moments

To create that distance I said
To build more walls
To make the maze more complex

And remember the heart's a moving target
Always moving never at rest

So give it your best shot
If you make it in
I'll be there
And I'll give you a chance
Cause I'm always surprised
And you can ask that question
But I'll be honest for a second
That in my whole life
I've never heard a decent answer
But I'm still waiting darling
I haven't forgotten

-Azrael Always James
© Copyright 2013

One of the topics that broached while in class was…Is Rap Poetry…I simply replied yes that it is in fact poetry and that I ‘am a poet there was a quick reply quite loudly stated that no it is not, as to this response I was baffled as to why students firmly believed that Rap is not poetry. Hence the debate

_______________
Debate: Is Rapping Poetry
Positive:
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Rapping (also known as emceeing MCing, spitting bars or rhyming) refers to "spoken or chanted rhyming lyrics". The art form can be broken down into different components, where it is separated into “content”, “flow” (rhythm and rhyme), and “delivery”. Rapping is distinct from spoken word poetry in that it is performed in time to a beat.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

This particular information was obtained from the world renowned site Wikipedia under the title Rapping, so the quote rhythm and rhyme are associated with what is commonly known as Rapping.
It has been a fascinating eye opener for me to write this particular piece in regards to the origins of both rap and poetry…both types of oral communication through which we like to convey to the audience in a lyrical format that all can understand and appreciate. So Rakim and Big Daddy Kane agree upon the fact that rhyme is often thought to be the most important factor of rap writing…rhyme is what gives rap lyrics their musicality.

These men are well known Rappers in their own right and have written a book simply called ‘How to Rap’ It has been noted that rap’s use of rhyme is some of the most advanced in all forms of poetry – music scholar Adam Bradley notes “rap rhymes so much and with such variety that it is now the largest and richest contemporary archive of rhymed words. It has done more than any other art from in recent history to expand rhyme’s formal range and expressive possibilities.

RYHM is in as we all know part of our English which encompasses the use of lyrical words in a format which depending the writer’s expressive writing can either be in Poetry format or lyrical poetry format…and depending on the syllabus and the tone of the writing of poetry or lyrical poetry it can be expressed in song, poetry or rap.
I would like to demonstrate with you my own rhyming of words that I wrote myself to demonstrate this factor.

My Rap Poem

Ryming and Poetry

Yo yo lets Rap it..
Yo yo lets gap it…
Rhyming and Poetry
Meaning words
Don’t diss a poet
Whose passion is words?
What fool told you
That rap aint poem
Aint it a fact
That rap is words
Aint it a fact
That poems is words
So don’t tell me
RAP aint poetry
Take it from a poet
Whose passion is words?
TAKE DAT….WORD OUT

I would also like to quote a poem that was written by a poet and this particular poem became famous not only in the poetry world but world wide

The Rose that Grew from Concrete

Did you hear about the rose that grew
from a crack in the concrete?
Proving nature's law is wrong it
learned to walk without having feet.
Funny it seems, but by keeping its dreams,
it learned to breathe fresh air.
Long live the rose that grew from concrete
when no one else ever cared.

This poem was written by a Mr Tupac Shakur or better known as 2pac, Shakur began his career as a roadie, backup dancer, and MC for the alternative hip hop group Digital Underground, eventually branching off as a solo artist he was also a poet.
___________________­

Debate:
Is Rap Poetry or not Poetry
Negative:

This debate came about when we were in class and my tutor said that Rap is Poetry, Myself and Lee said verbally no it is not. This is why we are having this debate.

Rap is one of the biggest selling music genres today, and many rap artists also consider themselves modern day poets, as do their fans. Whether you prefer poetry over rap or the other way, around there are definitely similarities and differences between both art forms. The main difference is the music. In poetry, a combination of words will create a rhythm such as iambic pentameter, the first word is an unaccented syllable followed by an accented syllable with total of 10 syllables with a total of 10 syllables per line. There is a rhythm to the phrasing of poetry and rapping. The difference is that. The rhythm of rap, works in conjunction to the beat of the music, so although the phrasing can be different, both retain a certain type of rhythm and flow of words.

Although rhyming isn’t always present in rap or poetry, it certainly is common. In some poetry, the words at the end of two consecutive lines will rhyme, or the words at the end of the second or fourth lines. However, some artists will make a variation of rhymes throughout the poem. Rap will also rhyme, but the beats of the music will sometimes dictate the phrasing as well as the placement of the rhyming words.

With poets and rappers, one of the biggest similarities is their desire to convey a message. The content may differ, but the need to evoke an emotion response is the same. It’s typically driven by their view of the world or society and wanting to state their point of view. There is often the use of metaphors within poetry and rap to convey their message and some is written that allows readers or listeners to make their own interpretation.

The most obvious difference in these two artistic styles is that rap is words put to music, and poetry is not. Also, big considerations in rap music are the beats and the groove. In poetry, there is nothing consider but the words and the rhythm and rhyme. However, in rap the importance of the beats can sometimes overshadow the importance of lyrics. Rappers are also sometimes concerned with whether or not people can dance to the song. Chances are you won’t find many poets that are concerned with whether or not their poems will inspire them to dance while reading them.

Matthews Conclusion
As an old saying goes listen to the music not the beat, the words feel the pain and emotion it screams listen to their story as in the life you learn from the stories. You gain pain you feel emotion, you get lost in the rap. Know what their dreams and hopes are in the word, as the beat was just the drive like your own heart, different beat, different words, but one heart and one song. I remember a time when music use to relate to what we do, a thing we hope to say to a lover, or a crushing dream, or to be a Casanova knowing that if you could not say a thing in your mind or heart the song could say it for you. One time I remember being so angry at the world, and my family, had dark times my world, writing poetry couldn’t cut it for me, it could explain and yes it rhymes it sounds good, but it always seems to miss its point for me, but one thing remains with me, I time a shared with friends around a few drinks, I heard a song by 2pac about his mama, what he said, really explained what a mother is thinking, this guy knew what I was thinking and how I felt, he knew how to explain his point. I sat their listening to his rap, he said; ‘Aint no women alive that can take my mamas place’. I wondered as I kept listening to his song, I felt we related on a higher level, I can’t explain how this guy can put words in a rap that helped me through a dark time in my life, and Rap as always been a big influence in my life.
___________________­

It was interesting how the topic ended, and as a poet I still believe in the positive but the opposing team closure had me thinking again but then I realized he has not been exposed to poetry in general…so therefor it was indeed an eye opener for me. The positive was myself the negative was a student of mine Matthew, His last conclusion of the debat was written in his own words, I am very proud of his work and I will as a poet will introduce more works to him as the course grows...I have told them I am a poet...they laughed at me hence the debate... I just had to prove my point and you know me...never step down from any challange...grins...anyone else want to prove to this young man that Rap is Poetry. Negatives 5 votes Postitive 5 votes...that was a surprise in itself.

My students are Matthew, Lee, Samson, Ken and Ngametua.
I would also like to thank Silentwriter for giving me the idea Rythem And Poetry as a heading for my rap thank you sir.

Is it possible that the emptiness is alright
that the darkness that we fear the most
holds the most light
that the days we count hold no weight
that the relationships we share are fake
that the love we give is endless
that the smiles we show are a reflex of conditioning
that the lives we lead are reflecting nothing
that what we live for is meaningless
that what we seek may be worth nothing in the end
that who we depend on the most are as brittle as castles made of sand
what is there to expect
we make it what we make it
we create what we create
we do what we do
with or without others
we carry on
you got to
you got to fill the gaps with some kind of meaning
you got to drown the grieving
you got to carry on
when things change
it is just a reflection of how uncertain everything is
stop worrying
we cannot predict the future
just hope for the best