O' Warped Tour
On the hot blacktop we stand
In front of your various stages
The beautiful bands grace us with their angelic,
or if they prefer, demonic, voices.
O' Warped Tour
The people we meet
Girls in bikinis
Boys with bloody noses
Teenagers sitting on shoulders
O' Warped Tour
Mosh pits in the front
Singing in the back
To running circle pits
O' Warped Tour
With your merchants
And band autographs
With your cigarette smoke
And crazy teens
With your summer days
And loud music
We never want to leave
O' Warped Tour
We love you
I've climbed my world of trees today,
Before they had to go their way.
Before the sunlight met the sea,
Each tree I saw called out to me.
The green green tree with boughs of steel
Was pure and utterly ideal.
And I climbed quick as a whippoorwill
Springing from the window seal.
I climbed it grand, and oh, so high-
Through the thrush's song, and a robin's cry.
Through the deepest green that caught the day,
And promised to steal me away.
And I climbed a Monkey Puzzle Tree
As old as half a tree can be.
And it laughed to see me rustle through
Branches old and branches new.
I sailed through leaves as soft as lent,
Where spiral blossoms lept to play
Fragrant little games of chance
Within the haunt of their bouquet.
When the tall, tall, red tree called my name,
The one with pepper blossoms high,
And since no two trees are the same
I followed this one to the sky.
Up through branches bathed in light,
And down through tunnels in the bark,
I climbed this one with all my might,
Through the gray and winding dark.
Until I found my afternoon
Still waiting for me like the day.
I gave the tree a bit of heart
And watched it as it sailed away.
And there, beyond the Tin Tin Tree,
Where apple roses blossomed grand,
I noticed resting on its knee
The finest tree to ever stand.
A hundred, hundred trees in one,
Would be an awful lot of fun
Just to take a branch today
And rest the afternoon away,
But, Oh, I had to climb it high,
As high as God could make a sky.
I had to see the stars that He
With clever skill hid well from me.
I had to touch the setting sun,
Under my after-evening's shroud,
So up I went, through branches, bows,
Crossing leaves that laughed aloud.
Leaves that seemed to know my name,
That weaved their winding whispers through
That starlit flicker of a flame
I tried but could not look into.
I swung from branches tapped by age,
That creaked and echoed such a sigh-
The feathered leaves that rustled calm,
And I so briefly saw my sky.
There I paused and held my own,
My heart like thunder in my chest.
And I watched the quiet of the day
Paint ribbons in a robin's nest
And scatter shades of blue and red
Like waves upon my quiet sea,
And those threaded vines of dragons head
That weaved in through my Shadow Tree.
The morning bowed to afternoon,
As if to nature's sole command,
And shades and shadows drifted by
That secret place I chose to stand.
There were stars that climbed each peasant branch,
Stars that whispered to the breeze
That beat a hymn of ages past,
Known only to the trees.
Will-O'-The-Wisp's sang through the leaves
And danced about the sapwood sprig,
Darting here and pausing there,
Between each shadowed, lively twig,
Where EverNettles bright as dreams
Climbed deep inside the deadwood bark,
And called their young ones earnestly
To the safety of the dark.
And finally spent I caught my breath,
And peeled the spindly leaves away,
And waved my arms into the breeze
That sang the silvered songs of day.
There was a different world below,
A land of hills and river beds,
Of trees as tiny as the grass,
And roads smaller than the finest threads.
I reached out into the velvet sky
To run my fingers through the day,
Where the sandy silk of autumn brushed
The stardust noon had tossed my way.
And I breathed in all the wonder there -
All I could hear and feel and see,
Whatever wonder dared to share
From the branches of my Shadow Tree.
Copyright © 2013 Richard D. Remler
"There is always Music amongst the trees in
the Garden, but our hearts must be very quiet
to hear it."
I was raised by a
god loving, homeade
"I'll always be there for you"
type of family.
Some gorilla strength,
motivating, always looking
after me and the
"Don't question me"
types of brothers.
Some church going
smart and artistic
"Ask me anything"
type of pastors.
Some Jazz and Rock music
to calm me down and freestyle
dancing, the funny dude
doesn't give a crap
about what people think"
type of guy.
bouncing off of walls
not caring that I'm big
saying nice things
being called a charmer
The "I can't hate. But
I can love"
type of friend
In a discriminating
racial saying world
who won't listen to you
or see what's underneath,
I stand and shout
"I'm better than you"
I was raised like a gentleman
The sound of music so eases.
My ears confirm, ado is sound, so ~ ego of men.
Fume zealous demure.
Simple chatter without matter ~ now
just filtered tar,
An obligatory pattern I now vase.
Of being calm in ear.
Covert royal urchin speared in spirit a host.
In grace gift it revealed.
Liver torn sanity.
Comedy made tragedy, now you see.
I smile mosaic in calamity
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
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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.
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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
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.
Is Rap Poetry or not Poetry
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.
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.
Wishing Happy Birthday
To the past
It's all unfolding so unseemly and strange like reality itself imploded and was then folded and compressed like an origami universe with no beginning we can discern and we toss out all the thoughts that come first questioning and second guessing ourselves until we're simpering suffering simian simpletons acting out our lives in mock parody of what have might have been and then were thinking so much about the past that we bought a time share there to begin but we loved it so much we just had to move on in with everything ever hidden every single skeleton that we regret so much we can't bear to look at the truth about what we should do should have done differently and you see I know you miss me and you are supposed to be here right next to me sipping coffee and kicking my ass for being too promiscuous and drinking too much and wasting my finances and then we'd both laugh and I'd call you an asshole but I love you you're my brother and there's no one like you in the whole damn world and the we'd look at girls and talk about music and bullshit politicians and how to work on guns and ammunition and you knew so much about everything you were a walking store of knowledge and I miss that too cause there is never any absolutely a replacement for you and now that your gone and after everything that happened it's hard to give a damn in a world without you.
-Azrael Always James
© Copyright 2013
Sit back, relax, these cravings make this couch feel like rehab
out of reach of my stash, feel like I'm crashin' but I already crashed
been here since work an' I can't feel my feet, crap!
Sit up, and remember everything that you tried to keep from thinkin' of
your account, the amount, dropping like doves
in these times of war, no heroes just whores, nerdin' out on the game of life
trying step it up on the score boards, tryin' ta live like lords in this world
that has no law, why not be an outlaw, tough cuffed, straight jaw
dealin' out pain like a war god, Kratos, dime bags is small tomatos
when you could push yayo, one call to my man and I could get a crateful.
Damned if I ain't a salesman, slanging nuns chewy doobies on the side, call me satan
and I'm the king of this world, it's hell, try escapin', I could have it
in the palm a' my hand if I made a move but then I gotta choose, play my luck
trust my fucking gut to keep from getting cut, like it's my only homie but he only knows
me cause I was pushing dro with the stonies.
I don't want a knife in my back, a run in with the feds or getting popped by the caps
tryin' ta dodge traps laid by cats that is jealous of my stacks,
I want a paradise where we all make racks, blast our music, blaze it fat, and all rap
sleep with both eyes closed, no need to watch our back,
too bad we were born in a world ruled by cash,
ain't never gonna have a globe like that...
Rap (I have no idea how to show what words I emphasize and how I say them)
Influenced, once again, by Andre Nickatina
take your fingers and one by one
trail them down my back
so that I can catalogue the feeling later on.
january 6: moving south with a speed of
one vertebrae per half minute;
progress is slow,
final destination is not in sight,
but outlook is still surprisingly hopeful.
you are allowed to map my body
with your mouth so that one day
I can write out the experience.
february 17: found that three teeth marks down my neck
there is a breach in the seemingly solid fortress;
careful, you will find an opening point
of shivers and gasps.
better yet if you can
keep me up so long at night
that there is no time to write these things,
let me instead journal them on my nerve endings.
march 30: my skin is music
that only you have the ears to hear,
and you think it’s a beautiful sound.
never let this be written:
april 1: it’s not a joke, you told me.
you have new bodies to find and explore;
I guess I’m the fool here.
Do you hear the sounds of music playing?
The tone and feel that keeps you swaying.
The recurring beat, the tapping feet,
The strings lusty, and the keys sweet.
Each style diverse in feeling and spirit,
Each sound distinct if you can hear it.
Yet they are all beautiful in unique ways
And may seem to place you in a daze.
A classical piece full of beauty and grace,
Violins, cellos, percussion, and bass,
An orchestra full of musicians and skill,
The audience moved yet sitting quite still.
The loud, and crazy, and pounding rock concert
Where all energy saved is brought to exert.
Guitar distortion and drums with power,
A crowd head-banging, hour after hour.
Rappers who speed like an antique auctioneer
Bring out the beats and rap with no fear.
Dance circles and moves are sure to form,
If hip-hop starts, the dancers swarm.
A small jazz band with smooth rhythm and time
Play the sounds of old and make us feel prime.
The trumpets, the snaps, the cool suede shoes,
All sights and sounds of the old-time blues.
Music holds joy and moves the soul,
Music is collective and is one and whole.
Though conflicting styles and motives may be,
Music was made for you and for me.
My dear, it rained last night
And I remember
The alleviated rise into
Lush sobs and lavish emotions
The way your dilatation relieves
Every worry and anxiety
But sometimes when we speak
A violent lie radiates
And last night you were naught
But an alienated virile sot
A view unholy I omit
I remember the tin roses on the tiles
Sometimes you hum
Your hands delicately miming secret memos
And I can see it in your eyes
Irises shining like teal devils
And the music carries you
White with adrenaline, pupils likes violists
Headwaiters lie, strumming tin violins
Their alienated visions wilted with passion
I see the way she cleverly conceals
Lies as vows to you
A veil called "us" she puts on "me"
And I call for mutiny
But youth is vim, vim is now, and now is lies
Every hug from you is just a violet whim
In noisy rooms
My vision is misty
My aura dies little,
Oh if only you could realize your reign
You’re the master, the ringleader
But you’re lazy; you work without zeal, you’re idle and lazy
Eyes glazed, agile hands getting greedier
Have you ever seen
A dearer lion?
He roared, the lonesome rider
Alone, an alien.
Well sometimes you lie
And I dare to become
An oral denier
My radar detects one lie,
You become red
Redder than a bloody lion's ear
Adieu, you say, with a gently undefined lilt
My tears speak more reality than your words