"lamar" poems
Today I decided to go to my crib.
I then invited my homies to bid
that Lamar is goin to bring his kid.
So while I'll be chillin here popin some lids,
I noticed none of my homies have come to my crib,
not even Lamar and his kid.
So I tried actin all cool,
until I saw a small red pool.
I soon found myself a fool
by following that pool.
I found two brothers who were smothered in red.
One was dead,
and conceived a decapitated head.
It was Lamar who was stained red.
The otha brotha seemed to be a kid.
I said, "Why would you do somethin like this."
He said, "you will never find the otha bodies I hid."
I soon found my homies did make it to my crib,
Every single one of them were hung by the head.
They were all there except for Lamar's kid.
Oct 31, 2014
Oct 31, 2014 at 1:49 AM UTC
A Lamar Original
Honey, I know that times are hard
And the moments like these are tough,
So let me reassure why we shouldn’t be apart,
And allow our future be dictated by love.
Baby, every night before I sleep
On bent knees to God I pray
For the hearts we have to not leak,
Because he has brought all this way.
We can succeed if we give this a chance;
I can see us growing old and grey,
Looking back on this very day;
We made it beyond our own recession romance!
Honey, I know that at times you feel alone,
And the world can be such a crazy place,
But that doesn’t mean you have be on your own,
I just hate to see the stress on your face.
Baby, everyday after I wake
With closed eyes to God I pray
For the hearts we have to not break,
Because if it’s his will, together we’ll stay.
We can ascend if we give this a chance;
I can see us with laughs and smiles,
After all the tribulations and trials;
We overcame our own recession romance!
Even if we have little money, little work,
All I need is you, honey, for what it’s worth...
Sep 4, 2012
Sep 4, 2012 at 11:05 AM UTC
Priti Patel's quote on EU migration - whatever it was...
list of common surnames: cropper, cross, crouch,
dabney, dalton, daniels, eads, easton, eccleston,
fairclough, farnham, fay, gardner, garey, garfield,
haight, hanes, hailey, ibbott, irvin, isaacson,
jack, jackson, jacobs, kay, keen, kelsey,
lacey, lacy, lamar, macey, mann, marchand,
neal, nelson, neville... sure pati japati patel -
i'll be an albino in Gujarat
if your play the sitar in a sari;
but your name sounds a bit migrant
revealing, what a weird 'back of the bus'
you seem to stand on -
you want the Mongolians resurrected?
i swear we were being ousted in line
of what Queen Sheba said to Solomon:
'olive skinned throughout the geography
and the unwelcome green men on
sponged-knickers creaming for an ******
a french dessert...'
yes pretty prior, you found home on a
continent when half of the european nations
didn't practice colonial antics -
i guess it's easier to pick on them.
but with a Patel surname you sound british
already, the great experiment worked
the anaesthetic of former colonialism
numbed via recreational Ketamine use
really numbed the skull and jaw mandibles -
i hate, i hate being conscripted into
post-colonial affairs of "why it all failed"
what a waste of the urban hubs of
Manchester or Liverpool -
where once artistic expression thrived -
i hate these post-colonial societies,
it's as if they were castrated en masse,
and they're wondering why no one has a permanent
suntan in scandinavia - maybe the raw herring diet -
cinnamon up your *** magician's trick with
space between fudge of digestion, disappearing trick
but then the cough that blinds you sweetly -
i guess post-colonial nationalism wanted to
listen to non-colonial nationalism -
a former migrant like pretty plated smell
olive skinned exploited inversion of angers
but dunked a footstep into a trip-up
with non-colonial nations -
a bit like the greek bail-out - pretty patel
is a name least likely associated with migration;
you teasing the beast out?
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 9:33 PM UTC
A Lamar Original
I owe an apology to you
Not just any apology, but one from the heart;
Sincere and so very true,
That I was nothing without you taking part,
Part in my life, part in my world;
You are more than a woman, my lady, my girl;
You mean more now to me than life itself;
Your voice seizes in my soul like a web;
As it reverberates in my mind,
How could I leave that behind?
An entire world that I longed to see,
A complete woman that belong to me;
Baby, I saw losing you hurt me worse,
Because my world revolves you, Miss Universe.
I owe you an explanation or so,
Not only one for you, but for each lady,
Who have sacrificed their hearts and souls,
As you devoted your all to men so shady,
So shady your feelings, to your essence,
I took for granted the value of your presence;
What a fool to think that I had it all, boo,
But I realize now that my all is you;
As it echoes in my heart
How could we truly part?
An entire world that I longed to see,
A complete woman that belong to me;
Baby, I saw losing you hurt me worse,
Because my world revolves you, Miss Universe.
Sep 4, 2012
Sep 4, 2012 at 11:00 AM UTC
Sometimes we like to do something for the story
we’ll tell afterwards. Buy a ’58 Pontiac, climb
a mountain in the dark. Lamar tells ***** jokes
with class, knows how to wait awhile, bend
a syllable and savor the laughter.
Absurd work, building a fence miles long
waste of steel and strong straight lodgepole pine
but even I don’t opine against it anymore. We’re
the government's children, fence is play and
livelihood also, but something cheerful as sunshine
for all the death it costs. There is so much life
a little death doesn’t matter. We stretch our muscles
the men feel like men, the women feel good too.
We stand around, watch a young rabbit one morning.
Aug 17, 2022
Aug 17, 2022 at 6:49 AM UTC
Poignant prose chucked out and recycled by morning.
Turned out trick repeated til boring.
The local band just started touring.
Sonnet's blasted until the ladies are 'whooring'.
...
Roxy Music dropped David Byrne.
For Ellie Goulding and a remix of burn.
Robert Johnson's been reworked.
Ratatat rap as interest is perked.
Dylan picked up the silent game.
Making ambient noises which all sound the same.
The Rolling Stones joined the church.
After buying some of Hoosier's merch.
Nicki Minaj claps her ****
Laying down a tribute for Terry Fox's stump.
Benefit concert soon to be run.
By the played out Glee Club composing Fun.
Beach Boys dragged in with the tide.
...And Stars Collide.
NOFX has gone clean
Fat Mike's gone and become a dean.
Tom Waits stomps out to Kendrick Lamar.
Hacking up bits of blunt induced tar.
Bumping out in Steve Ellison's car.
To Captain Murphy's karaoke bootlegged from a bar.
...
Less than 10 good tapes a year
Even fewer if referring to those others actually hear.
Jack White's gone third eye blind
Getting over run by his drug free mind.
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 2:39 PM UTC
I quickly pulled over on a dusty berm
like there was a local fruit stand there,
or someone selling tacos out of the back of their truck.
It was a Lamar, Colorado sunset.
Atomic Tangerine to Tea Rose to Vermilion.
Colors that spiked the emptiness in my soul.
Its voices praising the joining of Earth and Sky.
The ghosts of 10,000,000 Mother Earth Souls chanting in the evening wind.
Ancient drum circles in my head,
as the, even more ancient, Father Sun sets.
What were they trying to tell me, these chants?
It is as if they spoke of loneliness that had yet to come.
Inevitable loneliness that would engulf my every sense,
rearrange my life.
But even if I had the ears to hear their prophecy,
I couldn't change the events Mother Earth and Father Sun
had already set into motion.
I wept as the Sun melted out of sight,
Not many Tennessee sunsets later
she left, and was out of my life,
never to return.
Feb 2, 2013
Feb 2, 2013 at 2:08 AM UTC
A bitter fuck-fest of lollapalooza.
Burn(ing) me, man. but don't taze me, bro.
If I got high on legalized substances, am I still escaping?
Metaphoric endorphin rushing as patio furniture sits silently,
slowly choking as I fill it with my own ***
I haven't written in so long, because I lack some passion.
I haven't written verbal joust in the form of bitter tongue because I felt it lacked restraint.
I ****** with a straight jacket; it felt great.
Perpetual virginity, a fool's errand running.
I have my V-card still; kind of... it's stunning.
I left a can of gasoline at an alien's house.
I came back and fire had engulfed what was left of my sorrows.
"I thirst," said He, the savior of the world.
Let's all ignore the singing signs of everything, boys... girls...
I have not a word to say in recompense for exploitation of your idiotic murmurings.
Well done, my good and faithful burdenings.
I can't speak to what hasn't yet been said,
but I can sure as hell guestimate, that we'd probably all be dead.
This **** ain't free.
Thank you, Kendrick Lamar, for reminding me.
This is me unfettered.
This is me unchained.
Give me a pen and some paper:
this **** will get strange.
I am Fred Astaire with a **** so fine, you'd think it's aged wine the way it twirls and floats.
Breaking up is ****** now put this poem down your throat.
Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 4:16 PM UTC
(Inspired by Kendrick Lamar – humble )
Whacked or weepiness?
Sing if you know this,
Well~ yuh, yuh.
Hey, I recall when every months with zero-balance-curse,
Therefore I lived my life with what I fit, but today I’m so ******
When everyone gets what their want; In fact, I never wish,
I choose drink mix while you choose Crème de cassis to rid live’s blemish,
"Son, the richest man never get outta debt hub,
Duh, compare to you with just one luckless credit card?"
So let’s be rich with heart and do something bigger than Tesla,
Do read on my blog, then write it down or by heart at least,
Zero-to-the-hero, hero-to-the-pro punk,
a person who used to be dumb, dumped in the **** junk,
now 6 figures in the bank, I'm still like yesterday’s punk,
If you got this in the bank, promise to be like an old punk,
my life’s better than my virile,
my future promise me how I rolled,
Hey Mount. E, wait for me to reach your highest spot,
but I’m just play cool to it, cuz you know
Beast’s humble,
Sweet lown,
Be hierodule,
throw your crown.
Who talk money over passion won't be richman,
The dream you ever sketched, belongs to trash can,
The dream you never twig, just a goodnight,
Just do for what you love for your loved wife,
Just what you said you do it to get a better job,
Say something to me you'll be iron man like louis cyr or,
Say something like you are immune from all snide remarks,
Everyday you and I should celebrate the 'go for broke day',
I'll 'Die trying till get there',
Pave the way for success stair,
everything's gonna be okay,
God not just hear from your prayer,
He bestow for what you care,
So stay calm and feel the air,
Dont called it work - called it play,
And say "Never say ne'er",
Hardwork means modest, stay low profile, and rich heart way,
Mamma said dream big, protect it from apart, stay,
Be like the strongest humblest person in the world, OK?
I'm the strongest orphan after all, boom! beast's humble, --
-- Sweet Lown,
Snob's crumble,
Don't drown.
Jan 22, 2018
Jan 22, 2018 at 9:58 AM UTC
A Lamar Original
Instead of being the Americans
That none chose to remember;
Let us become the America
That fondly glows with splendor.
No longer will we attack an America
That has the smidge of craft,
If we must attract the Americans
Who have to bridge the gap.
Great opportunity does not come,
Because we inhabit America;
Great opportunity does so come,
Because America inhabits us.
America,
This is the land of the free,
And we must prosper as one,
If we wish to continue to be…
In America,
The land of the free.
Instead of bringing forth an America
That rejects all faces;
We will bring forth Americans
That respect all races.
No longer will we charter an America
That greeds all day with favor,
If we must harbor the Americans
That bleed all day from labor.
For it is not how we live in this country
That determines the fate of our lifetime,
But it is so how we live in this lifetime
Which determines the fate of our country.
America,
This is the land of the free
And we must prosper as one,
If we wish to continue to be…
In America,
The land of the free.
Sep 4, 2012
Sep 4, 2012 at 10:57 AM UTC
Jenny was the girl in school that no one talked to;
she was addicted to cough drops.
And her piggy little eyes lit up as her bony fingers
reached into the bag again.
She'd roll the cherry lights in her mouth,
lips stained red and sticky.
Her fingers felt the way that toddler's did;
that clammy, grasping goo.
A hypochondriac to the last.
No, no one liked Jenny LaMar
But I
who fell in love.
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 12:22 PM UTC
Welcome to me too.
Thanks for coming in high-altitude, if you're really into them.
There are new-tutorials, and I'm not going to need one.
Why not do the news? I love plain and simple.
Free-market sloping losses will do this;
because of bipartisan politics.
Luyendyk news is crowded by Audi's and by partisan politics;
I don't like my partisan politics.
Star tutorials are tutorial-soon.
This is a new tutorial for my into being given to the jury
in tutorial.
People present their uh dreams,
and a jury room is like love;
a little atmosphere me in a circle,
meaning we are (he is) related to the moon .
I'm the serving the Newburgh tutorial right now
around this one:
The new green play I'm into.
This one’s just a little on the Brumbies
cuz glass needs it to learn.
I am the circus mom pursuing your doom;
a mistaken rampant around jug-glass John,
inputting the bar’s shiny leading to the bottom-thanked step.
Number one is singing your doom on.
Be an unloaded nerd, like a dump truck dumping dirt into our hearts
while holding the whole lamar,
and perfecting the bar starting with p.
Put on the range
near the whole ecosystem in a in a bubble.
Second thing you gotta do is earn it,
you do this, but we plan to our dirt up to nine innings.
love things American
like me
in the new godliness.
99 dramas trapped under so now I'm a real utah zombie,
and lines,
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 2:07 PM UTC
For seven days
We lived
But we were
Told that we
Could only rest
For three nights
Each could choose our
Own nights
For the first three
Days we enjoyed
this new life
Then Marie
Died
Another day
Thomas and Juliette
They died together
After finding love
Next day
Alex died
I'll miss him
Halfway between days
five and six
Three more died
They died
Screaming
For life
There's so few of us
Left
Just me
Lamar
Mira
And Jackson
At sunset on the sixth day
Mira tripped
And fell
Into the river
Lamar jumped in
To save her
We never saw them again
I am scared
Because I can't
bear to be awake
Any longer
If I don't rest
I will past out
That will be
My final night of rest
Tomorrow
I will die
I know it
But what of Jackson
He has rested
Only once
Will he live
Past our seventh day
The sun is rising
on my last day
of life
Jackson holds me
As the last of
The life
Leaves me
I'll see you tomorrow
he whispers
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 1:39 AM UTC
I'm not one at times to be easily loved, I'm also not one
you could quickly hate. I still appear afraid, even with a
brave face on. I could be romantic, but I might not have the
right words in person. I think a lot about *** but feel comfortable
on the thoughts of still being a ****** (sometimes)
I'm not always moved by the crowd, or like to follow trends.
I'm photogenic, mixed with social anxiety amongst the unfamiliar
faces around. I barely raise my voice; sadly won't always be so manly.
I value family, though mine is so divided. Their subtle rude
humour is a form of love. I have it too, so I hope you don't mind it.
My music taste is a wide tongue of different genres.
Artic monkeys, Twenty one pilots, Frank Ocean, Kendrick Lamar,
Hippie sabotage, Bach, Earth Wind & Fire, and one or two songs
by Rihanna. I prefer to listen on my own—in the sense of bluetooth
speakers filling my anxious anxiety. At least with earphones on, I feel free playing with full volume. And writing poems in great variety.
I'm learning to cope with long hugs, but just ease off from the
sides. It's a fight of being overly sensitive to touch; or me
liking those tingles at times. Or maybe I'm saving my sensitive
parts for a future wife. I try to swallow my pride, but it's like
a knife, cutting me from the inside. I've thought about suicide too
many times. Passions being only imaginative in my mind. A gift
with a curse behind, so unkind.
I'm unlike my father, only with his temper at better control.
They say my looks come from my mother; but my character
definitely is a mix of both.
I'm weird, humble, funny, emotional, girly (sometimes)
cautious, moody, caring, charismatic, shy, awkward, the worst
dancer (without a couple drinks in me) calm, wise, and still
finding out more about myself.
Yep! That's basically _me_. __(Messy Entirely)__
Jul 19, 2022
Jul 19, 2022 at 12:43 AM UTC
In the wise words of Kendrick Lamar
I love myself.
Who is it that I see high up on that shelf?
Oh, just myself.
I choose not to love another person yet,
Till I can love myself.
So as a result,
I abandon my search for love,
And I will let love search for me.
Cupid isn't as stupid
As we have been told.
So while my life is a dream in lucid
I will wait till I get old.
For the one to fill my heart,
And promise to never break it apart.
Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 8:28 PM UTC
Sometimes you need to lay back let the stress fade away
it's Christmas time anyway no need to make the skies seem grey
Instead be thankful for what you got
and say one good prayer for those that have not
So now I'm gonna just kick back and relax
put some Sade, Kendrick Lamar, Maybe even The Beatles on blast
inhale on the good and exhale all that bad
I've lived to see another day, that's enough reason to be glad
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 1:13 AM UTC
(Inspired by Kendrick Lamar)
Whacked or weepiness?
Sing if you know this,
Well~ yuh, yuh.
Hey, I recall when every months with zero-balance-curse,
Therefore I live my life with what I fit, but today I’m so ******
When everyone gets what their want; In fact, I never wish,
I choose drink mix while you choose Crème de cassis to rid live’s blemish,
Son, the richest man never get outta debt hub,
Duh, compare to you with just one luckless credit card?
So let’s be rich with heart and do something bigger than Tesla,
Do read on my blog, then write it down or by heart at least,
Zero-to-the-hero, hero-to-the-pro punk,
a person who used to be dumb, dumped in the **** junk,
now 6 figures in the bank, I still like yesterday’s punk,
If you got this in the bank, promise to be like an old punk,
my life’s better than my virile,
my future promise me how I rolled,
Hey Mount. E, wait for me to reach your highest spot,
but I’m just play cool to it, cuz you know
Beast’s humble,
Sweet lown,
Be hierodule,
throw your crown.
Jan 19, 2018
Jan 19, 2018 at 2:52 AM UTC
My dad and his friend driving out to the pasture to sit in the pickup truck and talk about what? How the cows are doing, the upcoming hunting season, growing quail, fishing, the state of the country.
I don't know what these men talked about but they spent hours together.
While they were out talking Eunice and Marie sat smoking in the living room, discussing stuff. I could sit and listen to them for hours, but don't remember what they talked about. Maybe Marie would get out one of her poems or show my Mama some of her ceramics or paintings.
We girls would dance together the bop to the latest 50's music or we would ride our horses through the pastures and at night we would play Scarin' with their brother-a hide and seek game in the dark.
We spent every weekend together, eating greens, fried cornbread and chicken. I always thought I was Marie's favorite because she was always so kind to me. She was a kind of Earth Mother, quite different from my own Mama. Sometimes Sonny, the boy, would get in trouble because we girls would tell on him for throwing corncobs at us. Then Marie would go after him with a skillet, a switch or a paddle, whatever was handy.
Lamar had been in WWII and had been too close to a grenade. He developed terrible skin cancers which left horrid scars on his face. When I was 15, he died and Marie started working in the Catholic School so the three kids could still attend.
Here we were the Baptists (us) and the Catholics (them) never realizing that our friendship in rural Mississippi was a bit unusual. Mama would lend her Bible to Marie because the Catholic church did not allow the people to read and interpret for themselves at that time.
When we were really young, the family lived in an old unpainted two-story house with Lamar's Dad-Cap'n-a strict old grumpy German who we tried to stay away from. We would come up from Louisiana when I was four and spend the night for the nine months we lived in Louisiana.
Saturday night baths were in a tub-four girls first, then Sonny last-he was a boy and the dirtiest. No running water and a two-seater outhouse. Those were the days...
Apr 24, 2017
Apr 24, 2017 at 9:11 AM UTC
We get told that Slavery was a lie
I’m crying on the inside
Because on the outside all you see is my complexion
But as Kendrick Lamar says, “Complexion don’t mean a thing.”
Learn from this
I’m not one to miss
There are so many like me
That get lost in the abyss
Of hatred
Of Racism
Of ignorance-of pride
I’m done getting tossed to the side
My feelings are relevant
They’re not fantasy
I just don’t understand why you can’t see-
Scratch that I do
Y’all don’t want to admit
That I’ve caught up to you
I know I’m the ****
You don’t want to hear the fact that you’re wrong
Ignoring a person’s struggles is making the white man strong
He wants this! He wants my pain
He feeds off my struggle, my cries for help are in vain
I try to ask for but get pushed aside
For the next black person to stand in line
Our feelings are legitimate
They’re like a covenant
Between what I want and what is now
Now we have black boys and girls slaughtered like cows
We don’t matter to this country
Our lives are dark matter
That’s why we chant “Black Lives Matter!”
Please just listen
I don’t know how much more I can take
I need someone to understand
That blacks are a dying race
Our culture’s being taken, assimilated
While millions of us are incarcerated-
Please listen!
I don’t know how much more I can take.
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 7:50 PM UTC
Hope you pull through Lamar
Looks like this time
You went too far
Your dad was an addict
And so are you
It's terrible what drugs can do
You seemed like a decent guy
But with all your money
You did buy
Apparently alot of crack *******
In a coma now
What a shame
Millions of dollars
People who cared for you
You wasted it all
Like humpty dumpty
You had a great fall
I hope you pull through
Only God can fix you
Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 8:03 AM UTC
Stressless, relaxed, vacated, now accept this invite,
Walk by faith and let's explore your spiritual side,
Take my hand as we go, we don't need to step behind,
You know, baby, finding you took a long very time.
What a beauty and it is my duty
To protect and provide for you,
Like no other man can ever do...
I am that man, I am your man,
I will be through thick and thin...
It's your faith, you can exercise it if you want to,
You may strengthen it if you need to,
Or we can pray if that's what you want to do.
Just let me show you love, if you still believe,
There is no need to be afraid and agree
That I can provide good celibate therapy,
Yes, baby, nothing like real genuine celibacy.
Baby, drama free is the only way to live,
All this love is waiting for a wife for me to give,
When I share my soul and body with that queen,
I guarantee life will be better than any dream.
Ha ha ha ha,
Doctor Lamar is here still for you,
Ready admit you to the Floor of Virtue...
There's no prayer than one in the candlelight,
You don't need to pray alone in this fight,
When temptation, baby, has you against rope,
I would just encourage you back to cope.
It's your faith, you can exercise it if you want to,
You may strengthen it if you need to,
Or we can pray if that's what you want to do.
Just let me show you love, if you still believe,
There is no need to be afraid and agree
That I can provide good celibate therapy,
Yes, baby, nothing like real genuine celibacy.
Girl, it's your faith,
We can talk this talk as long all night,
Girl, it's your faith,
Or we can walk the walk as we like...
It's your faith, you can exercise it if you want to,
You may strengthen it if you need to,
Or we can pray if that's what you want to do.
Just let me show you love, if you still believe,
There is no need to be afraid and agree
That I can provide good celibate therapy,
Yes, baby, nothing like real genuine celibacy.
Dec 14, 2017
Dec 14, 2017 at 9:47 PM UTC
I do not own rights to this instrumental. Shoutouts to Kendrick Lamar for being an inspiration!! For the official video and to hear the audio version. Please check it out!!!
https://www.instagram.com/tv/CLRxvNUlzLR/?igshid=1pa89sywo67mi
[Lyrics]
All of us feeling blue
Looking at the sky
Staying above the water!
Gotta Change your ways
Or get caught up karma!
This human body means nada!
Got no time for the drama!
Not another fall
I'll end it all!
How this prove
I am a real father?!
A kunna matatta...
No worries for
any of my days.
I was stuck in a phase!
Been losing myself to old ways.
Never trip on anything
a ***** gotta say.
Lyricism and worldplay
always been my forte.
Swear on Gaia, you ain't real
Y'all do this for play-play
Y'all gotta Listen
So we can
Run The World
Like Beyonce! (aye)
Y'all swear, ya'll ready
for the Truth!
Straight out the gate
Time to let the beast loose!
Most of y'all stay on the run
Making moves.
Isaiah a prayer
He'll restore-salvation
to our youth!
Pray to all gods his
vision come true!
Try him if want...
See what happens to you!
Feb 8, 2021
Feb 8, 2021 at 7:59 AM UTC
black kendrick lamar hoodie
white tall tee
creamy vest
batman sweater with a zipper on the side
grey northface jacket
different (styles)
expressed on a tuesday morning
living in a rainbow
it's good to be a little "rainbow"
Nov 4, 2017
Nov 4, 2017 at 10:00 PM UTC
Well they talk about the treatise,
They talk about the pigs from Lamar, they keep
Their furnace raw and kids on the move. Some wreak their havoc in swords, others burn their denim and gold. They've got their names in stone, and the sour-puss blues. Wrapped up in methodical and squared from an irregular obtuse. It helps sometimes to keep the furnace alive, the girl's red, raw, and juicy too. The night can keep the fury alive, but it pays to keep your sword sharpened too.
Dec 29, 2016
Dec 29, 2016 at 8:14 AM UTC
No matter how dire it gets,
no matter how despairing,
no matter how forlorn, how hopeless,
no matter how little reason there seems to be to go on,
Kendrick Lamar spat fire and spoke truth,
at least for a few years,
as did a few hundred other contemporaneous artists
who laid it down on the track.
Emily Dickinson
did not stop for death or thee,
but prolifically tackled issues
of universal import in her lapidary recluse's verse.
Chakaia Booker turned shredded tires into museum centerpieces,
hunted spirits, eluded the chimera of consumption,
forged reclaimed rubber into toughness,
a rough-hewn canvas for a displaced people.
You can have nothing going for you,
nothing substantial to look forward to,
nothing above to guide you,
nothing but averted eyes on the street and professional shame,
but still be transported away
by a few glorious minutes of song or poetry or sculpture.
When there's nothing else, there's always art.
No matter what, there's always art.
May 5, 2018
May 5, 2018 at 4:29 AM UTC