Guest poem sent in by David Wright
(Poem #1177) The Way I Am This song is for anyone f--k it. Just shut up and listen I sit back with this pack of Zig Zags and this bag of this weed it gives me the s--t needed to be the most meanest MC on this Earth and since birth I've been cursed with this curse to just curse and just blurt this berserk and bizarre s--t that works And it sells and it helps in itself to relieve all this tension dispensin’ these sentences Gettin’ this stress that's been eatin’ me recently off of this chest and I rest again peacefully… but at least have the decency in you to leave me alone, when you freaks see me out in the streets when I'm eatin’ or feedin’ my daughter to not come and speak to me I don't know you and no, I don't owe you a mo-therf--k-ing thing, I'm not Mr. N'Sync, I'm not what your friends think I'm not Mr. Friendly, I can be a prick if you tempt me my tank is on empty No patience is in me and if you offend me I'm liftin’ you 10 feet in the air I don't care who is there and who saw me destroy you Go call you a lawyer, file you a lawsuit I'll smile in the courtroom and buy you a wardrobe I'm tired of all you... I don't mean to be mean but that's all I can be is just me And I am, whatever you say I am If I wasn't, then why would I say I am? In the paper, the news everyday I am Radio won't even play my jam Cause I am, whatever you say I am If I wasn't, then why would I say I am? In the paper, the news everyday I am I don't know it's just the way I am Sometimes I just feel like my father, I hate to be bothered with all of this nonsense it's constant And, "Oh, it's his lyrical content - - the song 'Guilty Conscience' has gotten such rotten responses" And all of this controversy circles me and it seems like the media immediately points a finger at me So I point one back at 'em, but not the index or pinkie or the ring or the thumb, it's the one you put up when you don't give a f--k, when you won't just put up with the bulls--t they pull, cause they full of s--t too When a dude's getting’ bullied and shoots up his school and they blame it on Marilyn and the heroin - Where were the parents at? And look where it's at Middle America, now it's a tragedy Now it's so sad to see, an upper class ci-ty havin’ this happenin’ then attack Eminem cause I rap this way But I'm glad cause they feed me the fuel that I need for the fire to burn and it's burnin’ and I have returned. I'm so sick and tired of bein’ admired that I wish that I would just die or get fired and dropped from my label and stop with the fables I'm not gonna be able to top on "My Name is..." And pigeon-holed into some pop-py sensation to cop me rotation at rock'n'roll stations And I just do not got the patience to deal with these cocky caucasians who think I'm some wigger who just tries to be black cause I talk with an ac- cent, and grab on my balls, so they always keep askin’ the same f--kin’ questions What school did I go to, what hood I grew up in The why, the who what when, the where, and the how 'til I'm grabbin’ my hair and I'm tearin’ it out cause they drivin’ me crazy... I can't take it I'm racin’, I'm pacin’, I stand and I sit And I'm thankful for ev- ery fan that I get But I can't take a sh-t, in the bathroom without someone standin’ by it No I won't sign your autograph You can call me an ass---le I'm glad ‘cuz I am, whatever you say I am If I wasn't, then why would I say I am? In the paper, the news everyday I am Radio won't even play my jam Cause I am, whatever you say I am If I wasn't, then why would I say I am? In the paper, the news everyday I am I don't know it's just the way I am |
I’m one of an increasing number of older music fans who are listening to
Eminem and other rappers – and while I’m not out to proselytize for rap,
I don’t know many poetry people who are interested in his work, or in
other rappers – and least of all those old-school poetry fans who feel
in their heart of hearts that it isn’t really poetry if it doesn’t have
strong metrics or even rhyme. Little do they know we’re in a
renaissance of rhyme right now, and for millions of Americans, this is
poetry. And I really think he’s one of the best satirists out there
today, and that the rhyming and rhythmic skills of artists like Eminem,
Jay-Z, Nas and others is right up there with Chaucer. The audacity,
outrage, pain, absurdity, intelligence, irony and sheer guts of much of
Eminem’s stuff is impressive. It doesn't translate all that well to the
page, but for readers who'll never go near the music, I think it might
be worthwhile to have some idea what's going on, hence this submission.
I’m an old fan of Middle English lit, and I couldn’t help but be
struck by the similarity of this stuff to Skeltonics. (I’m not the
first person to draw this connection – see: John Skelton: The Godfather
of Rap http://searchenginez.com/skelton.html)
Take a look at this excerpt from Colyn Clout and you’ll see right
away what I mean – Skelton was going after Cardinal Wolsey.
From Colyn Clout (1519)
W H A T can it avail
To drive forth a snail,
Or to make a sale
Of an herring’s tail;
To rhyme or to rail,
To write or to indict,
Either for delight
Or else for despite;
Or books to compile
Of divers manner style,
Vice to revile
And sin to exile;
To teach or to preach,
As reason will reach?
Say this, and say that,
His head is so fat,
He wotteth never what
Nor whereof he speaketh;
He cryeth and he creaketh,
He pryeth and he peaketh,
He chides and he chatters,
He prates and he patters,
He clytters and he clatters,
He meddles and he smatters,
He glosses and he flatters;
Or if he speak plain,
Than he lacketh brain,
He is but a fool;
Let him go to school,
On a three footed stool
That he may down sit,
For he lacketh wit;
And if that he hit
The nail on the head,
It standeth in no stead;
The devil, they say, is dead,
The devil is dead.
It may well so be,
Or else they would se
Otherwise, and flee
From worldly vanity,
And foul covetousness,
And other wretchedness,
Fickle falseness,
Variableness,
With unstableness.
And if ye stand in doubt
Who brought this rhyme about,
My name is Colyn Cloute.
I purpose to shake out
All my conning bag,
Like a clerkly hag;
For though my rhyme be ragged,
Tattered and jagged,
Rudely rayne beaten,
Rusty and moth-eaten,
If ye take well therewith,
It hath in it some pith.
For, as far as I can se,
It is wrong with each degree:
For the temporality
Accuseth the spirituality;
The spiritual again
Doth grudge and complain
Upon the temporal men:
Thus each of other blother
The t’one against the t’other:
Alas, they make me shudder!
Lest you think that Skelton has the edge for being politically inclined,
here’s some more Eminem -
From Squaredance - (The Eminem Show)
Let your hair down to the track,
yeah kick on back (Boo!)
The Boogiemonster of rap,
yeah the man's back
with a plan to ambush
this Bush administration
Mush the Senate's face in,
push this generation
of kids to stand and fight
for the right to say somethin’
you might not like,
this white hot light
that I'm under, no wonder
I look so sunburnt
Oh no I won't leave no stone unturned
Oh no I won't leave, won't go nowhere
Do-si-do, oh-yo-ho, hello there
Oh yeah, don't think I won't go there
Go to Beirut and do a show there.
Yeah you laugh till your motherf--kin ass gets drafted
While you're at band camp thinkin’ the crap can't happen
'Til you f--k around, get an anthrax napkin
Inside a package wrapped in Saran Wrap wrappin’
Open the plastic and then you stand back gaspin’
F--kin assassins, hijackin’ Amtraks, crashin’
All this terror, America demands action
Next thing you know, you've got Uncle Sam's ass askin’
to join the Army or what you'll do for their Navy
You just a baby, getting’ recruited at eighteen
You're on a plane now, eatin’ their food and their baked beans
I'm twenty-eight, they gon’ take you 'fore they take me
Crazy insane, or insane crazy?
When I say Hussein, you say Shady
My views ain't changed,
still inhumane, wait
Arraigned two days late,
the date's today,
hang me!
And as someone who values our First Amendment freedoms, its hard not to
admire a guy who throws down a lyric like this to an audience a hundred
times larger than that of any pen-and-ink poet I can think of. Sam
Hamill and Amiri Baraka eat your hearts out...
From White America (The Eminem Show)
So to the parents of America
I am the derringer
aimed at little Erica
to attack her character
The ringleader of this circus of worthless pawns
Sent to lead the march right up to the steps of Congress and piss on the
lawns
of the White House - to burn the flag and replace it with a Parental
Advisory sticker
To spit liquor in the faces of this democracy of hypocrisy
F--k you Ms. Cheney!
F--k you Tipper Gore!
F--k you with the free-est of speech
this Divided States of Embarrassment will allow me to have-
F--k you!
-- Eminem
(from the Marshall Mathers LP)
David Wright
[Martin adds]
As David rightly predicted when he sent this in, I was in two minds
about running it. I admit to not being a fan of rap music (and, in
particular, not a fan of Eminem and his ilk, who seem to me to overdo
the use of expletives for a diminishingly-returned shock value), and was
somewhat worried about the potential offensiveness of the lyrics.
Still, David's commentary was interesting and thought provoking, and I
think what finally tipped the balance was the realisation that I would
have run the Skelton piece for sheer historical value, even though I
didn't care too much for it either.
Also, to be perfectly fair, rap was never intended to be standalone
verse - like many other song genres, it works much better with its
accompanying music, and tends to suffer when printed in isolation. In
particular, there is a certain apparent roughness to the verse rhythms
that in actuality is not so much rough as performance-oriented. Rap may
scan by sheer fiat in places, but it does so very convincingly. And,
more than any other form I've seen, it has raised assonance to the
status of a perfectly acceptable substitute for a true rhyme. The
assonance mixes freely with the rhyme, and the both work - no mean feat.
And finally, as David so rightly pointed out, for those of you who will
never listen to the music, it's nice to have at least a passing idea of
what's out there.
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