The exercise:
A sleepy and tired Def Poetry Jam Friday would like you to have a look at Lamont Carey's I Can't Read.
Mine:
A sad story put to poetry is somehow even more poignant.
A passionate plea for better schooling for kids that need it most that seems to be falling on deaf ears.
A performance that makes you shut up and listen.
That's what that was.
Here's some more Lamont Carey goodness for you - this one can be difficult to watch at times, but that just means it's worth watching.
2 comments:
Wow, that is quite a performance there, and quite telling too. Excellent choice!
What's got you so tired and sleepy then, Marc?
Now, let's see what we can do with this...
I can't read:
Outside, the mountains grow,
The rivers rushes by in a hurry of its own,
I sit indoors at an aged table,
And write symbols that form a koan.
Blossom falls from a single stem,
And I draw my symbols over again.
The wind brings scents of Old Cathay,
The monks murmur as they gather for their prayers,
I write the words with ink and quill
That allow them to express their earthly cares.
The ground shakes and my spirit quakes,
The ink spills and the quill breaks.
I am a writer who is blind to the world,
Though my eyes see I am limited by thought.
I cannot read, and my heart is heavy,
That I make no use of the books I'm brought.
The temple falls and I remain still,
With meaningless symbols and a broken quill.
Ah, was just a long week of work and not enough sleep. Doing much better today :)
Your poem totally blew me away - thank you for sharing that one with me.
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