Competition Smompatision
San Fransisco was calm and dry.
The room was small. Went I walked up there, the camera man shifted the lense towards my back, walking down the stairs. I was the first up.
I crashed, Was slow and loud. My scores were low. Not too low, but low enough. I realized that I wouldn't pass because..
A- I wasn't talking about race. "I'm white, but I ain't no creame puff." I wasn't explaining how people are mean to me about it, or how I know who I am and who my people are and that "I will be okay, Because I'm strong" Bullshit.
B- I wasn't moving my hands in a "ghetto" fashion. I wasn't expressing my poetry, or "raps" in movements. When I was speaking, I didn't "represent" or, "Bust caps in satans ass" therefore, I was considered, "distasteful."
C- I didn't speak fast. I didn't discuss politics, or poverty so fast that it SOUNDED like I had talent. I didn't recite it with the appropriate syllabol placements, in that "And, My life, Is, Crazy, With, The guns, And..The, Gangs"
D- I didn't take FOREVER to recite my poem. It wasn't real, it was hypothetical. It had nothing to do with anything in my life. It was bare, but not raw enough.
E- During my performance, none of the judges or audience members said "Whaattt.." Or, "Mhmmm Humm" And snapped their fingers. I didn't "touch" anyone. I was expressing emotion powerfully, but not in a way that made people understand my angst and woe.
There and then lies my defeat. I did not pass into the next rounds. I came out of the room, hot and tired. But, strangly, not upset. I realized my poetry wasn't very good, and that was an easy state to be in.
I was supposed to go to Pali tonight, but I had no ride.
Then I was supposed to sleep at Dust's, but she fell asleep.
THEN, I was supposed to say hi to Leise, but her Mom kind of pushed me away.
So now I'm home. I want to do something tomorrow.
<33 SCHOOOLLL...I miss Mahoney + Paul + Manda + Molly + + And....
The room was small. Went I walked up there, the camera man shifted the lense towards my back, walking down the stairs. I was the first up.
I crashed, Was slow and loud. My scores were low. Not too low, but low enough. I realized that I wouldn't pass because..
A- I wasn't talking about race. "I'm white, but I ain't no creame puff." I wasn't explaining how people are mean to me about it, or how I know who I am and who my people are and that "I will be okay, Because I'm strong" Bullshit.
B- I wasn't moving my hands in a "ghetto" fashion. I wasn't expressing my poetry, or "raps" in movements. When I was speaking, I didn't "represent" or, "Bust caps in satans ass" therefore, I was considered, "distasteful."
C- I didn't speak fast. I didn't discuss politics, or poverty so fast that it SOUNDED like I had talent. I didn't recite it with the appropriate syllabol placements, in that "And, My life, Is, Crazy, With, The guns, And..The, Gangs"
D- I didn't take FOREVER to recite my poem. It wasn't real, it was hypothetical. It had nothing to do with anything in my life. It was bare, but not raw enough.
E- During my performance, none of the judges or audience members said "Whaattt.." Or, "Mhmmm Humm" And snapped their fingers. I didn't "touch" anyone. I was expressing emotion powerfully, but not in a way that made people understand my angst and woe.
There and then lies my defeat. I did not pass into the next rounds. I came out of the room, hot and tired. But, strangly, not upset. I realized my poetry wasn't very good, and that was an easy state to be in.
I was supposed to go to Pali tonight, but I had no ride.
Then I was supposed to sleep at Dust's, but she fell asleep.
THEN, I was supposed to say hi to Leise, but her Mom kind of pushed me away.
So now I'm home. I want to do something tomorrow.
<33 SCHOOOLLL...I miss Mahoney + Paul + Manda + Molly + + And....