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Entries in poetry (2)


Music to My Ears

It’s within the domain of those that are older, I think, to shake their head at the young.  To cluck tongues at their inexperience, their lack of wisdom, and their complete disregard for good taste and decorum.

I am young, make no mistake.  Nevertheless, as my years increase, I catch myself clucking and sighing at those that are younger more and more.

Just the other day, for example, I was driving in my car all alone, listening to the radio at a volume too loud to be considered remotely appropriate and only as a mother who stays at home full time can do when she feels the absolute freedom to drive very fast and curse very loudly at idiot drivers.

I felt free.  I felt young.  And then, I heard it.

Mum mum mum mah
Mum mum mum mah

I wanna hold em' like they do in Texas Plays
Fold em' let em' hit me raise it baby stay with me (I love it)
Luck and intuition play the cards with Spades to start
And after he's been hooked I'll play the one that's on his heart

(Poker Face, Lady Gaga)

Are you kidding me?  These are lyrics.  I clucked my tongue.  I shook my head.  Kids today.

I actually thought that.  Kids today.

Obviously, for that brief moment I forgot that there was a time when I actually paid real American dollars for a cassette in which a young white suburban kid calling himself "Vanilla Ice" boasted about the false street cred he possessed while rollin’ in his 5.0.

Oh, hypocrisy, thou art a bitter pill.

The truth is that it’s the bane of each new generation to have to endure the narrow judgment of the preceding generations when it comes to music.  In my day, the older ones say, music was better.  It meant something.  Nowadays, they say, it’s all just... well, crap.

Actually, it’s not.  Music, specifically popular music, has always been the poetry of the young.  The fact that the previous generations refuse to understand or cannot understand it speaks more about the ebbing of the poetry within us as we age than it does of the taste of those that are younger.

Additionally, it seems to me that there’s an unwritten rule that if something sells and if it is popular, that it can’t be real, true or poetic.  That is just... well, crap.

For centuries, poetry has been a distraction.

For those that could not read, they would sit and listen to recitation.  For those who could, they would sit in a comfortable chair and pore over the words of someone who was not quite great at the time, but was destined to be someday.

Us modern humans, we have a plethora of distractions.  Glowing boxes recite their version of the truth, comfortable chairs face those boxes and we find comfort and escape from the perils of goods acquisition in those hours spent.  Yet, we still need our poetry.  Because, inside each of us, there is a poet.

Sometimes, it’s a bad poet with not very good taste.  But, a poet nonetheless.

Pop music is the modern human’s poetry.  Delivered to us on the radio or via an mp3 player, it communicates the simple truths that we already know and take for granted in clever and refreshing ways.  It takes us back to a simpler time or moves us forward to a more hopeful future.  Or it simply distracts us long enough to help us realize that whatever we needed distracting from in the first place may not be so bad after all.

I remember my poetry and the sighs of the older generation that would punctuate each meaningful and wonderfully deep stanza of it.

Do you remember when we used to dance
And incidence arose from circumstance
One thing lead to another we were young
And we would scream together songs unsung

The cities a flood
And our love turns to rust
We're beaten and blown by the wind
Trampled into dust

All the vampires walkin' through the valley
Move west down Ventura Boulevard
And all the bad boys are standing in the shadows
All the good girls are home with broken hearts


With that in mind, it becomes a little easier for me to ease up on the likes of Lady Gaga and those crazy kids who are jamming to it.

Do people even say jamming anymore?

P.S. If you're into deep and meaningful discussions about pop music, you really need to stop by my friend Shane's Blog. I've been reading it for a while and enjoy it quite a bit.  It sort of inspired this post.

P.P.S. Major props to the folks at home who can guess the wielders of the mighty pens who penned these phrases I offered in this post.  Or at least the guys that sang them.

I'm sick and tired.

No, really.  I'm sick.  And I'm tired.


So, this will be a lazy post in which I link to some of the cool stuff in my reader that you might enjoy or that revolves specifically around me.



  • I was on Karl's show this past Thursday.  I was fabulous and awesome.  The way I talked about my brother (the doctor), $30 shaving cream and Harry Potter was absolutely riveting.  If you didn't get a chance to hear it, you can still download it.  I'm Episode 15.  Oh, and come to think of it maybe it's best to ignore how much I talk about Harry Potter.  That was pretty dorky in retrospect.

  • Adnan read a poem on his blog this week.  You can read it here.  It'll take you thirty seconds.  Just go.  It's really good.  I think so, anyway.

  • B.E. Earl has a trivia thing going on over at his blog.  If you look over in the upper far right of his blog, you'll see something like "Bug Eyed Trivia Challenge."  Click there and play.  I would link to it, but it seems as though it's "private."  I always suspected he was something of an elitest.  Anyway, I'm really tired of being in last place all the time.  Maybe one of you will take the fall and purposely miss a bunch of questions to boost my self esteem.

  • Slyde just found out Kanye West thinks that George Bush hates black people.  And he seems really upset.  Still, I never actually saw that for myself, so I'm glad he posted it.  The look on Mike Meyers face is priceless, and I've really been looking for good reasons to shame my husband for downloading Kanye onto our iTunes account.  The best part of the post, though, is in the comment section when Slyde and Earl rib each other about said post.  Feels like dinner with my parents.

  • Britt posted a really nice photo of me on Miss Britt in Pictures.  There aren't nearly enough comments about how gorgeous it is.  Feel free to contribute.

  • Last Sunday, I got snacked on at Dawg's place.  I want to thank the Academy...oh, wait, this is waaay better than getting one of those.  My favorite part of this post was surprisingly NOT the part where he talks about me, but where he explains the rules of the award.  And how if you e-mail him or ask him to feature you... oh, just go read it.  (Eye roll). Oh, fine, please.

And this concludes this edition of.. this specific post.

Did I mention I'm sick?

(Cough, cough).

And tired?