Monday, February 21, 2011

"License for Poetry" by Timothy Goldman

Timothy Goldman was one of several open-mic participants at the January 24 reading at Duff's.

The next reading at Duff's, 392 North Euclid, will be Monday, February 28, with featured readers Catherine Rankovic, Bob Reuter, and Steve Schroeder. Musical guest will be William Kyle. Advance sign-up for the open-mic following the featured readers is encouraged. Doors open at 7:30; cover is $3.00.

License for Poetry

Obtaining that license, man would it be priceless, or would there be a dummies guide to obtain that niceness? What if the venue said 5 dollars and your license, please?

Would the license for poetry would require 1,500 hours like barber had, or 15,000 hours in any writers lab. Would people duck out early cause it’s too tall of a task to grab, or would there be a great evolutionary, would she be a sight, very dark and scary, or does she reside in Africa or lives by way of pages of a dictionary.

Would she be posted at the secretary of state, with people in line waitin’, spitting verses hoping that she could relate. How would she turn you down? Or give you the crown, or would she take bribes, in lieu of seeing you frown?

Just writing the most beautiful words, but no one cared to listen, tighten your cadence up, till then, you got no business spittin’, loose leaf poetry, a piece of me was broken when she had the nerve to say NO 2 me. Had the nerve, as if, she knew me; mumbling' he ain’t deep, as if, she had the talent to see through me. I formed a strong bond, just me, my passion and my loose leaf. Don’t be quick to call your self poet, until further notice just use the term loosely.

What would be required to show and prove, what would be the rules? Would it be cool to color outside the lines, or be subjected to fines in your piece didn’t rhyme. The punishment doesn’t fit the crime for sayin’ something that you had on your mind. Mind over matter, a concept that would be instantly obsolete, an overall regulation of poetry, taints everything that we hold so deep.

Or would she kindly turn her back, while SMH’n on Facebook that you are not a poet. Imagine the shame on the game, and would the poets cry?

Man what if the poets did cry, all they wanted was a shot to say something hot, or touch a life or two. Instead they get disgusted, feeling bad, keeping up with these new laws, staying true to the art is now something they felt that they had to choose, quite can’t reach that level that they felt they had to prove.

If pieces don't touch and reach gold and touch souls, could you be sited for malpractice, and get sued for impersonating a poet. Poetry is something that I have to do, its hard for people to open up and share their views. That’s good there is not a fine for doing you, the only requirement is passion and the willingness to spit the truth. No Clark Kent searching for telephone booths, if pleasing everyone is your Kryptonite, the biggest critic to your poetry should be you!

Obtaining that license, no dummies guide is necessary, if it’s in your heart then licensing is just a formality. Being dope is provided through your passion to narrate this harsh reality. Gradually taking steps to make sure you eyes, lips and soul, are as one to have a impact to touch the masses. Spittin’ to fit in their circle is impossible, when that circle doesn’t even carry my size. But today and every other, I write for self, our words are powerful beyond anything mortal. I extend to any potential passenger a ride, to sum up all my possibilities, and take a lyrical trip just to get to know me!

-- Timothy Goldman

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