The Drama of Poetry, or Poetry Comes to Life
If you know how to watch TV, then you know how to consume poetry.
Regarding television programs and their critiques and reviews (and my lack of experience with either ) it's rare that I am moved to write about something I saw on the screen. Rarer still when I've only seen a piece of something and am willing to swear by it and be a foot soldier in its army of dissemination.
April is poetry month ('yo). Guess what; I don't read much poetry. Heck I don't read much at all. Do I like to read? Sure. Am I good at it? Nope. Two reasons – I read slow; and I'm oh so busy, so working night and day, treading water to maintain a certain (but not all that enviable of a) lifestyle is a real occupation.
So anyway, poetry's on my mind and I secretly wish I was more of a poetry junkie. Hard to do when you don't often read it. Ha, but like a lot of drugs, there's other ways to take it, to get it into your bloodstream, right? "You got ears... and big ones at that, dope!"
'Kay, I mentioned poetry, and I guess it moves me something deep. Another thing that moves me, that wets my eyes, that makes me all crybaby is real stories of young folks grappling with... stuff. Life. Pain. Joy. Questions. Fear. Anger. And determination. Ask my wife; it hurts me to hear stories of young people in pain. Especially when they're struggling to use words of their own. I cry, plain and simple, seeing such wonders of creation, brilliant and tender flames, on the edge of darkness, flickering in the wind. (Strangely, infants and toddlers, with their limited vocabulary, don't push those same buttons. But yeah, I'll still rescue a stroller that's pulled anchor, heading for the intersection). Genuine hurt. But I also swoon to stories of redemption, to epiphanies and to seeing a man emerge from a boy or a woman from a girl.
Where'm I going? Last night, I happened across the last few minutes of HBO's Russel Simmons presents Brave New Voices. I was quickly captivated and was eating it up – emotions were piqued as teens from around the country were preparing for a national poetry slam. It's a reality show format to be sure, but god damn if these weren't real people – kids – on the edge of [personal] greatness. They were discovering what they were made of, before my eyes. Pain and joy, hand in hand, on display. And not just personal struggles were wrestled – there was a team aspect too. Again, I saw very little of it, but my attention level tore through the roof!! Narrated by Queen Latifah, it is (to me) the best of the reality genre, while distancing itself from virtually all of that gaggle. Like a lot (but not all) of HBO programs and documentaries, it's magnetic and authentic and transporting to the hilt.
I'm going to stop writing and encourage you to see this 30 minute teaser (there's also many shorter, performance-oriented snippets too on the site) for the program. Maybe you'll dismiss it as "too much Hip Hop" but let's face it – Hip Hop is a culture that's well established and is as fruitful as so many other cultures are. As a fifty one year old bald white male I'm no expert. But I know the Real Deal when I see it – and more importantly, this culture is a lubricant for expression. But this program isn't about Hip Hop. It's about the hopes and dreams of young brothers and sisters, black, white, asian, disabled, etc. it's about the guiding hands of caring adults who artfully inspire and who doggedly discipline these rough-hewn talents and help bring their beauty and power to the stage. Some you'll watch working through their demons. Some will be naturally happy. All transform, emerging from the crucible, as good dramatic characters should.
Check it.
April is poetry month ('yo). Guess what; I don't read much poetry. Heck I don't read much at all. Do I like to read? Sure. Am I good at it? Nope. Two reasons – I read slow; and I'm oh so busy, so working night and day, treading water to maintain a certain (but not all that enviable of a) lifestyle is a real occupation.
So anyway, poetry's on my mind and I secretly wish I was more of a poetry junkie. Hard to do when you don't often read it. Ha, but like a lot of drugs, there's other ways to take it, to get it into your bloodstream, right? "You got ears... and big ones at that, dope!"
'Kay, I mentioned poetry, and I guess it moves me something deep. Another thing that moves me, that wets my eyes, that makes me all crybaby is real stories of young folks grappling with... stuff. Life. Pain. Joy. Questions. Fear. Anger. And determination. Ask my wife; it hurts me to hear stories of young people in pain. Especially when they're struggling to use words of their own. I cry, plain and simple, seeing such wonders of creation, brilliant and tender flames, on the edge of darkness, flickering in the wind. (Strangely, infants and toddlers, with their limited vocabulary, don't push those same buttons. But yeah, I'll still rescue a stroller that's pulled anchor, heading for the intersection). Genuine hurt. But I also swoon to stories of redemption, to epiphanies and to seeing a man emerge from a boy or a woman from a girl.
Where'm I going? Last night, I happened across the last few minutes of HBO's Russel Simmons presents Brave New Voices. I was quickly captivated and was eating it up – emotions were piqued as teens from around the country were preparing for a national poetry slam. It's a reality show format to be sure, but god damn if these weren't real people – kids – on the edge of [personal] greatness. They were discovering what they were made of, before my eyes. Pain and joy, hand in hand, on display. And not just personal struggles were wrestled – there was a team aspect too. Again, I saw very little of it, but my attention level tore through the roof!! Narrated by Queen Latifah, it is (to me) the best of the reality genre, while distancing itself from virtually all of that gaggle. Like a lot (but not all) of HBO programs and documentaries, it's magnetic and authentic and transporting to the hilt.
I'm going to stop writing and encourage you to see this 30 minute teaser (there's also many shorter, performance-oriented snippets too on the site) for the program. Maybe you'll dismiss it as "too much Hip Hop" but let's face it – Hip Hop is a culture that's well established and is as fruitful as so many other cultures are. As a fifty one year old bald white male I'm no expert. But I know the Real Deal when I see it – and more importantly, this culture is a lubricant for expression. But this program isn't about Hip Hop. It's about the hopes and dreams of young brothers and sisters, black, white, asian, disabled, etc. it's about the guiding hands of caring adults who artfully inspire and who doggedly discipline these rough-hewn talents and help bring their beauty and power to the stage. Some you'll watch working through their demons. Some will be naturally happy. All transform, emerging from the crucible, as good dramatic characters should.
Check it.
:: bruce ::
