Yeah, I said, accessorary...
—from Tempo, performed by Lizzo and Missy Elliott
Wouldn’t it be nice to have no rules?
To do whatever you want with language?
Well, folks, I say call yourself a poet (as
I do) and freedom is yours! You, too, can
relish in freedom every time you put pen
to paper. Today, for me, it is purple neon,
and that is for real, too. But yours can be
any color or just about any medium your
heart desires. Even virtual, kids. So
kudos to Lizzo and to the Queen.
As I’ve said before, and many
a time, rap is where it’s at (poetry,
freedom and imagination that is), and
as one who fancies himself a rapper
on paper (as opposed, I suppose, as
a wrapper of paper), each day these
days (and especially these days) I
understand anew what freedom
means to me, and might even
mean to you, be it presently or in
some soon or distant future. I used
to say that I was only the reporter,
that I only presented the news, but
now I prefer to say (or believe)
that I offer an alternative, if for
no other reason than the fact
that the daily bombardment of
events transpiring in this world
often come at us as if in search
of a coronary implosion. So,
as for the matter of breaking
a few rules, whether they be
literary or literal, it does supply
an alternative of some sort to
this kind of 21st century flipping
through the channels around
(only not just at eight in the morn-
ing and six and ten in the evening
and night), among the trio of fam-
iliar (and even familial) news-
heads. No, in truth, this act
is one that gives me a great
amount of joy and at least a
nice enough recuperation from
the normally incessant bar-
rage of baloney that we are
fed at all hours of the day
and night. Alas, reality,
however, is always here.
I like to think I am an
honest guy (perhaps
overly so); and in
any case I am fairly
straight up and try
my best to be overtly
clear. That has been
my rather unflinching
rule of thumb for, well,
years. But, my dears,
to just steer clear for a
smidge of time, to take
a metaphorical (or real)
paintbrush— and, in ess-
ence—make what-
ever creative advantage
you can concoct over that
what is. So that it may rule
for just a moment over
whatever happens to be
the often dreary actual
and factual events trans-
piring near and far that
might be causing at
least a headache if not
nausea and uncontrol-
lable spasms of deep
muscles, etc. I say
attempt to bring your-
self up by knocking
that down and, instead,
create something
of (and on) your own.
It very well may not
only bring you just a bit
of help, at least with-
stand a dozen or so en-
suing actual and factual
calamities. Not that I
am suggesting that we
all go off the deep end
together. After all, I
am only here to report,
and that is what I shall
continue to do until I
succumb to the battle
of truth’s bitter pill.
No need to quote me on
that. It is just a suggestion.
Now, do carry on, and thank
you for being my momentary
ambulance and possibly my
unmitigated recuperation.
