Throw A Few Phrases Together, Call Yourself A Poet

If the world of writing could be described as a conventional human body, blogging would probably be the armpits. Just like blogging, you have compete freedom when it comes to armpits, you can choose to shave, not shave, trim, use deodorant, use anti-perspirant or use nothing at all. Your decisions will either leave you smelling like a bed of roses, or reeking like the weird kid in High School, who everyone avoided but was nice to at the same time, for fear of him coming to the classroom one day and shooting off chunks of everyone with his Uncle's shotgun.

Why am I going off on a tangent? I don't really know. I've had a few stiff Jamesons, The Girlfriend is refusing to touch my feet, and now I'm feeling a little emotional.

What I really want to talk about today though, is how little regard I have for poets. Specifically, the ones that go up on stage during open mic nights and recite phrases which make absolutely no sense. You know the ones, they're usually these plump women who were either drug addicts or who were smacked around by their boyfriends. They now appear to have some sort of neo-feminist agenda, and may end of waffling vaguely about women's rights or the immense power a woman possesses.

It may sound something like the following:

Woman, strong, powerful mother;
Birth giver, life liver, soul receiver;
Powerful spirit and body;
Passion like a deep blue ocean;
Blue, true, new, you;
I am one with my feminist other.

Impressed? I literally came up with that in about 55 seconds. It's this type of pretentious waffle that really grates my cheese. People actually seem to make a living out of this, appearing on stage during cultural events, concerts and other live entertainment shows. It's even on our television screens now, there is a Sasol campaign currently flighting which consists of about 4 or 5 different adverts, all featuring these "poets" reciting their verses for about 15 seconds before the advert ends. What does it all mean?

F**k knows, but it's somehow connected to Sasol. Shame on you Sasol, what were you thinking?

It reminds me of that Golf advert last year, when the guy interrupts a group of hip hop freestylers, and begins rapping badly, throwing together any words that may rhyme, but he's respected anyway, because he drives a Golf and, as the payoff line goes, "street cred comes standard". These poets are just as bad as that guy, but they don't drive Golfs, so they can't pull it off.

Seriously, let's put a stop to this now, you're all just embarrassing yourselves.



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