Poems from poetically inept cultures
I was having a chat to Si this evening and he mentioned DJ Shadow's remix of Keane's "We might as well be strangers" and how he wasn't particularly impressed, to paraphrase anyone could do it.
This reminded me of poems from other cultures and fond memories of GCSE English lessons but also poems from poetically inept cultures, an unpubublished work that tried to demonstrate this "anyone can do it" philosophy.
I rite poem with phnoe-et-ic spellin,
Dat isn’t English dey be yellin,
I come from Caribbean, it’s nice and hot,
Evry day, I smoke some pot,
I ‘ave two chillen and no real job:
Give me money.
He had a name I couldn’t pronounce.
He sold me drugs, by the ounce.
He was a dealer from Jamaica.
Jamaica isn’t England:
Give me money.
His name was Dave
He lived in a skip.
The food he ate came from a tip.
He urinate in the street.
The stench of ‘pee’ beneath your feet.
I don’t live in a skip.
So this is a poem from another culture:
Give me money.
Easter in a few days when I'll have the first chance to get away from Computing coursework for weeks.
