Growing till crescendo
It’s consuming more and more
It cannot see beyond its window
It ignores all open doors
It’s been climbing towards an apex
Since it crawled up from the shores
Adherent first, then master next
Then driven to explore
It evolves as it ingests
It learns to see in metaphor
Exploration turns conquest
Its survival becomes a war
A parasite that kills its host
Yet it assumes it will endure
Matricidal, yet it boasts
Of how its intentions are pure
By killing life, it kills itself
Revealing its own inner flaw
By killing life, it kills itself
Revealing its own inner flaw
Touch upon the fabric
Tight knitted from the corpse
Of a god whose fingers weaved
The breath of life then set its course
Lungs of trees that breathe and birth
The breath of those that need its force
They kill those beings and kill their dreams
Then seek another source
They chop the flesh of kings that speak
With sunlight through their leaves
They poison their own air and think
That’s just the thing they need
They feel the loss but ignore the pain
And they plain refuse to grieve
They look to the stars instead and dream
Of what they can achieve by being thieves
By killing life, they kill themselves
Revealing their own inner flaws
By killing life, they kill themselves
Revealing their own inner flaws
He raised his hand and cursed the land
He applies his mind to destruction
He understands that he is man
And prone to pure corruption
He plants his seeds and from the surface bursts
Man-made constructions
That crumble just like any vision made real
Through man’s induction
Life interrupted
Death intervened
On behalf of assumptions
That he is the king
Of the land
Of the seas
Of the grass
And the trees
Of the Heavens and Earths
But his existence is perverse
He commits treason by his birth
And thinks the reason is his worth
By killing life, he kills himself
Revealing his own inner flaws
By killing life, he kills himself
Revealing his own inner flaws
Regal and sensual she strides through my rest
Eternal and forever and a day and my wish
Please grant me forever to savor your kiss
Level upon level of depth in your touch
Yesterday is today and tomorrow is us
Future is now when me and you fuss
Or when me and you crush upon rose petaled lust
Reward is your smile like the sky in the dawn
You win me with wiles and I drown in your storms
O goddess I read through the lines of your psalms
Under your skies I recite In your calm
The question constantly comes up: Can you consider rap music as “real music”?
The silliness of this question borders on straight absurdity. Of course it’s real music. Not only by straight definition (which, according to Dictionary.com’s unabridged dictionary is “an art of sound in time that expresses ideas and emotions in significant forms through the elements of rhythm, melody, harmony, and color.”1), but also by its very being; its essence. How could you deny that it’s music? That’s akin to seeing a person’s eye but saying it’s a nose. Absurd.
Why Some People Do Not Think Rap Music Is Music
I do understand and can appreciate most of the concerns that people have about rap music. It’s true that some of it is very violent and some of it, at least in my opinion, is just a bit juvenile and meaningless. But what genre doesn’t have songs that amount to fluff? What genre of music doesn’t have violent songs, and supercilious songs, and songs that exist to no purpose?
I’m not going to back the old standby about how the artist lived this type of life or that type of life, and so that’s what their music is about. Even though I know firsthand that oft-repeated line is absolutely true in many cases. But think about this: when a group of once nerdy teenagers get together and form a death metal band that grows into enormous success, no one seems to cry about how “that’s not real music,” or “It’s too violent and sends the wrong message.”
Nothing against death metal (I even like some), and I’m not trying to pull the race card (although that’s an important aspect). I’m trying to illustrate an example. Those nerdy white boys most likely did not live the lives they portray through their harsh metal guitar riffs and dark bloody lyrics. They are trying to convey a message. They are trying to either show you what they see when they look around, or show you what they see when they close their eyes.
And you know what? There are a group of like-minded individuals that want to see what they see; that understands, or thinks they understand, what these guys (or girls) are trying to convey. But at the same time there are others that don’t want to see it and can’t understand it. That’s fine. You know what those people do? They don’t listen. They find music that suits their tastes and their vision.
If You Don’t Like Rap Music
What I’m trying to suggest here is this: If you don’t like the music, then you shouldn’t listen to it. There is no reason to attack a specific genre of music or a specific style of music (unless you listen to that style or genre and don’t like what’s becoming of it). If you don’t like it, don’t try to discredit it by saying that it isn’t what it is, when you know full well that it IS what it IS. This is music. More importantly, this is rap music.
Do you know what that means? This is poetry, recorded and listened to. And like Orson Scott Card says,
“…people do hunger for rhythmic language. Anyone who doubts me on that has only to look at Rap. Once verse was almost completely dead in public life, it reinvented itself; and if most of Rap is awful, it’s worth remembering that most serious poetry is awful, too. Gems are rare in any art.”2
It’s true that unlike other genres of music, most of rap does not use live instrumentation, but that fact does not make the genre invalid as music. The beats that we hear are predominately made by machinery which are, in and of themselves, instruments. An instrument is defined as “1. A means by which something is done,” and more specifically in this case “5. A device for playing or producing music.”3
Rap Music IS Music, and It Has Its Own Genres
With that being said, rap music is indeed…music. You can slice it and dice it if you want. There are now as many sub-genres of rap music as there is for rock and other styles. What most people hear on the radio is mostly the pop aspect of rap music; right along with the pop rock, the pop country, and the pop everything else. This genre is just as susceptible to pop/monetary influence as any other is. I see nothing wrong with that. People like pop music, that’s why it’s called pop. It’s short for “popular,” if you didn’t already know.
If you don’t want to hear any of that, you can easily find rap music that talks about other things. Uplifting rap music, political rap music, Christian rap music, rap/rock music, hip-hop music (yes there is a nicely subtle difference between the two, rap is only an element of hip hop).
You can get your overly lyrical scientifical metaphysical Canibus fix. You can get your witty/serious thought-provoking philosophy/history lessons from “The Waterproof MC” Ras Kass. And these are all “old” artists. There’s a ton of young people doing it with just as many differences in styles and approaches.
Almost all rappers can give you a nice autobiography if you want to hear about where they come from, how they were raised, how they lived, etc. You already know where to look if you want to shake your ass; that’s all you really hear on the radio, and ain’t nothing wrong with that.
Understand Where Rap Music Comes From
Always remember that rap music roots sink into the fertile soil of Jamaican reggae. The fundamental idea came from there. And from there it came from West Africa among other places. What Kool Herc and the other early pioneers of this genre did is now famous. Rap is fairly new; its creators are still living. If you really want to know why it can’t be considered anything but music, if you really want to know why it is what it is, if you would care to understand what it can do and is doing, then I would suggest you study its history. See what it is that made/makes this genre what it is. I’m talking about rap music, hip hop culture, scratching, break dancing, emceeing, graffiti (arguably), lyrics, black people, poverty, pure poetry all of it.
“She told pretty Marie Laveau that the words did not matter, only the tunes and the beats, and there, singing and tapping in the blacksnakes, in the swamp, she has an odd vision. She sees the beats of the songs, the Calinda beat, the Bamboula beat, all the rhythms of equatorial Africa spreading slowly across this midnight land until the whole country shivers and swings to the beats of the old gods whose realms she had left. And even that, she understands somehow, in the swamp, even that will not be enough.” – from American Gods by Neil Gaiman
Believing in but never seeing
The Heathen, a lesser demon
It’s scheming on my soul
It’s infrequent but never leaving
Ether bleeding out of my pores
My spirit leaking
Soaked into the Earths rotted core
A saddened creature
A battered preacher
How to die, the radicals teach us
Students teaching the teachers
And they dying to reach us
Why is it that we shackle ourselves
Then cry for freedom
Metaphorically speaking
Our hearts are terminally weakened
Infirmaries are full of the lives we have forsaken
Mating with injustice and giving birth to complacence
Strangle life choke off our health, the end is nascent
Worshiped like a calf that is gleaming with gold plating
We clothe ourselves with spurious truth
Yet we lie naked
Corporations feed off the blood
Of dying nations
The seat of Christ is vacant
Siddhartha said time is wasting
The sound of one hand clapping
Is God getting smacked for faking
Jesus told me
“Son calm down, you’re talking dangerous”
I killed myself
So I could come back as Buddha’s patience
This world’s a patient
In Gods House Of Sick Creations
Prescripted with a dose of common sense
That we ain’t taking
Instead we medicated on war
And common hatreds
The politicians gore us with words
And pretty phrases
But really they just corporate whores
With pretty faces
Money is the root and the plant
Is grown in acres
Throughout the world, and even throughout history, prostitution has been many different things to different people. I specify female prostitution here only because the connotation of the word more readily implies women. But much of what I write here applies to men as well.
A Time and Place for Prostitution
There have been times, and places, where forms of prostitution were (are) a somewhat dignified profession. Places where a prostitute was akin to a modern-day movie star. Times when prostitution was a sacred, almost religious act.
It’s not called the world’s oldest profession for nothing. Most people today only know of prostitution in the here and now. But there are places where the prostitutes are not the downtrodden, beaten, and pimped out women that we see here. In fact, even using the word “prostitute” to describe them is highly insulting. Rather, they are the women that control what they do and whom they do it with. They are the women that have turned having sex for money into a lifestyle, a viable business, and sometimes, even art.
In biblical times there were prostitutes just for the priests to have sex with. In Japan, the top ranks of the oiran were an enviable position; something much more than just a woman having sex for money. The courtesans of old Europe could gain very high status in society. There are high-profile escorts today that regularly enjoy the company of people of great wealth and influence. Executives, actors, politicians, and people who govern and run countries want something a little more than just a street hooker. They expect women of class.
A Fine Line Between Crass and Class
It’s a fine line. Mainly religion-based social pressures tell us that what these women do is wrong and immoral. However, I believe that when done right, it can be downright empowering. Or, to put it more colloquially, the power of the pussy is awesome. Whole nations have fallen and risen behind it.
To the untrained mind it would seem that these women are giving up their self-worth and inner power when they give up their goodies. If you look closer, you’ll see that a woman who knows what she’s doing has the better chunk of that power.
The sex trade is just that, a trade. Each person decides what giving up something special is worth. Some do it for twenty dollars, some do it for diamonds, some do it for fame and power.
If they are doing it willingly and of their own free will, then I say let them earn their bread and leave them alone. Of course, some do it for the man who beats them if they don’t. Some are born and raised, sold or subjugated into it. But that’s not the type of prostitution I’m talking about in this article.
Everything is Situational
Everything is situational. What exactly is so wrong with sex for money? What upsets people about other people paying for companionship? Like marijuana consumption, it’s one of those things that people will do regardless of what laws are in the books at the time. Legalize it, regulate it, structure it, tax it, and get over it. I think in the end, we will all be better for it.
What This is NOT About
This is not, by any stretch, an endorsement for some of the lower, fouler aspects of the sex trade, which includes hings like modern-day sex slavery, or the violence that sometimes runs unchecked in many of the sex related industries. Nor is this an endorsement for those that hit the streets out of utter desperation, or to earn money for drugs and such. And it damn sure isn’t approval for the predators that feed off such weaknesses. Although related to what I’m saying here, those are completely different subjects and probably best saved for later blog posts.
Each design seemed of mirrors
Sliced thin to string
And woven thread-like
Into the fabric
Of her blood blue jeans
If I concentrated hard enough
I could truly
See myself in her pants
Silk blouse –
The color of
A six winged angel’s
Lust –
Hung loosely
About her left shoulder,
Line slanting
Tightening about her chest
Before disappearing
Underneath her right
Underarm
She took a step
In those glass heels
And then another
Scraping scratching
Breaking again and again
Something inside of me
She walked like
The moon sings
Body shaped
Like a black hole’s
Orgasm
As if she knew, she smiled
I could imagine Lucifer smiled
Exactly like that
As he bowed before his lord
Knowing what was to come
A smile that
Preludes the coming war
For my soul
Wanting to conquer
And claim Heaven
Yet falling and
Falling into her
Finding Hell
Truly –
There is no
Place like home
She laughed
As if she
Read my thoughts
Sounding like
An alien rainbow
Rising water
Not of this world
Forming clouds these skies
Have never seen
Spectrum reflected
By unfamiliar sun
Neither beautiful nor ugly
Exotic. Enticing, at the same time,
Frightening
Genuine too
As that smile is reflected
In those eyes
The color of a desert’s disdain
For moisture
Yet I drown
Hair the length
Of a hot summer night
The color fading
From a midnight’s chill
At the roots
To a dictator’s will
At the tips
She calls to me
With the voice of a thousand gods
Raping a thousand virgins
Messiahs
Born on her tongue
Saliva made of prophesy
Vocal chords driving destiny
Between lips the same color as forever
And just as lush
For better or for worse
No telling which
As my hand touches skin
The hue of a million desires
When I first started looking at dating sites back in the day I was looking for what most men were looking for, sex. Unfortunately, sex was not to be found. Instead, I’d always come across these no-name sites that wanted you to pay real money just to send an email.
Those days are long gone. Even though nowadays my primary focus has grown up a little and I am no longer searching for that one thing, there are now sites devoted strictly to you finding a sex partner…locally. How convenient is that?
These days I am more about finding someone who vibes with me on a higher level beyond the physical. And, there are plenty of sites and apps for that around as well.
When it comes to dating sites, there are many free ones, and just as many you have to pay for. A lot of hybrid sites exist as well which can offer some free services and some paid or premium features.
I figured if somebody was paying good money then they might be just a little bit more serious than those that frequent the free sites.
Don’t get me wrong, some of the free sites are excellent, but many are basically just social networking sites, rather than pure dating sites. The real and popular “pay for” dating sites remain as sites geared towards you finding a match.
Still, different strokes, as they say. Your idea of a perfect match may vary wildly from my idea of one. However, you can find individual sites tailor-made to anyone’s tastes, desires, or even kink.
Here are some of the well-known dating sites that many people report having good results from. Some of these sites are free, and some you pay for, but all of the pay ones offer some sort of free trial or limited access so you can see if that site is the one for you. So if something here looks appealing, then by all means, give it a try.
*eHarmony.com* – eHarmony seems to stand on top as the most popular at the moment. They make very big claims and I guess they must be doing well because they have a very large advertising budget now (I know you’ve seen the commercials). This is a paid site, but they do offer you a free personality profile (a $40 value) and you can view your matches. They say that their matching system is “SCIENTIFICALLY PROVEN”. They also say that “90 eHarmony members get married EVERY DAY”. With claims like that I would highly suggest you give it a try.
Take the first step.
Get your $40 Personality Profile FREE!
View Your Highly Compatible Matches FREE!
It is Possible to Find your Soul Mate…Isn’t it time you experienced the joy of falling in love with someone who sees you, loves you, and accepts you for who you are? This is the kind of joy that comes from true compatibility. And true compatibility is what forms the basis for every relationship at eHarmony.
Experience the joy of true compatibility. Let eHarmony help you begin the journey to your soul mate today.
Why Not Start Now? It’s risk free, so there’s nothing to lose.
“Adult FriendFinder offers a variety of membership packages. Standard membership is free. As a Standard member, you can chat, send instant messages, and browse through our worldwide database of profiles. You also have access to our interactive Magazine, where you can post or answer advice questions or post poetry and articles. There’s plenty to do as a standard member! If you decide you want to speed up your search, consider one of our premium memberships. Premium memberships offer far more privileges and cost as little as 25 cents (or less!) per day.”
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t this: when a group of once nerdy teenagers get together and form a ![tumblr_mtnc9oHQcA1s7oqavo1_500[1]](https://i0.wp.com/silenciobarnes.net/wp-content/uploads/2007/12/tumblr_mtnc9oHQcA1s7oqavo1_5001.jpg?ssl=1 "Rap Music...Is It Music? 15")
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it came from West Africa among other places. What ![romantic-couple-under-a-street-lamp-gordon-bruce[1]](https://silenciobarnes.net/wp-content/uploads/2007/05/romantic-couple-under-a-street-lamp-gordon-bruce1-858x400.jpg "romantic-couple-under-a-street-lamp-gordon-bruce[1]")
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Indulge yourself and find partners for hot 
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6 Aug 2008
2 CommentsPachelbel: Canon in D
Pachelbel: Canon in D
Like waves washing over sensitive skin
It is but the touch of her hand
She probes in places
Used to gentle handling
Lightly kisses others
Flowing steadily downwards
Eyes blood and lips
One moans
The other sighs
I cannot tell which
She is the living
Breathing aphrodisiac
Forever arousing
Reversal
As she penetrates
In only the way
A woman can
Spiritually
Mentally
Physically
Thighs wrapped
Around thighs
Silent participants
Keeping pleasure inside
Heavy the breathing
Shared between
Lips that press
Grabbing hips
To hold on
During rides
A matter of safety
It comes forward
An uncontrollable flood
Washing her
That eternal race
Taking place
On red rimmed tracks
Gently pulling
Her off and onto
Her backside
Feeling her out
Using a natural utensil
A taste that only
A woman can give
Trembling
He drowns
Comes up from waves
Gasping for breath
They each take their souls back
Transferred through their lips
And sleep
The dream at its end
About Pachelbel’s Canon (Wikipedia)
More Poetry by Silencio Barnes
More from the Eternal Figments of Reality Series
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