Yo!

Last weekend I went to Breakin’ Curfew, an exposition of musical talent from the youth of the Ann Arbor area. My nephew was a featured performer. Kinda reminds me of when I was that age. Well, no it doesn’t. During some of the more rowdy rock ‘n roll musical numbers, there was some ‘stage diving’ or ‘crowd diving.’ I can’t remember that from my teenage years.

I guess stage diving is where a member of the audience climbs up on the stage and dives backwards into the mass of humanity below. Crowd diving is where a performer runs off the stage and dives over the top of the same mass of humanity. I saw both, neither of which pleased the stage managers there at the usually reverential University of Michigan Powers Center. It’s unlikely there’ll be stage diving or crowd diving when the London Philharmonic comes to town later this year.

But that’s not what I wanted to blog about today. What impressed me was the response of the sold-out teen crowd to the kids who read poems in the breaks between musical numbers. They received as big a crowd roar as the rock ‘n roll musicians. Wow! I could never be a rock star, but I could be a rockin’ poet. All I need is a bit of hip hop cadence, the right poem, and a little attitude. Check it out.


I’m middle-age; I’m in a rage
Not ready to get off life’s stage
But I want to turn the page
So when are my kids going to make a living wage?
So I can retire, before I expire, before I’m ashes on some funeral pyre.
I need social security
To be there for me.
So I can pay for electricity
Cause they won’t make it free for me.
Our money’s going to Iraq
We need it back.
Who’s going to finance my heart attack?
With no Medicare
Or is it just another governmental scare.
I need the Feds, to pay for my Meds.
Some day I want to be like Hoss, cause he’s boss
Making his pile, with guile and style
All day blogging and, mmmmm, clogging,
With me working all the while.
Still, he makes me smile.
For a day, Then my rage goes away,
Then I think I can say, I'm OK.