The First Line

If you're a poet, what I'm about to talk about is no major secret. This is a plight that every writer is familiar with. If you consider yourself a Child of the Pen, then we can all call out the topic of this entry in unison, like the theme of the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.

The First Line.

It's as if the gift of writing is not without its troubles and trials.

You'd have the perfect thoughts. The most poetic situation would present itself to you: God's eye, presented as the bluest sky; rushing rapids, reminding you of the rush of your first kiss; the most beautiful woman/man in the entire cosmos who is never going to notice you, etc.

The only problem is, how do you start? How do you get the idea from your heart to your hand, your mind to your pen, your soul to the empty screen/paper?

Of course, as annoying as this issue is, it is not without answer. Otherwise, I probably would've given up a long time ago. A very helpful modern translation of Job Chapter 32 Verses 18 to 22 says,:

"I'm ready to speak my piece. That's right! It's my turn -- and it's about time! I've got a lot to say, and I'm bursting to say it. The pressure has built up, like lava beneath the earth. I'm a volcano ready to blow. I have to speak -- I have no choice. I have to say what's on my heart, and I'm going to say it straight -- the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. I was never any good at bootlicking; my Maker would make short work of me if I started in now!"

Stronger than the force of a thousand bulls, when you have to write, not much can keep you from fulfilling that task. Sometimes, all you need is time.

Besides, wine is not the only thing that gets better with time. Look at your closet. See?

Sometimes, the perfect beginning needs to hit you repeatedly. Or mercilessly. Maybe you need to listen to a certain song that literally THROWS the poem/blog/song out of you. Like the above verse states, it gets to the point where holding it in becomes akin to a health risk. As a matter of fact, psychologists will tell you that release will be more than theraputic.

And after that first line? It'll all flow like Niagara Falls (Aren't you tired of that analogy?).

Dichotomy

I'm a Christian. And I'm a Hip-Hop kid.

I'm a Hip-Hop kid. And I'm a Christian.

These two statements are not the same. Yet I am the same. I am a Christian Hip-Hop kid. I am a Hip-Hop Christian kid.

I'm from the house that KRS-One built, on the foundation of King Solomon. I stand in my B-boy stance, in an effort to dance like David danced. A few minutes ago, I tried to familiarize myself with this new thingy called "The Wu-Tang" while calling out "Ballliiinn'...". If I could, I'd marry Lauryn Hill, but I don't even know if she's a Proverbs 31 Woman. Chingy makes me mad and Rapper's Delight makes me smile. I'd spit a 16 with Mos Def if at all possible, but I couldn't do it in the name of Allah.

Since I first heard Biggie's "Let's Ride", I've been taking Distance Learning classes at the Temple of Hip-Hop. But before then, I've called myself a believer. Singing along with Ron Kenoly and Kirk Franklin in the kitchen with my little sister, it was all I knew. A few years later, and my tastes include Kanye West and Tye Tribbett. All I believe has been sculpted from a lifetime of following Christ. Yet, connecting myself with the art of Spoken Word, I take my pencil and scribble a line between a statement and a rant.

And the line tends to blur, because even if I draw it at foolishness like low-hanging chains and Ms. New Booty, who's being fooled? Am I that mature that I am not influenced? Does the world have such a grip on me that I can't see what's being done?

I'm a Hip-Hop Kid. I'm a Christian.

I am a Christian. I am a Hip-Hop head.

God requires all of me. Hip-Hop desires more of me. God wants me to be distinct, set myself apart. Hip-Hop says the same thing, but everyone else tries to look the part. And I'd stop listening to it if I could/knew how to, because scripture says that God pretty much despises anything lukewarm. (And who does?)
What does this say about me? For all the lyrical prowess that Talib Kweli possesses, it is still an undeniable fact that our faiths are two different things. Where do I draw the line? Do constantly pacify myself by saying something like, "This is between God and I"? And if so, what about all the souls who see me dancing to Black Eyed Peas? How are they to know that I am saved when I'm busy, shaking "My Humps"?

And that goes for so many other things.

Rated R Movies (Not counting "The Passion").

Chapelle's Show.

Def Poetry Jam.

Friends who live a different lifestyle than my faith prescribes.

What a Dichotomy am I when my lifestyle does not support my faithstyle.