Art Garfunkel by Bradley Mason Hamlin

The beat
You think
It’s all in the rhythm
Hell, we’ve long let go of the

But, fuck poetry
The bongo men have it all,

How many musicians
Can really
Carve into the pulp?

Jim Morrison could not do it
You may argue with that viewpoint
But you would be wrong
His songs (with help) held the juice
Close to the bone
But his poetry
Laid there
Like an insomnia whore
At the cracks in the ceiling

Bob Dylan could not do it
You think his vocals are hard to knuckle?
His poetry
Although in black & white print
Mumbled across the page
A clownish Kerouac imitation
Of stream of no consciousness
Creating a trash dump of words

John Lennon could not do it
One of the greatest songwriters of the 20th
Again, with a little help from the friends
But when faced with the blank page
The quiet page
The page with no piano or guitar
To hold you tight
He became a mime
His arms flailing
His insecurity obvious
His face gripped by ego
And bad English
Mocking …

When threatened
That poetry
Is best said by the musicians
Say it ain’t so, bro

Takes more guts to fly solo
With no weapons
Other than your guts
And the willingness to cut deep
And heal quickly

What about Art Garfunkel
You may ask?

Well …
I haven’t fuckin read Art Garfunkel
I’ll admit that much.

3 Responses to “Art Garfunkel by Bradley Mason Hamlin”

  1. interestng piece, Brad. for me, Dylan’s “stream of no consciousness” is what made him a poet in my eyes.

  2. The blank page welcomes you.

  3. Steven Gulvezan Says:

    You’ve got a groove going, Bradley.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: