aplus
04-11-2006, 03:46 PM
http://slumz.boxden.com/showthread.php?t=659300
This is a tribute piece I wrote about Richard Pryor (R.I.P.) ...one of the funniest black comedians ever. I rented his concert movie "Live on the Sunset Strip" last weekend - his first concert after he had almost killed himself OD-ing on crack - and it brought me to write this...hate it or love it...but please drop some feedback...-A+
Live on the Sunset Strip
for Richard Pryor (1940-2005)
Only a special caliber of man
can muster up the courage
to use performance as a confessional,
to rise from rehab, third-degree burns and freebase ashes
and masterfully spin anguish into laughter,
to get onstage and show everyone
that humor exists within taboo subjects,
personal tragedies included.
Here you stand before the world
holding all your baggage,
red tuxedo glowing,
puffy Afro glistening,
speaking honestly with your trademark
crooked smile and open heart.
As raw as you can be, your tirades
and punch-lines are expletive-filled
only because the human truths you are relating
demand every sh*t fu*k bi*ch
that shoots from your mouth
during this vulgar monologue.
While you expertly convey
the inner pain and private demons
that haunt your tumultuous life
you deliver a memorable message.
It came from a spiritually renewing trip
to Africa, when you escaped the poisonous
American atmosphere saturated with prejudice
just long enough to take a clear look at it.
You explain that while in the motherland,
a voice inside spoke to you
and made you reassess your usage
of the word n i g g e r.
You publicly renounce this racial epithet
that you’ve spent a decade repeating,
your revelation pushing you
to stop misusing it cold turkey,
as if to cure your longtime habit of saying it.
It speaks volumes to hear you, a man
who practically patented the pimping
of the N-word for comedic purposes
swear your abandonment of this word
for a higher moral cause.
During your intimate soliloquy,
through simple revelations disguised as jokes,
you taught people
the influence of a hurtful word such as n i g g e r
comes not from our intentions,
or its definition,
or from its use or abuse,
but from an understanding
that its power can be felt most
when we decide to never say it again.
This is a tribute piece I wrote about Richard Pryor (R.I.P.) ...one of the funniest black comedians ever. I rented his concert movie "Live on the Sunset Strip" last weekend - his first concert after he had almost killed himself OD-ing on crack - and it brought me to write this...hate it or love it...but please drop some feedback...-A+
Live on the Sunset Strip
for Richard Pryor (1940-2005)
Only a special caliber of man
can muster up the courage
to use performance as a confessional,
to rise from rehab, third-degree burns and freebase ashes
and masterfully spin anguish into laughter,
to get onstage and show everyone
that humor exists within taboo subjects,
personal tragedies included.
Here you stand before the world
holding all your baggage,
red tuxedo glowing,
puffy Afro glistening,
speaking honestly with your trademark
crooked smile and open heart.
As raw as you can be, your tirades
and punch-lines are expletive-filled
only because the human truths you are relating
demand every sh*t fu*k bi*ch
that shoots from your mouth
during this vulgar monologue.
While you expertly convey
the inner pain and private demons
that haunt your tumultuous life
you deliver a memorable message.
It came from a spiritually renewing trip
to Africa, when you escaped the poisonous
American atmosphere saturated with prejudice
just long enough to take a clear look at it.
You explain that while in the motherland,
a voice inside spoke to you
and made you reassess your usage
of the word n i g g e r.
You publicly renounce this racial epithet
that you’ve spent a decade repeating,
your revelation pushing you
to stop misusing it cold turkey,
as if to cure your longtime habit of saying it.
It speaks volumes to hear you, a man
who practically patented the pimping
of the N-word for comedic purposes
swear your abandonment of this word
for a higher moral cause.
During your intimate soliloquy,
through simple revelations disguised as jokes,
you taught people
the influence of a hurtful word such as n i g g e r
comes not from our intentions,
or its definition,
or from its use or abuse,
but from an understanding
that its power can be felt most
when we decide to never say it again.