18 Aug Attempts of a Wannabe Poet in San Francisco – ‘Ferlinghetti’s Spaghetti’

Whether it be destiny or chance, I have been drafted in as a blogger for the IEEC without choosing blogging as any of my 3 options. I wonder if this has ever happened before? I may not have chosen blogging, but it seems to have chosen me, so I will give it the best shot a rookie can give.
I have been trying to write poems for a while now, but have lacked the self-discipline to practice regularly. So I thought that this blog would be a great opportunity to try and improve my writing and gain the confidence to share it with others. Having flown out to San Francisco from London nearly 3 weeks ago, I am already feeling the creative atmosphere and know that my inner hippy self will thrive in such surroundings.
The first ‘poem’ I wrote in San Francisco was after a trip to City Lights Bookstore (a line written probably by every wannabe writer after a visit there) and thought about the potential rhyming of ‘Ferlinghetti’ with ‘spaghetti’. The result is a Beat-themed parody rap (which for now I will pretend counts as a poem…)  of the Youtube video ‘Mom’s Spaghetti’, which itself is a parody of Eminem’s song ‘Lose Yourself’. Here is the original parody to give an idea of what I was going for – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SW-BU6keEUw
I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Ferlinghetti’s Spaghetti – Drop this Beat

Yo
His palms are sweaty, hands weak, words are heavy
There’s vomit on his sweater already, Ferlinghetti’s spaghetti,
He’s nervous, but with purpose he thinks of Hettie,
To drop verse bombs like the old Ferlinghetti,
Of what he wrote down he was so proud the crowd is wowed,
He speaks the words and they come flowing out,
This can’t be real even Neal’s about,
He’s got them now, Jack’s screamin aloud,
He don’t know how, he lifts the shroud,
Spontaneously spittin rhymes about society’s crimes
And just how many times he’s been primed and ready,
Ferlinghetti’s spaghetti on his sweater already,
He only had one shot and did not miss his chance to blow,
All he wanted was a chance to grow, now he’s got the whole crowd in tow
Screaming his name on his way to fame
His earlier pain now just seems so petty
If he can make poetry out of tonight’s spaghetti.

By Michael Rounds