Apologies From A Manic Street Preacher

Personal Post: I am learning that the frequency that one uses the words "I'm sorry" is a measure of a nimble intellect and a developed spirit. I have found those who cannot directly and openly approach someone they've transgressed in admission of error to be haughty and weak, resigning themselves to remain trapped in a cycle of negativity, repeating the same mistakes, time and time again. On the other hand, a mea culpa can be very empowering.

APOLOGY 1
I miss The Cypher, as I love Slam Poetry (knowing full well that term dates me, and is seldom used, anymore). The Hip-Hop Nation (like their forerunners in Blues, Jazz and what eventually became Rock and Roll) literally changed our language from the streets. If you change the language, you change thought. No small feat, eh? But in spite of my abiding distant admiration, I never saw myself as one of those Spoken Work artists, preferring by far to sweat every single lyrical breath of more melodic conventions. I can't front a band in "spoken word mode". It reeks of pomp, on me. It's like the idea that some people can wear orange, and some cannot; some can tell a joke and some can't. And I cannot. But this weekend, something unusual happened. An impromptu catharsis, of sorts, as I fell into a Manic Street Preacher persona, and "spit it off the skully", as the kids these days might say. Angel (with her cast iron memory) helped me reconstruct it the next morning. It really feels like a prologue for "Redemption Marker", this new songs BMB is working. I'm usually rather bashful about such things, but as I figure it, when you've endured as much bad web poetry as me, you're entitled to take a shot:

i am sorry i believed lies not knowing to simply open my eyes settling on sincerity instead of honesty confusing conviction and certainty with accuracy making you wait patiently somehow knowing before me that while truth craves the light lies cower in dark corners where psychotic cynical self-serving slander is scared schidtless of serious scrutiny terrified of all evidence any illumination and especially imminent exposure meanwhile you knew thankfully teaching me too that time itself is the great equalizer dragging vulgar lies that self-aggrandize kicking and screaming to a place where everything appears on a truly flat surface to be seen as actual size so how ironically now i wait too but not quite with you as paradoxically it is the converse that is somewhat more true enduring liars' lies and the haters' hate let them manipulate for as sure as the as hour gets late those of us with love that only comes from above merely have to wait... wait for it... while the truth has already set us free we wait with nothing better to do than as if to perform some compulsory community service issue quiet embarrassing mea cuplas cloaked in grandiose but largely unnoticed proclamations like these

APOLOGY 2
A less convoluted, less rhetorical mea culpa is also in order. To Friday Night (particularly, Greg & Ski): After that episode (above), things took a turn for the worse. I didn't pace myself as well as we all usually do. I make no excuses for it. While I cannot promise never to slip again (as I'm unwilling to do that which would guarantee never slipping. I enjoy "embracing the tightrope" too much to climb off of it), I will be more mindful and try harder to avoid that occupational hazard. And I'll begin to make it up to you this Friday night.