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Come All Ye Faithful
 Aesop Rock is
my favorite rapper, and probably my favorite poet as well.
With the help of "The Tugboat Complex", his
appearance on A Fool Blown Compilation (a song any hiphop
head or fan of poetry should hear) and his MP3.com precence (where he
had the most downloaded song for a number of weeks) Aesop
has made a very prevailent buzz in the underground rap
world. With the Def Jux world realeases of Labor Days and
Daylight his music is now more easily obtainable. This September, he's set to release another CD called Bazooka Tooth. In addition to probably containing the secret of life, it should also feature quite a few Jaberwockysuperfly bangers. It might even have an Orphanage track (the hiphop ubergroup including Aesop himself, Slug of Atmosphere, Blueprint, Illogic and Eyedea). As of now, the only Orphanage song with all five I know of in existence is "Obsolete" on Blueprint's new album The Weight Room and their freestyle session which is on one of Sage Francis' albums. Also, if MURS is to be believed from his song "Happy Pillz" we can catch him on this CD "long as Aesop pays [him]" It's sure to be absolutely ubernificent. Now
stop reading this and go buy
his albums!
Aesop Rock is the best rapper of all time, ever. EVER!! Excerpt from "The Tugboat Complex" (Track somethingorother on A Fool Blown Compilation) Oh my God |
Name: Aesop Rock Medium: Rap Works: Music For Earthworms (1998)
Appleseed (1999)
Float (2000)
Labor Days (2001)
Daylight (2002).
|
 Octavia Butler is one
of few succesful black science fiction novelists, and the
only black woman sci-fi novelist to my knowledge. Her
essay Positive Obsession from her anthology Bloodchild is
very inspirational to me. I once wrote an essay that was very much based on it. She has written three series of
novels, Lilith's Brood (a.k.a. the Xenogenesis Series) the
Origins of the Pattern series, and the two Earthseed
books: Parable of the Sower, and Parable of the Talents.
Wild Seed, is one of the best novels I've ever read. If
you haven't read it yet, you should.
Prodigy is, at its essence, adaptability and persistent, positive obsession. Without persistence, what remains is an enthusiasm of the moment. Without adaptability, what remains may be channeled into destructive fanaticism. Without positive obsession, there is nothing at all. All that you touch You Change. All that you Change Changes you. The only lasting truth Is Change. God Is Change. Create no images of God. Accept the images that God has provided. They are everywhere, in everything. God is Change- Seed to tree, tree to forest; Rain to river, river to sea; Grubs to bees, bees to swarm. From one, many; from many, one; Forever uniting, growing, dissolving- forever changing. The universe is God's self-portriat. EARTHSEED: THE BOOKS OF THE LIVING by Lauren Oya Olamina |
Name: Octavia Butler Medium: Novels Works:
Patternmaster (1976)
Mind of My Mind (1977)
Wild Seed (1980)
Clay's Ark (1984)
Parable of the Sower (1993)
Parable of the Talents (1998) |
 Stephen King is probably
the most well known novelist in the world today. He
writes mostly horror fiction and other sci-fi/fantasy
that seems to always have a bit of the horror element in
it. The first novel he published was Carrie, the
story of a young telekinetic teenage girl (Carrieta White)
who, like many of King's characters, goes insane and
murders a lot of people. Since then he has published tons
of stuff, including The Shining, Thinner, The Stand, The
Tommyknockers. Of the few of his books that I've read (considering
that there are so many of them) I like The Dark Tower
saga best. There are currently 4 volumes, (The Gunslinger,
The Drawing of the Three, The Wastelands, Wizard and
Glass) and some related short stories ("Low Men In
Yellow Coats" of Hearts in Atlantis). There
are even tie-ins of his other stories.(The Stand).
I'm waiting patiently for the last few volumes of the
series.
And so the man in black began to speak. The universe (he said) offers a paradox too great for the finite mind to grasp. As the living brain cannot conceive of a nonliving brain- although it may think it can- the finite mind cannot grasp the infinite. The prosaic fact of the universe's existence single-handedly defeats the pragmatist and the cynic. There was a time, yet a hundred generations before the world moved on, when mankind had achieved enough technical and scientific prowess to chip a few splinters from the great stone pillar of reality. Even then, the false light of science (knowledge, if you like) shone in only a few developed countries. Yet, despite a tremendous increase in available facts, there were remarkably few insights. Gunslinger, our fathers conquered the-disease-which-rots, which we call cancer, almost conquered aging, went to the moon- ("I don't believe that," the gunslinger said flatly, to which the man in black merely smiled and answered, "You needn't.") -and made or discovered a hundred other marvelous baubles. But this wealth of information produced little or no insight. There were no great odes written to the wonders of artificial insemination- ("What?" "Having babies from frozen mansperm." "Bullsh*t." "As you wish... although not even the ancients could produce children from that material.") -or to the car-which-moves. Few if any seemed to have grasped the Principle of Reality; new knowledge leads to yet more awesome mysteries. Greater physiological knowledge of the brain makes the existence of the soul less possible yet more probable by the nature of the search. Do you see? Of course you don't. You are surrounded by your own romantic aura, you lie cheek and jowl daily with the arcane. Yet now you approach the limits- not of belief, but of comprehension. You face reverse entropy of the soul. But to the more prosaic: The greatest mystery the universe offers is not life but Size. Size encompasses life, and the Tower encompasses Size. The child, who is most at home with wonder says: Daddy, what is above the sky? And the father says: The darkness of space. The child: What is beyond space? The father: The galaxy. The child: Beyond the galaxy? The father: Another galaxy. The child: Beyond other galaxies? The father: No one knows. You see? Size defeats us. For the fist, the lake in which he lives is the universe. What does the fish think when he is jerked up by the mouth through the silver limits of existence and into a new universe where the air drowns him and the light is blue madness? Where huge bipeds with no gills stuff it into a suffocating box and cover it with wet weeds to die? |
Name: Stephen King Medium: Novels Works, there are a few: The Dark Tower:
The Gunslinger (1982)
The Drawing of the Three (1987) The Wastelands (1991)
Wizard and Glass (1997)
Hearts in Atlantis (1999) |
 Dan Simmons has
written many books, including Song of Kali, Hollow Man,
and Hyperion. Although I've only read his Hyperion series
and Hollow Man, I'm sure his other books are just as
brilliant. If you're literate, I demand you go read his
books, now!
Excerpt from "Hyperion Cantos" in Hyperion In the beginning was the Word. Then came the f**king word processor. Then came the death of literature. And so it goes. Francis Bacon once said, "There arises from a bad and unapt formation of words a wonderful obstruction to the mind." We have all contributed our wonderful obstructions to the mind, have we not? I more than most. One of the twentieth century's better, forgotten writers- that is better-comma-forgotten, once bon moted: "I love being a writer. It's the paperwork I can't stand." Get it? Well, amigos and amigette, I love being a poet. It's the goddamned words I can't stand. |
Name: Dan Simmons Medium: Novels Works:
Hyperion (1989)
The Fall of Hyperion (1990)
Endymion (1996)
The Rise of Endymion (1997) |
 Saul Williams, actor/musician/writer.
Poet. He wrote and costarred in the film Slam, wrote and
coproduced an album Amethyst Rock Star, appeared on
Lyricist Lounge Volume 1, and other CDs. He has written
at least two books of poetry, The Seventh Octave and She.
If you haven't seen Slam yet which is an incredible movie, go rent it! And if you haven't
bought Amethyst Rock Star yet, go buy it!
Excerpt from "Tao of Now" (Track 4 on Amethyst Rock Star) Children of the night, only some will star the sky, only believers in death will die, and fathers must feather the wings of women. For the unfeathered masses dangle ridiculous. Carrying cross to phalynx filled tombs. The future sails silence through blood rivered waters that ripple with riddles of cows and spoons and births moons and earths, sun centered at noon. and here I stand, court-jestering infinity. Fetal fisted for revolution but open hands birth humility. Now what is the density of an egoless planet? Must my spine be aligned to sprout wings? I'm slouched into Shang steps and kangoled with gang reps, but my orbit rainbows Saturn's rings. Mystical eliptical presto polaris. Karmic flamed future when Saurn's an Ares. And now I'm a fish called father. With gills type dizzy: blowing liquid lullabies through the spine of time. I'm certain of Saturn's rivers, and all else is fact. So baptise me in the stars and wrap me in nighttime: moon blue. Pupil my sight with orange balls of light. And echo my plight through the corridors of metaphor, what else are we living for if not to create fiction and rhyme? My purpose is to make my soul, rhyme with my mind over matter. Minds create matter. Minds create fiction, as a matter of fact matter is fact. So spirit must be fiction. Science fiction. Art fiction. Meta fiction. |
Name: Saul Williams Medium: Poetry Works:
The Seventh Octave (1998),
She (1999),
Amethyst Rock Star (2001) |
Email Me: IceKoolll@aol.com
Bazooka Tooth
Excerpts from Parable
of the Sower
Excerpt
from The Gunslinger
