We Are Family (I’ve got Sister Oprah on TV)

Surfing lands you , alas , at Oprah.

Guests on this one are Joseph Simmons a.k.a DJ Run a.k.a Rev Run , ex-vocalist of Run DMC and his family :
-Rev Run : 1 nos.
-Mrs.Rev : 1 nos.
-Daughters : 3 nos.
-Sons : 3 nos.
Numbers enough to make the cast of a Reality show –which apparently they are.

Rev Run raps the good , wholesome and upright rap. Rev Run is now a priest and this sermon on the mounted camera is about Family.

Says Run : “It’s important to realize a family is something you make”.

Oprah -bright eyed , nodding , eager , interested , leaning forward- repeats :

“Uh-huh, a family is something you make”.

“The family that plays together ….” says Oprah in voice over -

- Cue shots of the brood shooting basket in the family yard , swimming at the family pool and bowling on the family outing

“…and prays together…”

- Cut to shot of the family praying under the Reverend’s watchful eyes

“…stays together”

- Cut to the happy and huge Rev family back live at the studio with OW.

Much applause from audience as OW continues

“He’s a doting father….”

- Cue shots of Rev Run at various stages of being doting daddy to the kids Run

“….and an adoring husband”

- Cut to shot of Mr. and Mrs. Rev locked in a tender kiss. .“ I love you” says Mrs. Rev with a dreamy and For-Reality TV look.

Much applause from audience as the screen cuts back to Mr. Rev at the studio

Rev Run : “You gotta schedule the family in and I mean , really schedule…....... in capital letters S…C…H…”

- Cut to me reaching for the remote

Prosaic musings on poetry

The poet and I are strangers.

Where the poet plumbs the sunken depths of the human condition , I get a plumber to fix the condition of the sink. Where the poet soars to the loftiest heights of the human spirit , I take the nearest elevator to the bar. Where I struggle with common sense , the poet shines with uncommon sensitivity. Where I have mere myopia , the poet has vision. (Not that I could find any even with glasses on)

Any wonder , then , that I just didn’t get Shelly’s ‘Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought’ from To A Skylark ? I have somehow never quite managed to equate sad and sweet without recalling an article I had once read on binge eating apparently brought on by depression. Not when the accompanying visuals could have been a Damien Hirst installation or something out of Naked Lunch.

Or take the line before that “Our sincerest laughter / With some pain is fraught”. This idea is also mirrored in that fabulous Kaifi Azmi ghazal from Arth “Tum itna jo muskura rahe ho / Kya gam hain jisko chhupa rahe ho” . The poignant old Laughter- in-Pain motif.

Funnily enough , I can’t think of too many instances of people laughing in pain. Or of people - not least the superior sex - concealing their pain behind a gleeful smile or three. Quite the contrary. Shorter the joy longer the face about describes the average equation.The missus, for instance , was certainly not flashing me any smiles when I accidentally dropped that electric iron on her foot the other day. My instant and very foolish laughter though turned out to be with much pain fraught.

On a parting note :
How would you describe mystery- genre poems of early 19th century America?
- Edgar Allen Poetry !

Surely You're Choking Mr Feignman

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