Maya Angelou has done a remarkable job of being the most famous living "poet" in this country. Yet she is almost totally without talent, completely mediocre and unremarkable.
Poetry and Literature in general suffered significantly due to the current lack of critical review of the arts for reasons of, shall we say, affirmative action-inclusiveness. But that doesn't go far enough. Pompous dribble from Angelou is hailed as "greatness," by the mere fact that it drips forth from a black woman. If the media and national authorities for the arts want race poetry, they can find better (but not much better, mind you) from Rap and Hip Hop "artists."
Angelou is praised for the sake of being praised in this PC world of esteem for its own sake, with no one being judgemental, no winners, no losers, everything is beautiful (in its own way).
Well compared to poets of the early part of the twentieth century, one doesn't have to look hard to fine a great black poet with talent. He was Langston Hughes. But Hughes is not regarded as a speaking voice for today, he requires thought and understanding to be read, not just 'how does it feel."
Angelou represents the poetry that satisfies the self-satisfied. It is the sound without fury and signifies less than nothing. It is a negative on our culture.
To give some examples of how truly mediocre Angelou's poems are, here is a comparison of her poetry to the pillar of mediocrity for modern poetry, Rod McKuen. Judge for yourself, Maya or McKuen?:
We are weaned from our timidity
In the flush of love's light
we dare be brave
And suddenly we see
that love costs all we are
and will ever be.
Maya or Mckuen?
Spring has never seen
this country,
where lilac root stays frozen, cold.
And monotonous river rolls
And runs and rolls some more.
Maya or Mckuen?
No scholar comes to study here.
How much frozen solitude can be
set down in even alien country?
When darkness falls it falls forever,
over the homestead, over the sea.
An overwhelming desolation spreads
hinted death, destroying the breath
of branch and bone.
Maya or Mckuen?
When you come to me, unbidden,
Beckoning me
To long-ago rooms,
Where memories lie.
Offering me, as to a child, an attic,
Gatherings of days too few.
Baubles of stolen kisses.
Trinkets of borrowed loves.
Trunks of secret words
Maya or Mckuen?
Shine on me, sunshine
Rain on me, rain
Fall softly, dewdrops
And cool my brow again.
Storm, blow me from here
With your fiercest wind
Let me float across the sky
'Til I can rest again.
Maya or Mckuen? ♘
Maya Angelou: 'Barack Obama has done a remarkable job' | Books | The Guardianguardian.co.uk, Wednesday 15 February 2012 Hugh Muir
Poet and veteran civil rights activist, Maya Angelou is the sage of black America. And for her, Barack Obama has delivered. She talks about her hopes for his-re-election – and receiving an award from his wife Michelle-
There has always been something bittersweet about the life experience of Maya Angelou. [You have got that right.]
-there is more of this bag of tripe at the link-
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