The winner of the Writing Contest, which was presented by TheManifesto.ca and The Forgiveness Project, is the gentleman pictured: Gerry Quammie. He submitted a wonderful piece on his reciprocal relationship with hip hop. Like any relationship with personal interactions, this relationship was also very complicated, frustrating, and ugly. Though, forgiveness plays a part in the lives of our connections through music and our connections through people.

Gerry, this piece was truly a pleasure to read and we all appreciate your time, poetry, and sense of forgiveness. An excerpt of the piece was featured in the Manifesto Magazine (Page 46: Check it out). As promised in the magazine, the full entry could be seen here. Check after the break for the full dealio.

Before jumping into the poem, check out some of Gerry's work here on Soundcloud and Facebook

"Dear Hip-Hop,

I forgive you for what you’ve done to desecrate my beloved genre of music: the music

that I grew up on, dreaming of creating when I was old enough to represent it in the way

that I wanted.  You’ve turned yourself into an adulterous harlot, who pimps herself out

for a few acknowledgements, nods at the Grammys, and high-profile endorsements,

defiling the purity of the message you once stood for.  You no longer have that same

sweetness you had when I dreamed of being as good as Kane, Rakim, or Erick

Sermon.  But, the sweet message that I’ve been missing, is inside of me.  I

don’t have to be angry with you for being unrecognizable to me now; I can rekindle the

spark that was there in the beginning, and make the music that I remember, and

honour what we used to have.  I still love you, and appreciate you for all you’ve done for

me.

How many places can you share what you know?  And feel as brethren when we come

together to grow in spirit and intellect, becoming angels of a message that’s visceral and

stems from depths both high and low?

I feel that the chills I get from a sneer from a salt-headed critic bring pain ever near;

But within family, when it comes from the flock, we have commonality to steer

our hopes and our dreams that are lived without fear and brought to the gates of heaven

with cheers.

And I say, thanks to like-minds who want to see its beauty be endeared.

The accomplishments that can come from a movement; the spirit that lies behind

Manifesto behooves it

to shout, jump, dance and praise

And unite in love what we blast through our airwaves.

And now I recall that we have to be reminded

That our freedom comes at a price so don’t confine it.

Shout it out in your music so people rewind it.

Leave it out in the open so all can find it.

Forgiveness in the form of sacrifice;

because if it wasn’t for Christ, we’d have nothing to model

Nothing to aspire to and nothing to live for.

Forgiveness:  forgive others because you’ve been forgiven first

of monstrous wrongs like lust and unquenchable thirst.

But which actions can be seen as the worst?

Put side-by-side, our motives can all be accursed.

If it wasn’t for the Cross on Calvary

We’d still be groping for a way out without hope.

And God choosing to die so that you and I wouldn’t have to,

Makes it possible for someone to start F-You.

And because of that sacrifice, I’m alive again,

able to take purpose and thrive and ascend

to the greatest places that my mind can lend

in an art form that blesses me like a life-long friend.

So I take up a pen and try to share it with anyone

Who will listen and hear me while my effort is deployed

So I bring my humble offering, to see if it suffices; and see if I can reach some kids with

niceness, and thank God that

my light is the one that inspires, that burns hotter than fire and its embers burning right

through my members;

it doesn’t need flints or fuel to spark. It’s born from the sender,

‘cause it’s born of the resolve buried in my chest; if I could call it anything, I’d call it faith

and no less.

But it’s my swag, my honour, my power, my will

and my passion all moulded together in a pill

that I swallow; goes down like the Matrix.  My desire is full not hollow.

Doubters and the jealous swallow the blue pill and wonder why their ride is anything

less than mediocre at best; it’s not a matter to jest.

I go down the rabbit hole and ride the rails of conquest, ‘cause my success is what I get

from an adventure from searching with all my heart’s zest.

My life goes up and down like I’m on the Paramount Wonderland jam of the summer;

But love for rap beats in my heart like a Calvary drummer.

If hip-hop’s dead, call the preacher to officiate the eulogy.

The relationship between artist and audience is a shame.

The lame radio-edits are attempts at fortune and fame, and most of them don’t have a

name, but a title.  If it’s a divorce, we’re getting less than half a month’s alimony.

Can I forgive you?  I mean, can I give you a second chance?  Because my heart yearns

for genuine romance.  If we could get another Wu, or Erick and Parrish, maybe

we wouldn’t be famished and the sincerity wouldn’t have perished.

I’m kind of embarrassed, that all I can hear, is about your new car, your new bitch and

your new gear.  If that’s all you can rap about year after year,

then we might as well throw it on the fire, close the book and begin to wipe tears.

For once it had promise, and once it had meaning;  I remember what I learned from

KRS’s lyrics teeming

with teaching, passion and purpose; now what I witness is purpose of lip service,

and profit.  We gotta get off it if there’s a future, before the decadence sends it away like

the Roman Empire who though they dominated, had a brief stay.

I want it to remain, so I’ll keep believing without energy in vain;  and hope to

leave a stain like The Roots Crew, Fugees and Dead Prez;

the second chance starts with realness and how I contribute to the its ends.

I put my effort in it, and hope to see it rise like Barack’s senate.  Full of purpose and

meaning with interdependents.  And the rest who can’t test will go down as remnants,

and be on permanent time-out for deceit and trying to kill real art’s"