Some argue that I'm still angry, but trust me when I say it was much worse back in the day.

It was the year I started working as a radio announcer. I hosted a show at the community-supported radio station, KOPN-FM, in Columbia, Missouri. Every Saturday I would spin R&B and jazz tunes for my listeners. I looked for answers as I listened to Marvin Gaye sing "Make Me Wanna Holler" or to the grooves of Sly and the Family Stone, Curtis Mayfield and Sweet Honey in the Rock.

One day I found my lyrical soulmate while listening to music from the collection at the station. The title "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised" caught my attention. The dude on the cover had a nice afro; I remember a quick chuckle to myself as I placed it on the turntable. The words attacked my soul.

"You will not be able to stay home, brother. You will not be able to plug in, turn in or drop out. You will not be able to lose yourself on skag and skip. Skip out for beer during commercials. Because the revolution will not be televised."

Since that day Gil Scott-Heron has been my artistic companion.

I'm not the only one affected by Scott-Heron's music.

"His words and illustrations of our culture offered me a peek into expressing myself and showing me how to be a voice for my community," said Joseph "Church Da Poet" Churchwell of Black Poetry. "You could take his words and insert them now and hear truth about today and yesterday."

I screamed when my friend Connie Campanaro, president and CEO at the Carolina Theatre, called to tell me the lyricist was coming to the Carolina Theatre.

My love and admiration for Scott-Heron has a lot to do with how his words helped me understand what I was feeling at that time. When I heard "What's the Word, Johannesburg" (1983), I sought books on issues in South Africa and read about Steve Biko, Nelson Mandela and the death of Emma Sathekge, a young schoolgirl, in 1984.

Everything was out of place back then. Scott-Heron helped me find my way.

I've paid close attention to his life. I know of his battles with addiction and the time he has served in prison for drug charges. I don't judge the man. I love the power of his words.

It's the reason steam appears from my locks when I hear Lil' Wayne take what Scott-Heron started and reduce it to talk about "l-l-lick like a lollipop." I want for youth what Scott-Heron meant for me.

"His music for me is the perfect example of creativity, rebellion and social consciousness," said Dasan Ahanu, leader of Durham's Poetry Slam Team. "As an artist, he is an example of how to create good music and highlighting a message that educates people at the same time."

That's it! I want youth to make the connection between art and message.

The poets understand what I feel when I listen to that music.

"Scott-Heron is a phenomenal voice for generations of the past, present and future," said Monica Daye, organizer of the Shairi's Poetry Open Mic. "His soulful connection and poetic voice has educated, inspired and builds a fire within my spirit that ignites the flame of my poetry."

Maybe we should find some youth and take them to the show on Feb. 5.

"The revolution will not go better with Coke. The revolution will not fight the germs that cause bad breath," now that's good writing. Poetry to music. What a concept.

Who could have known it would come to this?