Friday, January 02, 2004

An Ode to Rap

They can't be bothered with grammar or phonics;
ain't nothin' wrong with talkin' ebonics.
They word up a rap, monophonic
to music nowheres near harmonic.
Some play da gangsta, act demonic,
show off a gun and break sardonic.
Their fans won't think that they're moronic
'cuz most of 'em are catatonic.
Most got no talent and it's ironic
that they get rich off their histrionics.

I'm sure the world will never hear
a rap that comes remotely near
to a metered line, crisp and clear,
that holds the English language dear.
A poet elicits a sigh, a tear,
or a thought to cherish and revere.
A lilting verse that brings you cheer
when read aloud to please the ear,
or the little jest that you see here,
a poem is a gift, sincere.

The differences between a rap and a poem?
They're obvious but some don't know 'em.
Rapping is talking with rhyme, not reason,
but words have souls and the poet frees 'em.

First published in Poem Kingdom, 2002.

Copyright 2002 by John Bushore.
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry 360 with permission of the author.

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