Cacophony

On hip hop landscapes
The residues of gunfire
Linger behind every word spoken

Within the towers of its origin
The shallow speak loudest
while flagbearers for the true remain silent

We create beef where there is none
The wretched scramble for crumbs
Devour each other blindly
Blinded by the minute, the shallow, the worthless

That is reality

We all attempt to carve our legacy in the sounds of time

Turning to the music for salvation

We dance across galaxies to a jazz riff

The chords turn within

Birth themselves as reverse harmony

The tears of planets rain down meteors

While MARS, the god of war,

Beatboxes his marching legions to battle

On the wings of a red rat riddim

Planetary no longer, Pluto dreams of being a rock star

He bedded the iron maiden

Slipped anthrax between her sheets

And led zeppelin to the promised land

Hip hop always seems to have beef

Rza’s violins clash with 50 cents of nothing

Souljaboy speaks wordlessly

While those with voice are not heard

Eminem reduced to battling with pop stars

His bite blunted by years of inactivity

And mtv no longer fears a black planet

Though its darkening skin is from the sun

It still lacks the necessary melanin required

To see beyond the crashing laughter

Of children’s nursery rhymes

And teenagers school yard dirty ditties

We live in a symphony of madness

We house multiple personalities

Who sing distorted truth in dis-harmony

The streets are a cacophony of delicious decadence

Yet they birthed us all, Made some of us men

We have tasted the sun

And vomited star dust

Our bodies racked with the impossibility of humanity

Music is the universal language

The weapon we wield blindly

The battleground we shall die on

Our blood shall run thick

Laced with mucus

And the product of our loosened bowels

The last sound we shall hear

Will be the vultures cackling in harmony

The last sound they shall hear

Will be our dying cries

As they delicately pluck at our insides

We once danced across galaxies to a jazz riff

But Coltrane is dead

Miles is dead

Monk is dead

Parker is dead

Hip hop is dying

And music shall herald the end of days

In death

We shall silence the noise

And finally find harmony