January 03, 2010


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