National Poetry Month

In honor of all the poets:

HipRockSoul

2-19-2008

Jagged

Scratches across vinyl

Speak to natives like hieroglyphics

Retelling a history and preserving an inheritance

From one generation to the next

Equipping young hands:

Microphones

With black paint

Chipping away in spots where they

Were once

Gripped.

Clutched and driven.

Personifying rage and amplifying truth.

[This proves Hip Hop has Soul.]

Picks

Strumming lightly

Onto strings.

Clearing its throat.

Sending vibrations through low rumbles or high cries.

Preparation to rally with the oppressed

And empathize with the tortured.

A sea of hands wave left to right in agreement.

Sharp

Like sandpaper

And boomin' like thunder.

Drum sets prey on emotion

At its rawest.

Sticks strike. Setting off explosions.

Land mines of sound.

A power given and a presence commanded.

[Feels like Rock really can be Hip.]

Scatted

Consonants trip ears with their theatrical tactics

Hummed vowels pressed out of pursed lips

Carry listeners through highs and lows.

Revealing melodic epiphanies

And healing societal schisms with

Love.

Sober-eyed "preachers".

Ministers of the earth-toned cloth

Stand with feet planted

Fluent in sign language

Whether it be two fingers; side by side

Or an enclosed fist raised proudly

[See? Soul can Rock it, after all.]

Giving you:

Hip-Rock-Soul.