Scratches across vinyl
Speak to natives like hieroglyphics
Retelling a history and preserving an inheritance
From one generation to the next
Equipping young hands:
With black paint
Chipping away in spots where they
Clutched and driven.
Personifying rage and amplifying truth.
[This proves Hip Hop has Soul.]
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.
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.]
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
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.]