Poetress

By: Darlina Marie Magallanes

I used to like the radio until bad rap started to plague it like the bubonic.
I remember when music videos used to be great, now they just make me want to vomit.
I don’t care about anyone’s bling, their hoes, or how much they Sean John it.
I’m not concerned with this girl’s rocks, her block, her ass, or how much she can flaunt it.
Sage Francis said it was a rat race to properly use Ebonics.
While others in high school thought it was cool to drink gin and tonic,
I was busy being hooked on phonics.
Because I developed a thirst for impact like a boom from a sonic,
Like a bomb that is atomic.

I wanted to pull out commercial rap and wring the wrong out of it.
Write up extended lyrics and make a GOOD song out of it.
Tell them all to shove it up their asses and make a thong out of it.
Eat it up, take a trip to the John and make dong out of it.

I can’t turn my mind off because my thoughts constantly haunt it,
Taunt it,
Telling me that I can make a difference if I really want it.
So I started to put my pen to the paper, let the ink seep and seal the sonnet.
Like a deal with my brain.
Forget the thinking cap, I mean, I’m wearing a fucking super bonnet.

Then I decided…
If this life’s all about the Benjamin’s then I’ll pawn it,
Let the gravy train pass,
Wait for the wagon to the underground and jump on it.
Because GOOD Hip Hop got sucked into the underground, And the rap on the radio caused it.