deepundergroundpoetry.com

Another Day

Make another day history as you step up to the mic,  
   for the satisfaction of the draw.
Go ahead- be glorified in the moment-
   Spit,spin or break it down in the
      graceful glide of the b-boy
        practicing in the corner
          for greater thing to come.
You see, it's forever coming and going.
This is just your glimpse,
    don't let it go to your head-
Hell, in the grand scheme of things,
   you're not all that special.
But, nonetheless, be you.
Paint a picture to reflect how all lives
   are recorded and set to music,
     to be turned on tables
       or battled across airways,
         and through spaceways...
To be shit down as unofficial test-tube statistics
   for inside insights of our
     future delights and desecrations--
Eventually becoming the subject of someone's aspiration.
So,go ahead, bring it-
I'm shocked by nothing more than shudden death...
   And insane sentences whose words free-fall
     to ears like unforgettable moments--
Making you recall for years,
    exactly where you were standing,
      as evolution was taking place all around you,
        in that one magical instance.
It's in clubs, basements, garages...
    Even driving down every huntsville street
      you've ever cruised.
It's nice to think we could all do whatever we want.
Yes, words are quite simplistic...
But, I'll never stand with mic in hand,beat in the back,
    and for waving crowds and thrown up hands-
But, hey, you go boy-
    That's some ill ass shit you just spit!
I sculpt pages in your image
     And lose all fear of bringing it to the forefront.
Like you have to feel confident energy to take the stage...
  So must I- to find the acceptance
      of the written word.
I wish I could engulf a nation,
   like brutally raw hip-hop...
     with its smooth rhythm-
       not just catchy beats
         to shake your ass to.
I'd love to find a place where i can stand,
  and revel in the adrealine and encouragement
    of poets coming up during the years
 when record labels were daydreams,
   and even the audience of just one pair of ears
     made every word worth it...
           Regardless of how it was spoken.  
Written by rachel679
Published
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