I found myself falling out of love with the premise of Rap and it happened in a day. On this day, the words became louder than beats on every bar blasting in my face.
Before that day-the beat was all that I heard-until I heard the “subject” matter
that was so much more than words
as it painfully filled a verse and made It all shatter.
My love for rap was dismantled in a beat in a moment in a day.
The more I listen-I mean really actually listened
I was sickened by the theories we were feeding our nation.
Is this what is happening to us?
No realization of the damaged psyche of all of us.
Is the bass hiding the assassination of souls, love and life?
Or is it just the allure of broken families, lacking husbands and wives?
Not named the solo act of our destruction, or the lone ranger of our demise.
It stands behind the glass with a sign.
Number ones step forward but it’s hard to decide
for its sister hip hop standing right beside.
Don’t forget holding number three is the blind cousin Mrs. TV of reality.
How is it possible?
Because she is feeding into to downfall of pride. The reinforcer, the face of the notable stereotype and with a wink and holler she smiles.
As she steps back bumping shoulders with the ambiguous uncle, they call Mr. ” I will do anything for a dollar”. Losing a hold of his number four and it falls without grace.
I look through the glass realizing they all look the same and number four could have even lent them his name.
Still surprised she is there, I point her out first and with a statement I make it clear.
“It started with her” but it sure didn’t end there.
Realization set in, with an epiphany I am now sure.
It didn’t start in a moment, in an instant, in a day.
With remembrance of a lost joy when I turned off the TV. With a thought think, thinking my head engulfed with a question “why is it so hard to find anyone like me”. They simply couldn’t think this represents me, not my mother not my daughter or most of the beautiful women that I see.
Now, I have to be honest and if I’m honest I must say they are like a minute few that are blocking our way.
Reinforced stereotypes from street to screen.
Distastefully, She is screaming and cursing and causing a scene. This is when I began to fall out of love with rap and it started with a 40-inch TV screen.
I embraced Sci-Fi because there my heart felt free. Creativity dancing delightful with fantasy, now I can breathe.
No more gasping from the persona portrayed from an assumed reality, we are enslaved.
With a click I am saved from the incoming blast of yet another redundant stage. Hoping not another housewife, I would ever have to see. Promoting an agenda our culture desperately does not need.
Men emasculated and the loud boisterous women celebrated, regressing us to that time when we planted and seeded a new world down on our knees, hope retreated. With dirt filled hands they touch their lips before spitting a verse.
The verse that tells a mother, sisters and daughters she is not enough but maybe she could be, if she would twerk her butt-instead of getting a degree? With that sheet of paper she has plans to be free. Instead of turned into a shadow of an object for criticism, degradation and insults. Of this she has no needs.
Induced a boy nods to the bass. That muffled the rhyme of shame and sadness slowly filling him with thirst helping him to lose his faith. Lost to commitment, caring and respect with a hidden verse he is living in vain.
On that day I fell out of love with rap with a whisper I must share, on that evening hip hop broke my heart but thanks to the above my soul was not there.
One-night stand filled love songs and we wonder where we got lost.
Tracing it back to the nation, the place where we all lived abroad. Refusing to see that with a thoughtless choice we choose to be hatreds high cheek boned muse.
Blindly we continue to carry the torches that habitually devastate the figurative soul of a once great ghost.
In an instant, in a moment in a day I fell out of love with rap with tears dripping down my face.