Wax Rapsodic

I never really thought about rap as an art form, at least not initially. My relationship with rapping was confined to either:  cars I shared a red light with that had loud strings of indecipherable rhymes propped up by a thunderous bass emitting from the crack in the car window, or my tuning in to the Grammies, where a bedecked and bejeweled dude with a propensity to fixate on his privates would prance around the stage gesticulating and shouting about someone's bitch. I was always relieved when the hard driving beat would subside and possibly a John Mayer type would face the spotlight and give me a somnabulistic snooze session. Notice, I just used the literary device of "alliteration". Well, so do rappers. In fact, they use loads of literary devices to flesh out their compositions.  What I discovered, uncovered, as I belabor my misbehavior was, rapping is poetry. Some good, some bad, some brilliant, delivered as a performance with an undercurrent of beats and rhythmic patterns that the words have to weave through. It's an art form. Who knew? Slant rhymes, homophones, couplets, alliteration, OBLITERATION. Ha, once you start listening to the rhythmic patterns, it's infectious. I was reminded of the repeated lesson from Green Eggs and Ham; keep an open mind, y'all. Here's one by DJ Tazzie Dog :

Asclepias under duress

From pesticides and other stress

Not cool, even cruel for my friends

That are pressed to survive

On less

Shout out to the Monarchs

Following the call

Of nature’s herky jerks

Quirks, y’all

Send the blasters,

The makers of un-natural disasters

To their own flim flam field of Monsantoed

Toe jam

Damn their fuckin’ antics

Fanatics, money grubbin’ frantics

Ready, round em’ up

Enough is enough.