Tonight I got to see,
What spoken word can potentially be,
Rap in true form,
Words and music fused together whilst the artists perform.
I felt really old,
It was so new for me,
The artists were undeniably bold,
But the pace was to fast you see,
I prefer simplicity.
I like to hear each and every word,
Even if full of profanity’s,
And simply absurd.
The talent was unbelievable,
And seemingly inconceivable.
They called it a scratch night,
Where all types of rappers unite,
There was no battle or fight.
Pure love and appreciation,
Not at all what you would stereotypically expect.
The vibe was perfect,
And all of the performers earned my respect.
It’s a taste thing I expect,
Not at all a hate thing.
Rapping is a skill to be reckoned with,
And if I tried,
I would look like a div!
I went to drama school,
I am no literacy fool.
Perhaps my deliverance is somewhat classical and boring,
Like a teacher at school,
But I never professed to be cool.
I’m just old school.
I fixate on feelings,words and rhyme,
Rather then time,
But I must stress that I appreciate the rapping skill,
And undoubtedly always will.
Whether I personally take to rapping or not,
Spoken word is as far as I have personally got.
I watch them fly over me,
The flock go back and forth,
Back and forth.
I was once amongst them,
Soaring the sky in unison,
Sometimes I would even lead.
I ly on my back,
Still watching them come and go,
Come and go.
They must continue,
They are obligated to,
They can’t just stop,
They don’t want to stop,
And so I must let them go.
My love for them cancels the anger,
Pacifies the jealousy.
Nostalgia provides great memories,
Which for now I keep close to my chest,
Should this be my final place of rest.
I hold onto hope,
Hope that I may join them again,
One fine day.