Rapping in Ancient Greece
If only rappers spoke in ancient Greek,
We wouldn’t have abominable rhymes
A mile a minute, everything too sleek
And slick and sick, full of sexual crimes.
If only rappers spoke an ancient tongue
In which the notion of rhyme, rhyme, rhyme, rhyme
Was non-existent, rape might go unsung
And we would not hear thugs composing slime.
If only rappers weren’t enslaved to beat,
Beat, BEAT! BEAT! BEAT!, we might despise them less
Especially if it were far neater
And not uncertain, not a crippled mess.
If rappers were more classic in their noise,
We might detest them less, these bad-mouth boys.
Rap is a Slap in the Face
of Music and of Poetry
“Such prosody belongs in the province of music without percussions.”
~ Michael Schmidt, The First Poets, 16
We don’t need a little Hallmark ditty
From poets. We can buy such rhyming stuff
From card shops. We don’t need rhymes, pretty, pretty,
Fast, fast. Enough is enough is enough.
The lines too short between the frequent rhymes,
The syllables too few between the bang, bang,
Bang of rhymes. These frequent rhymes are crimes
Unless their Dr. Seuss for kiddies. Clang,
Clang, clang they go. Throw in some slang and you’ve
Got rapping which displaces what we used
To have, true poetry. We’re in a groove
Where handsome poetry is much abused.
The realm of poetry is now cut clean
Away by tasteless ignorance. Obscene.