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Thursday, November 13, 2014

Audenesque Hip-Hop

(in which a slam poet takes down a formalist)


Stubbly rumpled bumbler,
You think you can rhyme?
Blue-eyed gray-haired mumbler--
That should be a crime!

Doofus, numbskull, goober,
Rap like Ezra Pound,
Hapless as a tuber
Sleeping underground.

Egghead so nerdacious,
Watch you bust a move:
Klutzy but audacious,
So bereft of groove!

Dweebalicious paleface,
With your words so nice,
Disgrace to the male race,
Wet as melted ice,

If you were a poet
You might answer back.
All the MCs know it:
Swagger’s what you lack.

Egocentric lightweight,
Shallow silly fop --
Your bulb’s not so bright, mate:
Stick to ’60s pop.

Launch your weak invasion,
Stiff pedantic bloke,
Fluent in Caucasian,
Punchline to a joke.

Polishing your grammar,
How much can you know?
Six months in the slammer
Might teach you to flow.

Boy, you couldn’t fill a
Beer-hall in Duluth!
Tragically vanilla:
That’s the simple truth.

Chucklehead so lonely,
Train-wreck, walking gaffe,
Try to rhyme, you’ll only
Make your neighbours laugh.

Out for My Walk

Arlington, Massachusetts, 5.15 am, first morning of summer --- air cool and dewy: sprinklers, sparrows, squirrels; a wide-awake rabbit o...