In Hip City
Become a
Premium Member
and post notes and photos about your poem like Tony Adamo.
 echoing all over the ears in the streets/ Digable Planets breathed life into conversations, with their subgenres into rap, jazz and hip hop/ The DP’s spoken word rap jazz hit the airwaves with their debut album (A New Refutation of Time and Space)/ Brooklyn NY was the Digable Planets home base in 1993/ Donald Byrd’s trumpet bustin' out/while the Black Byrds jazz funk blows your mind sky high/ Groove Collective stirred the soul pot with afro-pop/ Latin jazz funk/and old skool hip hop till ya drop/ while Jazzhole’s sick sound wrapped us in rapid-fire bop rap jazz-a- lot dialogue of funky bass lines and drum machine hot grooves/ Drums beat, turning our feet to the dance floor/ turntables double scratchin’ in time/ congas and the horn section called out with their sweaty beat in funky time/ we jammed under urban lights/ and held each other tight/ where the echoes of legends lingered/ into the hot New York night air/ Miles, Wynton, Diz, Trane, and the Bird/ their spirit souls and massive tones bustin’ out a thousand-fold/ we are the new jazz of today/ with new sounds and a new way to play and listen to what’s being said in our life and political ways/ Ya dig?)
In Hip City/Tony Adamo
where rhythms collide, and no jive is spoken/
Guru laid down the truth, a fusion of jazz and rap/ no holds barred streetwise rap talk/ Just as Herbie’s touch on keys/ his Headhunters laid down their stretching rhythm with Mike Clark, drums, and Paul Jackson bass, (God Made Me Funky)
echoing all over the ears in the streets/
Digable Planets breathed life
into conversations, with their subgenres into rap, jazz and hip hop/
The DP’s spoken word rap jazz hit the airwaves with their debut album (A New Refutation of Time and Space)/
Brooklyn NY was the Digable Planets home base in 1993/
Donald Byrd’s trumpet bustin' out/while the Black Byrds jazz funk blows your mind sky high/ Groove Collective stirred the soul pot with afro-pop/ Latin jazz funk/and old skool hip hop till ya drop/
while Jazzhole’s sick sound wrapped us in rapid-fire bop rap jazz-a- lot dialogue
of funky bass lines and drum machine hot grooves/
Drums beat, turning our feet to the dance floor/
turntables double scratchin’ in time/
congas and the horn section called out with their sweaty beat in funky time/
we jammed under urban lights/ and held each other tight/
where the echoes of legends lingered/ into the hot New York night/
Miles, Wynton, Diz, Trane, and the Bird/ their spirit souls
and massive tones bustin’ out a thousand-fold/
we are the new jazz of today/ with new sounds and a new way to play and listen to what’s being said in our life and political ways/ Ya dig?
Copyright © Tony Adamo | Year Posted 2024
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment