In the shadows of the city, where the beats collide,
90’s underground, raw and bona fide,
Biggie’s flow, Tupac’s fire, blasting through my mind,
Graffiti on the walls, stories left behind.
Gritty streets, heavy bass, drums hit like a punch,
Respect the roots, the essence, the lyrical crunch,
Pure and independent, underrated and true,
This is dope times ten, nothing else will do.
From West Coast G-Funk to East Coast grind,
Every lyric a gem, every rhyme defined,
Chopped samples, stories woven tight,
Hip-hop’s heartbeat, alive in the night.
The Last Poets, Black Panthers, voices of the past,
Echo in the rhythm, built to last,
Raw, gritty, nostalgic, a head-nodding trance,
In the underground’s embrace, we dance.
Heavy gratitude for the real, the raw,
Mad beats, heavy truths, the soul’s in awe,
This is the sound of the streets, unfiltered and bold,
90’s underground, forever gold.
Another gritty grimy old town with echoed din
who sees how many secrets it keeps within
where at day's end amid traffic's sound
some head for home some run around
with rain-washed windows in hotel rooms
whenever there I do roam
through wind-swept streets at midnight
and hold long-distance conversations on the phone
and that dirty old river forever flows
who knows how many places it goes
as the ships come in and the tide rolls down
some make it safe some run aground
and oh those winking blinking lights
filled with promise of earthly delights
will take you shake you
make you feel all right
Greasy grimy gritty grievances
grabbed grandma’s gleamingly glitzy glasses
Giving griping grousing grandchildren gruesome
glimpses of Grandma’s gleaming glitzy glasses.
He had no teeth and neither did his girlfriend.
We’d sit in his apartment in the dark drinking margaritas and watch Jeopardy.
He’d answer every question correctly and his girlfriend would cackle.
He’d shoot at the mice with a pellet gun as they scurried in the shadows.
He rarely missed.
Their heads would explode and I would feel queasy.
Then he’d turn back to the TV leaving the brains splattered on the floor and wall.
We’d stay up all night talking and drinking.
He’d stand out front of the building in the snow in slippers always laughing.
He was always laughing.
Even after I moved 3,000 miles away I’d call him up to talk over the phone he’d tell outrageous stories always laughing.
Sometimes those people that are hurting the most laugh the hardest.
He had no one in the world.
His girlfriend and myself, we were his family.
I figured when he someday died his body would simply turn into a skeleton in his apartment.
And he’d still be laughing.
hardy pampas
harmony zoysia
feather, feather, feather
festuca glauca, festuca glauca
terra cotta, terra cotta
nassella, nassella, nassella
polypodophyta
Feign neither to these visioned damsel life!
Do ultra-pain ever vanish with time?
Pre-infant, a thorny storm stunned out like a nipple
Some say normally, it only tickles
Stony bloke says, it's a nitty-gritty while my blood ripples
What he wish to see ;for her to move fast out of cripple
Several done seasons, her pistil rose grown
Gone is when slip, now it's two boost slope
Visual shape of womanhood enclose
Even yet, they say, if guys whistle blow, put on a frown
Deceit voice she heard, alot of love compose
Yea! At every seconds, what are we to say of those?
A stage to fish for one to lovelock in cage
Distractions of many but one was name
Having pleasures of sweet-bitter plan as it was read
Pain dropped to her ball, till the thrice three months
When that kid wail out the pride of her mum
Be it continuum! Echoed the immortal Norm.
There's no armour for karma,
hurt her it harms ya,
playing between two
then karma gets you,
make a mug of a mate as well
all 3 see you fail.
so long mothermuffer farewell
fink i'm fic
yes you prick,
living on steroids
always annoyed
doing my head in
now you're inside
your life is destroyed,
but say thank you shall I
for the party supply
all 3 of us hate you
and hope you die,
so long mothermuffer goodbye
Writer, come let your fancy thoughts unfurl:
Watch your ideas move past witty gritty;
See how lyric lines in mad outburst hurl,
Be bold and brave with feisty verse crazy.
Be willing to stretch your wordplay right here,
Dwell on your passage where message works best;
Seize the moment when madness greets fear,
Know that all things come and go in life's fest;
Look within your soul to see a great light,
Brave the turmoils in surge and sag of knaves;
Know before you know that your soul gives sight,
Craft your scripts and drafts and brave the dark caves;
Live each moment as grace voids awkward tense,
Know that in the end it will all make sense.
Leon Enriquez
21 June 2017
Singapore
Most people need to see Magic in technicolor
because they want to see all of the bright creatures
like Brownies and Pixies.
I don't want to see the façades
that Brownies and Pixies
present to the majority of Society.
But I need to see the Dirtier and Grittier
side of Magic because that is where I belong.
The Truth of Magic is messier and more dangerous
than People truly understand or want to know.
I am one of those People
who put their lives on line
To make the World a safer place.
And Society refuses
to recognize our contribution.
And I hate them for that.
Even behind your house
darkness falls all the way down
to the ground in dirt
with many arms you
try to grasp reality
suction cups in mind
guilt takes a walk
on the wild side
inhibitions take a hike
freedom reigns until
your conscience tastes salt again
on lips moist and tender
heat rises and the gritty
satin sheets love stained
blowing in the wind
like the song of
long ago are begging
for the answer
the question
beckons:
is the falling
gritty darkness growing?
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.