Rock
Crying, cheering fans chanting in stands
Upon stage they gauge their
Time as they play
Their instruments, these intrepid bands
In their metal clans, manned in daylight
To live a night life, astride
Lit cigarette outside
To head back, clash chords
Accordingly to beats
And have fan-meets
To transpire inspiration
To their nation,
To their fans’ infatuation
Rap
Livin’ in beats and rhythms,
Take the audience and “kills” them
With their lyric rages and rampages
The stage, they own it
Battlin’ against an opponent
The forlorn tones
Torn of four-letter syllables
Slurred and spit
In mixes, quick tricks
Their vernacular,
A show spectacular
That’s the life of a rapper
Pop
Entourages,
On-tour transportable lodges,
Those who saw this
On E-TV have no life you see
But those that appreciate their work, conceived
Aren’t deceived immediately
Their culture not skewed completely
To listen in remiss
Or to their songs in which
Those whose lyrics make wish,
Love, or soul possible
On, so, they must go
No rank placement
Thus no place taken
Makin’ no mistake
No toll to take from them.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem