Funkmosphere Poem by Robert Rittel

Booty beats from tomb slapping funkier bass,
rhythms to a spherical time in chic confess.
Slick elegance rhymes to fast timing,
wua wua references clear defining.
Dialog in electronic sound design,
funk happens for all of us therein.
Parliament funkadelic renegade,
riding in that old funky rolls to separate.
Committing funky crime against the state of soul,
mix the funk into the rhythm and it will not fade.
High on funk from the bottom and splendor of thing,
funky release of natural essence within.
Amorphous effusive impulse component,
and sweet sweaty antidepressant.
Ramification in that state of mind to funk,
blues road and gospel bell out of sorrow strung.