i get upset as my brain cells fry
and before the cooking of my
intelligence is finished,
my consciousness has mysteriously diminished.
with each expletive, reference to the club, clothes and sex
i exchange the logical portion of my identity
for an apathetic, watered-down version of me.
foolishness is hidden in tight beats
craftily slipping each listener a mickey,
one that has adverse effects seen in the bobbing of their heads
and the memorization of lyrics of the dead
that they had no intention of mummifying in their minds
but this is a narcotic of a different kind,
providing a high that causes its users to sing along
to choruses that they once swore were dumb.
i am going through withdrawal.
music as an art form is so powerful
and yet, it’s being conquered and corrupted violently.
i want music that will romance me,
take me on trips to other lands, even if only for 4 minutes,
transport me on journeys to rivers of reminiscence;
tunes that welcome my memory to linger on positive times,
composition that will be vitamins to my mind,
enabling my growth and health,
not music that numbs my true self.
i no longer want to be lost in lyrics of defilement,
to be the main character on a public service announcement
that has back-to-back reruns that just won’t stop
saying: “This is your brain…”
and when the radio beat drops,
“This is your brain on hip-hop.”