The Musical Cemetery

Hip-Hop is lying half dead to itself.
The sight of this scene is all too soon beginning to distress me.
I'm drowning in pure air.
I'm suffocating in the fluid movements of the words as they escape the lips of all those around me.
The lyrics of the short cutters methodically entrap me.
The sounds of synthesizers rampage inside me-
As my heart begins to beat in their cut, paste, and carbon copied rhythms.
Any and all creativity that used to exist in the art of speaking, writing, singing, and even rapping now trickles down slowly, silently, slovenly dissolving creation into a hodgepodge of auto-tuner enhanced bigotry that is constantly being reproduced.
Yes, I understand that this topic is over done;
Over saturated in the tears of the youth as they reach, scream and fight to find the musical cemetery, completely ignoring what the old man across the street was warning.
He was right you know, Hip-Hop came back but the look in its eyes is forlorn and forgotten.
Bared teeth and dirt polished nails gash, gnash and smash what is left in its soul.
The meaning is hidden, behind the stark walls of illusion.
The wall of sound of a bass pumping, thumping, causes all the kids in the room to start humping.
On the dance floor, 'the bodies be jumping'

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And that's where the writer's block comes in. I'm not sure where to take it..............

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Thanks. Please, feel free to comment if you think you can help. Or just comment to be one of the cool kids.

Much love to you.
-Bryan Anderson

Writer's Block, you cruel mistress...................

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*slams head on keyboard*