FreezeRay:  Poetry With A Pop
  • Issue #22
  • About
  • FreezeRay Matinee
  • Submissions
  • Archive
  • FreezeRated
  • Broadcasts From The Watchtower
McKendy Fils-Aime

Old Dirty Sestina

He's the third killer bee, 
grabs ears with raps, 
croons on hard beats, 
needs no melody. 
Call him Old Dirty Bastard 
or Big Baby Jesus. 
 
A drunk spitting Jesus 
rhymes so he can be 
above a poor bastard. 
With some ghetto raps, 
and a great melody, 
he rocks any beat. 
 
If heaven had break beats, 
this man would be Jesus 
over God's melody, 
sting lames like a bee 
when they tried to rap 
songs like Bastard's. 
 
As kids we were bastards 
who adored awesome beats 
and found love in crazy raps. 
With words beyond Jesus 
he stung us, this bee, 
hid pain in melody. 
 
With cocaine melody, 
his mind, a singing bastard 
he was crazy as can be. 
In freedom, he kept beats 
and named himself Jesus 
but stayed on his raps. 
 
He died with all his raps 
but no new melodies. 
This lyric filled Jesus 
This music-less bastard 
who had no voice on beats 
except on other bees 
 
So today we have rap's bastard 
saved on melodies that even beat

Jesus and all wannabes.


Proudly powered by Weebly