(Besides story poems, there are what might be called “song poems”. These are lyrical, brief and beautiful. The lyric paints a picture in a few lines. It expresses a deep thought in a few words. It conveys an emotion in the fewest possible phrases.)

[Verse 1: Soup the Chemist]
The city-slicker, dope beat ripper, never known to clone
My rhythmic patterns put me in a space where I’m alone
When I’m writing, block off the area with caution cones
I’m networking other time zones on a cheap phone
Cuz worldwide, hip-hop, they respect it
But in Cali it’s an antiseptic that’s numbing the pain
Caused by bad credit, wack relationships, and games
We got beautiful mountains, but isn’t it strange
That you really can’t see them until the day after it rains
The way I arrange, I should have a million bucks
But today’s consumer treats true art as if it sucks
I don’t back up, just master the craft and come tricky
Trying to survive on the west with just one big dickey
Full of slangers and bangers, fools acting industry
Roll in the SUV with a TV but still live with mommy
I’m getting older, so rhyming is much more than a hobby

(What is a poet? It was a man who was a poet himself, William Wordsworth, who asked that question. And he answered it by saying, “A poet is a man speaking to men. A man who rejoices in the spirit of life.”)

[Verse 2: Aloe Blacc]
Aloe Blacc
Yo, all that I can do now is grow stronger and stay humble
Can’t hang with the corner no longer cuz they mumble
Life’s story told through various means, what I believe
Ain’t no glory in the pack, ain’t no honor among thieves
Better still, they want to be the kind of the hill
It’s like they fighting over contracts but they don’t know the deal
Used to be royalty before we got the royal flush
Down the drain of a contaminated system, and plus
We looking like the stain upon the white shirt of a priest
Either it’s us or it’s because he touched the mark of the beast
But either way, we gonna stay within the cages of skin
Because the man already got a plan to do us all in
So when you wake up in the morning, take a breath and scream out
That ain’t nobody gonna stop you ‘til you live your dream out
Let no man second guess the destination of your quest
And remember in your heart who you praise, who you bless
(Our simplest conversation, even our gossip, is full of colorful phrases, figures of speech, little comparisons that make talk richer and livelier. And the feeling is enhanced by the pure sound of the words, words which in themselves make music and create magic.)

[Verse 3: Sojourn]
Future Shock
I hit the planet and arrived at the land of the glove
Since then I’ve been transplanted to the spot where the hand throws the dove
Slipped out of the mitt and held high like a flag
Waving against the sky, against the pave where we die, cry, laugh, and chill
It ain’t all body bags and toe tags and fools who brag about the kill
We’ve got skilled artisans, ill with the craft if spilling paragraphs, stanzas, and verses
Sicker with the talk traffic, on the phonograph it’s graphic
Wish you could photograph it for your memory banks
I spit acidic lyrics to thin up your think tanks
After which give thanks for the conscious, bomb this from out west
Obsessed with coming out fresh
The fruit of my labor is your grasp on the Savior
If you don’t choose now, you’ll learn later
I leave it at that, no need to feed a sermon on the track
I just plant a seed and let the Spirit do the rest

(Free verse at first glance appears formless, and it lacks both rhyme and a regular rhythm. But it’s not without form. Although it doesn’t have a precise beat, free verse has an irregular but moving rhythm, the rhythm that we find in many parts of the Bible especially.)