Love to be Music

I wanna be hip hop.

I wanna be  concrete jungle

Graffiti’ed brick buildings

Walking with swag as if the streets is my rhythm

And my heart is the bass.

I wanna be…

Quick wit and rhymes galore

Over old school samples

Broken, scratched, and juggled to an unrecognizable

Cacophony of sound bliss.

I wanna be cutting edge clothes, and shoes,

With a hat that perfectly tops it off…and

A grape lollipop to show I’m a sweet bitch, but a bad bitch.

I wanna be hip hop.

I wanna be neo-soul.

I wanna be bald, fro’d or locked

Rockin’ clothes inspired by travels.

I wanna be neo-smooth,

Merely swaying to the soulful sounds

Of raw, unfiltered soul.

I wanna be conscious-as in aware not as in militant

And have deep discussions about the revolution and such

While Badu plays in the background.

I wanna neo-soul.

I wanna be R&B.

I wanna be polished suits, hair, and flawless skin

Poised to bump and grind

I wanna be the emotion beneath the yelling the screaming the

Cool down typical of such music.

I wanna be lip gloss and faux fur with an attitude to back it up.

I wanna be down…

Transporting folks to a soul fantasy, a soundtrack to urban fiction

Yeah, I wanna be R&B…

I wanna be pop.

I wanna be artificial sugary sweet

Put together package of well-enough vocal skills and bubble gum style.

I wanna be the subject of “WTF is she thinking” when I walk across a crowded room

I wanna be boy band crazed wearing a Miley Cyrus tee shirt

Trying to dance like Usher…I mean Chris Brown…I mean Michael Jackson.

I wanna be cool like the cool kids…

The ones who wanna be pop.

I wanna be indie rock.

I wanna be spoiled, privileged, but angsty for no reason

Other than it sound good dope on bass.

I wanna be skateboarding and surfing and cruisin’ the valley streets

With my bro’s and my babes and my dudes, and my chicks…

I wanna be flannelled out with clothes that look warn for years

But, like,  I just got them this weekend at a Telegraph avenue thrift store.

I wanna be half dope, half cool, but all the way indie rock…

I wanna be gangsta rap.

I wanna be mean muggin’ dem females and homies

Rollin’ through, bumpin' west coast grooves on a

Sweltering sunny afternoon.

I wanna be trouble everywhere I go

But smart enough to not get caught.

I wanna hang around street corners

Representing my hood by throwing up signs and

Daring anyone to cross me.

I wanna be slow, bassy grooves to a rapper who just

Tells it like it is.

No tricks, no lyrical somersaults.

I wanna be gangsta rap.

I wanna be the living image of soul that has passed on.

The elegance of Whitney

The charm of Heavy

The fearlessness of Pac, Big, and Eazy

The sweetness of Celina and Aaliyah

The feistiness of Left Eye

I wanna rock like Cobain, with

The wisdom of Gil

The sexy smoothness of Luther and Gerald

But with the rawness of Nate

Sealed with the sincerity of Guru

And the life-force of Dilla

Creating the planet, like Don,

For striving moonwalkers like Mike.

I could go on for days just wanting to be music.

I just wanna be music.