Volume 16:1, Winter 2015
A Hip-Hop Sonnet
What the shizzle, write a fucking sonnet.
I aint up for dat. No iambic in
my pentameter. Just grit in my shit
grooves in my moves, ya know what Im saying.
Petrarch aint no MC compared to me.
Shakespeares licks are as weak as Jay-Zs rhymes,
and Kanyes meter steps on Sidneys feet
in octaves and quatrains of busted time.
But my volta will turn this mutha out.
Keep your mind strung and hung upon my words.
Of my lyrical skilz, there is no doubt.
You aint had bread til my butter was churned.
And though my flow may swish round trash can rims
This illin form, fourteen strong, never ends.
Paco José Madden is a DC-native with a BA in Drama from Catholic University of America. He has self-produced three full-length dramatic works at the Capital Fringe Festival. Madden has won several awards and grants from the DC Commission on the Arts and Humanities in playwriting and screenwriting. His poetry has been published in Big Pulp and District Lines. Among other works-in-progress, he is writing a steampunk stage version of Frankenstein.