lighting on my knee
emerald green wings holding
a tiny green person prisoner
between them staring at me
I remained immobile silent
as it began to sing strangely
a kind of hip-hop symphony
avant le lettre I swear
I had no idea what it meant
and told no one for years
who would believe it anyway
that to me a white man in a monastery
with absolutely no musical talent
the spirit of rap appeared in 1963
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