Music Man

I had to write an alliterative poem for class on a historic event.  History is something that happened in the past so I wrote mine on the life events of Macklemore, the best artist in the game.  

Smoking blunts and sipping bottles, syrup and bongs were sinking his boat.

Bringing bottles to block parties, with the big bass in the back blasting Back in Black.

Reject the last remnant of this rhythm, Mr. Haggerty was rendering real rap.

Caught in that cold cocoon clutching the cup with cocaine continually calling to him.

Mack’s magic was masked by many drugs; and maintenance of moderation remained a myth.

Potently populating a prison of pills; the Professor’s production of powerful palaver was postponed.

Hip-hop hollered in his house of hopelessness and he escaped as his one hope housed him.

Oxycontin had owned him, but that overdosing is old oratory.

He raps about real things, remembering real struggles, and reminiscing the past.

Sober and clean for years, now he’s singing for kids in cold, dark settings.

Warping the game without a label, this white boy with wild fans on his wings.

Green white and orange goes through his genealogy, this gentleman’s geographic gave us Guinness.

He’s got the soul of a thousand singers, but he’s not a soldier, simply a struggler.