Poetry Spotlight: “Ode to Old School” by Derek Thiem

DEREK THIEM is a former English teacher and a street poet based in Portland, Oregon. His poetry and lyrics explore recovery, street life, and Portland’s ever-changing pulse. He occasionally dabbles in themes of astrophysics, metaphysics, and erotica, revealing the unexpected breadth of his creative mind. You can find him on Facebook and YouTube under his name, and hear his work set to music on Suno.com under the monikers VioletKeyboard944 and ExasperatingVocoder2004.

Ode to Old School

 

From the depths of the Bronx

In the seventies

Just before I would ever be

A DJ took on a Herculean task

And mastered it grandly with a flash

And a wizard named Theodore scratched

Musical alchemy in the streets

There was a message from Sugar Hill Gangs

About what was hip and it hopped

And the beats were broken non stop

They sampled musical examples

Like James Brown funky drummers

The bass drums pounded like thunder

And out of disco and Stevie Wonder 

MC’s began to rap over beats and there

Was something hot on the breeze

All concrete and no trees

People’s dreams came to be

Over cheap mixer equipment 

And microphones the speaker system

Was home and kids home alone

Began to bang out tones on drum

Machines if they could or

Just making beats on boxes

Or beat boxing with their mouths

The culture spread from North to South 

Herbie Hancock built a rockit

And suddenly b boys were rocking it

Windmills were swinging and dolphins

Were diving and pop and lock sprung out 

Around boom boxes

Rick was slick and he told stories 

That started with la di da di

And everything was a party

You earned your stripes by wearing 

Adidas and Jam Master J ran

With Reverend Run across the DMC

Like it was the DMZ there was a line

Between hip hop and not

And you could get lost in plots

In Paul’s Boutique about riding 

Little horsies named Paul Revere

Back to Cali while LL rocked some bells

It was Tricky in those times

To rhyme about fighting for your right to party

You could go to a Fresh Prince

Before he was in Bel Aire 

And he understood what your parents didn’t 

You could get Jazzy with Jeff

To chill after a nightmare on my street 

Meanwhile Eric B and Rakim were getting 

Cathartic about life on the street without 

Sweating techniques on technics

Untill they got paid in full

We weren’t fools 

We were Public Enemies

Fighting the power while

Everybody feared a black planet

911 was a joke but we could all

Boogie down on some productions

By Rick Rubin

Thank him for being a 

Godfather in the background 

Knowledge reigned supreme 

And we were rebels without a pause

Flava always knew what time it was

Some MCs carried hammers

And most were young busting moves

You could groove with Rob Base 

And DJ EZ Rock because it took two to 

Make a thing go right 

A DJ and an MC were all that was

Required to give the crowd what

They desired 

Nobody felt Too Shorted

And there was enough Salt n Peppa

For everybody to shoop together

Everybody rolled in a crew that was 

Too live we mixed a lot and for awhile 

Everyone was ok with big butts

Until the day things became vanilla 

And the game got iced

Everyone started having babies 

Now we shop in thrift shops 

Downtown talking about how

They not like us

But trust me

The city is still mad

And people are out here pimping butterflies