Black Ice, born Lamar Manson, was a pioneering spoken word artist who brought poetry to national audiences
Tributes from Philly icons like Jill Scott and Jazzy Jeff highlight his profound impact as an artist and friend
His passing leaves a void in Philly's cultural fabric, but his powerful voice will continue to inspire
Source: F. Micelotta / Getty
Philadelphia Mourns the Loss Cultural Icon Black Ice
Philadelphia has lost one of its most commanding artistic voices with the death of Black Ice, the legendary spoken word artist and hip-hop poet whose work helped bring performance poetry from intimate stages to national audiences.
Born Lamar Manson, Black Ice became a defining figure in spoken word through unforgettable appearances on HBO’s Def Poetry Jam and the Broadway production of Def Poetry. With a thunderous delivery, sharp political insight and unmistakable stage presence, he built a reputation as an artist who could seize a room with nothing but language, conviction and breath.
His death was reported Thursday. The cause has not been publicly disclosed.
Tributes from across the city and music industry has been pouring in followed news of his passing.
Jill Scott
Philly native Jill Scott, whose tribute pointed to a personal and emotional loss that extended far beyond public recognition. In a social media post, Scott reflected on Parker in a way that suggested deep affection, respect, and heartbreak, offering a glimpse into the kind of impact he had on the people closest to him.
“BLACK ICE!!!! Rest beautifully WORDSMITH. We got to have 30 years as REAL FRIENDS with REAL pens. Baraka to my Giovanni. THAT, was a GUDT time💯%.” Scott wrote.
“So much love to his beautiful children & grands. My deepest condolences to his family and fans.”
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Philly Legend DJ Jazzy Jeff took to Instagram to share his sentiments on his experience with Black Ice. “The This one hurts bad… you were one of the most gifted, talented, smartest, funniest real human beings that I’ve ever met. You wore your flaws with the most honesty that I’ve ever seen.” Jazzy Jeff captioned on Instagram.
“You texted me a few weeks ago and I told you I loved you. I’m crying because I’m sad that we won’t have any more of these conversations. The world knew you as the Legendary Black Ice… But you were my brother Mr. Manson and I’m gonna miss you terribly. Rest well, my brother.#BlackIce#MrManson“
Russell Simmons
Russell Simmons shared his sentiments on social media as well, giving his audience a backstory on the emmy-award winning poet. “Black Ice (born Lamar Manson) was a Tony, Peabody, and Emmy Award-winning hip-hop poet and spoken word artist from Philadelphia. Famous for his five-season run on HBO’s Def Poetry Jam, he was the first poet signed to Def Jam Records. His powerful, socially conscious performances have bridged the gap between spoken Word and hip hop” Simmons wrote on IG.
Toni Blackman remembered him as “one of the dopest to ever bless a stage,” Penning a beautifully written poem in his memory.
“What happens when a poet passes on?
When a wordsmith’s words can only be sourced from memory?
When they leave too soon—before the next performance, before the next gathering, before the next conversation…
What’s the world to do?
Who are we without our brother?
I saw the news earlier while I was on my way to the screening of a documentary—ironically, a film about poets and MCs, poetry and words, community, love, and art. But I thought I had misread it.
I woke up out of my sleep to send a message I’d forgotten to send. Yeah…my brain be like that sometimes.
That’s when I realized I hadn’t misread anything.
I just didn’t want to see it.
I didn’t want to believe it.
Not right now.
During the post-film talkback, I teared up because I kept thinking about Danny Simmons and Maritri…and now Black Ice. Once I got a grip on my emotions, I spoke. The tears sat neatly on the edges of my eyes because I waited. My voice quivered just enough, and I let myself feel what I felt.
Stuffed emotions aren’t healthy.
There are moments that stay etched in your mind because what’s shared comes exactly when you need it.
We were backstage, and the conversation—as anyone who knows me would expect—turned to one about living abroad. It got deep real fast.
Black Ice was so generous with his wisdom, his stories, and his insights. He spoke with remarkable transparency about life, purpose, his experiences, his children, and what it means to really live.
That conversation left an imprint.
He was one of the dopest to ever bless a stage. A rare kind of creativity. A quiet strength. That unmistakable Philly cool…woo sah. Yall, another one…gone. Too soon, too soon.
Lamar Manson, aka Black Ice.
We love you.
Your voice, your presence, and your words will be deeply missed.
Prayers up to his family and to everyone who had the privilege of loving him.
Rest in Poetry sir.” Black wrote on Instagram.
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His passing leaves a deep void in the city’s cultural fabric and in the broader world of hip-hop poetry. But for the countless artists, students and listeners he moved, Black Ice’s voice will remain impossible to forget.
