Just Some Fun

(Chris)

A Breakthrough, to make you live with your descisions…to put you in position. Your one of us… Dottin’ COMS, droppin bombs on such a fragile system. The “Rounds” of a victim. VT to CT, and back. To know when our feelings react, with multicolored caps. Your sanity wouldn’t last, and to that we laugh. Oh the eyes of a deprived past… Cut the “highs” when physical systems collapsed.

(Anthony)

Chris and I are about to bring reality to this shit, my fear is the world is reading us crooked

It felt like we were waiting for decades so we took it for the dictatorship

I spell and pronounce the prophecy, it seems like this establishment kept its commonwealth naïve and illiterate

They taught them to spew out all this happy go lucky rhetoric

(Chris) Handling, ATAXIA to the MAX. While…Structures Keep You Trapped. With your head up high, at that. Lose the diet of meds, then fast.

(Anthony)

The macabre, I depend on it

Without it I’d be a happy invalid

Chasing Dreams that aren’t what they seem, rearrange my knuckles as I blow off steam

Add a dose of hate; let’s get down to the shit

Raise my digits quick but it’ll never be the end of it

(Chris) Evidence suggests that we stay away, from rat feins, who say they can Hear Our Pain. …And their brains can maintain, if we refrain, …from exposing their dreams of a higher place. So, wear the shoes of a holder to “constant change”. Feel hate, when we feel collective embrace.

(Anthony)

I was a lost soul, I lead by example

Bred to be a prodigy, with new souls to trample

I’ve got phantoms on my shoulders assembled; get side tracked by backwards emotions but I stay central

I’m fuckin mental

We swerve to the fast lane and the speed of sound stutters, we are raising prodigies

Brilliant oddities

In the distance you hear thunder

In my periphery

I sense wonder, What’s their history? Where do they come from? Why should this mean shit to me?

Mix double definitions of illness, a dual diagnosed calamity, Affluent in the language of insanity

God fucked with us, and we waited patiently, Spat modern Shakespeare in a brilliant rhyming pattern

If Men come from mars, then we originate from motherfucking Saturn

And If God is real, and then may he grant me the serenity to fuck you up

Let you feel the pain of the lepers

Let you Run out of Luck

(Chris) Fuck “The We”, Feed on 3 more. They contribute to a Farm-Party Of Four. Then feed the youth the main cause of war. Take a look. Fucking open your eyes. The drugged hold our streets with positive vibes. All the time. Steelys or Red Wine. Your superiors live life. Forget mine.

(Anthony)

Blame it on the Drugs, and the medicine?

Or the material that is made from ambition and pseudoephedrine

Write a Best seller without pills, well I’m dead then

I guess it’s cool for people to torture you half your life, domestic abuse for six years due to your own strife?

But Boy, you can be a born again Christian

My father paid his tribute, and the bullshit he will listen

I’ve got two brothers and mother and that’s my family

Chris and I are just beginning to stand tall; my father means fuck all

The Devil closed the door but I pick a good lock

I’m making six figures while getting taunted by a demon holding his Sesame street Cock?

I spew rhymes like rounds from a Glock, thinking about the days when my statistics were snug next to a blade in my tube sock

You say you feel my pain, I should be happy?

Are fucking stupid, or Just Daffy

I told you hate begets a book contract, so motherfuckers stay out of contact

I wrote a love poem to make up for what the world lacks

We hear abuse not a clap

This is Truth not rap

And I already killed cupid

I ostracized his wings, see you knew because you use his freshly cut ideology as your bling, you hypocrite romanticized normal thing  

(Chris) From the start, when sick, we sip potion. Then move on to the next forward motion. This could seem beyond my comotion. So Take A Minute and let make locomotion. …OF the word, your hopes in, a better world to loathe in, start to incline, slopin

Image

The Misery

This Misery

Ive got time to kill, dollar bills, try to get rid of a mountain that clings to the hills
Cheap thrills when the coincidence builds, try to sustain the mind with over the counter pills
Burning buildings, boiling points, chaos
Loud voices, heated exchange, beginning to believe in these payoffs

Misery for the degenerate, more love in the pain if your going to hurt me let me feel it
Let me rise in front of ruby eyes, patronize my endeavors with diamond lies
Break my knuckles to blow off steam, I’m seeing to much red to believe in me
Long nights, bloody fights, paint a picture of the chaos
Clinched fists, death list and that corner in shame and blame city
Pure mourning, Pure misery
Ive got to many wounds to believe in your serendipity

I need a light to ignite my flame
A reason for this world to remember my name
I said I’d play the game, but never fairly
I carry myself to enlightenment with people staring
Shoot for the moon, couldnt leave the ground
I shot further when else was around, defying sound
I did it
Nothing changed, I was livid
Blank spaces, peculiar cases, Its all in my periphery
I shot for the stars but didn’t escape the misery

Sorry for the Long Wait!

I’m back, i apologize that i haven’t been around! So I’ll be publishing a novella through Trafford Publishing in Early January. It’s extremely exciting. I’m so happy and readyd to dive head first into this beautiful madness. I’ll introduce the book to you ovvr time! For tonight however i have a bunch of stuff for you guys

Last Poem (For You)

 

There is nothing to fear, now lets get together and conquer the world. If I don’t swirl or smile while I lowercase the hippo, understand I usually fall in love with PTSD Nympho. Confirm the past with the present, with an endeavor that shines and glows, who will stop me nobody knows!

 

Yo I realized I’m not enough, I see through your god, your words and everything you preach, its bittersweet when you disappear from my reach. I can see the darkest lie is true, I wrote my last poem for you

 

 

 

I don’t need a weapon to lose my life yeah, but I’m dying to be forgiven. Sadness is never ending, the ballad beat the eulogy, my last poem is just the beginning. The sound of a fight is the bane of my silent night, it’s a new name controlling the game. I breath threats, your presence in this equation is as relevant as a cassette, and as I spit into the face of trauma with a New Flame, I swear on my life this will never be the same

 

I can see the darkest lie is true, I wrote my last poem for you. Created riddles for you children like Winnie The Pooh, solving the mystery without a clue, this perestroika is my enigma, to keep up my stigma now watch me burn, cut my face, only wanted a taste.

 

Talk to me, flourish at an early age yeah, I sustained non fiction on the first page moments before I embrace unchecked rage, aggression, I was born to set the world on fire let me sum it up in a melody or a dreadful epiphany, I’d never thought I’d live long enough to cook goals like rotisserie but enemies fell like Rome, Chris and I are the New Triumvirate, are you illiterate or just really stupid, words aren’t a threat just my best bet, what are the odds we can end this centennial with success that’s millennial, meet each regret just to breed pets to collect all of society’s debts

 

 

 

The heat is rising, disguises and souvenirs, I did things my way, debonair. Its an ending fitting for the start, I live life for those who chose to depart. I’ll thrash and tear you apart, because deep down inside I really hate you.

 

The aftermath of a cruel gag, it’s the era of cool pictures and unquestionable swag. I hold a brown paper bag in the ICU, slit my wrists and then wrote this ode to the nine people In my fucking crew. We stand perpendicular to the animal kingdom, gargantuan, REPRESENT, homeless with a immaculate tent

 

I wrote my last poem for you, but there is no remorse in this milieu. So get ready for my big debut, I said I’d off myself but my life is extended, question of life open ended, I’m hurt but no longer dependent, I suffer and cry, but this is the biggest fuck you to the ugliest lie, I live through my work so I’ll never die

 

 

Daddys Gone

Oh oh, Dad ya were my hero, opposite of the common zero

Now i See the four headed monster of doom, my perspective on life is in full zoom

Daddy, We could’ve had it all

Now you make my life fuckin impossible

I write this with tears and syllables

’cause i will be the only one, standin as the lonely son

Realizing that my perfect life is done

Daddy’s Gone, Daddy’s Gone

I wanna tear apart your memories

Blatant obscenities, my trauma took furious entities

I want you to now, that healing is so slow

I have to mend the wounds of every blow

I was that lonely boy, not sure what to say

Oblivion or a shattered day, my dad’s memories began to decay

Dad, we could have had it all

Instead my only hope that night was a hospital

I will be the only one crying in midnight park

I need a father to find me in the dark

Oh Dad, Fear is my best friend, it took your place  in my life till the end

Suicide was your message to send

I love you to much for your life to end

This life of mine isnt right, i scream and beg for reality to begin

Empowerment, means finding love withen

Sea within the Ocean

 

Then it’s your eyes, that don’t walk alone

And we believe in you, tonight

Walking through the streets

My dreams stay steady rising
My dreams fall to the shadows, tonight

Walking through the streets, my dreams stay firmly riddled in pain

My dreams descend but I’ll fight

 

But until the end, I’ll walk alone

Before the witnesses of the night

Will you hold my hand

Will your heart stay rooted toward the shadow

I’ve seen the bleeding sky far beyond shadow

The darkness of the night won’t be my option

The light near the moon has been my savior

Far before the beginning of time

My heart is a vessel and the light at the end of the tunnel is my sea

If you are an angel, then what does that make me?

Until the end I will carry you in grief

Find a sense of forgiveness

Believe
Hold everything close and see

That if you are a river I understand why I have drowned

If your eyes are the ocean, then what is your frown?
If life is a game, then am I the clown?
Do you believe me or is this an empty climax

Is that a wall behind our backs?

Is this world made of particles that we lack

If there are so many holes, why do I get stuck in the cracks?

Rolling

I first strolled onto the scene with clinched fists and grinding teeth, now I’m rolling off the walls like Ketamine, I’d like to represent a mezzanine because you know my mathematics are looking great, I’m not the king of the hill because I’m snoring on a mountain of fate ready to sedate motherfuckers with my mates, tell me about violence? I’ve been killing my liver for fifteen years

They wanted to name my book the Epitome of Hopes and Fears, and they wanted me to concede but I slit my wrist for the blood sweat and tears,

feeling like nobody cared so I wanted to make things happen. Pushing books out faster than the New Haven guns are clapping, Try to triple team the best, what’s happening?

But none of this is a game to me, I write masterpieces on the weekdays and spell out symphonies on the low end, I’m off putting and so is the sequence of tens of which my salary is set to begin, watching your mother fend for herself against some vicious dogs, I’m going to snatch that mink grab those pearls, bleeding on the edge of the world, sniffing so much blow that I think I’m the curl in the comma printed on my pay raise. Crime pays, because I’ve been robbing ambition since I first walked into the room, I know they got my back even in questionable situations

All hope died of asphyxiation but I didn’t even get my hands dirty, the prodigal son,

the name seems worthy. Can’t hurt me, or phase me, Took time to investigate the bullshit and  this is my trophy. Used to wear a ski mask just to write a hit, now I know that the pen can be more than a grammatical weapon then the post pink slip

Born and Bred with a pistol in my mouth, I swear tears never streamed south. I have things lined up for the future, but the critics are to busy trying to open up my healed suture. Used to be loser, then became and monk and now I can crossover, jump over your head and slam dunk. Multiple bodies in the trunk with pencil wounds, your smell of success was years back and even then it stunk but now it’s rotting away.

On a day like today I’ve got life on a tray throwing up gang signs missing fingers, deformed ear, oh glad that you care. I thought you were to busy wrestling with your man teddy bear, and I stand sincere in front of you today, face painted with a  vintage look of fear. And as the beat gets darker so does the horizon, so go and get it. Empty threats are your death, no matter how fresh I’ll put you to the test.

I hear them laughing as I wake up in hell, but I’m a chemical that doesn’t mix well, I’m perpendicular to the sickness…hell, parallel to whatever is left, I want to go ill and stand still, I never took my eyes away when I wasn’t the predator but the kill

 

Now I dance to an ominous tune, I’m the king of the hill, independent of the population’s unrealistic lust of the dollar bill,

Perpetuating doom

I repudiate therapy and request for the snub to twist aside, I smile as the painful episodes subside, this is the season and I’m ready for war, but I have to stay alive as my mind contemplates treason, I continually attempt to outsmart reason

We swerve to the fast lane and the speed of sound stutters, we are raising prodigies

Brilliant oddities, In the distance you hear thunder, In my periphery, I sense wonder, like who is this bad ass nigga with all the thunder, will he conquer or blunder, Will he conquer or blunder? Or will all fall out off way as the new day starts to conjure sunrise, for your eyes only, we look at situations differently, because a lot of them end up quite homely. The biggest prophecy is to shoot you down where you are standing, Strawberry Grandin!

The Art of Protest

Since “When Johnny Comes Marching Home Again”, the American variation protest anthem for the civil war, art has been an incredibly powerful form of protests. This includes all different types of art, from music, to paintings, writing and movies. Famous artist Willie Bester of South Africa created many pieces to protest the Apartheid period in his country. Also Picasso famously painted Guernica in 1937, which was in response to the Bombing of a Basque country by Italians and Germans at the request of Spanish Nationalist during the Civil War. Guernica became a anti-war symbol, referenced quite often in protest still. Also political cartoons are satire, but in a lot of ways they are meant to enlighten or caution, sometimes outright protest the issues they are making cartoons about. Concerning movies, in the past their was “Battle of Algiers” and “One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest” which both technically protested individual issues. The History of Art in Protest is quite large, but these issues don’t greatly effect my generation and the generation to come. The protest or the caution in art about social alienation, discrimination and prejudice has been the most powerful and most renowned since the end of World War II. It all started with Marvin Gaye’s Soulful ballad, “What’s Going On”. Which was in response to not only the racial tension and chaos that had destroyed the lives of so many brothers and sisters in the 60s and the 70s, but also to Vietnam and the way he saw police treating protestors. All together, the name of the track said it best, it was a heartfelt plea to everyone to just get along. It felt very real, to the point where many people cried. Because chaos is sad, and by listening to a song that is protesting the chaos and everything causing it you can become very emotional.

The world has evolved, as has everyone in it. “What’s Going On” is brilliant, nevertheless no piece of art has ever come close to being as honest, intense, cautionary, angry and brilliant as “La Haine”, or Hate in English. It’s a 1995 drama set in a culturally diverse French ghetto that is about explode with rage. The movie highlights a stark difference between the suburbs La Haine takes place in and the Suburbs that Americans are used to. Suburbs in France are used for public housing only, projects like in Chicago. They are high rises, with the exact same structure as Housing projects in America. The introduction of the film is a montage of videos and images, of a protestor being gunned down for standing in front over fifty riot police, other police brutality, looting, fires and overall destruction most people wouldn’t normally associate with France. France has become a melting pot of different cultures, races and religions. For the most part a lot of Africans and Arabs have immigrated to France, which has led to a racist and negative response from the original French residents.

One unique piece of the movie is that the three characters Vinz, Said and Hurbert are Jewish, Arab and African in that order. The biggest statement of protest in the movie is that the film is shot in Black & White, so you wouldn’t judge characters by the color of the skin. You could still see their ethnicity for the most part, but more then anything its just a huge statement because it really plays a factor for the film. A non-judgmental view of the film is the best, also the conflict that is established from the beginning in La Haine, is that it’s the “Ghetto Dweller” v. Police. It’s a bleak situation, so one can also argue that there is a second reason why the movie is black & white. La Haine is bleak, but its also incredibly cool, from the revolutionary camera angles, to the flawless script, to the first time actors and just the chemistry that they all have. The raw violence, creates an open wound in most viewers minds, and its hard to heal it. Social Alienation and Prejudice has never been presented as good as this.

The plot of the movie, is that the group’s “Bro” Abdel is beaten nearly to death by the police. Few details are ever presented as to what happened, but its pretty clear that Abdel’s crime didn’t warrant massive head trauma and a coma. Its unfair, which leads to the second part of protest in the film. Nobody is there to represent them, to watch over them or to watch the police. They’re alone in a well developed country, which at that time was a battlefield. The film made it mirror 2007 Gaza Strip; burnt buildings, gunfights with police, burnt cars, tension and the intimidating presence of riot police all day around the corner. The guilty easily blend with the innocent, so that nobody is truly safe. When good deeds and staying clear from trouble still leads to police harassment and brutality, it causes people to act out and look for trouble. They almost partially lose their minds. In reality, what was there not to be bitter about?

So following the news of the police’s beating on Abdel, hothead Vinz, who stole a cops gun at the same riot the previous night, vows to kill a policeman if Abdel dies. As the French rendition of the ultra popular golden era rap song “Sound of Da Police” rings through the projects, its balanced by Edith Piaf. Not very metaphorical, just suggestive to the tone for the remainder of the movie.

“Hate Breeds Hate, Vinz?”- Said

When the group is arguing about the gun, Said makes this statement and everything changes. It’s a very early part of the movie, near the beginning, its extremely memorable as well. After that quote the journey through tear gas and blood ridden France finally begins. La Haine, inspired me so much, creatively I felt the raw energy and the realistic grit that the movie possessed and it gave me so many great ideas. It inspired me to not be judgmental because I never know where someone is from or how he was brought up. Its about equality, it takes watching La Haine a few times to see anything beautiful from it. Nevertheless it has a influential message to it, and it is surprisingly very neutral. After seeing La Haine id thought id never see or hear about any other type of protest or cautionary movie, song, book quite like La Haine. I knew for a fact, Social Alienation could never be handled quite like La Haine. I was wrong though, the issue was tackled sensationally in three minutes by one of the United Kingdoms finest.

“Ill Manors”, a song from London rapper Ben Drew (aka Plan B). Ben grew up in the East End of London, and had been known for his violent, horrifying and socially conscience lyrics. His first album was strictly rap, slamming street life and giving a realistic and truthful glimpse into the life in London Ghettos. Also more importantly, it made it clear there aren’t many differences between American Ghettos and English. On his second Album, Drew relied more on his Alternative Hip-Hop/Soul origins with The Defamation of Strickland Banks, which sold over five million copies. It showed his versatility, which has incredible range. Both drew considerable recognition, however the release of “Ill Manors” brought Plan B to a new level of success. Many newspapers in the UK such as its most prominent, Guardian, called it Britain’s greatest protest song ever. It went Number 1 and hasn’t left the top five in seven weeks. What has drawn massive criticism is the video. The lyrics blatantly pit poor against rich, slamming politicians, David Cameron the Prime Minister, the sacrificed welfare of the youth, newspapers who use derogatory language to describe people who live in council estates and the opportunities that aren’t given to youth who grow up in poverty. The word is Chav, and its very offensive to people in England, it’s a big stereotype. The origin of the word was from the late 1900s, when somebody would describe a young boy with a cigarette, chain, track jacket, didn’t listen to their parents and was always up to not good. For the most part, preparing to rob you if given the chance. A Council Estate, is the British variant of an housing project in America. These are all very valid points, but the Protest Rap song embraces the edge of a Hardcore thrasher song with the video, displaying  real footage of violent and bloody fights, massive fires, riot police dashing towards masked protestors, images of youth carrying knives and throwing up gang signs, the destruction of cars and most of all it portrays the anger of a nearly forgotten group of a people with such realism that it scares you. For some it makes you want to close the computer and watch a PG movie, but for others it makes you want to put on a bandana and grab any tools you have to destroy things.

One line that sticks with anybody who hears the song:

“Oi! I said Oi! What you looking at, you little rich boy! We’re poor round here, run home and lock your door. Don’t come round here no more, ya could get robbed for real. Cause our manors Ill!”

This is the defiant chorus and the centerpiece for the song. Ben Drew fluidly shifts from one topic to the next, the Olympic games being focused on instead of more important things, parliament’s lack of effort, his animosity toward politicians, and closing down community centers are things that really seem to disturb Drew. He then switches the tone with a violent threat, or in my opinion a realistic threat. When he gets to his monologue, his message couldn’t possibly be clearer.

We’ve had it with you politicians

You bloody rich kids never listen

There’s no such thing as Broken Britain

We’re just bloody broke in Britain

What needs fixing is the system

Not shop windows down in Brixton

Riots on the Television

You can’t put us all in prison!

            Guardian UK and many other newspapers, websites and media personalities have compared its impact through England, to the likes of the classic song “What’s Going On” by Marvin Gaye. Most did argue that while Gaye’s soulful plea was created to offer healing and caring during a time when it was nonexistent, Ill Manors is a song about alienation, the psychology of the class system, Britain’s prejudice, that sounds just like a riot. It offers little hope, because he is realistic that we don’t live in a kind world.

The same goes for La Haine, it is a fairly neutral Movie, because it isn’t a call to go out and love each other or destroy things. It fits somewhere in the middle. Nevertheless, what La Haine and Ill Manors have in common, is the idea that if you treat someone like a dog, they’ll act like a dog. The system, which is filled to the brim with chauvinistic ideology, has bred the so called trouble makers to become what they are. Once you realize that, seeing La Haine or hearing Ill Manors, becomes much more of an experience then a leisure activity.