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"revolutionary" poems
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say? ‘A posteriori’ leads the way For the extra and the ordinary Axiomatic sway, In the gravity of corollary, ‘A priori’ interplay Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation, As the innocence of dissonance delay. Practicing semantic contemplation, In willfully prevenient interpolation, Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray, Forecasts in vague extrapolation Contrasts the millennial contagion Already underway, Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves, To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves, A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves, Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves, Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves, A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves. The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates, An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states, Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates. Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates, Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates, Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates. An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion, Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion, The personable recluse fighting an illusion Breaking down the nuances of every institution. Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility, An opinionated adversary, to the realist without evidence, Theorizing in futility, Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community. Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified, Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified, Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide, Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide, Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified. Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity, As consequential regiments are expounded universally, To unstratify the residents indiscriminately And identify quantum elements spiritualistically, Changing collective behavior individually, Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
0
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 8:07 AM UTC
Paradoxical Tendencies
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say? ‘A posteriori’ leads the way For the extra and the ordinary Axiomatic sway, In the gravity of corollary, ‘A priori’ interplay Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation, As the innocence of dissonance delay. Practicing semantic contemplation, In willfully prevenient interpolation, Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray, Forecasts in vague extrapolation Contrasts the millennial contagion Already underway, Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves, To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves, A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves, Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves, Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves, A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves. The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates, An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states, Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates. Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates, Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates, Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates. An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion, Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion, The personable recluse fighting an illusion Breaking down the nuances of every institution. Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility, An opinionated adversary, to the realist without evidence, Theorizing in futility, Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community. Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified, Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified, Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide, Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide, Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified. Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity, As consequential regiments are expounded universally, To unstratify the residents indiscriminately And identify quantum elements spiritualistically, Changing collective behavior individually, Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
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47
If (WO)men are the ones that suffer an exacerbated amount Of the violence, the **** the abuse, and everything that comes with and from struggle and alienation; it is because of their femininity that men at times have come to believe that their contributions soften institutions. That at times throughout history neither capitalism, neoliberalism nor revolutionary experiments like that of Cuba have placed femininity as compatible with progress or resolution. In which case femininity must be hidden, silenced, or displaced with no purpose or place to belong. Thus everyone closely associated with this femininity such as homosexuals, transgendered (WO)men, and "effeminate" males, (ignoring, subverting and negating the lesbian identity because of their gender) have come to be marginalized by a structural system of exclusion. (WO)men carrying the highest burden for originating the associative distinction Homosexuals battling to find love by constantly having to assert their masculinity Transgendered (Wo)men afraid of expressing their through identity. Lesbians fighting to legitimize their own identity separate from the directives ascribed onto them by virtue of being born women. Males who are labeled effeminate because of their sympathy toward those who struggle and are alienated. And every other individual who refuses to deliver to give a marker to their identity and a degree to their femininity. Hold fast in your femininity and embrace the rancor that society grants you As a homosexual I speak with you brother and sister, not for you Realize that our self-ascribed degrees of femininity and identity are as revolutionary and transformative, and thus necessary, as those of Che Guevara, Mohammed Ali, Harriet Tubman, or the Dali Lama. That because we have decided to embrace our degrees of femininity, problematic to any movement, at one point or another, we have inadvertently decided to align our selves with those who are alienated the most by the systems in which they live. So that in this way we must make our struggles deliberate and political. Let our degrees of femininity become legitimizing banners of solidarity for anyone who suffers in any corner of the world.
0
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 12:48 AM UTC
Revolutionary Solidarity (Embracing Our Femininity)
If (WO)men are the ones that suffer an exacerbated amount Of the violence, the **** the abuse, and everything that comes with and from struggle and alienation; it is because of their femininity that men at times have come to believe that their contributions soften institutions. That at times throughout history neither capitalism, neoliberalism nor revolutionary experiments like that of Cuba have placed femininity as compatible with progress or resolution. In which case femininity must be hidden, silenced, or displaced with no purpose or place to belong. Thus everyone closely associated with this femininity such as homosexuals, transgendered (WO)men, and "effeminate" males, (ignoring, subverting and negating the lesbian identity because of their gender) have come to be marginalized by a structural system of exclusion. (WO)men carrying the highest burden for originating the associative distinction Homosexuals battling to find love by constantly having to assert their masculinity Transgendered (Wo)men afraid of expressing their through identity. Lesbians fighting to legitimize their own identity separate from the directives ascribed onto them by virtue of being born women. Males who are labeled effeminate because of their sympathy toward those who struggle and are alienated. And every other individual who refuses to deliver to give a marker to their identity and a degree to their femininity. Hold fast in your femininity and embrace the rancor that society grants you As a homosexual I speak with you brother and sister, not for you Realize that our self-ascribed degrees of femininity and identity are as revolutionary and transformative, and thus necessary, as those of Che Guevara, Mohammed Ali, Harriet Tubman, or the Dali Lama. That because we have decided to embrace our degrees of femininity, problematic to any movement, at one point or another, we have inadvertently decided to align our selves with those who are alienated the most by the systems in which they live. So that in this way we must make our struggles deliberate and political. Let our degrees of femininity become legitimizing banners of solidarity for anyone who suffers in any corner of the world.
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20
Oh Generational gap, a cancer of to all mankind. The father of lack of communication between the young and the old. A difference brought about the tastes and values. The pain faced between young and aged but can’t be touched. It started by 1960’s the decades of revolutionary change. It cut across the world in values of *** religion and civil rights. The disease the emerged earned its self a name by social scientists. It then became “Generational Gap” I would love to quote a man of great thoughts, Alexis De Tocqueville, who commented that; “Among democratic nations, each generation is a new people” I have come to appreciate these words. When I walk down the streets noticing the rising incompatibility existing in our society Though I admire the old days when the old and young associated freely, working on the same farms Grandparents telling stories to their little ones; what a lovely society they had. With the invention of television and computers some families were bonded in communication While others live in agony especially the illiterate. The old desire different designs from the youth, whose trends change per living day of nakedness Young people prefer working in executive places like offices compared to the donkey farm work considered to be for the old Another cause of generational gap is decay in morals; the young people feel like they know everything and don’t like to be corrected thus taking information from old people as outdated, young people finding lots of hardships to great their elders In the field of music elders prefer oldies and more preferably educative songs, and as for the youths they delight in Hip-hop and dancehall, am sure those present here can testify to this a term with no disco dances makes us dull students. When it comes to religious issues, youth find it a burden to go to church and if they offer to go they prefer it to be in a club way. Praise and worship accompanied by jazz unlike the old days where drums are the centre of music. Cultures in this way have greatly faded away; the trend of western culture has flamed up the world. Drugs and *** are a hobby and celebrated amongst the youth, yet *** to the old was for companionship and co-creation. But when we came to medical technology we all applause in general, young or old there is easy treatment, use of scanners, and medical facilities cuts across.
0
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 7:58 AM UTC
GENERATIONAL GAP
Oh Generational gap, a cancer of to all mankind. The father of lack of communication between the young and the old. A difference brought about the tastes and values. The pain faced between young and aged but can’t be touched. It started by 1960’s the decades of revolutionary change. It cut across the world in values of *** religion and civil rights. The disease the emerged earned its self a name by social scientists. It then became “Generational Gap” I would love to quote a man of great thoughts, Alexis De Tocqueville, who commented that; “Among democratic nations, each generation is a new people” I have come to appreciate these words. When I walk down the streets noticing the rising incompatibility existing in our society Though I admire the old days when the old and young associated freely, working on the same farms Grandparents telling stories to their little ones; what a lovely society they had. With the invention of television and computers some families were bonded in communication While others live in agony especially the illiterate. The old desire different designs from the youth, whose trends change per living day of nakedness Young people prefer working in executive places like offices compared to the donkey farm work considered to be for the old Another cause of generational gap is decay in morals; the young people feel like they know everything and don’t like to be corrected thus taking information from old people as outdated, young people finding lots of hardships to great their elders In the field of music elders prefer oldies and more preferably educative songs, and as for the youths they delight in Hip-hop and dancehall, am sure those present here can testify to this a term with no disco dances makes us dull students. When it comes to religious issues, youth find it a burden to go to church and if they offer to go they prefer it to be in a club way. Praise and worship accompanied by jazz unlike the old days where drums are the centre of music. Cultures in this way have greatly faded away; the trend of western culture has flamed up the world. Drugs and *** are a hobby and celebrated amongst the youth, yet *** to the old was for companionship and co-creation. But when we came to medical technology we all applause in general, young or old there is easy treatment, use of scanners, and medical facilities cuts across.
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17
Untold secrets, unknown saviors. Unheld barriers, unseen failures; Mysterious behaviors. Revolutionary creators, merciless dictators. Heartless players, hypocritical traitors; Misleaded misleaders.
0
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 8:01 AM UTC
Misleaded Misleaders.
Only Love It began as a love story Crazy days with you Crazy days of faith, love, passion We grew so close so fast You said we were soul mates for life I lost my world to you I trusted you with my deepest thoughts Most intimate moments My future Our future Bonded with Artfetch The future of art We would make it together A global player Unwavering faith In the chorus of warnings I battled your place with me Bold and revolutionary No one would take this away from us But then you did You took it away Without a word You left me in a haze Took my breath away Your force so strong Chaos controlled my mind The lie so real My passion abused Reckless abandonment My faith, my love, my passion You did not face me You left me with nothing My life shattered I wonder through my Art Profoundly A part of my life For the delights and hopes of life Seeing in them memories of intimate times Calming my fears My sadness Evoking as only art can do The spirit in me to live again I no longer care Why I got lost in your deceit In your ****** up mind Why You hunted me down And played me as a game Why You abused my passion My life You crushed my soul, I sit at my desk and find my dignity My strength I look around and see what I nearly lost Artfetch the mystery of my life without which I could not carry on No more Crazy Days living your lie A resounding realisation No soul in you I continue To live my dream So as I sum this up Go listen to our song Remember in your heart I gave you my heart and soul, my mind and body My life I believed in you I am wishing for you to stay strong Wish upon every star you see And if its meant to be it will come true… No more Crazy Days with You
0
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 6:25 AM UTC
Crazy Days with You
Only Love It began as a love story Crazy days with you Crazy days of faith, love, passion We grew so close so fast You said we were soul mates for life I lost my world to you I trusted you with my deepest thoughts Most intimate moments My future Our future Bonded with Artfetch The future of art We would make it together A global player Unwavering faith In the chorus of warnings I battled your place with me Bold and revolutionary No one would take this away from us But then you did You took it away Without a word You left me in a haze Took my breath away Your force so strong Chaos controlled my mind The lie so real My passion abused Reckless abandonment My faith, my love, my passion You did not face me You left me with nothing My life shattered I wonder through my Art Profoundly A part of my life For the delights and hopes of life Seeing in them memories of intimate times Calming my fears My sadness Evoking as only art can do The spirit in me to live again I no longer care Why I got lost in your deceit In your ****** up mind Why You hunted me down And played me as a game Why You abused my passion My life You crushed my soul, I sit at my desk and find my dignity My strength I look around and see what I nearly lost Artfetch the mystery of my life without which I could not carry on No more Crazy Days living your lie A resounding realisation No soul in you I continue To live my dream So as I sum this up Go listen to our song Remember in your heart I gave you my heart and soul, my mind and body My life I believed in you I am wishing for you to stay strong Wish upon every star you see And if its meant to be it will come true… No more Crazy Days with You
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74
i want to experience things. life, and all of its ins and outs. its beautiful sorrows and painstaking highs. i am a girl hungry to see the world. ready to consume the sights i have yet to see. to drink in revolutionary ideas with my mind.
0
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 1:22 AM UTC
wanderlust
365Nectar #46 The High Priestess of Soul Fri. November 8, 2013 10:38 P.M. Deep in the distance dancing upon the horizon a deeply distinctive voice defies definition bending genres to her will clearly breaking boundaries an exiled priestess wails louder than ever silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues Little Girl Blue lettin' it all out with a wild as the wind Sinner man just tryin' to feel good absolutely refusing to be misunderstood a strong-willed priestess turns tempermental tunes into blazing beautiful harmony putting a revolutionary spell on you belting emotional songs of freedom and spirit Peace of Heart Nectar of Truth just in time to do what you do... an exiled priestess wails louder than ever silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues. Born to a preacher handyman and housemaid minister a gospel pop fusion diva emerges from the Glory of Love a strange volatile fruit blossoms into young, gifted, and Black spitting storms of spiritually smoldering Black Gold from a silky soul that scorches the earth an exiled priestess wails louder than ever silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues Masterfully mesmerizing Black rock Blood and Candlesmoke a fiery flow of tangy, tantalizing and titillating under a fog of duality genius bears two heads vibrant and intricate a saucy songstress swings with passion and honesty an empowered diva breaks down and let's it all out just energetic expressive jazz injected with well composed folklore live at Ronnie Scotts an exiled priestess wails louder than ever silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues From Newport to Baltimore an exiled priestess feeds forbidden fruit and hypnotizes the masses with tantalizing love me or leave me alone torch songs a powerful Four Women high on Lilac Wine blush from Broadway Blues Ballads in Baltimore See-line woman goes to hell to save Little Liza Jane and shelters in Barbados Cotton-eyed Joe feeds Brown Baby controversy behind Blue Prelude Did it move you? Yeah... Hell yeah.. it moved me too! Mr. Bojangles wave bye bye to a Blackbird in chilly winds that don't blow while willows weep something seemingly symbolic of soothing to an African mailman in Central Park and an exiled priestess wails louder than ever silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues The High Priestess of Soul caged but still singing shivering sensations from stubborn sweetness under sweet strings that sharply spill and scatter strength to the sorrowful that daily dine and devour silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues.
0
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 11:51 AM UTC
The High Priestess of Soul
365Nectar #46 The High Priestess of Soul Fri. November 8, 2013 10:38 P.M. Deep in the distance dancing upon the horizon a deeply distinctive voice defies definition bending genres to her will clearly breaking boundaries an exiled priestess wails louder than ever silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues Little Girl Blue lettin' it all out with a wild as the wind Sinner man just tryin' to feel good absolutely refusing to be misunderstood a strong-willed priestess turns tempermental tunes into blazing beautiful harmony putting a revolutionary spell on you belting emotional songs of freedom and spirit Peace of Heart Nectar of Truth just in time to do what you do... an exiled priestess wails louder than ever silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues. Born to a preacher handyman and housemaid minister a gospel pop fusion diva emerges from the Glory of Love a strange volatile fruit blossoms into young, gifted, and Black spitting storms of spiritually smoldering Black Gold from a silky soul that scorches the earth an exiled priestess wails louder than ever silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues Masterfully mesmerizing Black rock Blood and Candlesmoke a fiery flow of tangy, tantalizing and titillating under a fog of duality genius bears two heads vibrant and intricate a saucy songstress swings with passion and honesty an empowered diva breaks down and let's it all out just energetic expressive jazz injected with well composed folklore live at Ronnie Scotts an exiled priestess wails louder than ever silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues From Newport to Baltimore an exiled priestess feeds forbidden fruit and hypnotizes the masses with tantalizing love me or leave me alone torch songs a powerful Four Women high on Lilac Wine blush from Broadway Blues Ballads in Baltimore See-line woman goes to hell to save Little Liza Jane and shelters in Barbados Cotton-eyed Joe feeds Brown Baby controversy behind Blue Prelude Did it move you? Yeah... Hell yeah.. it moved me too! Mr. Bojangles wave bye bye to a Blackbird in chilly winds that don't blow while willows weep something seemingly symbolic of soothing to an African mailman in Central Park and an exiled priestess wails louder than ever silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues The High Priestess of Soul caged but still singing shivering sensations from stubborn sweetness under sweet strings that sharply spill and scatter strength to the sorrowful that daily dine and devour silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues.
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90
Silly, silly, silly me. To think I'm free, and that I'll be somebody? Silly, silly, silly me. You can't be free, and that's just it, All you are is 'somebody.' Some-body. "Some body." But that's not true! Look at Trostky and Lenin, Michael Myers and Lennon, The other Lennon. It's hard to differentiate in name and legacy, Because both Lennon's were revolutionaries, Marching around like the freshman from heaven. But neither believed they were the result of divine intervention in the affairs of man, Because this convention would threaten their worldview and beckon away their sanity... In the same way that the Pope or ****** let their divine vanity commit greater blasphemy and bring them future agony. Now neither Lennon nor Lenin came anywhere close to being men from Galilee, In fact they were more the men of the galaxy, Or at least, John was, with his peach fuzz beard and his belief that love is greater than fear. The other Lenin implemented the New Economic Policy, to starve the proletariat and start his revolution on an already hypocritical trend that would continue quite the same until the very end. And it proves something, does it not? Violence sends a message to no one but the instigator, Changing them to justify, and claim is wasn't misbehavior; But that's a lie, no idea of mine is worth the death of a human mind, And to pretend otherwise makes one delude themselves that they aren't an instigator, but an illustrator, Painting in the blood as if ****** makes an innovator. And for ****** there is no vindicator, Violence is an image breaker, Indulged in by poor imitators who think they're right, and the world is wrong. Unaware this makes them weak, not strong. Now John Lennon was the true revolutionary; Although he succumbed to violence, he veered away from it, even when it was necessary. He fought the war, and yes, the war did win, But at least he didn't cover his scars with artificial skin, Or deny his implicit wrongs as a result of all original sin. John Lennon used the word 'nigger' to the opposite effect. He used the word to trigger something bigger and correct, The wrong that seemed so propagated by the last colonial tide, Of which the other Lenin defected and took colonialism's side. John Lennon was Utopian and told us of a better world; He interjected definition, and caused old thoughts to curl away in fright, And bite the dust despite their might and past dominion of industrialism, It was a schism, and it still plagues us to this day. John Lennon understood we over-complicate way To Often. Silly, silly, silly me. To think I'm free, and that I'll be somebody? Silly, silly, silly me. You can't be free, and that's just it, All you are is 'somebody.' Some-body. "Some body." "Some body" is something, And some body can change the world.
0
Sep 12, 2011
Sep 12, 2011 at 1:34 PM UTC
Some body.
Silly, silly, silly me. To think I'm free, and that I'll be somebody? Silly, silly, silly me. You can't be free, and that's just it, All you are is 'somebody.' Some-body. "Some body." But that's not true! Look at Trostky and Lenin, Michael Myers and Lennon, The other Lennon. It's hard to differentiate in name and legacy, Because both Lennon's were revolutionaries, Marching around like the freshman from heaven. But neither believed they were the result of divine intervention in the affairs of man, Because this convention would threaten their worldview and beckon away their sanity... In the same way that the Pope or ****** let their divine vanity commit greater blasphemy and bring them future agony. Now neither Lennon nor Lenin came anywhere close to being men from Galilee, In fact they were more the men of the galaxy, Or at least, John was, with his peach fuzz beard and his belief that love is greater than fear. The other Lenin implemented the New Economic Policy, to starve the proletariat and start his revolution on an already hypocritical trend that would continue quite the same until the very end. And it proves something, does it not? Violence sends a message to no one but the instigator, Changing them to justify, and claim is wasn't misbehavior; But that's a lie, no idea of mine is worth the death of a human mind, And to pretend otherwise makes one delude themselves that they aren't an instigator, but an illustrator, Painting in the blood as if ****** makes an innovator. And for ****** there is no vindicator, Violence is an image breaker, Indulged in by poor imitators who think they're right, and the world is wrong. Unaware this makes them weak, not strong. Now John Lennon was the true revolutionary; Although he succumbed to violence, he veered away from it, even when it was necessary. He fought the war, and yes, the war did win, But at least he didn't cover his scars with artificial skin, Or deny his implicit wrongs as a result of all original sin. John Lennon used the word 'nigger' to the opposite effect. He used the word to trigger something bigger and correct, The wrong that seemed so propagated by the last colonial tide, Of which the other Lenin defected and took colonialism's side. John Lennon was Utopian and told us of a better world; He interjected definition, and caused old thoughts to curl away in fright, And bite the dust despite their might and past dominion of industrialism, It was a schism, and it still plagues us to this day. John Lennon understood we over-complicate way To Often. Silly, silly, silly me. To think I'm free, and that I'll be somebody? Silly, silly, silly me. You can't be free, and that's just it, All you are is 'somebody.' Some-body. "Some body." "Some body" is something, And some body can change the world.
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56
Escape from Planet Hipster They're nostalgic for a time When wearing the peace sign was a revolutionary act; Now propaganda of the deed is free shows on ghetto borders Craft IPAs, grandpa's clothing, and dismissal above all.
0
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 1:32 PM UTC
Naivete
Listen! Can you hear? Behold! Can you see? Feel! Can you experience The change from a female To a fruitful African mother? Oh yes, she took the concoction This morning to prove her innocence, Yes, she had to go through this Ordeal to satisfy her aggressive head, But this passionate love was According the will of Tweaduampon, Hmm, the moon has appeared Nine times over the thirsty land Of Africa since morning, Can you behold Asaase Yaa And Isis watching with their Eyes of favor and fertility? For Osiris, the Beautiful Being, can even Testify the May-rain matching Endlessly over the wings of Timbuktu, Ah look! The noon is fast approaching With excess wailing and fear, For the Military Hospital Is burning and bleeding with The fire of eternal expectations, Indeed, with success comes greed, And the gods of blacks is not to **** Push daughter, push! Push the pain of this Tuesday joy Out of your vulnerable soul, For the Marshall bells are still Ringing to receive this divine offer, Hear the sweet voice of the dawn Energizing the anointed male baby Out of the nine-mouth old darkness, Today, a new day is born, Today, a revolutionary is born, Today, the gods have given birth, Today, Kabutu is born, Today, the history of Africa has given birth, In fact, magical protection and life Were behind this gods and his Divine Essence was glorified with power. © PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI Email: [email protected]
0
Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 1:20 PM UTC
A NEW DAY IS BORN
Unleash your inner creativity Where the mind and heart Yearns to sketch the exuberance Of the beauty of so many feelings The soft inaudible utterances Of the ink that flows through you Becomes audible in murmurs Louder and louder, they flow Almost at the brink of insanity Giving inspiration to creativity Turmoil so revolutionary Creativity is sometimes unsettling Yet, so encompassing and revealing Truth does find its way
0
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 10:43 PM UTC
Creativity
I told my mother I wanted to be an astronaut And she smiled and said, "My sweet child, If you go to space, you'd miss your years: The laughter of your children, The embrace of your beloved husband. Better not waste your life amongst the stars Once you are of marriageable age." When I was nearing graduation In the golden era, the high of the times I wanted to venture out and learn more For myself; I had dreams of becoming a hero, A revolutionary mind, a change in the world. Alas! My darling, he looked at me with love And uttered, "But I will provide for you And our children, in our pretty little house. What of education, when you are Of marriageable age?" One time in a playground, watching My young boy conquer the slide like a warrior While carrying my newborn doll in my bejeweled arms, My neighbor proclaimed, "Oh you are The luckiest housewife in our neighborhood! A rich and faithful husband and such Beautiful children! How I wish I were as favoured by fate as you were When you were of marriageable age!" And just today, while visiting nan I sipped my afternoon tea, staring at the sunset I recalled to her the missed opportunities Of mine own personal growth And she, rocking in her ancient chair, She replied to me, "But what could you have done, my dear? You were of marriageable age."
0
Jun 5, 2017
Jun 5, 2017 at 2:47 PM UTC
Of Marriageble Age
Blowing silence like a bugle to announce his dismay he got set to make a statement without speaking for a day but his mother just assuming he had nothing much to say sent her silent revolutionary son outside to play; outmaneuvered in the kitchen by his mother's disregard for campaigns of wild muteness, the rebellion fell apart to the sound of scuffing shoes and the grumble in his heart 'cause silent protest tends to lose when no-one's listening very hard..
0
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 1:21 PM UTC
Early learning..
WASHINGTON IRVING WROTE A NOVEL ABOUT ICHABOD CRANE LITTLE SLEEPY HOLLOW WILL NEVER BE THE SAME LITTLE SLEEPY HOLLOW WAS CURSED BY A HORSEMAN MOST DREAD HE WAS RIDING IN SLEEPY HOLLOW IN SEARCH OF HIS HEAD THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN WAS IN THE REVOLUTIONARY WAR SO FOR HIM SEARCHING FOR HIS HEAD WAS NEVER A CHORE ICHABOD CRANE WAS A TEACHER MOST STRICT WEATHER THE GHOST STORIES WERE TRUE WHO COULD EVER PREDICT ICHABOD TEACHES THE CHILDREN OF FARMERS IN THE VILLAGE BUT ITS THE YOUNG GIRLS OF FARMERS HE SECRETLY WANTS TOO PILLAGE KATRINA VAN TASSEL A BEAUTIFUL YOUNG STUDENT ICHABOD FALLS IN LOVE WITH HER BUT WAS IT VERY PRUDENT HE WAS INVITED TO THE TASSELS FOR A PARTY MOST RARE KATRINA AT THE PARTY DISMISSES HIS WITHOUT CARE ICHABOD LEAVES THAT NIGHT ON HIS HORSE HE RIDES ITS AN EERILY DARK PATH HIS HORSE DOSE STRIDE ICHABOD IS SCARED AND SEES A LARGE DARK MAN HE YELLS TO THE STRANGER AS LOUD AS HE CAN SO ICHABOD RIDES SCARED AND FAST BUT ALONG SIDE COMES THE MAN NOT WILLING TOO PASS ICHABOD NOTICES THE RIDER REALLY HAS NO HEAD THIS JUST FILLS ICHABOD WITH THE MOST SINFUL DREAD ICHABOD AND THE STRANGER RACE TO THE TOWN CHURCH FOR THIS IS WHERE THE GHOST STORIES FIRST CAME TO BIRTH ICHABOD RACES TO THE BRIDGE AND NERVOUSLY LOOKS BACK THE STRANGER HAS DISAPPEARED OFF THE GHOSTLY TRACK BUT HE NOTICES THE STRANGER HIS HEAD HE DOSE HURL ICHABOD FALLS OF THE HORSE HIS WORLD IS IN A WHIRL THE NEXT DAY ICHABOD'S HORSE FINALLY RETURNS HOME WHERE IS ICHABOD WHERE DID HE ROAM THEY LOOK FOR ICHABOD AND FIND HOOF PRINTS AND ICHABOD'S HAT SO NOW THE FOLKLORE IS BORN IN SLEEPY HOLLOW THAT'S THAT " WISDOM IS LIKE MANURE IT'S NO GOOD UNLESS IT'S SPREAD AROUND ENCOURAGING OTHERS TO GROW"
0
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 5:47 PM UTC
ICHABOD CRANE
WASHINGTON IRVING WROTE A NOVEL ABOUT ICHABOD CRANE LITTLE SLEEPY HOLLOW WILL NEVER BE THE SAME LITTLE SLEEPY HOLLOW WAS CURSED BY A HORSEMAN MOST DREAD HE WAS RIDING IN SLEEPY HOLLOW IN SEARCH OF HIS HEAD THE HEADLESS HORSEMAN WAS IN THE REVOLUTIONARY WAR SO FOR HIM SEARCHING FOR HIS HEAD WAS NEVER A CHORE ICHABOD CRANE WAS A TEACHER MOST STRICT WEATHER THE GHOST STORIES WERE TRUE WHO COULD EVER PREDICT ICHABOD TEACHES THE CHILDREN OF FARMERS IN THE VILLAGE BUT ITS THE YOUNG GIRLS OF FARMERS HE SECRETLY WANTS TOO PILLAGE KATRINA VAN TASSEL A BEAUTIFUL YOUNG STUDENT ICHABOD FALLS IN LOVE WITH HER BUT WAS IT VERY PRUDENT HE WAS INVITED TO THE TASSELS FOR A PARTY MOST RARE KATRINA AT THE PARTY DISMISSES HIS WITHOUT CARE ICHABOD LEAVES THAT NIGHT ON HIS HORSE HE RIDES ITS AN EERILY DARK PATH HIS HORSE DOSE STRIDE ICHABOD IS SCARED AND SEES A LARGE DARK MAN HE YELLS TO THE STRANGER AS LOUD AS HE CAN SO ICHABOD RIDES SCARED AND FAST BUT ALONG SIDE COMES THE MAN NOT WILLING TOO PASS ICHABOD NOTICES THE RIDER REALLY HAS NO HEAD THIS JUST FILLS ICHABOD WITH THE MOST SINFUL DREAD ICHABOD AND THE STRANGER RACE TO THE TOWN CHURCH FOR THIS IS WHERE THE GHOST STORIES FIRST CAME TO BIRTH ICHABOD RACES TO THE BRIDGE AND NERVOUSLY LOOKS BACK THE STRANGER HAS DISAPPEARED OFF THE GHOSTLY TRACK BUT HE NOTICES THE STRANGER HIS HEAD HE DOSE HURL ICHABOD FALLS OF THE HORSE HIS WORLD IS IN A WHIRL THE NEXT DAY ICHABOD'S HORSE FINALLY RETURNS HOME WHERE IS ICHABOD WHERE DID HE ROAM THEY LOOK FOR ICHABOD AND FIND HOOF PRINTS AND ICHABOD'S HAT SO NOW THE FOLKLORE IS BORN IN SLEEPY HOLLOW THAT'S THAT " WISDOM IS LIKE MANURE IT'S NO GOOD UNLESS IT'S SPREAD AROUND ENCOURAGING OTHERS TO GROW"
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If there were a formula for the way her lips seek out for mine while I am still attached to those of a boy, I would plug it through with the determination of a scientist, feeding it back and forth through the machines until someone could give me an answer. She visits me in my sleep, bleeds through the walls of our separate dimensions until she finds a way into my heart. From there, she rides my bloodstream up into my brain, she puts her hands on my controls and guides my dreams through to her childhood home, where she knows I'll fall in love with the gap between her teeth and the way she practices the word "kindergarten" when she thinks no one can hear her. I could never find her through the keys of my Macbook, she calls to me through typewriters in store windows, when I think I've lost her, I go into bookstores and flip through the pages in the poetry section until teasing she gives me a word, just enough of a puzzle to hold me until next time. I think when it's completed it will look like her freckles, the eyeshadow she spreads over her heartache, the lipstick she wears to feel like a woman on the days when she needs to act like a man, if I were a man. I'd no longer be captivated by the mysticism of their skin. No longer see the revolutionary twisting through their spines. But if I were a man, I wouldn't have the same parts as my lover. Maybe then we'd be just different enough for me to tell her how I feel.
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Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 12:59 AM UTC
Gap-tooth
"montana-says-yoga-pants-illegal" Look up on Yahoo we got quite the stash, under the illegal grass, in our hidden home, bring 'em out when it's just the two of us, looking to get exercised o'course we have secret codes, (yogurt slackers) never call 'em by their real name in public, lest we get sent by drone to the new orange and black jail when we be feeling risky-frisky, under our coats we wear 'em semi-publicly, but to blend in, we only buy black, seeing as we live in new york seeity, where we reside, black be the only legal color for approved illegal street walking never when we travel domestically in case we get busted, don't want to face federal interstate charges of inciting others to riot sensationally! this land is not my land, maybe it is yours, but if you come alooking for us, we got a cabin in the deep words, where we practice dress code freedom, no ties, shirts untucked, navel (oranges) fully exposed, button down shirts always  unbuttoned, (my high school days revolutionary first strike) hoping to escape the idiots we place above us to "govern"
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Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 4:34 PM UTC
Illegal yogurt pants
It is known through the eyes. Not from voice designated instrument of the thymus but the eyes. Portals of silent universes. The expression of the gaze sometimes sings and dances. Distracting eyes couriers and trunks sometimes they blink but aren't liars. It could be the same wicked look kinda lost, kinda absorbed, but never turbid.
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Jan 9, 2018
Jan 9, 2018 at 12:50 AM UTC
Revolutionary gaze
My voice is nestled within a river of transitions, positioned in endless sets of pre- and post- parentheses. Pre-revolutionary, post-Missing Link. Post-postmodern, pre-postmodern revival. I sit in a somersaulting purgatory sandwiched between evocation and paralysis. My hatred is exhausted, shoulders hunched over a guillotine, cursing with its tongue sprawled dead and dry at an imaginary hunter, a mass of bones clumped under the rug I keep pulling from my own two feet. Will you hack through this cocoon? Have you got the muscle and the patience? Nevermind that bedtime story. There must be some wounds of yours, those placed beyond the verbal tanline, that need immediate bandaging. Can I get you anything?
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Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 3:19 PM UTC
Auxilio
It was a out-of-town trip that prompted me to tape a two inch bar of black over a band of color. So that's what hate does. It's a maddening, saddening sort of oppression, this sort of silencing It's a whisper-born fear, half-irrational, half-necessary. I'm a scared boy again, and I'm standing in the school yard. And here's what I learned today: Anyone, everyone is an threat, and protect your heart with hate. I could be a revolutionary, but I'm just an unwilling soldier. I'm living life in safe-houses, traveling only by the safest routes, because I love differently.
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Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 1:34 AM UTC
Censorship
Divergent as always, I'm flying a kite in an avalanche zone. Inevitably, from your safe harbor, you will judge me. I yell, "this, this is liberation!" But you don't see me as a revolutionary. You'll take me for savage. Medicate the unprecedented out of my veins Cover me in a quilt of your culture, label it safety. Repression of variation, of the noise and the bold, is optimal for this society. Freefalling enthusiasm isn't exhilarating to you, and paint splatters aren't modern art They are just a mess on a clean canvas
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May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 2:54 PM UTC
oppression
Much have been said About my brother Flame How from his hands Borne both Creation And destruction Songs were sung About trivial flickers And infernos legendary Allow me to say My piece about My brother flame Flame Words seems lifeless Next to your colored streaks Hearths spark Red Candles shine Yellow Blue Is the burn from my oven Life is borne From your touch Embers glow at your grasp Metal refined from your speech The world itself Is teeming in life For the sun Looks down upon it In its heart You My brother flame Burn brightest Fire Is the element of change You burn from the tears Of the oppressed You blaze from the verses Of the revolutionary Artists, lovers, and dreamers Their eyes burn With passion Your disposition My brother has never been cold My Sister Wind You warm her With your embrace Shed her chains and give her wings That she may fly Full of grace Brother flame You are a legend May bards sing forever Your songs How you cradled the Phoenix In its death And herald its birth From the same ashes it came from How you fled with Prometheus From Olympus And sparked the dreams of men You are a perfect instrument Of God’s glory and renown After heaven denied Earth Rain Elijah’s offer you consumed On Horeb Moses Have seen you burning A lonely bush You’ve shown this lonely shepherd He was standing on Holy Ground And on God’s plan Much have been said About my brother flame My piece reveals Of those I am certain These three Life Passion Renown 12:27:08.03:23
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Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 1:06 PM UTC
**Ode to Brother Flame**
Much have been said About my brother Flame How from his hands Borne both Creation And destruction Songs were sung About trivial flickers And infernos legendary Allow me to say My piece about My brother flame Flame Words seems lifeless Next to your colored streaks Hearths spark Red Candles shine Yellow Blue Is the burn from my oven Life is borne From your touch Embers glow at your grasp Metal refined from your speech The world itself Is teeming in life For the sun Looks down upon it In its heart You My brother flame Burn brightest Fire Is the element of change You burn from the tears Of the oppressed You blaze from the verses Of the revolutionary Artists, lovers, and dreamers Their eyes burn With passion Your disposition My brother has never been cold My Sister Wind You warm her With your embrace Shed her chains and give her wings That she may fly Full of grace Brother flame You are a legend May bards sing forever Your songs How you cradled the Phoenix In its death And herald its birth From the same ashes it came from How you fled with Prometheus From Olympus And sparked the dreams of men You are a perfect instrument Of God’s glory and renown After heaven denied Earth Rain Elijah’s offer you consumed On Horeb Moses Have seen you burning A lonely bush You’ve shown this lonely shepherd He was standing on Holy Ground And on God’s plan Much have been said About my brother flame My piece reveals Of those I am certain These three Life Passion Renown 12:27:08.03:23
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83
Inferno, exponential flame tearing at the world until all that’s left is it’s name from the dust and gravel arise the youth on revolutionary wings of marble only for the glorious resurgence to become fallen angels engulfing the world that they had wished to save in earnest
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Dec 31, 2018
Dec 31, 2018 at 12:58 PM UTC
Cycle
Bright buds hang precarious on their limbs. Their hundreds of digits green and supple sway as the winds try gently at first to shake them from their perches. They snap back, their ties elastic, always bending. The wind struck harder the third time. It caught them off guard, swinging back to face the sun. It barreled over them like a train, limbs snapped like bones under tons of industrial revolutionary steel, the cracking brings tears to the eyes of passersby. They were so green, so verdant was their exuberant friendship, covered in rosy flesh and sturdy bark, ring after ring of tribulation and triumph, but it fractured like a wish bone. She, Persephone, prosecutor of Her, Demeter, was judge of them both, prisoner of herself. Solitary confinement. She tugged at her half, she needed the wish, She need for Demeter to see that She needed wishes just like the rest of us. Demeter, jury. 12. Her crime: attempted impartiality, balancing a utilitarian ideal that we can divide our attention based on who needs it most. She cannot be tried on account of her inability to read Braille ciphers in gestures, ****** expressions, and Tumblr posts. Demeter tugged at her half, but only enough to show the other that she was there, but consistently there. It wasn’t enough. Snap. No marrow could be found. Where flesh was meant to be dripped rot, an odor of resentment filled their nostrils, it choked Demeter, as Persephone had been choking for years. This resentment, this cancer, this jealousy, it grew inside of Persephone like a tumor, days from metastasizing, the spread could have killed them. Amputate. You two are a tree. Bright buds dangling from every limb, they are still soft and green and supple at their ends. You two are still growing. Persephone will cut out this cancer, and She will heal herself, scar tissues covered by broadleafs. You will soothe them for her. And you will see past the rosy flesh what pain it may hide. And you two will grow. Roots firm, faces braced against the wind, and limbs always turned towards the sun.
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May 3, 2013
May 3, 2013 at 5:36 PM UTC
When the Wind Strikes, They Snap Back, Always Elastic
Bright buds hang precarious on their limbs. Their hundreds of digits green and supple sway as the winds try gently at first to shake them from their perches. They snap back, their ties elastic, always bending. The wind struck harder the third time. It caught them off guard, swinging back to face the sun. It barreled over them like a train, limbs snapped like bones under tons of industrial revolutionary steel, the cracking brings tears to the eyes of passersby. They were so green, so verdant was their exuberant friendship, covered in rosy flesh and sturdy bark, ring after ring of tribulation and triumph, but it fractured like a wish bone. She, Persephone, prosecutor of Her, Demeter, was judge of them both, prisoner of herself. Solitary confinement. She tugged at her half, she needed the wish, She need for Demeter to see that She needed wishes just like the rest of us. Demeter, jury. 12. Her crime: attempted impartiality, balancing a utilitarian ideal that we can divide our attention based on who needs it most. She cannot be tried on account of her inability to read Braille ciphers in gestures, ****** expressions, and Tumblr posts. Demeter tugged at her half, but only enough to show the other that she was there, but consistently there. It wasn’t enough. Snap. No marrow could be found. Where flesh was meant to be dripped rot, an odor of resentment filled their nostrils, it choked Demeter, as Persephone had been choking for years. This resentment, this cancer, this jealousy, it grew inside of Persephone like a tumor, days from metastasizing, the spread could have killed them. Amputate. You two are a tree. Bright buds dangling from every limb, they are still soft and green and supple at their ends. You two are still growing. Persephone will cut out this cancer, and She will heal herself, scar tissues covered by broadleafs. You will soothe them for her. And you will see past the rosy flesh what pain it may hide. And you two will grow. Roots firm, faces braced against the wind, and limbs always turned towards the sun.
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20
Somewhere in your wardrobe, I'd be willing to bet There's a t-shirt probably bearing the silhouette of Che Guevara He was revolutionary, yeah, he wore a cool hat But behind the design I think you might find it's not quite as simple as that Che was a bit of a homophobe, Che was a bit of a homophobe, I think... apparently.. who knows? Che was a bit of a homophobe, Che was a bit of a homophobe This is my song in defence of the fence A little sing along, a anthem to ambivalence The more you know, the harder you will find it To make up your mind, it, doesn't really matter if you find You can't see which grass is greener Chances are it's neither, and either way it's easier To see the difference, when you're sitting on the fence Somewhere in your house, I'd be willing to bet There's a picture of that grinning hippy from Tibet - the Dalai Llama He's a lovely, funny fella, he gives soundbites galore But let's not forget that back in Tibet, those funky monks used to **** the poor, yeah And the Buddhist line about future lives is the perfect way to stop the powerless rising up And he tells the poor they will live again, but he's rich now so it's easy for him to say I'm taking the stand in defense of the fence I got a little band playing anthems to ambivalence We divide the world into terrorists and heroes Into normal folk and weirdos Into good people and pedo's Into things that give you cancer and the things that cure cancer And the things that don't cause cancer, but there's a chance they will cause cancer in the future We divide the world to stop us feeling frightened Into wrong and into right and Into black and into white and Into real men and fairies Into status quo and scary Yeah we want the world binary, binary But it's not that simple. And your dog has a bigger carbon footprint than a four wheel drive Yea your dog has a bigger carbon footprint than a four wheel drive And your dog has a bigger carbon footprint than a four wheel drive And so does your baby, maybe you oughta trade HIM in for a Prius- ROCK! I'm taking the stand in defence of the fence I got a little band playing tributes to ambivalence We divide the world into liberals and gun-freaks Into atheists and fundies Into tee-tot'lers and junkies Into chemical and natural Into fictional and factual Into science and supernatural But it's actually naturally not that white and black You'll be Dividing us into terrorists and heroes Into normal folk and weirdos Into good people and pedos Into things that give you cancer and the things that cure cancer And things that don't cause cancer, but there's a chance they will cause cancer in the future We divide the world to stop us feeling frightened Into wrong and into right and Into black and into white and Into real men and fairies Into parrots and canaries Yeah we want the world binary, binary - 011101! The more you know, the harder you will find it To make up your mind, it doesn't really matter if you find You can't see which grass is greener Chances are it's neither, and either way it's easier To see the difference Cause it's not that simple...
0
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 7:06 PM UTC
The Fence by Tim Minchin
Somewhere in your wardrobe, I'd be willing to bet There's a t-shirt probably bearing the silhouette of Che Guevara He was revolutionary, yeah, he wore a cool hat But behind the design I think you might find it's not quite as simple as that Che was a bit of a homophobe, Che was a bit of a homophobe, I think... apparently.. who knows? Che was a bit of a homophobe, Che was a bit of a homophobe This is my song in defence of the fence A little sing along, a anthem to ambivalence The more you know, the harder you will find it To make up your mind, it, doesn't really matter if you find You can't see which grass is greener Chances are it's neither, and either way it's easier To see the difference, when you're sitting on the fence Somewhere in your house, I'd be willing to bet There's a picture of that grinning hippy from Tibet - the Dalai Llama He's a lovely, funny fella, he gives soundbites galore But let's not forget that back in Tibet, those funky monks used to **** the poor, yeah And the Buddhist line about future lives is the perfect way to stop the powerless rising up And he tells the poor they will live again, but he's rich now so it's easy for him to say I'm taking the stand in defense of the fence I got a little band playing anthems to ambivalence We divide the world into terrorists and heroes Into normal folk and weirdos Into good people and pedo's Into things that give you cancer and the things that cure cancer And the things that don't cause cancer, but there's a chance they will cause cancer in the future We divide the world to stop us feeling frightened Into wrong and into right and Into black and into white and Into real men and fairies Into status quo and scary Yeah we want the world binary, binary But it's not that simple. And your dog has a bigger carbon footprint than a four wheel drive Yea your dog has a bigger carbon footprint than a four wheel drive And your dog has a bigger carbon footprint than a four wheel drive And so does your baby, maybe you oughta trade HIM in for a Prius- ROCK! I'm taking the stand in defence of the fence I got a little band playing tributes to ambivalence We divide the world into liberals and gun-freaks Into atheists and fundies Into tee-tot'lers and junkies Into chemical and natural Into fictional and factual Into science and supernatural But it's actually naturally not that white and black You'll be Dividing us into terrorists and heroes Into normal folk and weirdos Into good people and pedos Into things that give you cancer and the things that cure cancer And things that don't cause cancer, but there's a chance they will cause cancer in the future We divide the world to stop us feeling frightened Into wrong and into right and Into black and into white and Into real men and fairies Into parrots and canaries Yeah we want the world binary, binary - 011101! The more you know, the harder you will find it To make up your mind, it doesn't really matter if you find You can't see which grass is greener Chances are it's neither, and either way it's easier To see the difference Cause it's not that simple...
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66
My problems never cease cuz adversaries try to bury me But since I'm initiated by the hoods They gats protect me catastrophe Been with me since my family tree Nothing crack dealers and cap peelers Seen life early wanted to the king So I chased figures Lookin' at all the cold cash I was stashin' Went from a jalopy to fly Benz Dark tint limo roll up the indo Cuz a brother gotta stay blitz always on a different **** never let the **** blind me Its money over ******* fake ******* get stitches No love bury with five slugs in ya cranium A young ****** on a war path a Ain't no tamin' em Since muthaphukkas jealous I gotta stay strapped Lookin' at the skies for better days askin' why? My life is like this why am enticed to this? **** imagery its the best of me Can't help if I want to abolish slavery Punks *** cops always chasin' me But my mind too strong to be caught up in the wrong I strategize with actions raw raps keep the Co's packin' Put out an APB for a **** nigguh livin' in this streets My heart goes out to the lonely I feel.ya pain Don't let the burden tare ya down Get up off ya *** if ya plan to make cash Cuz the ***** *** government never gone give ya a reprimand of a helping hand Lean on me and overthrow political rules I wamt the gold and silver not the fake *** jewels Paper currency ain't nothing but a advocate to debt So many lost in this world breakin' a sweat Tryna be something that's you'll never be And if a follow the footsteps of revolutionary I'll be a threat So what?? I'mma keep pushin' limits testin' nerves As I sip the henney and blunt as a swerve In my top drop feelin' right and tight Its the black Sun Tzu Thinkin' maybe I'll die tonight
0
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 12:14 PM UTC
IF I Die 2Nite
My problems never cease cuz adversaries try to bury me But since I'm initiated by the hoods They gats protect me catastrophe Been with me since my family tree Nothing crack dealers and cap peelers Seen life early wanted to the king So I chased figures Lookin' at all the cold cash I was stashin' Went from a jalopy to fly Benz Dark tint limo roll up the indo Cuz a brother gotta stay blitz always on a different **** never let the **** blind me Its money over ******* fake ******* get stitches No love bury with five slugs in ya cranium A young ****** on a war path a Ain't no tamin' em Since muthaphukkas jealous I gotta stay strapped Lookin' at the skies for better days askin' why? My life is like this why am enticed to this? **** imagery its the best of me Can't help if I want to abolish slavery Punks *** cops always chasin' me But my mind too strong to be caught up in the wrong I strategize with actions raw raps keep the Co's packin' Put out an APB for a **** nigguh livin' in this streets My heart goes out to the lonely I feel.ya pain Don't let the burden tare ya down Get up off ya *** if ya plan to make cash Cuz the ***** *** government never gone give ya a reprimand of a helping hand Lean on me and overthrow political rules I wamt the gold and silver not the fake *** jewels Paper currency ain't nothing but a advocate to debt So many lost in this world breakin' a sweat Tryna be something that's you'll never be And if a follow the footsteps of revolutionary I'll be a threat So what?? I'mma keep pushin' limits testin' nerves As I sip the henney and blunt as a swerve In my top drop feelin' right and tight Its the black Sun Tzu Thinkin' maybe I'll die tonight
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