Under Lock & Key

These tyrants got me feeling so oblique, as this pen leaks.
I keep my Tims strapped tight, so I move swiftly upon this concrete beast.
Oppression from the police is never stopping me.
I fight, for love, life & liberty.
“Freedom!” is what our people scream.
Crazy how something positive can quickly turn into a murder scene.
The capitalist mentality has made my homies murder men down for anything…
Anything to ease the suffering.
Aren’t you tired of struggling?
I am, so why you still slumbering?
No more talking, time for action!
Elevate your mind, broaden your horizons, rise to the occasion!
Revolution! That’s our vision.
To stop all of these divisions.
Death from these corrupt politicians.
Don’t mean to sound like I’m bitchen,
but I’m tired of these crackers shaken the spoon in the kitchen.
Homicide on oppression that’s what I’m really wishin’.
Inmates tell me that I’m trippin, but I don’t even listen.
Because they blind like bats in daylight, still screaming that they thuggin.
So tell me beloved comrades, who the one that’s really buggin?

Clicking on the cement nails scrape as I motion
Breezeless and stale marinated between want and need
Letters slip through the cracks in my gated community
Shell shocked and sullen as prisons, asylums and death take their feed
All-nighter with exhaustion, your happy hour’s almost up
Bleed with me comrade beside cesspooled capital
Talk to me friend as mankind’s sun slowly sets
Dead or dying amigo no worse can it get
The worse is over all they can do now is stop the pain
We’ve already made peace with finality and insanity
Embraced her long lost face beneath the pattering rain
No hope for the white nation but hope for our species
Class suicide’s forever hated and chased
No shelter for the homeless nor sleep for the restless
Self-destruct on the construct equals yourself erased
Pain in my twisted back eased by the pain in my knees
Pain in consumer common sense eased by my solitary
Pain is my friend, not heavy, my brother
The pain in your face I’ve not seen in no other
Obsessive compulsive the captive counts the bricks
Bipolar disorder counting up gritted teeth clicks
Manic depressive jump-roping noose’s knots
Lonely humyn male silently, like beads, counting the knots
The beauty in the hurricane matched by the logic of the insane
In the eye of the storm scrubbing windows and storm drains
I sit righting mental wrongs waving goodbye to the gone
Anti-imperialism as my struggle, revolution as my song

Fuck the hatred
It’s time for changes
To free this world from the oppressor
It’s time for us to make some better arrangements
In order to make our lives better
Revolution’s the lesson
Not oppression as a profession
Anti-imperialist
Being groomed for a new session
Educate each other
As we’re one within this struggle
United in this Front for Peace
Because Revolution is on the bubble

Twisted political procedures, has a way to warp the mind,
it can have you believing the hype, which is hypocritically defined.
It creates inner cranium confusion
By its contradicting oxymoronic pollution.
Do you see a short term goal for the ultimate solution?
Brainwashed by propaganda, democracy pulls your string,
You don’t realize you’re part of the problem when you organize for votes in their crime ring.

Guilty by association, a wolf in the same pack,
That’s what the government refers to as, the criminalized “Rico Act.”
Don’t be blinded, by the laws & its crooked ways,
set up for the 3rd strike, now you’re forever locked in a cage.
But when police, who are meant to protect civilians, use that badge as a license to kill,
The jury acquits ‘em, encouraging further blood spill.
Ignorant people praise cops’ brutality, till its their door that gets kicked in,
its then they feel the injustice, & the truth of oppression seeps within.
The biggest tyrant, is the government you praise,
you’re willing to send your kids to fight their wars, without an argument raised.
For imperialist bastards, you’re willing to bend over faster
its like a Black Sabbath record, getting played backwards.
Coerced control, of your mind & your soul,
you no longer think for yourself, like a man that is whole.
Bent to society’s will, unable to clearly see your own path,
they’ve successfully conformed you. Do the simple math.
Mental slaves, as the plot starts to thicken,
like a poisonous injection, the pulse starts to quicken.
A smoked out chamber of toxic gas
executes an innocent man held down by leather straps.

As I envision the oppressor
The one we’ve come to blame
The one who has united us by numbers
And no longer respects our given names.
Who’s willing to stand for our cause?
We’re trapped in this thing together
And sho’ nuf, united we will fall.
That’s why we lift each other up
No matter the nationality or rotten speech
Together we should stand in this struggle
No matter the differences, we’re all unique.
Defend what you want to accomplish
yet alone, it should be peace.
Something has got to change my people,
the oppressor has made us weak.

Pull the fucking pistol out of your mouth
and pick up a book
turn off that damn bourgeois television
and take a look
shit’s getting hectic, brother, sure
But a bullet in the brain, amigo, isn’t the cure
It’s too late for you, man, but what about your son
What about his generation who’s been taught to run
to stomp and tantrum and tattle-tale
suck the plastic flea market and dodge bourgeois “hell”
imperialist sons medicated for depression
A hybrid oppressor slash enemy nation
I’ll sell you this for a gallon of that
Then starve the world and die of heart attack fat
It isn’t the way it was meant
All these senseless suicides ain’t some static event
the reasons exists - the “whys” right here
Your casket costs thousands - payment plan three years
sucking the fucking juice out of life - capitalism
then profiting off of your death - straight sadism
Rent the church to grieve you in
Buy the hole they bury you in
Pay the petty priest to say some words
Then scribble on some gray marble how much it hurts
Picking the pocket of the family that weeps
Dying’s expensive while living is cheap
Business in death and death in business
What’s the price, father, the price to miss us

I sit doing ten years for a gram of dope
Witnessing Johannes Mehserle get probation for murder
I sit watching men starve to death
Witnessing guards who can’t even alight a flight of stairs
Because they’re too fucking fat
I sit in a country that told me to stay in school
and educate yourself
In a cell where they won’t give me a book
I was told in my youth to just say no
to drugs
And now that I refuse their psychotropics
they refuse me parole
They told me to love thy neighbor
like you love yourself
and now I watch my country men shoot Mexicans
swimming the border
I sit in the land of the free
rattling my chains
waiting
I see the hypocrisy and the bitter twisted lies
Do you?
I sit alone
7.4 million strong
knowing nothing more than to carry on
nothing more than my country’s wrong
knowing nothing - nothing’s at all wrong
Do you?

This game is thick, politics and pale faces
and these dark skin negros, itchin to change places
wantin’ to reign supreme, niggas catchin cases
where brothers turn fiend, cause they can’t face this
the game ain’t told - it’s sold for brother souls
my people live in poverty - Mr. Charlie sat on swoll
they wonder why the thugs cry and their hearts turn cold
they got us twisted and deny our votes at the white man’s poll
they brought us on boats to add labor to this nation
infest our hoods with dope - now servin’s the occupation
blind us to life by material infatuation
enslaved to this living, screaming emancipation proclamation
I scream “set me free from this land” through my third eye and see
monkey Tom singing “my country tis of thee”
we steady searching for the land of liberty
the sweet land of jewels that was promised to me
It was a hoax the 40 acres and the mule
with the flow my people gettin played as fools
time to wisen up, get a grip and use our tools
I know you tired of poverty, being mistreated and abused
we got the knowledge - slave labor built the land
they keep us out of college, so ignorance is their plan
clearly I see mental freedom wasn’t meant for the black man
trapped in society with statues and laws only they can overstand
dark skin is a sin in this white man’s world
my brothers drown their emotions by getting drunk til they hurt
who cares about the early morning fiend twitchin for a fix
the united snakes of american politics

When we come to the point of the threshold of enlightenment, we pause for the embarking, take a deep breath of redefining air, close our eyes, place one foot across the threshold, and keep progressing forward.

As we cross over to reform, our minds race with stimulating thoughts of resurrection. Our third eye blinks once, twice, thrice – opens. Through this new halo of light we can see the struggles of humanity.

Our hearts diastole – conjuring of courage. We sought then solidarity – collective force of “the people.”

All the teachings of the past great revolutionaries preceding us serve as instructions. Their words became our voice, so we spoke the language of “the people.”

We clench our fist, and give salutation. DETERMINATION! CONSOLIDATION! REVOLUTION! LIBERATION!

Why are you deeply sorry for hurting/disappointing
In a country built on genocide/institutionalizing
In any way - your mother, sister or grandmother
Hurt in degrees - hurt like no other
The pain is here - present - in my chest
But I’ve learned it from you - who knows it best
Hypocrisy and hate and national oppression
Imperialism and capitalism and poor peoples’ depression
We can’t see past all the senseless suicides
Friends’ corpses beside us - swinging above us
inside us
Suicide wholesale - please forgive us
Sensory deprivations or bought off TV stations
What’s worse - alone talking to yourself
or commercials repeatedly preaching consumer masturbation?
Two for one on a half off sale
I for one prefer sensory deprivation hell
My pen, my thoughts - memories get me through
I am the one feeling sorry for you
Bitter cynicism on a Bob Barker mattress
Verses ignorant masses on PC Macintoshes
It’s not hate I feel for you - but awe
Goose stepping, concentration kamping, new generation
What’s that - what’s this - we never saw
Boxcars, traincars - jehovah witness triangles
Vans, buses - poor man and non-white shackles
Business as usual - neo-fascist neo-nazi
A “criminal” boogeyman preaching - how dare he