Under Lock & Key

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

Hatred, power, envy and greed -
with not a thought of your fellow man
is the moral quota they try to breed.

Material existence at the cost of whole nations
and despite the desolation they cause overseas
they still find the need to oppress
and bring the war back to you and me.

With their foot on our necks what is the lumpen
to do but rise up and revolt against the tyranny
these capitalist pigs so mercilessly
rain down upon me and you.

Threatening us with terroristic tactics they try to discourage
us from educating ourselves and our fellow oppressed
they label us a threat and lock us away
just for what we read
labeling you a threat to the government for trying to liberate
and set our people free.

But they are the real terrorists, exploiting
weaker nations and killing over oil
their world revolves around chaos, and their evil
empires are built on blood-soaked soil.

The mentality of tyranny
is a war of psychology via technology,
technically diversified
con-fused like a tie-dye’d
brain is stained with illusion and lies
dispel, rebel, and defy the pail;
head like a bucket, it’s time to chuck it
life on the line - F…K it!

You have an obligation
time to stop duckin’, time to start buckin’
Revolution is bubblin’

Peroxide da line Oxygenate ya mind
We have been deprived all of our lives
given enough scraps to barely survive
I’m feelin a vibe of Free ya mind
its in vogue don’t be so shallow
and the rest will follow
led by the dialectical materialist kind

Now lets begin - power up
equip to it and stick
like Bruce Lee Roy’s chop sockie flick
a sho’ nuff revolutionary kick
Word, it’s a U-N-I-T-Y hit!

Who did what
who called the shot
I just don’t know
all I know is that it shouldn’t have been so
Malcolm should have lived until he was a
thousand years old
or even more
some say it was the COINTELPRO
of that I’m sure
but what made negroes
gun down our hero
and turn around and practice non-violence
towards a savage who threatens our very existence
while Malcolm was plotting a resistance
against the nemesis
these imbeciles was plotting against
the shining prince
they’re worse than Judas
because Judas had a conscience
so he hung himself after his treacherous action
but after the treason
these Judases are still breathing
why don’t they just die
and make us rejoice with joy
non-believers disguised in Black skin
sabotaging the struggle that they don’t believe in
so they use their skin to deceive men

niggas killed Malcolm X
and niggas will probably kill me too

You got to be naive to believe
you can determine friend from foe
just based on skin color alone
and not by the content of the character
I see the niggas
but where my brothers at
Bob Marley said that they sold Marcus Garvey
for rice
Then they ambushed Bob Marley in the night
They say the eyes never lie
but experience tells me that they don’t
always tell the truth

niggas killed Malcolm X
and niggas will probably kill me too

Huey Newton was still an asset
yet slugs put him in his casket
while agent provocateurs
that deserve death
remain in our midst
misfits in positions of leadership
navigating the lives of the less fortunate
the blind leading the blind
now we can’t find our way out
of this maze
that got us trapped
and strapped with gats
that we only aim at Blacks

niggas killed Malcolm X
and niggas will probably kill me too

I’m analyzing this self hatred
wondering why this Black life of mine
ain’t considered sacred
in a blink of an eye
a nigga would lay me dead on the pavement
but if my pigment was white
a nigga would think twice fifty times
before he contemplates homicide
I’ve stared into the eyes of these boys
who claim to be real men
and I’ve seen the fear that paralyzes
that make them throw away their weapon
when the cops hit the intersection
we’re conditioned for submission
so the prisons are full of Blacks
who hate Blacks
and back stab each other
because they’re petrified of the real nemesis
life sentences and these fools
are complacent with just being
jail house celebrities
all is vanity
buy up the commissary
and live good in the penitentiary
while we’re becoming
liabilities to our families
where’s the sanity?

niggas killed Malcolm X
and niggas will probably kill me too

I went from rice and deer meat
To bologna and carrots
Four wheelers and Honda XR motorcycles
To a stinky Bob Barker mattress
Grew up chasing girls and a good time
Still growing up - still doing time
Mama don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys
To the abolition of classes, the abolition of state power
country music to a dead solitary silence
promising amerikkkan middle class future
To a socialist, communist, bourgeois hater
From a needle to knowledge
Knucklehead to ‘never again’
Sally forth from juvenile detentions, prisons, boot camps
only to come back again. and again. and again.
Used to pine away - love sick puppy
over my ex-girls
Now seeking a socialist revolution
and a non-patriarchy, non-sexist world
Faith in God - Gone - turned atheist
Trust in my country - lost - I hate it!
Belief in the people - found - turned non-escapist
A cause worth dying, for - became - most hated
I stand alone now with a couple of friends
Solitary insane, I’ll not pretend
Basically I’m just a man now with minimal needs
Mouth silent, eyes bloodshot
The sun sets and rises as my tired soul bleeds

For
the alleged
criminally insane
obsessed, possessed
and repressed
so-called
most “incorrigible”
inmates
protective custody
security risks
where
death awaits
all
those whose warrants
have been signed
if not stayed…
Where
ole’ sparky
(the electric chair)
resides
where men
resist
are brutalized
refuse
to be dehumanized
or
give up control
of their minds
where their
dignity and perspective
in some cases
is relegated
or impaired
to an extreme
appreciation
or acceptance
of the unjust
where some
men are broken
commit suicide
take overdoses
hang themselves

I am a universal Builder
Building universally
for in the universe
Be
Allah’s university
Adversity’s not stopping me
Domestically or commercially
for you see
It works for me to come to thee
Righteously
Poetically
In this form
Universally strong
Living right not wrong
Against the norm
For I’ve weathered the storm all along
Builders build
Adding on
To life
Three dimensional existence
Hear me now
Bare witness
I’ve witness’d the relentless
Struggle against this life sentence of persistence
My insistence
To teach the masses resistance
To oppression
Suppression
Mental anguish
Depression
I stopped stressing
Paid attention
Learned to see my struggles as a learned lesson
If not a blessing
For builders which build without question…

I’m lock’n loaded, tried, tested;
now proven
revolution is now what,
has ensued.
In the vein of Marx, Lenin, and Mao passed:
first is where the heart is,
the proletariat class!
Try as you might, superior numbers manifest,
In league, with the correct political line.
followers we have. Guns too:
next is political power.
With a massive, intake
of breath;
know it’s the bourgeoisie’s final hour.
Capitalist pigs and imperialist scum,
wiping blood off our boots
as thoughts and feelings
have become numb.
If this is not coming through,
here it is spoken, loud and clear:
“This is a struggle and a fight!”
Either bourgeoisie or proletariat class.
Yours is our life.