One of the tragedies of the struggle against racism is that up to now there has been no national organization which could speak to the growing militancy of young black people in the urban ghetto.
quote by Stokely Carmichael
Added by Lucian Velea
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It's Ghetto
[Intro - Fabolous]
From hood to hood they see what's hood
And know who I be! uh!
[Verse - Fabolous]
I got the Yankee leaning, just sittin over to browse
And the G4 is just getting over the clouds
You can't tell me that I ain't what's up right now
I got a bottle of Tequila upside down
There's some chicks wit boyfriends that are up tight now
Cause they know the big 'dog' had a 'pups' like wow
I'm stuck in my city ways
Heading over seas wit a zip of New York City's haze
You rats can keep running through your city's maze
Until you get sprayed with the pesticide
I know you in that hole, you best to hide
Like the rest who tried, who went and testified
Of course your girl wanna slide over and be rubbed
And don't mind taking rides over the G dubs
I ride Rovers on Spre-dubs
Please don't be another dude who died over a ski dub, chill
[Chorus - Fabolous & (Thara)]
From hood to hood they see what's hood and know who I be
From block to block they see it, not can't know who I be
From state to state they cannot hate, they know who I be
From the east to west, through the midwest and downsouth it's Ghetto!
(It's Ghetto-oh!) It's Ghetto! (It's Ghetto-oh!) It's Ghetto!
(It's Ghetto-oh!) It's Ghetto! (It's Ghetto-ohh!) It's Ghetto!
[Verse - Fabolous]
I get it jumping like a lo lo ' six fo'
And bet they hop on it like a pogo stick pro
I'm chilling wit these go go chicks though
That do the kind of things that belong in a porno flick yo
You know it's him and the gang
Wit the bling worked on, that remind you of lemon meringue
But remember the thangs, ain't too far
And y'all wanna hear em go bang bang bang
Like John Witherspoon, I'm watching em closely
I know the snakes gon' slither soon
The two toned Maybach's getting delivered soon
The back feels like sitting in the living room
I'm so hard bodied like the suit on Batman
It's that man that back to back plat' scan
I'm back for the third time, I make words rhyme for a living
You probably heard I'm still ghetto, nigga!
[Chorus - Fabolous & (Thara)]
From hood to hood they see what's hood and know who I be
From block to block they see it, not can't know who I be
From state to state they cannot hate, they know who I be
From the east to west, through the midwest and downsouth it's Ghetto!
(It's Ghetto-oh!) It's Ghetto! (It's Ghetto-oh!) It's Ghetto!
[...] Read more
song performed by Fabolous
Added by Lucian Velea
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Urban Time vs. Rural Time
3 am:
Urban time: Alarm clocks, hoots and toots
Rural time: Cocks crow, cows moo and weavers beaker
4 am:
Urban time: Whoever snoozed the alarm? Dress up… very scarcely
Rural time: Dust the mat; grab yesterday’s very hard ugali and into overall
5 am:
Urban time: Marikiti and Gikomba beat traffic – rush hour
Rural time: Milking and feeding; early bird catches the worm
6 am:
Urban time: Office not open, tarts hover at Koinange zonked with sleep
Rural time: Coffee farm supervisor calls out names – mine missing
7 am:
Urban time: Offspring sings national anthem in academy playfully
Rural time: Sibling barefoot sings “Yesu anipenda” without blasphemy
8 am:
Urban time: Yaaaawn! Hate work before it even begins – so monotonous
Rural time: Tea baskets at back, yard stick in hand, water jar on head
9 am:
Urban time: What took company tea so long? Was tea boy fired or what?
Rural time: Sing Mary oh, sing Mary oh… Market women return with empty baskets
10 am:
Urban time: Finally the tea is here… (Chit chat) I love this job!
Rural time: The sun’s scorching – take a breath beneath shade
11 am:
Urban time: Silence and whispered gossip, functional smiles and fake hugs
Rural time: Shout greeting from ridge to ridge and insults from bush to bush
12 pm:
Urban time: Yaaaaaawn! Bad date - fear the approach of the next hour
Rural time: Any one with a watch? The sun has hid beneath the cloud
1 pm:
Urban time: Extraordinary times call for extraordinary measures – am dieting…
Rural time: Carry produce to factory, take a nap in the wilderness, and water the livestock
2 pm:
Urban time: Oh how I hate this! Parliament session on, but ethics dictate TV without volume
Rural time: Women plot today’s chama as men discuss the local barmaid’s “possessions”
3 pm:
Urban time: Who tampered with the office clock? I can see some hawkers outside…
[...] Read more
poem by David Munene wa Kimberly
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Ghetto Prisioners
Nas]
Uhh.. regulate nigga
Bravehearts nigga
Live for this
Some of y'all don't live at all
Get yours nigga
Get yours baby
Uhh yo.. yo..
As the night close down on the Earth like gray dark rings
Light of cities in the nights destination for Kings
with big dreams like Castro overthrew Bautista
from Cuba and pointed nukes toward the U.S.
About to shoot us for revolution; that's how you gotta move
A lot of rules, some locked in solitude
Curse the day of they birth confused, who's to be praised?
The mighty dollar -- or almighty Allah
I'm like the farmer, plantin words, people are seeds
My truth is the soil; help you grow like trees
May the children come in all colors, change like leaves
but hold before you, one of those, prophetic MC's
with blunted flows, seven hundred souls in me
Each channelin, from past to present times, heaven shines
light on those, innocent to how the world grows
Some men become murderers, and some girls become hoes
And you accounted for, everything that you heard
Do not speak to fools; they scorn the wisdom of your words
My heart is wise, bloodshot eyes, the saga never dies
Ghetto prisoners rise rise rise
Ghetto prisoners rise rise rise
Ghetto prisoners rise rise rise
Ghetto prisoners rise rise rise
Ghetto prisoners..
Yo we gotta be God's children, habitats in tall buildings
Rats crawl in filthy hallways, incinerators
Sinners who faithless, still there's hope, pray it's answered
Dreams turned real - what's a wicked nation?
One with blind men - not takin charge of the situation
Empty arguments and real conversations needed
The world'll need it, to hear it
Evil tries to weaken my spirit - it's chronic herb
This hurt come from the honest word
I now try hardest to serve my maker, what I learned
find it's way on the paper, so I could dictate it
Articulate it, luckily - I was put on one of the ships that made it
through strong currents and winds that left the others stranded
to sink in the Atlantic
Satan jigs the planet, not to get too religious, but
who decides when and if your life is finished?
If Christ is in this, for the sake of your name, oh Lord
may we break away from the chains abroad
[...] Read more
song performed by Nas
Added by Lucian Velea
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Good Ol Ghetto
Yeah let me holla at you real quick
Imma bring yal back to the good ol good ol days
Ya feel me?
Some of that...
Good ol, good ol, good old ghetto, good ol
Good ol, good ol ghetto
Good ol, good ol ghetto, ghetto, ghetto
Good ol...heh
I told my man Im having a barbecue
So grab some folks and wont you slide right through
He brought this shorty that I used to know
It brought me back to when I was in school
She said usher where have you been?
We used to kick it every now and then
Remember when I used to call your phone
Tell you come on cause my mothers gone
How about them times I had to throw
A rock at your window
To let you know to come downstairs
And open the door
And after that baby it was on fasure
Honey got my head spinnin around for real
Cause Im thinking bout how good you used to feel
And I got a girl now and I dont get down like this, huh
But I must admit Im tempted and startin to reminisce, cause
Ay yo, ay yo, ay yo
Aint nothing like some good ol ghetto
Ay yo, ay yo, ay yo
Aint nothing like some good ol ghetto
Ay yo, ay yo, ay yo
Aint nothing like some good ol ghetto
Ay yo, ay yo, ay yo
Aint nothing like some good ol ghetto
Now shes asking me to take her
On a tour of my house so we can catch up
For all the time lost since I blew up
And became the man that drops his pants
And every girl around the world is dying to love
Break the beat down
Let me tell you what Im talking about
If youre not carefull itll turn you out
Its that way she used to go
When you want it nice and slow
Even though you cant
The memory will make you want some mo
She used to understand me
Touch me, hold me, taught me how to be a man
She used to kiss me all them things she used to show me
Damn I wish that I could do it again
Honey got my head spinnin around for real
[...] Read more
song performed by Usher
Added by Lucian Velea
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racism- A Game Of Colour
I give you a set of colours
Red, blue, green, yellow, pink, brown, black and white
And you would say red and blue are complement complimentary,
and that contemporary brown and green are supplementary
And white is elementary,
and that black is voluntary
I would say its the adjective of racism
For racism is a game of colour
For racism is trauma of complexion
You argue black is obscurity,
white is dazzling and brown poverty
with yellow as footling
But i withstand your considerations
I would say they are the adjectives of racism
For racism is a game of colour
For racism is shame humanitarian
Tired! wanna defend?
Well, i give you some more parameters:
Demography, shape, education, economy, gender
You would say demography is fortune
And shape is good trait
That economy is brained brawn power
While gender supporting the theory of magnetism-'Unlike poles attract each other'
I would say they suffice for adjectives of racism
For racism is a game of colour
For racism is as despicable as a heinous odour
Hither and thither,
helter skeleter,
far and near,
thereover, hereunder,
I find, you see, we have colours blaming each other
Some colours say they are souvenirs
And that rest are samaritans
Some colours say they are absolute riches
And that others are dumped ditches
Hypothetically colours have some limitations
Like the dimensions in a piece of paper
And once it is replete
There is no need for scribbling black and blue
Like in reality some job agencies tag some skilled candidates to be obsolete-
Only coz' they don't match a colour of their tape-the bureaucratic red tape,
Or, they do not have blue references for a lush green outcome as future
Here ironically, one should really ponder
The world around us would have been a sheer monotony
Bereft of all hues considered as under
[...] Read more
poem by Amit Ray
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The racism
The racism erases
the beautiful memories
and it believes
in the perfect
world
The racism is
a too big
and horrible problem
It is a
wrong and impure
mistake
The racism is
a bad and
public thought
The racism is
played by the
poors of reasons
The racism doesn't
live in the
jungle but it
lives in the
modern society
I'm against the
racism
The racists are
cursed because they
are false
For me the
racism resides in
the hate
For the innocents
the racism is
lost war
For me the
racism doesn't exist
in a citizen
world
For me the
racism is a
terrible suffering
It can't stand
the harmony and
the heart of
a bay
It survives in
the evident darkness
The racism hates
the comfortable and
hospitable villa
The racism serves
[...] Read more
poem by Laura arwen
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The Canterbury Tales; the Seconde Nonnes Tale
The Prologe of the Seconde Nonnes Tale.
The ministre and the norice unto vices,
Which that men clepe in Englissh ydelnesse,
That porter of the gate is of delices,
To eschue, and by hir contrarie hir oppresse,
(That is to seyn by leveful bisynesse),
Wel oghten we to doon al oure entente,
Lest that the feend thurgh ydelnesse us shente.
For he, that with hise thousand cordes slye
Continuelly us waiteth to biclappe,
Whan he may man in ydelnesse espye,
He kan so lightly cacche hym in his trappe,
Til that a man be hent right by the lappe,
He nys nat war the feend hath hym in honde.
Wel oghte us werche, and ydelnesse withstonde.
And though men dradden nevere for to dye,
Yet seen men wel by resoun, doutelees,
That ydelnesse is roten slogardye,
Of which ther nevere comth no good encrees;
And seen that slouthe hir holdeth in a lees,
Oonly to slepe, and for to ete and drynke,
And to devouren al that othere swynke.
And for to putte us fro swich ydelnesse,
That cause is of so greet confusioun,
I have heer doon my feithful bisynesse,
After the legende, in translacioun
Right of thy glorious lyf and passioun,
Thou with thy gerland wroght with rose and lilie,
Thee meene I, mayde and martir, seint Cecilie.
Invocacio ad Mariam.
And thow that flour of virgines art alle,
Of whom that Bernard list so wel to write,
To thee at my bigynnyng first I calle,
Thou confort of us wrecches, do me endite
Thy maydens deeth, that wan thurgh hir merite
The eterneel lyf, and of the feend victorie,
As man may after reden in hir storie.
Thow mayde and mooder, doghter of thy sone,
Thow welle of mercy, synful soules cure,
In whom that God for bountee chees to wone,
Thow humble and heigh, over every creature
Thow nobledest so ferforth oure nature,
[...] Read more
poem by Geoffrey Chaucer
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Steal Away
Is just that ghetto ghetto
Ghetto ghetto
Is just that ghetto ghetto
Ghetto ghetto
We still ghetto ghetto
Ghetto ghetto
I've been thinkin lately baby
Maybe we should layin tonight
I would ?? paper was crazy
Music if is wrong I feel this right
Maybe we can make sweet love
Cause I know we feel so good
And more of two we escape this pressure
You know what? We should
Steal away
song performed by Mary J Blige from No More Drama
Added by Lucian Velea
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Lil' Ghetto Boy
The ghetto x8
Snoop doggy dogg:
Wake up, jumped out my bed
I'm in a two man cell with my homie lil' 1/2 dead
Murder was the case that they gave me
Dear god, i wonder can you save me?
I'm only eighteen, so i'm a young buck
It's a ride, if i don't scrap, i'm gettin' stuck
But that's the life of g, i guess
Ese's way deep, shanked two in the chest
Best run cause brothers is droppin' quicker
Ugn, too late, damn, down goes another nigga
Bouncin' off the walls, throwin' them dogs
Gettin' that rep as a young hog
It ain't nothin' like the street life
You better be strapped with your shank
Cause ain't no fist fight
So i guess i gots to handle mine
Since i did the crime, i gots to do my time
Chorus:
We run game in the ghetto
We gets high in the ghetto
We gets shot in the ghetto
You might get stuck in the ghetto
Lil' ghetto boy
Dr. dre:
Now i'm holdin' the dub, sittin' on swoll
Twenty-seven years old, up for parole, stroll
I'm back up on my feet with my mind on the money
That i be makin' soon as i touch them streets
Things done changed on this side
Remember they used to thump, but now they blast, right?
But it ain't no thang to me
Cause now i'm what they call a loced ass o.g.
The little homies from the hood with grip
Are the ones i get with cause i'm down to set trip
Nigga, i'm bigger than you, so whatcha wanna do?
Didn't know he had a twenty-two
Straight sittin' behind his back
I grabbed his pockets and then i heard six caps
I fell to the ground with blood on my hands
I didn't understand
How a nigga so young could bust a cap
I used to be the same way back
I guess that's what i get (for what?)
For tryin' to jack the little homies for they grip
Chorus
Snoop doggy dogg:
Somethin' for the real o.g.'s to get with
Some facts made our made
[...] Read more
song performed by Snoop Dogg
Added by Lucian Velea
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VI. Giuseppe Caponsacchi
Answer you, Sirs? Do I understand aright?
Have patience! In this sudden smoke from hell,—
So things disguise themselves,—I cannot see
My own hand held thus broad before my face
And know it again. Answer you? Then that means
Tell over twice what I, the first time, told
Six months ago: 't was here, I do believe,
Fronting you same three in this very room,
I stood and told you: yet now no one laughs,
Who then … nay, dear my lords, but laugh you did,
As good as laugh, what in a judge we style
Laughter—no levity, nothing indecorous, lords!
Only,—I think I apprehend the mood:
There was the blameless shrug, permissible smirk,
The pen's pretence at play with the pursed mouth,
The titter stifled in the hollow palm
Which rubbed the eyebrow and caressed the nose,
When I first told my tale: they meant, you know,
"The sly one, all this we are bound believe!
"Well, he can say no other than what he says.
"We have been young, too,—come, there's greater guilt!
"Let him but decently disembroil himself,
"Scramble from out the scrape nor move the mud,—
"We solid ones may risk a finger-stretch!
And now you sit as grave, stare as aghast
As if I were a phantom: now 't is—"Friend,
"Collect yourself!"—no laughing matter more—
"Counsel the Court in this extremity,
"Tell us again!"—tell that, for telling which,
I got the jocular piece of punishment,
Was sent to lounge a little in the place
Whence now of a sudden here you summon me
To take the intelligence from just—your lips!
You, Judge Tommati, who then tittered most,—
That she I helped eight months since to escape
Her husband, was retaken by the same,
Three days ago, if I have seized your sense,—
(I being disallowed to interfere,
Meddle or make in a matter none of mine,
For you and law were guardians quite enough
O' the innocent, without a pert priest's help)—
And that he has butchered her accordingly,
As she foretold and as myself believed,—
And, so foretelling and believing so,
We were punished, both of us, the merry way:
Therefore, tell once again the tale! For what?
Pompilia is only dying while I speak!
Why does the mirth hang fire and miss the smile?
My masters, there's an old book, you should con
For strange adventures, applicable yet,
[...] Read more
poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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The Angry Soup Of Racism
ain't it a shame:
when hate lynches
a 14 year old, Colored boy
in 1955, Mississippi,
and blows away the dreams of
(four innocent little Negroe girls) ,
in 1963, Birmingham, Alabama.
yeah,
bus that to your segregated thoughts:
as I “interracially” walk you,
through Little Rock, Arkansas
with Daisy Bates & nine Black Children,
to march along side the National Guard,
on their way to a lily white school,
as the message of this-
un-segregates & un-tangles
the history of hate;
attackin’ Negroes in 1957,
whose only desire was to be educated;
and schooled too.
racism & hate
doesn’t try to guide,
the white citizen council back,
to their good senses,
‘cause racism-
[...] Read more
poem by Ronald Stroman
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The Ghetto
I
Cool, inaccessible air
Is floating in velvety blackness shot with steel-blue lights,
But no breath stirs the heat
Leaning its ponderous bulk upon the Ghetto
And most on Hester street…
The heat…
Nosing in the body's overflow,
Like a beast pressing its great steaming belly close,
Covering all avenues of air…
The heat in Hester street,
Heaped like a dray
With the garbage of the world.
Bodies dangle from the fire escapes
Or sprawl over the stoops…
Upturned faces glimmer pallidly -
Herring-yellow faces, spotted as with a mold,
And moist faces of girls
Like dank white lilies,
And infants' faces with open parched mouths that suck at the air
as at empty teats.
Young women pass in groups,
Converging to the forums and meeting halls,
Surging indomitable, slow
Through the gross underbrush of heat.
Their heads are uncovered to the stars,
And they call to the young men and to one another
With a free camaraderie.
Only their eyes are ancient and alone…
The street crawls undulant,
Like a river addled
With its hot tide of flesh
That ever thickens.
Heavy surges of flesh
Break over the pavements,
Clavering like a surf -
Flesh of this abiding
Brood of those ancient mothers who saw the dawn break over Egypt…
And turned their cakes upon the dry hot stones
And went on
Till the gold of the Egyptians fell down off their arms…
Fasting and athirst…
And yet on…
[...] Read more
poem by Lola Ridge
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Racism and the Culture Of Racism
We must be aware…..,
Of the Culture Of Racism….,
It’s a slur and a swear….,
The Culture Of Racism….! ! !
Can’t turn your back….,
On the Culture Of Racism….,
Or you’ll feel the whack…,
Of the Culture Of Racism….! ! !
It’s hard to believe….
The Culture Of Racism….,
That’s why we all grieve….,
The Culture Of Racism…! ! !
We must face the facts….,
On the Culture Of Racism ….! ! !
Cause we’ve seen the attacks…..,
Of the Culture Of Racism….,
It follows us all…,
The Culture Of Racism….,
But we must stand tall….,
Against the Culture Of Racism….! ! !
Can we control or stop it….,
As long as it’s been livin’….? ? ?
That’s the priceless question….,
On the Culture Of Racism…! ! !
poem by Trade Martin
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Black History
Boom, boom, boom!
That was in 1530 to the Slave Trade;
My Mama told me so,
My Papa told me so,
In the name of our ancestors gone by;
Slaves for arms,
Slaves for powder,
Slaves for hardware,
Slaves for spirits;
Boom, boom, boom! !
All over the West Coast of Africa!
Today, i am a Blackman to tell you a story.
Black History, the Black African, the Black Race;
Of my ancestors gone by,
Boom, boom, boom!
Black head, black sugar, black coffee;
Where are the true identities of the Blacks?
That was in 1530 to the Slave trade.
Black History, black love;
A Black Race to a call.
Tap your fingers and do think about it,
My Mama told me so;
Bllack shoes, black phones;
With the Black History gone too soon,
My Papa told me so.
Black hair, black eyes;
The black coal to steam up the engines!
In the name of my ancestors gone by;
But, where are the black pens of love to share?
Do think about this and learn from it,
Boom, boom, boom!
A Blackman in the house to tell us a story;
Where is William Wilberforce?
Where is Thomas Buxton?
Where is Granville Sharp?
What about the Slaves? !
These men need to tell us more;
They killed my ancestors softly without compensations!
Black love, black stream, a black home to live in;
Like 'Naughty By Nature',
I've got 'Queen Latifah' to tell us more.
Of the Black Songs,
Of the Black race,
With a Black-Limo to keep us going;
This Slave Trade was a Black History to us all.
Boom, boom, boom!
[...] Read more
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Canto the Second
I
Oh ye! who teach the ingenuous youth of nations,
Holland, France, England, Germany, or Spain,
I pray ye flog them upon all occasions,
It mends their morals, never mind the pain:
The best of mothers and of educations
In Juan's case were but employ'd in vain,
Since, in a way that's rather of the oddest, he
Became divested of his native modesty.
II
Had he but been placed at a public school,
In the third form, or even in the fourth,
His daily task had kept his fancy cool,
At least, had he been nurtured in the north;
Spain may prove an exception to the rule,
But then exceptions always prove its worth -—
A lad of sixteen causing a divorce
Puzzled his tutors very much, of course.
III
I can't say that it puzzles me at all,
If all things be consider'd: first, there was
His lady-mother, mathematical,
A—never mind; his tutor, an old ass;
A pretty woman (that's quite natural,
Or else the thing had hardly come to pass);
A husband rather old, not much in unity
With his young wife—a time, and opportunity.
IV
Well—well, the world must turn upon its axis,
And all mankind turn with it, heads or tails,
And live and die, make love and pay our taxes,
And as the veering wind shifts, shift our sails;
The king commands us, and the doctor quacks us,
The priest instructs, and so our life exhales,
A little breath, love, wine, ambition, fame,
Fighting, devotion, dust,—perhaps a name.
V
I said that Juan had been sent to Cadiz -—
A pretty town, I recollect it well -—
'T is there the mart of the colonial trade is
(Or was, before Peru learn'd to rebel),
And such sweet girls—I mean, such graceful ladies,
Their very walk would make your bosom swell;
I can't describe it, though so much it strike,
Nor liken it—I never saw the like:
[...] Read more
poem by Byron from Don Juan (1824)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Young American
They pulled in just behind the fridge
He lays her down, he frowns
"Gee my life's a funny thing, am I still too young?"
He kissed her then and there
She took his ring, took his babies
It took him minutes, took her nowhere
Heaven knows, she'd have taken anything, but
All night
She wants the young American
Young American, young American, she wants the young American
All right
She wants the young American
Scanning life through the picture windows
She finds the slinky vagabond
He coughs as he passes her Ford Mustang, but
Heaven forbid, she'll take anything
But the freak, and his type, all for nothing
He misses a step and cuts his hand, but
Showing nothing, he swoops like a song
She cries "Where have all Papa's heroes gone?"
All night
She wants the young American
Young American, young American, she wants the young American
All right
She wants the young American
All the way from Washington
Her bread-winner begs off the bathroom floor
"We live for just these twenty years
Do we have to die for the fifty more?"
All night
He wants the young American
Young American, young American, he wants the young American
All right
He wants the young American
Do you remember, your President Nixon?
Do you remember, the bills you have to pay
Or even yesterday
Have you been an un-American?
Just you and your idol singing falsetto 'bout
Leather, leather everywhere, and
Not a myth left from the ghetto
Well, well, well, would you carry a razor
In case, just in case of depression
Sit on your hands on a bus of survivors
Blushing at all the afro-Sheilas
Ain't that close to love?
Well, ain't that poster love?
Well, it ain't that Barbie doll
Her heart's been broken just like you have
And
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song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Ghetto
Talking bout the ghetto...funky funky ghetto
Trying to survive, trying to stay alive
Chorus:
The ghetto
The ghetto
(talking bout the ghetto)
The ghetto
The ghetto
(funk funky ghetto)
Even though the streets are bumpy, lights burned out
Dope fiends die with a pipe in their mouths
Old school buddies not doing it right
Every day its the same
And its the same every night
I wouldnt shoot you bro but Id shoot that fool
If he played me close and tried to test my cool
Every day I wonder just how Ill die
Only thing I know is how to survive
Theres only one rule in the real world
And thats to take care of you, only you and yours
Keep dealing with the hard times day after day
Might deal me some dope but then crime dont pay
Black man tried to break into my house again
Thought he got off early doing time in the pen
Even though my brothers do me just like that
I get a lot of love so Im giving it back to the...
Chorus
So just peep the game and dont call it crap
Cause to me, life is one hard rap
Even though my sister smoked crack cocaine
She was nine months pregnant, aint nothing changed
600 million on a footbal team
And her baby dies just like a dope fiend
The story I tell is so incomplete
Five kids in the house and no food to eat
Dont look at me and dont ask me why
Mamas next door getting high
Even though shes got five mouths to feed
Shes rather spend her money on a h-i-t
I always tell the truth about things like this
I wonder if the mayor overlooked that list
Instead of adding to the task force send some help
Waiting on him Id better help myself
Housing authority and the o.p.d.
All these guns just to handle me in the...
Chorus
Even though they put us down and call us animals
We make real big banks and buy brand new clothes
Drive fancy cars, make love to stars
Never really saying just who we are
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song performed by Too Short
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Cenci : A Tragedy In Five Acts
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
Count Francesco Cenci.
Giacomo, his Son.
Bernardo, his Son.
Cardinal Camillo.
Orsino, a Prelate.
Savella, the Pope's Legate.
Olimpio, Assassin.
Marzio, Assassin.
Andrea, Servant to Cenci.
Nobles, Judges, Guards, Servants.
Lucretia, Wife of Cenci, and Step-mother of his children.
Beatrice, his Daughter.
The Scene lies principally in Rome, but changes during the Fourth Act to Petrella, a castle among the Apulian Apennines.
Time. During the Pontificate of Clement VIII.
ACT I
Scene I.
-An Apartment in the Cenci Palace.
Enter Count Cenci, and Cardinal Camillo.
Camillo.
That matter of the murder is hushed up
If you consent to yield his Holiness
Your fief that lies beyond the Pincian gate.-
It needed all my interest in the conclave
To bend him to this point: he said that you
Bought perilous impunity with your gold;
That crimes like yours if once or twice compounded
Enriched the Church, and respited from hell
An erring soul which might repent and live:-
But that the glory and the interest
Of the high throne he fills, little consist
With making it a daily mart of guilt
As manifold and hideous as the deeds
Which you scarce hide from men's revolted eyes.
Cenci.
The third of my possessions-let it go!
Ay, I once heard the nephew of the Pope
Had sent his architect to view the ground,
Meaning to build a villa on my vines
The next time I compounded with his uncle:
I little thought he should outwit me so!
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poem by Percy Bysshe Shelley
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Racism Still Sadly Continues...
Racism comes in many different shapes and forms
Sadly I have had my fair share since I’ve been born
Judged before I have been even given a chance
Delaying my future and for my career to advance
My parents tell me of stories they have had to endure
I wish racism was a sickness with a dose of medication to cure
Thankfully there are good hearted and educated people
Who can look beyond skin colour and treat us all as an equal
Why would another person’s skin colour be such an issue?
Get to know them; they might have things in common just like you
I am so fed up of hearing “They from so and so, they all the same”
Everyone has differences but skin colour is not to blame
I wonder sometimes is it because the racist themselves are afraid to mix
Who knows, I am only looking for a solution to get it fixed
It’s a major problem none of us like or need,
How sad to hear, a racist sees skin colour the only reason to want to make you bleed
You see films like ‘Mississippi Burning’
I think to myself that was then but when are racist going to start learning?
If humans never saw in colour, what would it be like then?
I am sure everyone would get along and call each other friend
I hope my kids and the next generation never get to witness racism first hand
Lets pray for them racism was a issue in the past that no longer stands
Life is hard as it is, without the need of racism
Like supporting our family and giving our kids a good education
Ways to stop racism should begin at home and school
Getting along will be our biggest advantage, our strongest tool
I did have people who I did call friends
But their own racist views meant our friendship had to end
It does not matter, if your white, black or brown
You should feel safe to walk and talk in any town
Racism has to be erased from every country and every street
Knowing racism is not an issue when theirs someone new we meet
Everyone has the right to go anywhere they choose
Because whilst racism is still alive, no one wins, everybody lose
To those facing racism, all I can say is be brave and stay strong
To those racist, deep down in your heart you must know it’s wrong?
God blessed us by putting us here, giving us all different shades of colour
Were not meant to have the same colour skin, but we all can respect one another
Martin Luther King Jr said in 1963 “I have a dream”
But up to now it has yet to be seen
Amit Chubbah - 21.04.2008
poem by Amit Chubbah
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Young Americans
They pulled in just behind the fridge
He lays her down, he frowns
Gee my lifes a funny thing, am I still too young?
He kissed her then and there
She took his ring, took his babies
It took him minutes, took her nowhere
Heaven knows, shed have taken anything, but
All night
She wants the young american
Young american, young american, she wants the young american
All right
She wants the young american
Scanning life through the picture windows
She finds the slinky vagabond
He coughs as he passes her ford mustang, but
Heaven forbid, shell take anything
But the freak, and his type, all for nothing
He misses a step and cuts his hand, but
Showing nothing, he swoops like a song
She cries where have all papas heroes gone?
All night
She wants the young american
Young american, young american, she wants the young american
All right
She wants the young american
All the way from washington
Her bread-winner begs off the bathroom floor
We live for just these twenty years
Do we have to die for the fifty more?
All night
He wants the young american
Young american, young american, he wants the young american
All right
He wants the young american
Do you remember, your president nixon?
Do you remember, the bills you have to pay
Or even yesterday
Have you been an un-american?
Just you and your idol singing falsetto bout
Leather, leather everywhere, and
Not a myth left from the ghetto
Well, well, well, would you carry a razor
In case, just in case of depression
Sit on your hands on a bus of survivors
Blushing at all the afro-sheilas
Aint that close to love?
Well, aint that poster love?
Well, it aint that barbie doll
Her hearts been broken just like you have
And
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song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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