Tag Archives: Sage Francis

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Typically Cyclical Simple Civil Obedience

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Rich Get Richer ’til the Poor Get Educated

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Census 2010 reveals that 49.4 percent of all the earned income in the U.S. is received by those who earn $100,000 a year or more.

Those who earn more than $100,000 per year total 20 percent of the US workforce.

The poorest of America’s workforce receive an average 3 percent of the total income earned in the country.

Submitted by Anissa Ford, 09-28-2010: huliq.com

There once was a song called “Arrest The President.”
Contemporary music,
a hit with the kids,
it was a top ten.
I wasn’t pop then,
so I missed the bus a bit,
But politics: it was on everybody’s
hot this summer list.
The cool kids were all
Rocking Votes!
I shit you not,
I was pistol whippin’ cops for hip-hop.
[Booyea!]
On my soap box
yelling into megaphones.
Killing hard rocks using carcasses as stepping stones.
Had to promise that I’d stop holding my marches
The day that Chris Columbus got crucified on golden arches.
My pedestal was too tall to climb off,
In fact that’s the reason for the high horse.
And from up here I see Marines and Hummers on a conquest;
Underdogs with wonderbras in a push-up contest,
All for the sake of military recruitment.
It felt like Kent State the way they targeted the students,
I galloped off
whistling “Ohio.”
The rest of them,
stuck doing stand up at a cricket convention.
What would they die for?
What would they die for?
Is it the same machine
that leaves the quality of life poor?
An abominable colony of cyborgs?
Clogging up the property that I bought with eyesores?
That clever ad campaign ain’t worth
The time taken from minimum wage labor;
I don’t care how half-naked or fake she looks,
She smells like dirty cash and aged paper books.
What would she die for?
Slow down Gandhi, you’re killin’ em
Slow down Gandhi, you’re killin’ em.
Now it’s whistle blower vs. the pistol holder;
Case dismissed,
they’ll lock you up and throw away the key witness.
Justice is the whim of a judge,
check his chest density,
It leaves much room for error,
and the rest left to destiny.
The West Memphis 3 lost paradise,
It’s death penalty vs. suicidal tendencies.
All I wanted was a fucking Pepsi.
Institution.
Making you think you’re crazy is a billion dollar industry.
If they could sell sanity in a bottle
They’d be charging for compressed air,
And marketing healthcare.
They demonize welfare,
Middle class eliminated,
Rich get richer ’til the poor get educated.
But some of y’all still haven’t grown into your face,
And your face doesn’t quite match your head.
And I’m waiting for a brain to fill the dead space that’s left,
You’re all, “Give me ethnicity or give me dreads.”
Trustafundian rebel without a cause for alarm,
Cause when push turns to shove
You jump into your forefathers arms.
He’s a banker,
you’re part of the system,
Off go the dreadlocks
in comes the income.
The briefcase (the freebase)
The sickness (the symptom)
When the cameras start rollin’
stay the fuck outta the picture pilgrim!
The briefcase (the freebase)
The sickness (the symptoms)
When the cameras start rollin’…
Slow down Gandhi, you’re killin’ em.
Mr. Save The World, spare us the details,
Save the females from losing interest.
And Miss Save The Universe,
You’re a damsel in distress,
Tied down to a track of isolated incidents.
Generalize my disease, I need a taste of what it’s like.
Living off the fat of kings, I play the scab at your hunger strike.
Slow down Gandhi, you’re killin’em.
One love, one life, one too many victims.
Republicrat, Democran, one party system.
Media goes in a frenzy,
They’re stripped of their credentials.
Presidential candidates can’t debate over this instrumental.
Let ‘em freestyle,
winner takes all,
When the music’s dead,
I’ll have Ted Nugent’s head hangin’ on my wall.
Kill one of ours, we’ll kill one of yours.
With some friendly fire?
That’s a funny term,
like civil war.
Six in the morning, police at my crib.
Now my nights consist of two toothpicks and eyelids.
The crucifix and vitamins, music that is pirated.
New flavored food made of mutated hybrids.
Ugh!
They tell me that it’s not that bad.
It fucks you up good,
but its not that bad.
They hold on to these tales till it’s the dog that wags.
God save us all if he lets the cat out the bag.
Who’s the one to blame for this strain in my vocal chords?
Who can pen a hateful threat but can’t hold a sword?
It’s the same who complain about the global war,
But can’t overthrow the local joker that they voted for.
They call the shots
(but they’re not in the line of fire).
I call the cops
(but they’re breakin’ the line of duty).
Lets call a stop to the abuse of authority.
The truth keeps callin’ me,
and I’ma live to tell the story.
So look for truth, quit seeking forgiveness.
You need to cut the noose, but you don’t believe in scissors.
You support the troops by wearing yellow ribbons?
JUST BRING HOME MY MOTHERFUCKIN’
BROTHERS AND SISTERS!
Cause they don’t call the shots
(but they’re in the line of fire).
I’d like to call the cops
(but they’re breakin’ the line of duty).
It’s time to call a stop
(To the abuse of authority).
The truth keeps calling me
And I’ma live to tell the story.
@SageFrancis / poet
Fort Minor / sampled

#njpoet


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Can this be what they voted for? #CBAnthology

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Poem Like My Sexual History #CBAnthology

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Threewrite
by Sage Francis

This is to the (uh-uh) intertwined souls
the hands I’ve been trying to hold

This is to the (uh-uh) love that I lost
and all the troubling thoughts of how I got double-crossed

and this is to the (uh-uh) divorce I was forced to settle with
and the remorse I fought off with metal fists

and this is to the (uh-uh) wet, watery kiss I left you with
on your porch while I watched your trembling lips

This is to the… memory of our early years
the first girl I shared feelings with

and it’s the realest thing I’d experienced in my short existence
I ain’t afraid to admit

cause love is one of the things that doesnt come with an age limit
now does it?

In fact I’ma have to say I’m more keen to feel such things
hopeful dreams I’d lost in a smokescreen of meaningless fucking

Touching without touching, candles in the dark
casting shadows on our parents battles, this is for the romantics at heart

It wasn’t too long before I held you more then my pen
when I wasn’t writing songs, it was something like

“Forever and always, whenever those songs play…”
I remember empty hallways

or your image that descended from the top floor became an echo
I paid the price for those hard things, and couldn’t afford to let go

From a passive debt, I’m past regret
Did you know I dreamt about you before we met?

Remembering our first kiss, it hadn’t even happened yet
Recollecting your set, and I wasn’t ever given the chance to forget

I guess that’s the magic of it
Now every rehashed subject’s displaying what I wrote
on cafe napkins to the public

to get it over and done with, closure hath cometh
My shoulders have plummeted from holding these buckets

Hold your laughs till I go back to the tunnels of Paris
where I wrote half of these paragraphs… but fuck it

This is to my ten year story, in another decade
you better be better prepared for me

in the first four years, you were all ears
then the next six, you left me for the next EX

THEN WENT DEF TO MY MESSAGE

So that began my affair with the world abroad
Behind the curtain with the other hurtful girls I explored

Until I became the monster, turning to the words that I record
Pardon me, if you heard it all before

“I didn’t shake you to hurt you”

when you landed on the floor
In a room of naked virtue
I closed my eyes to cancel what I saw

Your hand made the first move to the handle of the drawer
where the frail girl couldn’t think to live

“I didn’t shake you to hurt you”

I never planned it before
I can’t shake off your perfume, can’t wash my hands no more
and I’m breaking my curfew, but I can’t walk
I’m standing at the door, I hear the wailing of a little kid

…and the failure of innocence

His compromise eyeing the side of the kitchen sink
What’you think, I just let you cut you, cut me– cut the bullshit

Damn, I love the hugs enough to tolerate
the way we made each other crazy,
making it so tough to operate productively

my self esteem didn’t help when I felt ugly
and I figured that’s the reason why you wouldn’t touch me

My ego does bleed, I should’ve let you test it
and let your arms free to follow through with your domestic slip up

Love is a battlefield so lick your shots quick
while I lick my wounds and then resume as an obvious target

Infatuations with the past protect my Purple Heart with
a faded picture I had in my shirt pocket

I’m going out with a bang..
in a blaze of glory holes, the anti-hero

I don’t care how many ways the story’s told

Be careful when these doolies play like drums
and watch what you foolishly say,
because my uzi weighs a tongue..

This is to the sleepless evenings that I spent next to grave stones
Hoping someone from beyond would grab my arm and take me home

I half accepted I’d have to make it alone
after feeding everything I had into a payphone

and this is to the rain..
It felt like it was made of spit

My parade was an unbreakable chain of Gabe’s trumpets

Save the buckets even though they weighed down my walking
You don’t know the height of the steak you place your fork in

You look old (that’s what you said)
I feel old (that’s what I said)

I been through a lot since you been gone, dead, born again
torn to shreads over girls who were porcelain
the cry-baby dolls, when we were allowed to talk again
I stopped accepting wake-up calls (that ring true)

I hate the way I fall for everything you do
Our fate is flawed, that’s why I make these break-up songs to sing to you

Musics my only psychiatric drug
And you’re a pill in human form I’d like to hide under my tongue

Kiss the foot that couldn’t fit into the slipper of my mouth
The denizen in your house begging for the benifit of your doubts

When I got kicked out, I played the faithful puppy dog
Loyal to the love alost, sitting by your fucking door in utter disbelief

I sucked all of the skin off of my teeth
you pulled away, you let me choke on your invisible leash

You can find me hiding these screams behind my eyelids
She blinded me (she blinded me) with silence..

So my air-mail lips blew her a fairwell kiss
Slinking over the sink, where all the hair gel drips

Stairwells dip deep into her mouth where I found a cycle
and ever since then, I’ve been on a downward spiral

this round is final, it’s time to recover
because it’s a porch that some dogs choose to die under

the first song was a breakdown, I apologize in round two
this version im certain, this shit ain’t even about you

It’s the threewrite..

 

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