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  • Thatcher fucked the kids!

    4. Jan. 2011, 19:43

    Whatever happened to childhood?

    We're all scared of the kids in our neighbourhood
    They're not small, charming and harmless,
    They're a violent bunch of bastard little shits.
    And anyone who looks younger than me
    Makes me check for my wallet, my phone and my keys,
    And I'm tired of being tired out
    Always being on the lookout for thieving gits.

    We're all wondering how we ended up so scared;
    We spent ten long years teaching our kids not to care
    And that "there's no such thing as society" anyway
    And all the rich folks act surprised
    When all sense of community dies,
    But you just closed your eyes to the other side of all the things that she did
    Thatcher fucked the kids

    And it seems a little bit rich to me
    The way the rich only ever talk of charity
    In times like the seventies, the broken down economy
    Meant even the upper tier was needing some help
    But as soon as things look brighter
    Yeah the grin gets wider and the grip gets tighter
    And for every teenage tracksuit mug
    There's a guy in a suit who wouldn't lift a finger for anybody else.

    You've got a generation raised on the welfare state,
    Enjoyed all its benefits and did just great,
    But as soon as they were settled as the richest of the rich,
    They kicked away the ladder, told the rest of us that life's a bitch.
    And it's no surprise that all the fuck-ups
    Didn't show up until the kids had grown up.
    But when no one ever smiles or ever helps a stranger,
    Is it any fucking wonder our society's in danger of collapse?

    So all the kids are bastards,
    But don't blame them, yeah, they learn by example.
    Blame the folks who sold the future for the highest bid:
    That's right, Thatcher fucked the kids.

  • (Great) Britain

    12. Dez. 2010, 4:04

    I'm from a little place call Great Britain
    But I dunno if I love or hate Britain
    These words upon my page written
    Are the things that make and break Britain

    One inch to the left, to the left,
    Could of been the difference between life and death,
    Knife wound to the heart to the side of the chest,
    Could of been one statistic less.

    See sometimes great Britain ain't that great,
    Kids getting stabbed at an alarming rate,
    Pressed with a pattern to exagerate,
    Increasingly clueless heads of state?

    You see knife crime knife crime ain't about knifes,
    It's about young Britain and the ways of lives,
    You don't solve knife crime by taking knifes to hand,
    You solve it by instilling new hopes and plans,
    You've got positives though, I swear it's true,
    In north south east west and the midlands too.
    God damn viresty, that shines right through.

    Im from a Little place called Great Britain,
    But I dont know if I love or hate Britain,
    These words upon my page Britain,
    Are things that make and break, Britain.

    In a 2008-2009 Governenment report,
    Violent crime was not listed to increase, or decrease,
    it was instead listed as stable.

    Now what I ask you is,
    Is stable really acceptable?
    See between 2003 and 2008,
    the number of children admitted into NHS hospitals with knife wounds,
    saw a rise of 120 percent.

    So in my eyes,
    2008 and 2009's stability,
    Just marks that casts, as desensitised.

    But statistics can be twisted,
    And our contexts aren't realistic,
    And with despising moments simplistic,
    We need to fight this and resist it!

  • Facebook Killed The Romance Of Misery

    11. Nov. 2010, 10:03

    Facebook has killed the romance of misery
    And probably even the romance of romance and chivalry.

    There was a time when people revelled in solitary dramatics,
    Writing sad poetry by candle light in creaky old attics.

    Resting their heads on pillows so tear drenched they would dream of the sea,
    As they floated in the salty waters of heart break and misery.

    History is littered with tales of grand reactions to rejection,
    Documented with great beauty by those of a more delicate complexion.

    Some of the saddest songs and verse were written in times of sorrow,
    Or at least when looking back at such times & using the emotions there to borrow.

    But, THESE DAYS, when your heart has been removed from its rightful place,
    You just change your status to “single” followed by “sad face”.

    What becomes of the broken hearted?
    I don’t know but they just “liked” a photo of cat titled “OMG! Who just farted??”

    When I was a teen dramatic reactions were pretty much a certainty.
    If I was really hurting, then that hurt you all would see.

  • Heroes Of War

    14. Apr. 2010, 0:12

    He said, “Son,
    Have you see the world?
    Well, what would you say
    If I said that you could?
    Just carry this gun and you’ll even get paid.”
    I said, “That sounds pretty good.”

    Black leather boots
    Spit-shined so bright
    They cut off my hair but it looked alright
    We marched and we sang
    We all became friends
    As we learned how to fight

    A hero of war
    Yeah that’s what I’ll be
    And when I come home
    They’ll be damn proud of me
    I’ll carry this flag
    To the grave if I must
    Because it’s flag that I love
    And a flag that I trust

    I kicked in the door
    I yelled my commands
    The children, they cried
    But I got my man
    We took him away
    A bag over his face
    From his family and his friends

    They took off his clothes
    They pissed in his hands
    I told them to stop
    But then I joined in
    We beat him with guns
    And batons not just once
    But again and again

    A hero of war
    Yeah that’s what I’ll be
    And when I come home
    They’ll be damn proud of me
    I’ll carry this flag
    To the grave if I must
    Because it’s flag that I love
    And a flag that I trust

    She walked through bullets and haze
    I asked her to stop
    I begged her to stay
    But she pressed on
    So I lifted my gun
    And I fired away

    The shells jumped through the smoke
    And into the sand
    That the blood now had soaked
    She collapsed with a flag in her hand
    A flag white as snow

    A hero of war
    Is that what the see
    Just medals and scars
    So damn proud of me
    And I brought home that flag
    Now it gathers dust
    But it’s a flag that I love
    It’s the only flag I trust

    He said, “Son, have you seen the world? Well what would you say, if I said that you could?”
  • Thousand Words....

    7. Mär. 2010, 9:50

    "They say a pictures worth a thousand words so with these thousand words. I’ll paint a picture in your mind that breaks the rule of thirds.

    "Let's go right back to the start. What better way to begin
    Before too much of the corruption, the temptation and sin
    Before the gloss was taken off, back to sand castles and grins
    Before the world we are living in became riddled with riddelin

    "I had a very normal birth, no wise men did attend
    Born into my family as son, brother and friend
    I had a normal start to life with a very normal infancy
    And over the years many events did influence me
    But there’s one that stands out now with a special place in my mind
    And the more times I think back the more new memories I find

    "When I was four years old, out in France, I almost died
    A wave swept up to the shore and took me back for the ride
    And in that moment of fear I gazed below normal tide
    That’s when the depths of the ocean showed what was really inside
    I saw a man sat just below the surface on a rock
    And his wisdom filled gaze withdrew all panic and shock and unlocked
    An inner calm that let me float down to his depths
    Without any flailing shaking arms or panic filled breaths.
    I'd swear we sat for hours before words were introduced
    Just relaxing in a world, below the fights and abuse
    Below the weapons of war, below the cars and the ships
    And then when he felt I understood he slowly parted his lips

    "'The pen is far mightier than the sword' he said,
    As he stabbed his pen in my leg and the ink mixed with the red
    'With this action I inject the gift of knowledge instead
    Of all the other cluttered thoughts that will clog up your head
    But if at any point you take the spoken word just for granted
    These words will stick in your mouth and fall out broken and parted'

    "It didn’t hurt for some reason but I could feel a change inside
    But I hadn’t really understood what his words had implied
    I thought id wait for his next words with my mind open wide
    And with the guidelines that he gave me I would try to abide
    Again much time passed with silence being the topic
    But the serenity was such bliss I had no words that could stop it
    Then after what seemed like a lifetime had passed
    He stopped and looked right through me like I was made up of glass
    And at that very moment I was grabbed from this landscape
    As I left this wise old figure I quickly prompted and handshake
    And I was carried back to shore, my life saved by my own dad
    With no memory at the time of the experience I'd just had.

    "And so I went on with my life these things locked up in my brain
    I grew up no different from the rest everything just stayed the same
    Until one day I realised sometimes my own speech was erratic
    Like the needle on my record would get all caught up and static
    And at school, this affliction didn’t make things too easy
    An easy target so the kids would sometimes laugh at and tease me

    "I guess there’s no denying this made me stand out from the rest
    But that kind of thing has never fazed me. I just took it in jest
    Sure the broken stammers of a youth can kind of bring some attention
    But the sympathy of a teacher can get you out of detention
    And this continued until I reached a certain age
    Until I started to thrive for knowledge from every word and every page

    All of a sudden, the words would just flow off of my tongue
    When I got bored of how one sounded I'd just learn a new one
    I started listening to all these people who showed great use of each word
    Felling the buzz with every single line from Gil that I heard
    The way he manipulated the language and really made it develop
    "As he told another story from 125th street and Lenox
    And Mr Mojo rising the American poet
    Had enraptured my mind with words and would never know it

    "I would sit in my room for hours just listening out
    For every underlying meaning in the words he would shout
    Then I'd put on the specials to hear of their social commentary
    You couldn’t help but get drawn in sometimes even involuntary
    And the way that Rakim would take my mind on a journey
    To a kind of life style and scene that never used to concern me
    A completely different world to the one that I lived in
    But I could connected to the language and the passion within him

    So I started to write, inspired by those here before me
    I'd found an outlet for thoughts a way of telling a story
    So I wrote and I wrote until I felt it was time
    To put some of this stuff on tape and then I started to rhyme
    Once I started climbing I knew there was no way I could slip
    And that was the one true birth of this here Scroobius Pip
    The one with the leather ties and weathered eyes
    Who’s 37 clever lines left 37 severed minds
    The one that speaks but never lies
    And sometimes fails but always tries
    And the more he writes the more he finds
    It pays to bleed between the lines.

    "They say a picture's worth a thousand words so with these thousand words, I’ll paint a picture in your mind that breaks the rule of thirds
    They say a picture's worth a thousand words so with these thousand words. I’ll paint you one big picture in your mind that breaks the rule of thirds"

    P.I.P