un-mute.com

Loosely based on a once legitimate expression of prowess and entertainment, it has now became an over-exaggerated farce of its original form.  Despite how it overtly plays to the highly stimulating and foregoes content, its fan base is expanding beyond its original audience and into new legions that know nothing of its true essence.  It now thrives on drama and will manipulate and exploit its own originators for the sake of raising stock in its infamous notoriety and capitalizing on its commercialism.

No - the industry of which I speak is not the WWE (formerly the WWF); it’s Hip Hop.  Yeah, I’m on it again.  The interesting thing is that when a person criticizes something or someone, said person is automatically branded as a ‘hater’; when, in fact, this assumption couldn’t be anything further from the truth.  Some of the most fervent criticism often comes from the biggest fans.  Our parents are that way.  They see the potential we have and what we’ve been able to accomplish; but when they see that potential misused and misappropriated, the rod comes out to chasten us – to help straighten us out.

Well, my rod has been whipped out against Hip Hop for quite some time now and although I am nowhere near its parent, I am an advocate of it – grafted into its lineage by choice.  When I speak of the ills of Hip Hop, I speak as a family member affected by its current status and pained at the thought that I have to chastise or possibly abandon it.

I am affected because even at its best (anything before an overdose on drug metaphors and blatant lack of content), Hip Hop may be stifling my own growth as I seek to strengthen my relationship with God.  And as I seek to make sense of it all in my life, I also can’t help but be concerned about how it’s affecting both my own and neighboring communities.

I stopped watching wrestling a long time ago because I grew tired of the plots and twists that happened outside of the ring that distracted from and devalued what used to be enjoyable to watch in the ring.  All it took was one unique antagonist to draw a crowd and ruin the game; as his anti-hero blueprint became infringed upon and reproduced by others with an obvious malice towards their own ability for creative thought.

And as I struggle to come to terms with whether to turn my back on Hip Hop in search of my own fulfilled purpose, I can only hope that Hip Hop does the same to itself in order to rediscover what made it so great in the first place.

http://allhiphop.com/stories/editorial/archive/2008/01/08/19098595.aspx#comments
 
“The Struggle”

Kweli knew and dubbed it best –
‘Hip Hop’s the new WWF.’
Like Doug E. Fresh, it’s been beaten
and boxed into a corner.
But this isn’t about Hip Hop per say –
It’s about one fan’s flip flopped survey…
One fan who both disses and jocks the
wordplay of its top performers.

Instilled in my letters and entrenched in vents,
Rap’s a source of guilty pleasure and innocent discontent.
I’m vehemently rent between
The Rock and hard-bassed Blues.
And as it’s publicized in publications,
Rap’s republic eyes utter a guise of repugnant hatred…
As its numbest patrons snub my statements –
unable to spot that their hearts ache, too.

With my pen as a monolith
To both model and topple it,
I’ve been pinned by the dogged grip of rap music.
So like a fickle fan who’ll promptly switch
From sycophant to taunting quips…
I’ve moved from astonishment to
admonishment of its wack usage.
 
Yet despite its focal platform,
There’s a light that totally surpasses rap’s norms.
Holy Hip Hop is an active forum that’s truly redemptive.
Christian rappers are taking a stand
With christened rap words without atheist strands…
As they’re making a brand full of
Biblical base and useful deliv’rance.

But in this music business,
some say such clichés are oxymorons –
They say beats with bass debase God in distorted song.
But from laws in the Torah to Psalms,
musical praise is prevalent.
To me, it’s not Hip Hop that’s morally wrong –
Like Christianity, it only takes a few proxies
to knock its course off…
It’s those whom I squash with my forearm –
those who deface what’s at stake with decadence.

But they’re not who I’m wrestlin’ –
What I fight’s in the air and indefinite.
Within flesh’s residence, my spirit’s imprisoned
and labors to birth freedom.
Like diamond bezels and necklaces
Imbedded and bedeviled with recklessness…
Within conflicted messages, do the lyrics I
listen to favor accursed treason?
 
This is the battle I wage –
This is what rattles my cage.
Like cattle in gates, is what I’ve heard
herding me in return?
Is Holy Hip Hop a mockery?
Can I be holy and love Hip Hop honestly?!!…
Or is it all hypocrisy prompting and haunting me
merc’lessly to turn to the Word?

Psychologically, the snares and flares of the issue
Wears and tears my mental sinew.
When aware, I dare to issue challenges
for a championed cause.
But when I get hype in the stands
and toss my hat in the ring,
Every mindless fan and spineless Stan
chimes in aghast to tag the king…
Attackin’ me like gnats and fleas for a stance
that disagrees with their pantheon gods.

Whether they laugh, applaud or mock my gestures,
Not even the brashest blog will stop my efforts.
To battle man or God –
which is better for me to come out from?!!
That’s the easiest question to answer –
I may get queasy, but I’ll wreck any brandisher…
I haven’t yet met a blasphemer where
I couldn’t control the outcome.

Besides, I know what happens when
you’re at odds with the Creator.
You may gain favor, but you’ll
pay at large for it later.
Look at God and Jacob –
Israel prevailed but it cost him his swagger.
For me, Jacob wrestlin’ with God
Has the same make up as whether to heckle Hip Hop…
It wrecks my vessel as my
hip socket gets popped over the matter.

So as I ‘struggle with God’ my pain IS RAEL.
As I wrestle my flesh, what’s at stake is revealed.
Like Triple H’s appeal, can Holy Hip Hop
split me away from D (Gen) X?
Like an H3 climbs the grounds
of rough terrain’s uranium*,
Can it place me on higher grounds
from the subterranean?…
Or will it remain tough for me to reign
restrained in stints like DMX?

Until I break free of its sleeper hold,
The break I need to free my leaping soul
Is a step of faith away from keeping me
whole thanks to my favorite songs.
So if rap’s break beats and frequent tones
Are keeping me from reaping what’s sown…
I need to release what’s seeped in my mold
until my break has dawned.

‘Jacob was left there alone.  Then some man wrestled with him until the break of dawn.  When the man saw that he could not prevail over him, he struck Jacob’s hip at its socket, so that the hip socket was wrenched as they wrestled.  The man then said, “Let me go, for it is daybreak.”  But Jacob said, “I will not let you go until you bless me.”  “What is your name?” the man asked.  He answered, “Jacob.”  The man said, “You shall no longer be spoken of as Jacob, but as Israel, because you have contended with divine and human beings and have prevailed.”
– Genesis 32: 24-29

* Poet’s Prerogative:
Uranium is a naturally occurring element that can be found in low levels within all rock, soil, and water.  – wikipedia.org

© 2007 Reggie Legend
Steel Waters, Inc.
reggielegend@hotmail.com

‘hova the god, n*gga blasphemy…’
Jay-Z – What More Can I Say?

‘Young n*ggaz that blast for me/blasphemy, no religion…’
Jay-Z – Dear Summer

‘I’m from where they cross over and clap boards – where they lost Jehovah in place of rap lords’
Jay-Z – Where I’m From

Upon first glance, such lyrics come off as an indicator that Hip Hop and the world in general are godless. Yet it can also serve as both a cry for help and simmering, albeit irreverent, sign that artists and audiences within Hip Hop are searching for God in a perilous era/error.

It’s a sad day when the creation doesn’t recognize it’s Creator, but it’s an even sadder day when the creation doesn’t seek Him out in some way, shape or form. Thankfully, we’ve not reached the latter day just yet – as subtle manifestations within our cultural context suggest that we are ever-seeking God and His Kingdom out. Look at the movies we watch – they’re all obsessed with good triumphing over evil. We root for heroes who often bear the burdens of others with some form of super human strength and ability which s/he accesses as both the savior and underdog of the story.

Naturally, this image is reflected in our music, as well. Although some might argue that rappers began calling themselves ‘gods’ following after the 5% offshoot of the nation of Islam, it still provides evidence to the fact that we, as the creation, are seeking to find our identity in relation to the Creator.

‘…In the day that God created man, He made him in the likeness of God.’
– Genesis 5:1 NKJV

A lyricist who most specifically and gratuitously expresses this ideology is the ‘god-emcee’ himself – Jay-Z. Though Rakim coined the title first, Shawn Carter has taken this designation to the next level – being referred to as jay hova; a distortion of the name of Jehovah which represents the unpronounceable name of God: YHWH or Yahweh. Further still, the Def Jam president/CEO calls his home label the Roc. And while I’m sure this is a coincidence, it is an interesting one, nevertheless; since Jesus Christ as Lord God is The Rock of our salvation.

Undoubtedly, some will say that I’m reading too much into this; yet this poetitorial simply serves as an observation of one individual trying to live in the world, but not of it. One individual who is intrigued by the idea that Hip Hop, much like the people it represents, appears to be seeking out its true source of origin. And though much of the activity deviates and distorts into secularity, it still manages to show traits of a prodigal son seeking to be saved.

‘Let them praise his name with dancing and make music to him with tambourine and
harp. For the Lord takes delight in his people; he crowns the humble with salvation’
– Psalm 149:3-4 NIV

‘For those who say such things declare plainly that they seek a homeland.’
– Hebrews 11:14 NKJV

While Jesus Walks on water,
He’s The Rock upon which we saunter –
Upon Him we dock the new world order as testament.
But while paper beats the rock appointed,
Our capers bleed The Rock anointed…
As we take and heave His stock adjoined with irreverence.

The rock of today’s kids
Is not the Rock of the ancients.
The Rock of Ages has faded beyond false idols.
Thanks to cocky agents
And pages of doctrines from the faithless…
Our docks are waived and swayed in faulty titles.

With the rock of the godless weighed in –
Defaulted in recitals of staunch pagans,
The true Rock needs a facelift like weatherworn Rushmore.
Yet despite sandblast lambastes, the Rock isn’t faceless –
Standing steadfast with confident patience…
The dawn of Its new day’s been nevermore rushed for.

For all the various rock formations
That have carried dust and mocked adoration,
Hocked and adorned by nations, none is steady enough.
Even the rock of Gibraltar pails in comparison
To The Rock of the altar that repaireth the ails of men…
As the gates of hell shall not prevail against this levied bluff.

‘God bless the child that’s got his own’ –
That’s why I don’t mess around with rock ‘n roll.
Its hits were robbed and stolen – so it can’t be the real deal.
Even so, forget Sean Carter and Dwayne Johnson’s roles!
The food the roc’s been cookin’ is far from the soul…
Like hardened rolls, its starch is too cold for meals that heal.

Moreover, Communion’s not about wheelin’ deals.
It goes beyond crushin’ grain on wheels into meal.
It’s not about pressin’ grapes from the field into yields of wine.
It’s about God’s salvation
Based in The Rock’s foundation…
It’s hard NOT to put faith in it when His Will’s inclined.

Besides, food upon tables and clothed backs
Isn’t about foolish labels and throwbacks –
Tunes about fables of sold crack thread hova’s roc-a-wear.
Would you live in a house built upon crack rock?
Would you limit your faith to wilt in a stash box?…
I’d rather fly by the seat of my pants ad hoc with Jehovah Rapha there.

The Rock’s aware – He knows your needs.
The provisions are there – so sow the seed!
Focus what’s reaped – the growth won’t be sparse if you trust Him.
Just know and believe in divine procedure
And you’ll be established like Simon Peter…
As rock upon Rock is the livest feature since Charles Dutton.

What’s more, to stand tall for judgment
We can’t be like one who stalls or budges.
After man’s fall, we mustn’t waver in our past.
So as the third rock revolves ‘round the sun’s glimpse,
We’ve got a fervent stock and resolve of substance…
That comes in the worth of The Rock as The Son spins favor in our stance.

‘In God is my salvation and my glory; The rock of my strength,
And my refuge, is in God.’
– Psalm 62:7 NKJV

‘Let no one cheat you of your reward, taking delight in false
humility and worship of angels, intruding into those things which
he has not seen, vainly puffed up by his fleshly mind…’
– Colossians 2:18 NKJV

© 2007 Reggie Legend
Steel Waters, Inc.
reggielegend@hotmail.com

With death seemingly lying dormant beneath the surface of Hip Hop, is there any hope in sight for the victims that lay in the aftermath of its wake? The answer, for Hip Hop artists at least, would appear to be yes. Immortalized by lyrics that stereotypically glorify death, we all but deify our cultural martyrs. And while respect is due for the talents of the slain, can it go too far?

Perhaps in an attempt to ease our grief, somewhere along the line we’ve rationalized that the tragic conditions lived (or very well depicted) by the likes of Biggie and Pac somehow grants them a free pass into heaven. In doing so, while we’ve managed to honor their memories, we simultaneously disregard and downplay the only hope of a heavenly afterlife.

But wait! Before you stone me for daring to suggest that those we’ve lost didn’t make it to heaven or being so bold as to talk about religion in Hip Hop, ask yourself this: how ritual has Hip Hop become to us? Is it not a movement that empowers the downtrodden – seen as a savior for the lives of those that cross over into its success? Is it not studied by zealots as a religious temple and revered as a platform to speak and act against social class imbalances and injustice – just as the Baptist Church was the center of the civil rights movement back in the 50’s?

Even with these similarities, we must not confuse ourselves by entertaining the soulful preservation of those who’ve been murdered in the cause. Let us not forget the history of violence that has been in the world before Hip Hop and will remain forever after; and in doing so, let us not forget that its unfounded association to our culture of music doesn’t merit God’s acceptance of those that have suffered because of it. For the heroes of Hip Hop, heaven’s gates open the same way as it does for us: through the Son of God. Otherwise, we’re all walking around with wool over our eyes in an attempt to absorb the tears that have been shed for our fallen.

If Hip Hop had a heaven,
Would B.I.G. and Pac be referenced as reverends?
Would their legacies remain reverenced as legend to their congregations?
Would they have pick-pocketed collections?
Would they have picketed their own marketed message?…
Would we flip flop between bested hymns in fierce conflagration?!!

If Hip Hop let thugs in heaven,
Would Kristoff St. John open the gates for its young and restless –
Would gun possession be exorcised and extradited?
Would pitchin’ rocks from drug professions
Be forgotten since this option was left from smug oppression?…
Since the government let it in –would they set the chips aside to tithe it?!!

If Hip Hop had layovers in heaven,
Would ‘Jay Hova’ be a less unpleasant ref’rence?
Would Holy Hip Hop be more prevalent in modern day rap?
Would a collar on Run seem as irreverent?
Could self-martyrdom from Nas’ gun have been more effective?…
What if Jay resurrected – could rap be saved if this star came back?

Would there be a difference between ‘god’ and ‘dun?’
What about Nastrodamus’ depiction as God’s son?!!
Was it all in fun – or was this part of a grander scheme?
As outlandish as this may seem to folks,
I’ve seen patterns of a meaner joke
In something we promote in homage to gangsta leans.

Though rap today has a few numero unos,
The price they pay plays to the tune of funerals.
Eulogy beats are the usual for their deadwood dogma.
To gain green funds in large profits,
The mainstream floods in false prophets…
Spreading gangrene in uncut doctrine –
deposited in coffins of embellished hood mantras.

But what if Hip Hop echoed heaven on earth?
Would New Jerus’ peruse ghetto havens first?
Could it save and reverse its romanticized condition?
Would it release the populace or keep it enslaved
With the greed of coppin’ chips, cheese and chains?…
Or is it too ashamed for how far we’ve franchised our position?

With heaven’s commongrounds on our premises,
Would we continue to walk around as our most powerful nemesis?
If we could break out of the syndicate, would its synthesis surely break down?
Would rap keep recruitin’ legionsof shootin’ demons?
If so, would it be so bad that it harbors a slew of heathens?!!…
Would Jews still lead in recoupin’ green endz with the Pearly Gates around?

If Hip Hop had heaven harnessed for a new season,
Would Common Be the constant gardener of New Eden?
Such honest guardians are few and far in between my brothers’ keep.
After all, at The Roots of our Black Stars’ depths,
Too few truly acknowledge their talents’ charged debt…
Despite immaculate concepts, they challenge God with plundering feats.

Too busy in hell’s kitchen bakin’ up fake stunts to bail out,
Hip Hop’s been placed on a hellmouth.
Even if heaven replaced it, Ma$e would still be a sellout, to say the least.
Without unleaded gas to fuel its head of steam,
Would rap exhume its unleavened recipe?…
Or is it too consumed by the commune of an un-heavenly destiny of wasted yeast?

Will Hip Hop’s soul ever rise to the occasion again –
where were you the day it died?
Is it too early to mourn – at its wake will we Rize?
Or will it be too late to realize as we writhe in the pain of its loss?
Since its soul’s been sold to the devil’s embezzled team,
Would Hip Hop even make it to heaven’s mezzanine?!!…
Will we wake from the hellish scene of this unsettled dream to take up its cross?

If heaven was a mile away and Hip Hop a close shaven second,
Which one would host the most of our jaded brethren?
Would Ghostface be a reverend to cajole the Supreme Being’s clientele?
Would the Three 6 Mafia be revealed as the mark of the beast
Or merely a market of street beefs?…
Would we finally take off its leash? – only time will tell.

If cops sprayed the booth with Eminem in it,
Since he made it in Hip Hop, could he pay Proof an eminent visit –
Or were his sentiments too vivid for the annals of Hip Hop’s preserved?
Would cats get placed in purgatory
For the graphic way they word a story
Even if it cracked the pavement andearned them glory on Hip Hop’s curve?

If Hip Hop had a mansion in heaven
Can you imagine who would staff its residence?
Big, Pac and Scott La Rock would jam its expansive measurements with a host of others.
It’d be agreed that certain sistas thought of as passionate and heaven sent
Would have fixed spots like stanchions of benevolence…
As Lisa and Aaliyah would have an outstanding presence sensed
like the ghosts of southerners.

From A to Z, martyrs for the cause who lay perished
Are amazingly fostered to belong to the same parish –
Cats like Eazy-E and Freaky Tah remain cherished like stained wood.
From Jam Master J Dilla to Big L’s insane Puns,
From Marley to a modern day marvel slain as Gaye’s son…
If music could save one – then these artists merited sainthood.

Tantalized as injured mourners,
We’ve canonized these performers.
We fantasize them reserved for the Lord since their lives weren’t crystal stairs.
Yet behind random lines lies a bigger picture.
Every time we glamorize lives, we scandalize the grand design of Christian vigor…
Without standardizing Christ as their risen center – their lives are wisps of air.

Though they live on in lyrical chapters,
They’re eternally scorned from a spiritual fracture.
Without Christ, their hereafter’s trapped in ethereal infernos.
Like blasphemy against God,
No Christ in an absentee’s heart
Is like battling against Nas –as their souls forever burn slow.

But if they knew Christ as their personal Savior,
No amount of ice could give them more versatile savor.
Despite terminal vapors – they can breathe new heir with new nostrils!
Despite the hearse and a few favors,
Despite the nicest words from eulogy prayers…
No verse renews greater than the Good News of the Gospel!

© Reggie Legend 2006
Steel Waters, Inc.
reggiegelend@hotmail.com

‘These cats drink champagne and toast to death and pain, like slaves on a ship talking about who got the flyest chain…’

- Talib Kweli; “Africa Dream”, Reflection Eternal

Every corner of this earth yields natural resources that are possessed by the inhabitants of said region. New Hampshire (USA) has granite. Saudia Arabia has oil… and Sierra Leone has diamonds. These elements normally drive and sustain economic prosperity. Yet sometimes, due to greed, these resources can be over-harvested and exploited – diminishing their worth and limiting the people who were meant to thrive off of them.

The rap industry, spread over the largely urban and concrete jungles of America, is no different. The artistry of Hip Hop is a national treasure that’s being turned from a natural resource into an unnatural recourse. What once called attention to the conditions of some Black communities now contributes to its disintegration. Despite the impact though, its ability to turn a profit off of turmoil remains strong. So why not globalize this trend?

For every medley about drug dealing, violence, misogyny and materialism in America that certain brands of rap capitalize off of; there are atrocities committed in Sierra Leone and Darfur (Sudan) that are at least 10 times worse. That being the case, don’t these nations stand to benefit from stimulating their economies 10 times over if this rap formula’s applied? Granted, US rap sales are down but it should still be enough to boost the status of the guerrillas and war mongers, right? And as an added bonus, when these perpetrators get their side of the story in rap form, wouldn’t we sympathize with their plights more? All those who grew up in dilapidated environments who were forced into circumstances by external factors beyond their control who turned to war crimes, genocide, mutilating young children, mass raping women, etc. – would just come to be known as misunderstood heroes.

They’d be considered geniuses for lacing tracks with their intricate stories; further still, rebels in Sierra Leone could even cop back the diamonds the country exports to boost their economy! The ultimate byproduct might even take form once they became enabled enough to give back to the very communities which they helped ravage with the generated income of their rap sales: thus reestablishing a false sense of security amongst the people. It’s the circle of life, people! – and if it works for drug dealin’ rappers – what better place to implement it than the Mother Land?!! So Africa, you’ve got a problem? We’ve got a problem solver – and its name is revolver!

For all those that will surely either spit venom at or trivialize the point of this article, consider this: isn’t it odd how perverse and distorted a reversed image can look in a mirror when it’s held up to someone with short-sighted vision?

“Unnatural Recourses”

Gorilla units gettin’ rich off garish ring tones
Are like guerrillas in the mist of Sierra Leone.
Compare the theme songs – they’re like two trains
on the same disastrous track.
Like Sudanese militia in Darfur,
They groom and breed the same
malicious and dark force…
One that traps cats into slingin’ rocks
and robbin’ in mobs forged from the crash’s aftermath.

Chasin’ after math doesn’t make much sense
If the path smashes into a dank mud ditch.
How much cents does it take to justify genocide?
A dime per dollar – as a matter of fact, exactly.
That’s the buy out – that’s the walloping
dollop rappers see from wack CDs…
Ones where crack, weed, fashion and flashin’ greed
are the venom supplied for a wicked demise.

Yet when they cry ‘We’re victims of circumstance,’
‘We’re just playing the turn of hand
from our terms of chance’ –
We allow them to further advance
synthesized self-destruction.
And as worst ‘acts’ are glorified,
The worth of these raps soar and rise…
As we adore and immortalize such lives –
desensitized by this ‘wealth’ of substance.

If patterned after this Western rap style,
East African fascists could factor
in their festered rationale.
Instead of crack vials, they’d rap about
rapin’ and killin’ women and children in cold blood.
While masses massacred and maimed
for sport in the ‘Lion Mountains’
For the sake of traffickin’ the trade and
export of diamonds mounted
Could just rhyme lines about it –
chillin’ like villains in the coldest cut.

That’d bring much needed international
acclaim locked at attention.
That’d keep the bling and inner capital
contained and stocked in the system.
Making albums about choppin’ off arms would rock
whoever’s listenin’ to the core.
The same way it works for rap,
it’s an option for them.
They’d have chains made packed
with slaughtered gems…
That’s how they’d atone and entertain
with such awful sins –
once they start glistenin’,
their war crimes would be ignored!

Brought up as brainwashed
products of their environment,
The young who copped guns
to survive could take pride in it
Once they start supplyin’ it as
punch lines and clever hooks.
They could turn a profit
On a gross domestic product
By marketing it with
grossly defected conduct…
It’s already been tested and thought up
in the subtitles of lesser rooks.

Then their atrocities would all be past tense.
None would recall the apostasies
of their hood-themed theatrics.
Once the cash eclipses them,
such Black acts are forgiven –
in that sense, we’re quite tame and resilient!
Just buy a few vaccines and cosmetics
for the raped and battered –
A dozen trampolines and prosthetics
for the maimed and shattered…
And they won’t be able
to escape the laughter –
at least that’s how it works
in the United States of stillness.

You can’t get a better blueprint!
It’s not to say gangsta rap made ‘em do it –
Their main influence is what grants them immunity.
It’s’ an ingrained solution –
let the oppressed identify the nuisance.
Once connected, they’ll turn blind eyes to it…
Just imply and indict movements
against the government as the culprit
that supplants the community.

OJ did it (in more ways than one) –
Yet and still, he became our native son.
Once we witnessed the plaintiff’s racist stunt –
we rallied against it.
WE became blind – just us, mind you.
All we needed was blind justice to bind to…
We got hype for Juice! – though we likely knew
the fallacy of his innocence.

That type of mind state’s evidence
Is blind faith negligence.
When race is combined with such precedence –
resistance is futile.
When flair and flare get in the way,
All’s fair in the American way…
As arrogance sways to the error
of our ways with vision that’s neutral.

But friction’s more dutiful – division must reign.
Our conviction’s more useful when
we go against the grain.
Pull in the reins – juxtapose these
immoral acts and oppose ‘em all!
If Darfur stats and Sierra Leone pacts
are deplorable to you,
Then exploiting ‘hardcore’ rap is an error prone
track that should be horrible, too…
It’s destroying our youth – just suppose we orally
backed such an emboldened cause?!!

Proper perspective shouldn’t be
a remote and hopeless clause.
What I offer’s an objective approach –
that’s why I wrote this blog.
What’s been broached is
the law of diminished returns.
The more values we misplace,
the larger the costs.
The louder the volume, the larger the loss
It’s a part of us all – ‘til we reap the seed
of repentance learned.

‘What then? are we better than they? No, in no wise: for we have before proved both Jews and Gentiles, that they are all under sin; as it is written, There is none righteous, no, not one: there is none that understandeth, there is none that seeketh after God. They are all gone out of the way, they are together become unprofitable; there is none that doeth good, no, not one. Their throat is an open sepulchre; with their tongues they have used deceit; the poison of asps is under their lips: whose mouth is full of cursing and bitterness: their feet are swift to shed blood: destruction and misery are in their ways: and the way of peace have they not known: there is no fear of God before their eyes. Now we know that what things soever the law saith, it saith to them who are under the law: that every mouth may be stopped, and all the world may become guilty before God. Therefore by the deeds of the law there shall no flesh be justified in his sight: for by the law is the knowledge of sin. But now the righteousness of God without the law is manifested, being witnessed by the law and the prophets; even the righteousness of God which is by faith of Jesus Christ unto all and upon all them that believe: for there is no difference…’

– Romans 3:9-22

© 2008 Reggie Legend
Steel Waters, Inc.
reggielegend@hotmail.com

Red conservatives VS. Blue liberals.White VS. Blue collars.

Black VS. White.

Green money from inflated gas prices and lobbyists
VS. the Silver lining of change.

Red blood spilled in foreign wars
VS. Blue-blooded American pride.

Green cards VS. Red, White and Blue birth certificates.

Red Cross VS. Blue Cross Blue Shield medical care.

An economy operating in the Red VS. in the Black…

This campaign has become a virtual Rainbow Coalition of the Willing. For the sake of winning the favor of the masses, politicians are more than willing (though it remains to be seen if they’re able) to toss around these socioeconomic, cultural and political issues. Yet for all their talk, things remain strikingly the same. Republicans and Democrats bicker, pick and fight over trivial pursuits stirred up and entertained by the media instead of addressing real concerns. The few candidates that have proven themselves immune to the ploys of mediocre news pundits are effectively ignored and ultimately drop out.

So how is it that despite such pressing and colorful issues, the presidential race is allowed to boil down to racial and gender-based taglines for the Democrats? Why can’t they leave the dissension amongst the ranks to the Republicans who now find themselves split between distancing themselves from Bush while staying in step with his agenda? Why is it that the one candidate who chose to downplay personal attacks has now given up his run for the presidency?

What change do we truly have to look forward to with another Clinton in office which would cement 24 years of a Bush/Clinton era? The answer to these questions will be the most reliable measure of the potential to change. The answer to these questions will be the measure of a man’s (or woman’s) worth and willingness to lead a country away from its current course of destruction and into a new direction. Yet, to quote an old adage: The more things change, the more they remain the same.

The Rainbow Coalition of the Willing

With the stakes of Super Tuesday set,
We’re capable of eluding a doomsday threat.
A threat that could bring a nation faced
with looming debt to its knees.
But it’s not the faith of latter day noonday sects
That prostrates us to radical soothsayers’ text…
Rather, it’s based in getting the room sprayed,
swept and elephant free.

For the past 8 years, there’s been a hell of a breeze
Coming from the stench of elephant dung debris.
Rolling of less elegant tongues with ease,
we’re sick of the bull they’ve fed us!
The Republican’s repugnant catastrophes
Have the White House smellin’ like pungent menageries…
These cats have to leave! –
our limit with wolves has left us fed up!!!

Having covered our eyes with
thick wool and led us to slaughter,
We’re sick of ‘elected’ officials crying wolf
to unsettle our daughters.
Such negligible honor should never
have led the free world.
Yet from the depths of such indelible dishonor
We’ve leapt into incredible harbors
Dredged from tears wept and harbored
from this legacy unfurled.

With the white elephant in the room addressed
It’s time for the delegates to
the left to groom and prep.
Who’s next – what advocate for change
will remain the same?!!
What hope I had for them to stick to the issues
Was quickly dampened by stony jabs
and sticks that bruise sinew…
As decent bones have split in two
from feuds and name blame games.

This is how we can tell if trading
guards will encamp change –
Just look at the exchanged
response in their campaigns.
They rubber stamp change for a
chance to get their face on a dime.
That’s loose change – I know the jingle when I hear it!
Their whole mood will change –
it’s the same gringo spirit…
Whether Negro or honey dearest,
they’ll say what it takes for face time.

Yeah, I’m a pessimistic cynic at this point.
Yet and still, I can’t let the rest
of the Senate appoint this joint.
They will hear my opinion voiced –
even though my man Edwards backed it out.
Even though the primary colors
of each gang’s member have blended,
Even as cutthroat runs and displaced
tempers have left me winded…
I will vote the winning ticket –
as its net worth will be cashed in
as I cast out my doubt.

So as true colors emerge
in this presidential race,
And candidates let the press continue
to set its pace –
I’ll just settle my angst in a different territory.
Forget a president – my mind’s fixed on Kingship rule.
Forget a quest for jested men –
I’ll not swing left or right for wing-tipped fools…
Only His Will and Testament will do –
all else is insignificant and errantly heirless glory.

© 2008 Reggie Legend
Steel Waters, Inc.
reggielegend@hotmail.com

Dedicated to my wife and newborn son - Josiah Jadon Kee born on 2/8/08:

With promiscuous boys and girls running rabid in clubs today, is anyone else curious about what exactly happens the day after these people meet and go their separate ways?  Other than the reality of lifestyle threatening diseases, is anyone else giving thought to what else is damaged by such reckless mentalities?  I’m speaking specifically about its effect on the building block of humanity and a major element in the establishment of the modern day Church:  the family.  For all of its importance, its core is being overlooked in an era/error of instant gratification and avoidance of adult responsibility. 

On Joy (Quality), Talib Kweli aptly sums up the trend that is permeating the American culture:  “…And you wonder, why we called baby-daddy’s and baby-momma’s when we grow up, we can’t act like adult mothers and fathers.”  This baby-daddy/momma drama is readily playing out on the stage of life with too many willing to act their way through these roles as inept understudies.   

When such roles are not properly filled, the destruction of nuclear families is a precursor to the annihilation of humanity.  Breached and divided, the resulting damage of split nuclear families is deadlier than any atomic bomb that mankind can manufacture.  This is America’s soul we’re fighting for people, yours and mines… and within the heart of our nation, the devil’s winning far too many battles. 

“Split Personalities” 

Men that hit and quit a person phallically
Exhibit split personalities.
They sniff about worse than allergies when spring comes around.
Those that only act noble and chivalrous
Until they’ve groaned slow from pitiful thrusts
Will only pivot and lust for the nextbest thing that comes into town. 

Adam splitting far from his seeds,
Is like when an atom’sjarred and split like a pea –
The family’s ripped apart as the seams bust through and decimate.
Like Hiroshima and Nagasaki,
Ground zero’s clean up falls on a faulted lobby…
Though he may sweep up his daunting hobby,
its impact still mushrooms and resonates. 

As the dust looms to investigate the destruction,
Folks only rush to it like the levee gates after they busted.
It goes unregulated ‘cause no one’s proactive enough to prevent it.
But what happens after is just as devastating.
The disaster’s a tad worse when it affects the babies…
When left with the ladies,their purpose gets skirted worse
than when prophylactics were invented. 

Aside from defiling man’s varnished image with such tactlessness,
These clowns tarnish families depicted with such passiveness.
Such acid events eat away at the mother and child unit.
So as split molecules evolve
After dad’s dipped his miss’ hips and abdominal walls…
If pop’s an anomaly nominally involved, that brother’s child is ruined. 

When dads don’t visit and kids don’t know him from Adam –
Forget about the cataclysmic damage of splitting atoms.
Splitting nuclear families is a tragedy of epic proportions.
The long term effects of splitting heirs has more devastation
Than any amount of secondhand radiation…
As such desolation detonates from warheads of tepid distortion. 

Such repercussions eventually damage both chromosomes.
In both the male and female,the whole home is blown.
When overexposed to woes, people mutate from these deadly outcomes.
In males – replicas are cloned.
In females – retinas are closed…
Deader on the inside than sepulchre domes –
their dead zones aren’t readily outdone. 

Worse than abortion, lukewarm attitudes towards a father’s responsibility
Creates nuked swarmsof despondent energy.
This constant synergy seeps into the genes of father-son isotopes.
Though not quite the same as his tawdry father,
Without a role model to follow, he too will hardly bother…
Awkwardly fostered, his aftermath’spatterned after a dad from an idol’s ghost. 

This effect can ripple downto farther generations
As it rips down trust in a little girl’s fatherly veneration.
Armed with timid hatred,the damage begins to materialize.
Either she’ll corrode through sexual self-deprecation,
Or explode on every male who gets close with hellish detonation…
As she shelters desperation by hiding behind the guise of ethereal eyes. 

Even with man’s greatest personal achievements,
Such damage is anirreversible grievance.
It takes a virtual geniusto reform the missing core.
And I know one such Nuclear Physicist Who matches the role
With tuned features that fix havoc’s toll to damaged souls…
Filling dad’s dynamic role is oneof the molds that the Lord is fitted for.

‘Father of the fatherless, defender of widows, is God in His holy habitation.’

– Psalm 68:5 NKJV

I’ve never been the one to follow the crowd. The basic principle behind my choice is simple: if I see a group of folks doing something, I force myself to stop, look and decide if what the bulk of folks is doing aligns with my own mindset. More often than not however, my mindset will automatically oppose whatever I see the majority doing because of the groupthink policy of this day and age. It doesn’t matter to me what some marketing department’s demographic research says about me, companies can NOT make a product geared towards me based on mass attraction; I renounce and ‘appeal’ such logic.

The reason is that such logic dangerously categorizes a group of people and asserts homogeneous thinking. Such is the case with the candy wrapped rap that is quickly decaying the teeth and fattening the collective body of the Hip Hop community. While everyone is entitled to their opinion, what becomes of the worth of said opinion when it is based upon and influenced by the thoughts and actions of an entire assembly of mislead and misinformed people? We have become lyrical lemmings led to a deadly, self-propelled free fall that awaits us at the high point of Hip Hop’s mainstream popularity… and there’s no place else to go but down.

”Mass Appeal”

Unless delegated by God,
I can’t be led by mobs.
I’m not like the rest of the flock that blindly follows.
Feeling my way through Braille passage
By stealing away with groups to hail the masses
Simply seals my faith into a frail package that’s decidedly hollow.

Such methods of exodus plannin’
Leads to textbook and reckless abandon.
To be restless and stranded are its awful aims in the long term.
Though I reckon this madness
Is wretched and drastic…
Its essence is massive as it attracts traffic like moths to the flame
caught up in the cloth as it burns.

Compacted in drafted winds, it’s like fledgling child liars.
Rather, the pattern can spread like wildfire.
Grounded higher, the proper vantage brings all into focus.
So instead of drudging through drowning mires
Where sudden moves create crowd divers…
Be crowned and sired – move the crowd beyond being throngs of locusts.

If you want to gather crowds,
Organize it against what’s happenin’ now!
Don’t leave ‘em scamperin’ after bandwagons bound to be left behind!
Don’t feed ‘em reruns of empty rhetoric –
Don’t beat lead drums into empty crevices…
Don’t be a bum like emcees with no messages –let your destiny shine.

Be at the head as a lead guide.
Leave Red Seas 20,000 leagues behind.
Lean against the grain – seek and find your irreverent relevance!
Dare to show different strokes of genius.
Dare to lead indifferent folks to Jesus…
Evoke a provoking thesis lined with eloquent severance.

Don’t react to systemic stimulus –
Detach roots from insipid kinship.
Use the given wisdom sent from Him – reject groupthink fallacies.
Challenge what’s known with solid research.
Seek the chalice of thrones with a knowledge rebirth…
Acknowledge and reverse ghetto mindsets blindsided by hoodwinked mentalities.

Cause conflict! – contradict the dismal plight
Of unconsciousness that haunts the critical might
Of flocks the size of the Israelites – at least they had Aaron and Moses.
We’ve let our souls follow pitiful guides essentially
Because we’ve got role models who pivot their liability…
Which leads to abysmal strife and misery from plentiful errors chosen.

We’ve been called out to be taught different –
So fall out from dream walks into vision.
Like Stephen Hawking, exceed the limits of your surroundings.
Don’t let corporal forces coagulate and congeal you.
Push court ordered warrants for mass appeals through
Before such tactics kill you with the kindness of kindred crowding.

© 2008 Reggie Legend
Steel Waters, Inc.
reggielegend@hotmail.com

A Diatribe Called Quest

“I’m just tryin’ to eat!” This theme is played out in countless ballads that deal with overcoming the ills of the streets. Unfortunately, this mantra for today’s Hip Hop artist is also, perhaps the lamest excuse for the substance (or lack thereof) that lyricists offer. When this law of self-preservation blends in with a ‘quest for food’ mentality, artists actually lend themselves to self-deprecation.

The convenient package of offering up quick hits of thoughtlessly provocative material in lieu of thought-provoking substance is a commodity that this generation of instant gratification can do without. Recall what happened to my man from the Super Size Me documentary movie. By eating nothing but fast food for 30 days, the test subject jeopardized his ENTIRE health.

As resilient as the human body is, it couldn’t adapt to the constant influx of cheap substitutes offered by the fast food industry. In the long run, the consumption of such an unhealthy intake has devastating effects. Now, take those results and superimpose them over the Hip Hop industry. How long can the audience, the unified body of Hip Hop, continue to thrive on a diet of synthetically created, over packaged garbage? Which is better for the culture of Hip Hop – the starving artist or a starving audience?

“Soul Food Forethought”a.k.a.“The Writers’ Digest”

Beset in a stretch of polished lacquer
That’s been wretchedly abolished in the hereafter,
The quest for the knowledge has staggered amidst perceived affluence.
We’ve arrived at steps that walk backwards
From a bequest of fallen chapters…
What our best accomplished, we’ve all but shattered
with the achievements of a status ruined.

This bequest we acknowledge is sadder
Then the jest of an alcoholic’s laughter
With an infected gall bladder – damaged from too much liquor.
While livin’ in the moment of an ardently hardy stature,
The liver he’s soakin’ is tarnished and hardened by the latter…
As this varnished batter is the darkened matter that brothers pattern quicker.

Yet, we don’t admonish the character
Who’s drunken breath is longed after.
We foster slackers who honor such slanderous pursuits of happiness.
As perusers at the pit stop of looters’ groovier situations,
We’ve abandoned being truer pursuers of illumination…
Our maneuvers are cruisin’ at altitudes of inebriation
thanks to Courvoisier’s passiveness.

Even in brief moments of clarity,
We achieved notions to parody.
The promotion of this disparity’sa motive of heresy we all condone.
From scraps to meat and potatoes,
What we once lacked we now eat by the platefuls…
No one leaves the table – it would seem ungrateful to show some resolved control:

From the excess of spaghetti and beef,
We’ve left a legacy as frail as lettuce leafs.
Instead of this, let us eat fruit that’s ruled by labored laws.
Rappers and writers need a verbal FDA
To tackle the diets curbed by the text we say…
Lest we save the best decay preserved by journal and turntable assaults.

The worth of such table salt
Preserves the fables we’ve wrought.
It’s the cradles we rob when we aren’t more mindful.
So while still a prenatal thought fabricated,
We ought to screen the fatal costs of its fascination…
Soaked in the sauce of examination,
once others fasten and hasten they ought be more insightful.

Though enlightened subscribers can digest,
Those without the slightest might catch the ‘itis.
The diet’s been slighted at times to feed the needy.
Though nutrition is necessary,
Sometimes fruition is secondary…
As lunch sessions vary to meet the needs of the greedy.

Feeding the masses is tricky.
If it’s not attractive or thrifty –
Many will actually shift needs to temporary gratification.
Words that are wise seem deemed as quite insufficient.
Say something ignorant, and we might just listen…
Regiments of such slighted specifics build edifices neither crafty nor gracious.

Such temples are like The Leaning Tower of Pisa.
One can’t be lean when constantly devouring cold pizza.
A hot-n-ready sediment is not a steady regimen for foundations.
No matter the beauty of its angle,
Its flaw leaves it shattered and truly disabled…
Half asleep from tacky feasts – their stature leans with round bellyachin’.

What we carry around in their colon
Leaves our whole quota swollen.
We’re too consumed with the snafus of snack foods.
So though we know there’s mad cow disease,
We’ll still prowl around the beef…
Oblivious to the poison found in the convenience of fast foods.

Quick and dirty, we don’t focus on minerals
As a hocus-pocus is pulled on essentials.
Once ingested too much, we’re sure to ignore the healthier matter.
If brain food were fruit plucked straight from the vine
With a main chute that’s truly divine…
It could infuse the mind with topics inclined – thus promoting a healthier stature.

Free from hormones, such sown word processes
Are like homegrown herbs when we process them.
Once one’s read a flow, it should be relished like oregano
to keep sleeping palates cleansed.
Whether compared to thick au gratin potatoes,
Or chicken and broccoli Alfredo…
We have a say-so in the building blocksof ever-weakening palaces.

Since feeding folks food forethought requires acquired tastes,
Food for thought mustn’t lie in tired waste.
The break down of food is based onkindled and established wisdom.
Yet sometimes the more often one eats,
The more often one tends to sleep…
It all depends on the rate of a person’s mental metabolism.

Sometimes the more we feed ‘em,
The more n*ggas get to sleepin’.
The reason being – they can’t absorb the material given.
So ready to take on solids,
Some don’t realize they can’t swallow it…
Liquid’s a food of sorts produced in quarts when poems are serially written.

So it’s guaranteed that from this session,
The apparent theme will cause some indigestion.
Fulfillment’s the realest based on what a person’s exposed to.
So as I offer substantial composition,
Fully seasoned with ample and constant interest…
Each salted sentence evolves the transition from junk to soul food.

© 2007 Reggie Legend
Steel Waters, Inc.
reggielegend@hotmail.com