Archive for the 'My Response To' Category

Lulz by Amadeo

Written by: on Apr 28 | My Response To | No Comments »

This is a response to my last post and Jason Beghe putting out an interview 

In it for the LULZ
“Anonymous is Legion. Anonymous does not forgive. Anonymous does not forget.”
Ummm…Anonymous

I’m not sure if any of you are down with this, but the interwebs are powerful. I’d recommend that you read more about Scientology. I won’t even bother to get into some of the things I’ve come across. I will say this though…you do need to read about Operation: Snow White…you thought the pulpit pimps being tax exempt was bad, oh yeah Scientology has it’s exempt status now despite all that went on.
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A Gross Domestic Product of Environment by Reggie Legend

Written by: on Apr 08 | Uncategorized, My Response To | No Comments »

‘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

The Animal in Man by Amadeo

Written by: on Mar 17 | My Response To | 2 Comments »

 Face Off

Joe Trippi: As bad as this may seem — this campaign has been much more positive than any I can remember (at least so far).
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The Trial by T.S. Hand

Written by: on Jan 16 | My Response To, writing showcase, Just thinking... | No Comments »

The Trial 

T.S. Hand

She gave monumentally bad head and it took him forever to come, though he eventually did gurgle out thick, desperate floods. To repeat, alarmingly bad head (Exhibit A). He considered this along with the fluffy blonde down on parts of her nape (Exhibit B) and stomach (Exhibit C), which ex facie suggested she had lied about her age. As he washed beneath his foreskin in the hotel sink it dawned on him that she was some father’s little princess, a fresh entry into the club scene with a fake ID and probably no more than 17 years under her belt. The realization swept over him like a sentence.

He wandered aimlessly about the eighth floor and felt touched by its symphony of lives behind numerous identical doors. He wondered how many behind those doors had been shanghaied into mouth-fucking a minor. He imagined the knocking of gavels and the swish-swish of orange-bootied inmate shoes.

He made his way to the lobby in a flurry of resolution. Being an adult—he ruminated as he walked into the hotel bar for the second time that night—means dealing with the consequences when you fuck up. He had fucked up (abysmally) and now he would atone. He scoped the bar for the burliest corn-fed Midwestern football fanatic he could find, hopefully one who exuded previous martial arts training. Approaching his target from behind, he slapped this blue-blooded ox of an Amerkan in the back of the head, hard, and quipped, “Look a’ this lil’ faggot.”

There was quick action, the kind that required tenfold longer to explain than to observe. At first, no one understood why the jumbled and leaking heap on the floor had scarcely thrown a punch, had actually only demanded more malicious manslaughter through clenched teeth with acerbic haranguing, (“Come on, you fucking terrorist!”) and had forthwith writhed on the black-checkered tile in a maudlin mess of whimpers and sinister sniggers.  

But this was all easily explainable—reasoned the bar patrons seriatim, after mulling it over and swishing it around in their pint glasses. After all, how often have we seen someone get a little brave, boastful, flammable? And how often have we seen a drunk ignite like a tinderbox and devolve into a beast?

And one by one, the stool-sitters and nut-munchers deliberated until their mind had dotted the “i”s and crossed the “t”s of the snafu’s unfolding, arriving finally at a satisfactory explanation they could take home to their wives or coworkers as proof, beyond a reasonable doubt, that they were “good men.”

But why,—and this singular fact, forgotten by most, continued to bother the blue-blooded ox accomplice until he would find his own atonement involving a ball-peen hammer, two underutilized fingers on his right hand and most of the knuckles on his left—why, in all the depraved, sick lunacies of the motherfucking free world, why had the instigator chomped down expectantly on two Amethyst Hotel matchbooks—like someone getting dental X-rays—just before the first punch described an arc that terminated at the sinewy part where his jaw met his ear?

Quit Yer Bitchin’ by Amadeo

Written by: on Jan 08 | Uncategorized, My Response To | 4 Comments »

This is my response to all yer bitchin’

 

I’ve heard alot of things about Barack Obama since he started his run for the White House.  Most of it from black people and I’d just like to say…shut the hell up.
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Stereotypes Are Here to Stay

Written by: on Nov 06 | Uncategorized, My Response To | 7 Comments »


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Child’s Play: A Poetic Response to the Black Doll vs White Doll Experiment by Myisha Cherry

Written by: on Oct 27 | My Response To, writing showcase | 1 Comment »

Read this intriguing poem and view the videos that follow. Then lets get a conversation going.
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Sunday at Sam’s by Jason Reynolds

Written by: on Sep 26 | My Response To, Tribute, Family, Just thinking... | 1 Comment »

Sunday, I had the opportunity to spend a little time with my dear friend, and favorite hangout buddy, my mother. So we go where every middle aged woman goes after church, Sam’s Club.
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Low Turnout? by Amadeo

Written by: on Sep 13 | My Response To | 1 Comment »

My response to the constant claims of low voter turnout…and the fact that I couldn’t vote this time.

The who that lifted what?

“Half of the American people have never read a newspaper. Half never voted for President. One hopes it is the same half.”
Gore Vidal
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Father And Son: For Zamani by Jason Reynolds

Written by: on Aug 30 | My Response To, Tribute, writing showcase, Inspiration, Just thinking... | No Comments »

a boy able to stand
on strong shoulders
of a father
will see the world
as a man indeed
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