Blurred Visions & Politricks #inthe1splace


One nation under God, indi...


Well, actually, it looks divisible by two to me. There's a Democratic and Republican candidacy, or maybe divide us by three instead; I almost forgot the media partying in the lobby flipping Tea for bread lobbying like the paparazzi going full time on a hobby of hiding in sheds and peeking through windows recording our beds. In the meantime, we serve mean time since our 9 to 5's get no respect so we end up in line at shelters because all the tax shelters are only for those funding a hedge. Please catch me, it's danger ahead. I'm at the ledge and I see the deep end just over the edge, I only aim to remove the wedge between us. But it appears that our only allegiance to pledge is that unto death since a simple life won't appease us. Don't you see we're wasting our breath? All this division is only multiplying the insanity in heads adding to the innumerable issues keeping this country from getting ahead, so it begins to subtract the lives of its citizens because they are better off dead than to solve a negative equation caused by a small difference.


Labeling is mathematically ignorant; yet, simultaneously, they call it scholarly to behave illogically. Oh you're a Christian? Don't read the Quran! Oh you're a Muslim? Leave that Bible alone! Oh you don't believe in any deity? You can't come to my home! No matter how you cut it, somebody thinks you deserve to burn for eternity for worshiping pretty much the same thing; does that not bother you? It's surely concerning to me. If only the literate would read literature that wasn't designed to be a good read. Hey, please don't shoot at the messenger, I was sent into this hot kitchen to stir up this rotted pot of mumbo-jumbo gumbo that we have all been forced to eat.


Besides, I'll only shoot back. Yeah, fool, I'm strapped, too, try to jack if you want to, Jack. Shoot, I read amendment two plus the new rules say I can bring a tool into school so I suggest you be cool because I'm not in the mood to take jack shit, excuse me, poo. I grew up when niggas would murder you for Fubu. It's a shame to know that folks can't seem to see the Eye to Eye light; it's a blind shot in the night for unity due to a pride filled dichotomy bored from monotony with premature sips of a brewing mutiny to take over monopolies, beware of the anarchy. Honestly, if I can't get a peace I desire so fondly, I'll take immunity as my option B so nobody has to see me opt in to using my piece. Capisce? Shit, excuse my use of American French towards the Italian Vatican, but Sheesh! They think I'm a lunatic because I ask for impunity! How can a nation live in harmonious amity, when the folks running DC would kill for a vote, be it for, or against me?


Is that a hinting reason for the killing in the streets, or busybody wars in the Middle East? If our leaders can back stab and cut throats with bombed Baghdads and sunken boats, how in hell do they expect their followers not to follow their suits on each other with trash bags and drunken notes? Or maybe that's exactly the expectation. I just exert an exhortation that you humble your self-exaltation and walk the example 'cuz these talking samples have beat the track so much that all we hear are half spoken quotes on out of tune notes while the stampede of sheep is trampled and choked. This one may care about the people, while that one don't; that one may look out for the economy, while this one won't.


Let's be real, let's take more than a glance outside of our sockets; whether you're blue or red, its all about how much green you have in your pants pockets. Right? Isn't it shocking that Santa was never filling your stocking, but it was Mommy and Papi financially falling from cashing their stocks in to answer your calling? Remember how you would get in trouble for lying when all along your parents were the ones teaching you that it's cool to be cool with truth blocking? Yea, that's some ice cold for you, hockey. But it's no stopping this puck, so pucker up under your mistletoe until the whistle blows, I'm not for kissing toes. So while I finish my cup, I'm aiming truth missiles at domes that hone into the home, with more fiery knowledge than burning some homegrown. I hope yall are ready for a darker skin tone because I'm peeling back the rest of the ozone until I reach the end zone. I'm running to the green pasture in front of me, are you tackling against or blocking for me? I plan to pop 'til they lock me and ride this horse like a jockey. Place your bets on 1sPlace. Don't believe me? Keep watching...


After all, money makes this world go 'round, but we all know it should be Love punching the clock, flat out. The rich man is perceived to be spitting on the poor. The poor man is seen as stealing from the rich. While the middle man is treading neck deep in debt, just so he can keep a damned picket fence; hence, we are all grasping for the wind drowning in arrogance. The deceit of conceit has us more vain than a blood stain that left a vein looking for a better place to oxygenate, only to imitate an artery in a clogged state because it found its joy in a plate. Oh wait, let me situate this system failure, this overload, I'm throwing blows until millions of robots implode until they explode to reveal their souls; hospitals all filled with stroking egos. It's even a struggle to merely contemplate when Big Brother government is always barging into debates spilling its waste all over the place like oil rigs. He's like a spoiled kid taking orders from his Uncle Sam and Aunt IRiS flooding the flames with gasoline while calling it water, and creating more regulations filled with excess statements in state legislation that will "benefit" the population...poor dolphins...and hey, Mexico... Fuck the border! I might be coming over when I get sober! I'm saving up for a pueblo to kick it with my homie Alfredo and his brother Pedro, hoping that they legalize the awesomest fuego. Ijs bro...


Who am I kidding? The furnace only gets hotter with folks dying to self-inflict from constant conflicts. All the illegitimate shit the court has writ has them feeling like they are not legit so they got to quit, yet the "founding fathers" were all immigrants; such hypocrites. It's the pits we casually stroll by. It's where the mentally sick sit in darkness by a letter written under crumpled sheets in an office the shape of a cipher, let's try to decipher this topic; but proceed with caution, there are wolves where the flock is. There lays a blue ink pen spelling in red; leaking on a purple face from slit wrists, binge drinking and overdosed tweaking in a botched attempt to deflect the fear of this dog eat dog world out here. So far, am I making sense? Great, let's remove the tints, but be cautious, the heat is getting intense.


The letter read that the leveraged wager cost them the only thing they had left to wear so every fiber teared from 206 bones; left all alone no credit for loans. No balance had them feeling like the end is near after all these years, so they figured they'd stop the journey and forget working after the kids' tuition clears without considering the countless tears caused by the heartless jeers from insensitive peers while the teacher is near enough to hear but pushes the pain to the rear and covers up ears. So a few that cheer buzz and chill then hop behind wheels for a joy ride and erratically steer while the phone buzzes in ear, they text back, almost there, but there are cops in the rear. Now the buzz is killed as they drench in Visine to appear to peer clean. LOOK OUT there's a deer! They swerve and they veer only to hit a tree that ends their career before it even started. Dearly Departed, now that we're brokenhearted let's move on to a more appealing eulogy as they're rolling the cart in. I think my point of the rifle hit the center of the cycle piercing the glass ceiling with crystal clear feelings, so sorry it bothered.


I'm praying to the Most High God that all the madness stops, because when we're dead and gone, life drops and gets 6 feet shorter, or does it rise 6 feet taller above the altar? Who knows, but why fight about it? Hear my plight while my flight gets cloudy. I'm taking off before the Earth shatters; especially since none of this crap we argue about even matters: not your religion, not your voting decision, not anything that even deserves an honorable mention like the Louboutin sporting Christian trying to preach in True Religions to a homeless man with no pants in an intersection waving a cup in his hands begging attention so he can buy himself some chicken. But yall are way too holy and way too clean to even listen to his eyes glisten in anguish from borderline starvation and partial dementia. He wasn't complacent, it's just that the hospitals wouldn't take him as a patient and they became impatient due to his insurance premiums being late and they didn't feel like waiting on a plan for the payment so they garnished his banking. Now he can't feed his babies, can't keep his lady, it says foreclosed on his statement, and now no shelters are vacant so he's standing there naked needing a hand. I wonder if yall even understand, or even give a damn...


I just hope our soul is right in God's sight, because we are indeed ONE in the Most Powerful's Eye. There's got to be some truth in the basic instructions before leaving Earth, but it's hard to fathom accepting its verbs when all these Muslim babies are hurt on account of the herd led by shepherds speaking the Word. So I used an acronym to describe a series of antonyms that sound like homonyms disguised as synonyms because some mere men decided to call melanin a sin and twist up the scripts; I hope I didn't offend, but feel free to defend. I'm just developing a negative picture captured through my positive lens. I'm probably losing some more friends, and that's cool. But I just can no longer pretend. So, I vow to write the stone cold truth like I'm the man behind 3:16 before Constantine stepped on the scene. I mean, like when I lived in a den, and used a chisel for pen, as I scribbled photographic hieroglyphics blazing like pyrotechnics flowing like lava within. The old systems must die before there's a new birth of kin. It's not wise to put new wine in old skins, but since we don't know our true history, we'll see the Ancient again. I'm just saying we may as well stand together and let One Love rule because it’s obvious that hating each other surely doesn't work. I was sent here to bless you, this is not a curse. I just figured I'd sketch new scriptures and call it a verse. Marinate on that for what it’s worth. Thanks for joining my church #inthe1splace.


Copyright © 1sPlaceMusic 2016



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