AMP: Artists' Meeting Place and Resource Collective

If I could unzip my body I'd probably unleash my soul
Release my whole existence to finally go and reach my goals
My stamina persistence, be demandin you to listen to
The parables of livin-life, to understand my vision you must
Project your eye sight directly on what I write, cuz
I see the future retrospective in my hindsight
Trajectories paved, by intellects and true scholars
So that kids like me, could unchain our blue collars
I'm dat militant type, concepts explode your conscious state
Your self's concussion had your blood gushin all your common traits
Fulfillments from the sweat I spilled, killed me dead so I could build
A bigger badder self of who I am today... wit these skills
I speak to space, bantering wit stars on my weaker days

I'm speakin of hell...every fuckin weekend I dwell
On this redundant life cycle that repeated itself
No different from the last, but the beat of it spells
Imprisonment from nine to five, it keeps me in jail
A humble mind is crumblin, to flakes and ash I'm stumblin
While takin cash to pump it in, to gas's taxation
A nation's addiction, to be burnin oil...my jubilation
Reached its boiling point, as my sermon coils in truth - my patience
Left the hospital, impatiently as my premonition
Strapped itself to when my vision's, windshield was clean...
As I windmill through dreams, fantasies of who I used to be
A life liver drop out, reminiscin on who I used to see
A copout of mine, was that I had no time to write a rhyme
Thoughts grew insecure, so now I hide this idle life of mine.

I ponder bout life and bein somber wit no options
Of exonerating me, from this haunted state of livin in
The discipline of discontent, my vision starts but never ends
Freedom's not a regiment...I follow in life.
So my negligence to speak my voice leaves me deaf wit every noise
I'm reachin for the stars while the stars reach for other boys.
It's not my time, It's not my time,

Part 2 coming up...

Too many questions, not enough answers. Perfect dilemma as I can see my neurotic self going crazy right now. It starts off like this...I wish I was born during the late 40's so that I could've experiential knowledge of the 60's with somewhat of a conscious mind. This'll be real brief because I don't want to get insanely caught up in the web, while being stuck at work, so I'll do it more subjectively.

Kennedy wins the presidency. LBJ's private relationship with former FBI Director J.Edgar Hoover seems quite suspicious. Kennedy gets shot in Dallas, with such a low level of organization and security on the parts of the FBI, CIA, Secret Service...it was probably orchestrated by the FBI in some way and the Warren Commission gets buried for 75 or so years? MLK gets killed for his belief in how America should grow. Malcolm X gets killed, possibly by the someone from the Nation. My question is, American used to be very conscious, from a collective standpoint. As one nation together. Now in our day in society, we're all dumb and just take in whatever we get fed. How did we go from one extreme to the other? During the 60's, people embedding a higher level of conscious thinking were gunned down for it. Maybe subconsciously, we think there's some form of punishment when we get to that level so we like being little "sheeple" as they call it.