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Prince Rage Poem
Oppressor and the oppressed.
Who is the oppressed and who is the oppressor?
Who has the right to beat a random person on the street?
Who has the right when to pronounce a person guilty or to see that they is the victim?
Who has the jurisdiction to carry a gun and to unload on a random person because of the way they is playing life's game?
There is a president but he has a nation that needs to be run, there is a mayor but he or she needs to govern protection and education for every man,woman, and child. There is those who vote and those who do not, there is those who KILL for a FEE and those who KILL to protect those who threaten and attempt to poison their feed.
In the Crayola box there is over 8 colors and how many of them do you see fighting to maintain a piece of land that doesn't even have their name? These colors have managed to get along but why has us as artist slander there good name?
You may agree we should be free, others may agree to lock them away, the third party may vote that we should have a Hunger Game and declare a winner from each district and let them be reminded by name and plaque.
Will it not be funnier if things went back to being the same before the post-Europeans, before the ice age, before slavery, before time itself? Before evolution, before the industrial revolution, do you believe it will solve the conflict of today? Do you believe it will create a new name of a newer society that is under a different system?
The enforcers enforce a punishment that themselves would not want to see happen to people of there kind, the victim sometimes is the guilted, the drugs may make a person a bit deranged or even appearance may look strange. But deep within their brain hides another person who has experienced a pain that became so unbearable so they hid behind a false name. Drinking, smoking, feeling of looking at trees in 3-D is all the same when you are being called a different name, but let it not change you into something that you did not dream of to be.
Look at me, I am me, you may see prince, others may see another black person, another person may ask me name and they may read my palms and tell me that I carry. Both a Spanish and African name that I was originally given to from birth. But hey life is a curse. You can argue with what happened in the past but will that change the date of today's oncoming past!
But the most funniest thing about our past is how much we cherish it and pray for its ways to be continued on today. But look around you what do you see... I won't say any name for my name is not even copyrighted, BUT EVERYBODY WANTS TO START A RIOT! I look at the people around me and I think how can you say that we need to bring change when your thinking and doing the same as the person who once stabbed you in the back?
I'm not saying don't hate the Man, I'm not saying say **** THE POLICE, I'm not saying that the president is part of some dummy corporation, I'm not saying that their isn't a war that has begun, but if you choose to believe what you hear than you will get what you perceive to be your reality!
I'm not saying don't go to school, I'm not saying don't drink, smoke weed, or snort yayo, I'm not saying that you have to rob and be branded a theft, I'm not saying that you shouldn't give love a chance, but everything is up to thee on how thou wants to perceive the world.
I'm not saying that if you close your eyes you will dream, I'm not saying that if you smoke crack you will become a fiend, I'm not saying that THERE IS NO DEMONS ONLY REASONS, I'm not saying that if youse look into the mirror you will see another person in your eyes, I'm not saying that the soul lies behind the eyes. But if you believe the lies you will think that when the truth is told you will think that, that is the lie.
There is a oppressor and there is there oppressed. There is the depressed and there is the depression that we all feel. There is two eyes but they act as one. Nobody asked to be POOR, nobody asked to have WEALTH,nobody asked to have POOR HEALTH, nobody asked to be born with ways that needs to confine to limited space.
But hey the more you believe the lies. The more that you have to believe you will be confined Into thinking that this life is a lie.
There will be battles, but instead of battling and slandering. Why don't we make our voices be heard like that over a beat slapped with claps and a set of drums. Kicking the inside of ears.
Let us prevent the internal bleeding of our heart that is beating (BREATHING)!
Fin!
Copyright © Prince Patterson | Year Posted 2014
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Prince Rage Poem
A.L.I.E.NS
(Advanced people Living In an Enigmatic world under a Nation with a Stentorian voice.)
Hear me, as I roar.
Hear me, as I walk on two than foe.
Hear me, as I pour this O.E all over the floe.
Hear me, as my mouth begins to expand 3inches wide, 3ft deep. Eyes wide awake to count to 1,000 sheep & you’ll be sleeping. In the end take the time to create a system whose actions can’t be duplicated where great steaks can’t be duplicated. Building “MY’ name in the air, in between these clouds.
Hearing the crowd scream “MY” out loud. How sweet it sounds hearing you name being shouted from the top of the balcony. Flashing screen lights screaming “Marry me, sexy!!!”
Craving out guitars from twigs, building white wigs from sheep wool. While we drown our sorrows in swimming pools, pull me out before I drown in my on intelligence. Pushing 88 into the future with a superior mind concept.
Hear me, as I roar,
Hear me, as I walk on two than foe.
Hear me, as I pour this O.E all over the floe.
Hear me, as I build with no skills a behemoth monument. Where the whips are the teacher & the work was consider book-work. From Dusk to Dawn to your yawn is dead & gone. Wishing to be transported back to home. Home was now the place where the invalid escaped the punishment & the dead was the only one who got away from the marks. Sleep on hay or make a bed where you feel you should lay. Skin melts turning from light to where it’s impossible to see at night.
Hear me, as I roar.
Hear me, as I walk on two than foe.
Hear me, as I pour this O.E all over the floe.
The time of living in caves felt more like living in cages. A limited option where the only catch is the cage is un-locked, not knowing where the next step will lead. Perform deeds to provide the FAM with feed. Sweet hams & candy yams brings hell of cavities, we perform better activities to stay active.
Hear me, as I roar.
Hear me, as I walk on two than foe.
Hear me, as I pour this O.E all over the floe.
The Cool Breeze brings a measure of good ease. Changing topics better than the last High top fade coming back “A blast from the past”. From the liquid tree on every corner to the hungry anteater crawling over your quarter.
Hear me, as I roar.
Hear me, as I walk on two than foe.
Hear me, as I pour this O.E all over the floe.
Confused on whom to choose, will this person act a fool or shine bright as a jewel? Big guns, small bullets, Gun-powered overflow, who will be the first one to go? Go down loud with a Big Bang and a POW. The nation is screaming WOW! How did it come to end with a #POW!! And everybody is wondering HOW?
Hear me, as I roar.
Hear me, as I walk on two than foe.
Hear me, as I pour this O.E all over the floe.
Hear me, as I tell a short un-thought of story never been told before.
Hear me, as I whisper a softly poetic poem as the cure to being a being among Otherworldly beings.
At the end of the day we are...
-A.L.I.E.NS
(Advanced people Living in an Enigmatic world under a Nation with a Stentorian voice.)
Copyright © Prince Patterson | Year Posted 2014
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Prince Rage Poem
There is a world in my eyes hidden behind the retina, look deeply within my eyes and you will see.
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Do you recognize who it is, that Is i?
Do you recognize who it is, that is I?
Do you recognize who it is, that is I?
Above and beyond, passing through time, passing through years at the speed of light.
I can make your heart have internal bleeding,
I can make your heart take away your breathing,
I have done the impossible and that was take away the gift of reading.
I am the man in disguise taking the world and filling it with lies.
Look to the sky... Do you see anything that looks rearranged? deranged? Do you see any change?
I see something that is strange...
Look into my eyes and see what I want you to see.
Mind going insane,
Receding pain,
Can you remember the numerals from one to zero that make up your name?
Look into my eyes and see that I am the man in disguise and I am taking this world and filling it with lies.
Look into my eyes and see what I want you to see.
Look into my eyes and see what I want you to see.
Look into my eyes and see what I want you to see.
The weather is cold, the clouds are looking old, a storm approaches from the west to the east. Animals to humans will be pronounced deceased within a week. You is feeling weak,can I get thee something to drink? Let thou come and sync with the images of flying monkeys and eerie synthesize sounds, put your head over the sink, I am going to perform a magic trick... Close your eyes count ten sheep, close your thoughts and let your membrane that which covers your brain be close. I will be your doctor, your psychologist, your surgeon, your guardian. I will be your angel, I will be inside of your mind. I WILL BECOME YOUR MIND AND YOU WILL BE MINE. WE WILL TAKE A TRIP UNTIL WE ARE LOST TO THE THEFT WHO HAS MADE OFF WITH OUR KEY. This key I mention is a passcode I installed in the left side of your brain. Try to figure out what it is and you will be shocked in the worst of ways, you will be burned in all types of ways.
I am the man in disguise taking the world and filling it with lies.
I can excite a ringing in your ears,
I can excite the people to strap you away and make you realize your worst fears,
I can excite a feeling within thee and make you see that the near is near.
Life is just a game and I am it's assistant.
By the time your finish reading this. I would have already took control of thee and my theory will be proven.
That I am a man in disguise and I am filling the world with lies.
Now ask can you remember your name?
Copyright © Prince Patterson | Year Posted 2014
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Prince Rage Poem
Killer Imagination.
As I travel back into my mind once again...
Killer Imagination strikes once again.
A feeling of myself becoming color-blind.
Seeing black walls painted down white halls.
Where the screams of names repeat over & over echoing louder than softer.
Lost thoughts of Reminiscing on the color of the bud I inhaled. While failing math back on that Maybach Yacht during summer vacation.
Was it green? or a printed image being project from be-hind the scene?
Blowing invisible trees down, having a mental breakdown. Questions erupt hidden behind the clown with the big red nose.
Open the water hose look through the secondary rabbit hole.
Open your eyes expand your ears & inhale the vast collection of sight & discover the truth hidden behind the light. The image from imagination how it creates 7 destroys an entire nation.
If the mind is a powerful creation is, it not possible that we live deep inside it. Projecting images of our deepest desires. Making “reality” a lie-lity where everything is seen as a lie. It’s funny how it rhymes with Die& Why.
Like why are we here? Why we die? Is there an after-lie (F)? Why only 15% out 100 is kept hidden from the eyes of Humans to mammals. Why there is a why & what is it?
When we die would we have to apply to live in the after-life? Or is that also another lie told by your Ma & Pa.
Killer imagination is speaking through my words. His questions are being laid out to ask why is? My mind going insane, Why is my heart beating to an unknown rhymtic rhyme, Why is the sky blue & the clouds white, Why is scientist saying anything where they don’t know what the truth & it aches.
-Killer Imagination is clocking out.
-Killer Imagination.
Copyright © Prince Patterson | Year Posted 2014
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Prince Rage Poem
The Dream Machine.
These components of aluminum and metal look both strong and flexible,
These bars look like they will be able to handle,
This switch to the left of me is exciting me with sweaty feet and nervous hands.
Stories was told and portrayed through visual images all through my head.
I would lay at the end edge of the bed, place my head and close my eyes and count to nine. Until I was above nine and I couldn't see nothing but the Inside of my mind. I wasn't in my own mind, or maybe I was but I couldn't remember where I was.
This machine of aluminum and metal look both strong and flexible,
These bars look like they will be able to handle.
But I always wonder where will this switch on my right take me?
If left is go into the past. Would the right be to go into my own very past?
This machine of aluminum and metal better be able to handle.
I don't wanna lose sight of this dream.
This vision,
This reoccurring motion of words and actions,
This part of life where I am elevated from the floor,
This part of life is where I wanna be.
As I step into this this Dream Machine. I will emerge a king. I will emerge as a queen.
Into the Dream Machine is where I wanna go.
Copyright © Prince Patterson | Year Posted 2014
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Prince Rage Poem
Who or What are these People?
There across the sea is something on top of the steeple?
It looks like people? But with a different neck? Should I pet or let my bird peck at it? I cannot tell what it is. But from what I can see upon is that there are numbers of them maybe, there are even different kinds of them.
I wonder will I find one who speaks my tongue?
From the looks around of it. I see that everybody is either similar or different from the head and on down. I see angry people, I see careful people, smart people, even dumb people. But the most of rare things I have never seen was an extreme person with the never to act like a black sheep bull!
This boat is heavy lets pull it to shore.
Before they awake and then we would have to catch them before they learn how to explore.
Let's give them a break, away from civil war and general warlords.
Iran and Iraq wars,
Post-Bush words of how great it is to take somebody oil.
Let's ignore the world.
They turn their backs on it before the chance to speak would be no more than a beep. But when they do, all you can hear is the words coming straight from the Louisiana birds.
Lets take a much closer look at these people...
They have a cool walk,
They talk smooth,
They can do what another person do and make it cool.
These People don't wanna be used.
These People don't wanna be the ones who are still being abused.
These people are close to blowing their fuse!
What would the world do if these people was to ever get loose and learn the means of what it means to be misused and abused?
As a person made from other people who are made from a genius who sits above a steeple.
I am only looking across this gate
This wooden gate.
To see about reasoning with these people to make them see that we don't need no more evil, but to my belief in people with big egos. I would have mistaken these people as creatures unlike me and you. And that should have been put down eons ago. Because now I am looking down from this tower and I see that these people would not have survived. If somebody didn't pull out a gun and killed a revelation type of guy.
The world would always be a genocide, but it don't always have to be. If these people look ahead into the future and stopped memorizing on the past. They would stop having false gas or getting a plastic ass.
But when I look over this African wooden gate that's placed on the warm African sand.
I cannot help but to wonder will I ever meet these people in the near distance future.
And they have an amazing story to tell after they put a ban on the people being in jail and shut down all the wholesale. Of whore sales and prevail through the black veil of hades and his underground version of hell.
- Who or What are these people.
Copyright © Prince Patterson | Year Posted 2014
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Prince Rage Poem
The Overheard talk between The Mind & the Body.
To long we’ve been apart, torn apart from the words that the lips of humans use to speak.
Inches apart, separated by a barrier of eye, nose, lips and listening holes that they call ears.
What happened to us? Weak is we have become separated from birth to live under a curse. No special techniques to make them more unique.
Livers rotting, hearts deterring, kidneys shrinking, why does the eye in the sky keep on blinking? Or are you sending a message from the un-readable passage.
How to cheer when I constantly live in gear, white substances destroying kids (cells), pills making me very ill.
It beats and beats and they don’t know why it beats they just like the way it sounds that’s why they tap they feet to the invisible beat.
The un-seeable eye is, not called the third eye it’s called. The Monad (The One Eye), keep the secrets locked for a race that don’t know how to appreciate the exordium of being alive.
When the organs die they will come face to face with (The reflection of oneself).
-The Overheard talk between The Mind & The Body.
Copyright © Prince Patterson | Year Posted 2014
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Prince Rage Poem
The rock star life of Poet Synopsis.
Liquid-caps, wiretaps, relapse, mentally insane.
Mother would say “there is no pain it is only in your brain, if you control your thoughts your writing won’t seem so insane”.
I reply “When I am high whether it be; I regain control of my soul.”
I do not indulge with people, who do not share my views.
I connect to those better who love to act a fool,
provide as a listening tool,
the sad, lonely, and the confused.
Everything will be crystallized and you can be sure as you believe that you are wise,
You will see a WZRD on Adderall,
Who bleeds from his crown.
As he falls down to the party that’s underground…
In the lonely moments of being on stage or having my feet touching the ground,
the mouth opens wide and I shut-down…
Shocked from the eyes of the crowd escapes into my stream,
they light up with different colors,
different energies.
I slip into an unconscious dream.
Where I am supreme and there are relievers of every kind.
In the moments that a needle is touching the skin I don’t think it is heroin I am inhaling…
For the moments of possibilities it could be nine or ten, or maybe it could be Meth,
I won’t know for this chlorine has gotten into my eyes and now everything is looking like a dry dream.
Copyright © Prince Patterson | Year Posted 2014
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Prince Rage Poem
IF We Only Can Keep On Talking.
Have you ever had an idea?
Have you ever had any thoughts?
Have you ever wondered what is it, that keeps us so distant, and yet we all feel so close?
You may say emotions.
I may say dreams.
Others may say 'we all are fiends who crave the something more deeper than emotions and logic can begin to fathom'.
You may read Braille.
I may read the descriptions of how Earth resembles Hell.
You may paint emotions and capture people's attention by drawings.
You may paint words of diamonds, and how they beauty resembles love by writing down words and calling it a poem.
You may paint a set of vocals that can make an elderly person regain hope that was lost eons ago.
The world can be a machine that can appear and make people disappear like black magic.
The events created by purpose can sometimes be tragic.
Everything may have a purpose no how matter how sick a person choose to interpret.
Aren't we all sick?
From the food we eat, to the way one may beat their own meat. To the things we drink, to the things we inhale.
Who's to say?
But have you ever had an idea?
Have you ever had a thought?
Have you ever had the emotions or shared a piece of history that was identical to someone else?
Have you ever been confused, and yet still found hope through some kind of faith?
HAVE YOU EVER HAD THE SUDDEN REALIZATION TO SEE THAT WE ALL ARE THE SAME ON THE INSIDE AND OUT.
THE ONLY DIFFERENCE IS SOME LIVE IM THE SHADE AND OTHERS THE LIGHT.
"What is lost can be found"
-FIN.
Copyright © Prince Patterson | Year Posted 2014
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Prince Rage Poem
I have seen this world,
The signs around us
That gives direction to the quickest
Way down the dark road of destruction
Ignorance has disrupted the connection
Of our optic fibers
So many of us can’t see
That we are surrounded
By the frequencies, subliminally.
I’ve heard the starving children
Cry at night, I’ve witnessed the Black Hand
On the black trigger aimed
At his black brother across the street,
I’ve smelled the hatred of the fictitiously equated
Rose of justice that grew
From the concrete foundation
This nation was built on.
I’ve touched the bodies of those
Crippled by decades of shame
So they lay on dark roads
Scratching in dirt to find destiny
Not realizing their digging their
Own graves:
Slavery.
But the same force that drives me to believe
In fairytales, and happy endings, and prince charming,
That I need the air I breathe
Is my mustard seed?
Although I never been and it’s unseen
Can’t mean it doesn’t exist.
Sometimes I staring out the window pane,
My mind wonders tagging my soul along
To a place in time that knows no pain
Where queens are similar to Sheba,
Kings reminiscent of Tut,
Things that is brighter than the sun.
Our sons no longer in manacles
Only bound by chains draped
Upon their chest
Just below raised chins and elongated necks
The earth is no longer green
But black, she bears her naked skin unashamed
And her womb
Bears the time capsule to our future.
Third worlds, black on black violence,
And AIDS are only
Found on tombstones
Above graves that have buried the past.
I am here
To reclaim our kingdoms.
But one day we will all live in this place
No longer will tolerate
Living on the brink:
Freedom.
Copyright © Prince Patterson | Year Posted 2014
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