The Lyrical Assassins Brotherhood Poetry

Street Vision 8/26/11

The theory of the streets spread, hustle hard and prosper, and the world turns a blind eye to the struggle, except for those who comprehend through their Street Vision. Today poet express the plight of the urban society and the Medias mediocrity to project the truth! Do you have Street Vision? Join Tammy Jones’s powerful piece and show us if your pen can see……

Black Phoenix
Chief Rocka #1
The UGL

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35 responses

  1. thank you BP the Chief Rocka…

    August 27, 2011 at 1:15 am

    • I love your thoughts and the realness of your piece. And I’m really feeling they way you dropped it. A very unique style. Wonderfully done Tammy.

      August 27, 2011 at 11:39 am

    • Thank You Tammy for bring the heat to the UGL!

      August 27, 2011 at 2:48 pm

    • Cypha Omni

      Lovin it

      August 27, 2011 at 6:00 pm

  2. MizzFab

    great job sis
    will be back later !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

    August 27, 2011 at 1:52 am

  3. Amarie

    Ok OK … I see you Tammy … This piece not only spoke truth but it did so in a way that any one reading cant pretend not to hear. Great Job. I love the way you use your voice and pen to inspire change, provoke thought not just for a purpose but for a magnificent cause. Again great Job. Just glad to know ya!

    Amarie 🙂

    August 27, 2011 at 2:54 am

  4. Sights and scene of a heroine dream
    End in fights and scream of an unwed teen
    The means to escape an unloved team
    Pumping liquid heart into an unwilling bloodstream

    I’ve seen too many get up to fall under the caucus
    Living life under a struggle yet the world still fault us
    Faultless, struggle is what the government brought us
    And survival is the only thing the street taught us

    The poor get poorer while the rich cry about stock
    The streets get worst, only way to prevail is to sell rocks
    Morning, noon and night we distribute and pollute blocks
    And the world wonder why the crime on the street don’t stop

    I envision, a better a way of livin, only if the chance is given
    Emancipate the hood, with goal of those that are driven
    There is no remitting of life if all we’re doing is quitting
    Open eyes wide and unrestricted your street vision

    August 27, 2011 at 3:54 am

    • I agree with Tammy, I love the flow and the rhyme schemes. Couple that with the message and you have a winner. You are definitely making my work harder!!!

      David

      August 27, 2011 at 11:35 am

      • Thanks Ciph, It was Tammy’s realness that blaze the trail for me. I did my best to keep up.

        August 27, 2011 at 2:50 pm

      • Coming so real with your words, BP. Straight up truth!

        August 31, 2011 at 4:01 pm

    • MizzFab

      wow awesome piece mr.bp 🙂

      August 27, 2011 at 1:32 pm

    • Cypha Omni

      Would dig hearin this over a track. Nicely written

      August 29, 2011 at 12:12 am

  5. BP, I am so feeling your cadence and wordplay and the message sticks like velcro as my neighborhood still screams…thank you for dropping something hot here. I always respect your pen and appreciate you coming through… 😀

    August 27, 2011 at 4:54 am

  6. Street Vision
    By D-Cipher

    Five guys sitting on the steps, smoking weed
    Dealing crack and deterring hopes and dreams
    Two cats in front of my building next to their car
    Sipping 40’s, talking shit like the rest of you are

    On the corner, a church but unless it’s Sunday
    It has no self worth, maybe it will someday
    Out the bus, people get out of work, heads down
    Some are just out of work others are just death bound

    In the front room of the apartment next door the TV is on Maury
    Ironically with a 14 year old girl losing her virginity
    The 22 year old guy filled her with semen, gin and Hennessy
    As she wonders, “Is this how life ends for me?”

    Around the corner 4 thugs are breaking into a house
    Invading hopes and leaving the owners with fear and doubts
    Cars crawl down the blocks ever so slowly
    And eyes peer out, like “You don’t know me”

    Elderly women praying in their house afraid to get out
    While the neighborhood bully walks with his chest out
    Randomly snatching chains as he laughs with his blade
    In a hospital around the corner children are born on crack and aides

    I’m only eight and I can see this with perfect vision
    I close the curtain and wonder is life worth the living
    Bullets shatter our window as I hit the floor quickly
    See, if I loose focus for just a minute, death will get me

    August 27, 2011 at 12:35 pm

    • MizzFab

      wow , another hot write . powerful and epic man

      August 27, 2011 at 1:34 pm

    • Ok, I love the storyline poetry.. you drop another blazer Ciph

      August 27, 2011 at 2:56 pm

    • Cypha Omni

      Tight

      August 29, 2011 at 12:09 am

    • holy crap, david! this goes to show that everyone has to keep their eyes on the prize, over their shoulders, on point day in and day out and never stop moving forward. like the saying goes … when you’re walking through hell, never stop! rich lines here with graphic imagery!

      August 31, 2011 at 4:05 pm

  7. Cypha Omni

    Convicted felon,
    Forever stainin my chances before I became a man,
    And gave my hands to god, make a plan,
    To take a stand to change this trance of becoming what? A bakers man?
    Cook that crack as fast as you can,
    Because I’m a single dad & my daughters at my sisters,
    Around that abusive nigga that be beatin her ass,
    I never had a man influence me with the positive,
    Watchin these ghetto ballers with knots and a lot of confidence,
    So I stopped and I had to watch the shit,
    Copped my first rocks to flip,
    Wasn’t long before I was the one high lost on a rocket ship,
    Yeah, eventually drug use is what I clung to,
    As my lungs choose through manipulation of mind to better my reality as I let the guns loose,
    Mom was strung out, saw a man lettin a punch cruise
    At her as I grabbed her and pulled the trigger to slump dude,
    She was histerical screamin that was your father,
    Irony of it all, protectin her got me locked up,
    Before I got her I took my daughter and sister
    With a pocket of cash I saved from out here whippin,
    Told them things are going to change as we all cried
    On that ride up to a 5 star and told them time to end this,
    I’m going to get mom and where getting the hell out of here
    Ill be back I love you tomorrow were flyin out of here,
    Everything that I’ve done up to that point amounted to nothin but a lesson,
    That made me bitter towards what was supposed 2 be a blessin
    During sentence and confession,
    The one positive move, the light I thought I received from heaven
    Left me in 8 by 12 because of baked rock sales
    That I thought would change it all as I killed a man I never knew
    Who left me as a wreckless youth?
    Convicted felon…

    August 27, 2011 at 5:57 pm

    • Very deeply written and a great take on the topic. Welcome to the LAB.

      David

      August 27, 2011 at 7:53 pm

      • Cypha Omni

        Thanks mman I got your req, I’m somewhat of a anomaly but I like what’s going on here

        August 27, 2011 at 8:51 pm

    • Yo! This joint is hot, I’m digging your spit, Cypha!

      August 27, 2011 at 9:54 pm

      • Cypha Omni

        Thanks, did it off the cuff inspired by ms jones

        August 29, 2011 at 12:16 am

    • a look into the depths of reality. thank you for posting up. xo

      August 31, 2011 at 4:09 pm

  8. David,
    You rocked that piece and Cypha Omni, my dear poetic brother and baby bro. love you and thank you both for droppin these pieces…everyone else, thank you so much for coming out and supporting. I love poets and you all have me smiling hard as hell and I don’t smile often lol…

    Tammy

    August 28, 2011 at 12:45 am

    • Thanks, I wanted to try something different. 🙂

      August 28, 2011 at 1:34 pm

    • Cypha Omni

      Anytime sis

      August 29, 2011 at 12:17 am

  9. Tammy, you surely spoke the truth in this writing. It’s a shame that the “higher ups” cannot be morphed into the streets for a week or so to see what the “real’ world experiences on a daily. Powerful ink!

    August 28, 2011 at 2:28 pm

  10. Marsha,

    I know what you mean and thank you for coming through and checking us out. The Higher Ups would only rebel as if having been demoted to hell ringing the bell for release….

    August 28, 2011 at 2:59 pm

  11. STREET VISION

    The cut of the street runs straight

    enough for a give, a take

    behind closed doors people break

    populated minds, bodies, souls, bones

    corrupted

    whether by choice or coincidence

    misery moans

    lifted through breezes

    to congregate as night halos

    under incandescent

    shadows

    bounce between swapped handshakes

    high fives, low tens

    wanting something, make dreams bend

    creepin’ contraband

    on the DL

    future bleak because cycle strong as hell

    young hearts nurtured

    by asphalt and armory

    certainly where they don’t belong

    merciful God …

    help, SOS, filth and mire

    too much to digest

    brimstone and fire

    generations strong need to invest

    in a one-way ticket

    out of this nest

    not to the grave like so many others

    but into light’s embrace and prosperity

    where knowledge …

    will give them an edge

    for hope, love, laughter

    free from death and disaster

    The cut of the street runs

    a two-way path

    the journey towards freedom

    from Devil’s wrath

    but the blind eye of government spies

    shutters

    camera lens out of focus, blurry then

    flutters

    half-truths or no truths

    through media vultures

    can do more harm than good …

    the cultures.

    shine their light here and there

    into corners of deception

    alleys of despair

    never covering the full spectrum

    never do they share

    completely the visions of the streets

    the morality

    mortality

    all of the defeats ….

    keep a quiet voice on decay

    a cavity of life’s root

    bite those with the wands of power

    they don’t give a shit or a hoot

    tryin’ to cover their tracks

    running deception by day

    by night flippin’ deals with SuperFlys and hacks

    big brother

    none other

    take cover

    hear thunder

    lightning strikes random

    taking lives out in tandem

    tantrum

    beat fists

    stick

    knife

    gun

    the people in control

    have continuously won (with deceit)

    This street vision

    that I see from my tower above (second story)

    has not always been like this

    because I once was

    part of a group of congregated halos

    runnin’ game

    getting’ by

    turnin’ stones

    claimin’ land

    all for that next high

    looking back

    how did I manage

    to live a life so fearless and forage

    for my existence

    to keep alive

    The name of the game

    bee stung or bee hive

    honey sweet lines

    blended with icky sticky smoke

    raise our treasure to the sky

    take a toke

    thought we were tricky

    but looking back …

    it was an unfocused lie

    survive …

    I did

    but I paid my dues

    some did not last the life

    now they are part of rainbow’s hues

    Whatever intentions migrate from

    cuts of the street long

    pad your journey with knowledge

    pledge yourself to be strong

    © 8.31.2011 Marsha Nelson

    All Rights Reserved

    August 31, 2011 at 2:03 pm

    • “… Now they’re apart of rainbow’s hues..” very deep and profound. I love the ending and the phase, “pad yourself with knowledge…” Wonderfully done, Marsha. Simply wonderful.

      David

      August 31, 2011 at 2:26 pm

      • Thanks you so much, David. Great topic! Took a while for me to flow with it but once I started … It was off the cuff, totally. Gearing up for the next challenge. I so appreciate your dedication to the LAB and all it has to offer. Xo

        August 31, 2011 at 2:44 pm

  12. Marsha,
    sorry it has taken me a minute. Irene is killing us here even though she is gone. Your piece is penned with so much wisdom…your rhyme scheme has you rhyme hoe-in and I dig your flow…NICE!!!!!

    September 2, 2011 at 2:40 pm

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