IRAN SO FAR

Iran so far to escape the cold clutches of oppression

hoped and prayed my journey would end with this election

yearning for reform, tired of being content with the same

12 mile long human chain, is this symbol of unity the beginning of change?

the people spoke but the forces of tyranny spat in their face

the human chain remains strong, the bond will not break...

Iran so far to a place in my mind that only i could see

Iran so far but my country is not where i want it to be

the color of revolution is sad, the sight is so bleak

the sea of green contrasted by the pool of red on the streets

that was Neda's blood, she died on that very same spot

it depresses the senses to witness, but how can you not watch?...

Iran so far but where is this journey taking me?

amidst the ugliness of this brutality is an incredible show of bravery

the eyes of the world are watching, pan the camera to my face

i say the human chain remains strong, the bond will not break

make sure you tell our story, please do not sugar-coat our pain

do it for Neda Agha-Soltan, so her death won't be in vain...

GETAWAY

Self-incarcerated in this makeshift prison/

tired of being tired, tired of this way of livin'/

tired of the same system, tired of lookin' at life through this same stained prism/

its about time i engaged in a lil' escapism...

Imagination illumination, this African Son's shadow is large enough to cover skyscrapers/

took a nine month hiatus from being creative, but really, it was nothin' major/

through the pain i gave birth to something special, like a pregnant lady in labor/

i'm back to smearing ink on dead trees, that means, putting pen to paper/

from the worst of times to the best of times, i can't rest, i'm definitely intent on gettin' mines/

no longer the tentative type, but i'm still not impressed with the aggressive vibe/

why stress?--just french truffles and red wine when i sketch rhymes, even my decadence is sublime/

this ain't the norm, when i brain-storm you better stay indoors or launch an umbrella/

talk is the opposite of expensive, when i floss i won't tell ya/

he said what?? who gives a fuck?!, i'm windsurfin' at the Palm Jumeirah/

spoiled with lots of options, vintage bottles in wine cellars/

awesome weather gorgeous women, native artists rockin' the cello/

nonchalant, staring at marble art by Donatello, so mellow/

nature's soundtrack, the beat-box to this poetic bliss/

if God was a rapper, his rhymes would sound somethin' like this...

Honestly, i can't explain it, its like describing color to a blind man or noise to a deaf man/

married to this bitch called life--no prenup, wedding cake or best-man.

IT TAKES A VILLAGE...

In my past life i was a Bushman dropping science, spitting spoken word over tribal drums/

freestyling in open-fire ciphers where everyone was invited to come/

pass the calabash around, light the pipe so i can smoke something to excite my lungs/

puffing on giant blunts the size of five thumbs--never get high enough/

the wise words of a prophet trying to inspire everybody, from the dying to the young/

wisdom was the best weapon--stronger than the might of the white man's gun/

different strategies of war, but who decides when the fight is done?/

conflict is a way of life, every night the moon has to fight the sun/

universal doctrine, woe to those who disregard the law of process/

the alpha and omega, effects and causes/

contrary to popular thought it's not rocket science, it is common logic/

every August we give props and pay homage to the god of harvest/

sacrifices of prized goats, ivory and gold, rice with cloves/

nine foot statue of Shaka Zulu the same hue as styrofoam/

folk tales of messiahs who broke bread and fed thousands/

tapped the ground with a staff and the earth erected mountains/

divine beings who healed the sick and cursed the statesman's arrogance/

placed a finger on a pregnant whore's belly and made her barren/

the mighty pillars of the village's existence--honor, compassion, humility and discipline/

elders told animal stories with swahili proverbs, while little children sat quietly and listened/

this African aesthetic nothing less than majestic/

but History, or rather "His-story" has left a lot to be questioned/

deceptive texts spread with the intent to suppress the continent's essence/

we were once Kings and Queens even though they treat us like peasants/

either way we are all connected to this complex network--the celestial wireless matrix/

a global village of different cultures, beliefs, ideas and races.