The soul ain't for sale

Disabled by grief
there is no relief
what a price for a soul renching book

They ulilise pain
for their own gain
and any ones life can be took

The end justify the means
for a greater goal
acting like they have ownership
over our soul

But it was never for sale
and that is just how
this structure will fail

for the soul ain't anyones
to be bought or sold
it doesn't have a price
like silver and gold

It's no-ones to sell
you create your own hell
in which you dwell




Yes they take lives
your children
and wifes
but truth is they take them anyway

they take what they want
the soul selling is a front
a construct you buy into and pay

well my soul is the Lords
so mark all my words
I don't run with no heards

I see through your concepts
twisted and sick
I'll keep tapping away
at one little brick

Tis a matter of time
until it must fall
Cos Joshua fit the battle of Jerico

A poem to ' The evil rulers of the world'

The evil rulers of the world try twisting many souls,
breaking spirits before birth
just to meet their goals.

Using people as mindless slaves,
unaware,
no choice on how they behave.



It tears my heart and burns my soul
So outing them will be my goal.

For there is no other path to take,
To ignore this truth would make me fake.
No point to that life I do know.

So watch and learn as the whistle I blow.

In slavery times that they choose to write,
we had house and field slaves ,
with a class war fight.

The house slaves happy ,
they had nice cloths; the bling.

Whilst field slaves ragged but their heart did sing.

And when a fire in the masters house arose,
the house slave mind,
dressed in nice cloths,
would run for water to put it out.
But the field slave singers
would not even shout.

But pray for wind to burn it down.
I choose to pray and not to drown.

in sadness and guilt that I did not fight.
But proud to stand for TRUTH and LIGHT.


                                                                                                                          Amen

Forced to Choose

Forced to choose
with nothing to loose
Kill or be killed
I choose no blood on my hand
So I can still enter the promise land
Like a red rag to the bull
I lost it all
Some hoped I would shatter
stumble or fall
Fight fire with fire
But thats not my desire
So I'll rise up higher
Whilst my body wont tire

All material gone
I am forced to move on
but my soul stays calm
whilst my mind hears the alarm
People await
my reaction to 'fate'
but I hessitate
cos it's not too late
If the Lord has my back
there's no need to attack.
For your shit is whack
Whitney lost it to crack
and so did Lauryn
and so did faith evens
and so did MJ
And silenced they stay
ridiculed by the media
to stop the words
that would feed ya
Of the truth unknow
Play or be played
thats how it's weighted
the public so blinded
of works hard to hide-it
what really does go down
behind the front alters
torturing daughters
led to the slaughters
'Oh Whitney got fat
aged on that crack

But look again
and again
at whitney's rise and fall
At her pregnancy stories
yet no babies at all
only Bobbie
who was taken
from her to the ''Family''
yet I watch her womb
expand on my tv

The public say
'Oh she got fat'
Oh she forgot her words
or' she still on crack',



the same for Lauryn

recordings we can't find
they say she lost her mind
the minite she told the Pope to repent
for the abuse they do
to babies for lent
No studio,
band
and then bassist removed
she don't turn up
her fans confused
Put them on crack
they all look wack
they ain't coming back
but they under attack
Whitney, Amy, Lauryn Hill
Faith Evens, Tracy Chapmen
our Sisters they steal





People Wake up
and smell the truth
It's all set up
And I got proof

when you hold the truth in your mind
Then the reasons are not hard to find.

Whitney managed by her Dad
same with Amy
They act so sad
But to me it's a front
a game for the blind
It's sick and twisted
No help they find



How can that be ?
that drugs hold them
They keep returning
again
and again

They make crack look
like an impossible prison
Yet I have seen thousands
from its trap be risen

Even those crack holds
on the floor
still come through
to settle the score

Yet these sister
with so much to loose
seem to reject their path
and crack they choose



It can't be so
I tell you all
There's more involved
than sick media ridicule

It's all arranged
and goes to plan
it's sick and twisted
help us God Amen