ZenLand

[Zen]

Open Mic Verses

ZenLand

Do You Ever Feel Like....

Breakin necks and snatchin purses and takin techs and blastin persons
And creatin sets for mass insurgents to start drastic purges
To smash the courage of Heaven's sects by crashin churches
No time to yearn the loss cuz I'm burnin mosques and turnin the cross
On it's head, God is dead, It's time for the return of the boss
No more words thats false or being concerned with loss
No more hopin for riches while the poor cope in ditches
Shit, Cover Wall Street with ferns and moss
Eternal Garden startin, ZenLand's open for business

Here, There's no downtrodden's pleas. Here, We all got what we need
Here, There's no cops we're freed. Here, we're not locked by greed

So break the chains and take the reins, Take aim and spray their brains,
They ain't usin 'em anyway and anyday they'll place the blame on you for things they "can't change"
Like the war on crime that they pour in our mind, When the CIA is main damn gang
They betray our needs, They want you to pray and plead
Well I ain't gonna rephrase my speech, Because one day we'll meet
And I'll slay those peeps with proud scholars turned to brave soldiers
They say we're free when the founding fathers were slaveholders

Fuck 'em

Think I'm Crazy

Tryin to find some peace to get my mind at ease
But theres crime in the streets as they hang behind the scenes
Sayin it will heal in time, it seems noone's got the answers
But we all got the questions, Shit I'm just guessin
Looking for signs in dreams
Propaganda, Proper slander is fillin the news
They demand us to stand up and enjoy killin the brutes
Bombs drop and knock the ceiling in two
Until the building is through, I don't know what I'm feelin, do you?
They say nation building but that's just sheilding the truth
We just committed mass murder without wieldin a clue
As to why or how many of the poor must die in their youth
Because of this holy war, when I don't even have Christian Roots
All my life I been told that this road is tough
And you gotta keep on walkin till you're soles get rough
But lately I don't know how I'm even holding up
Can't get no education because I'm broke as fuck
Is Uncle Sam dead or does he just not care?
Or did the fuckin bankers just smell blood in the air
And capitalized on capitalism?
While all my people meet their demise from malnutrition
Am I the only one feelin lost and confused without a purpose?
Feelin worthless bossed and abused?
If you do speak the truth and help save me
Because lately, I just think I'm crazy

The Prince Part I

This is a rough work in progress of what I have so far.

1.The Gracious Prince, Surrounded by Faceless Men with Tastless Grins.
Some say he's the Saviour Sent to Replace the Sin like the "Days Back When."
2.The Prince discarded his Title and Possessions and gathered Disciples for Lessons
And told them to Recite their Confessions. They wondered of Life and Heaven
And Why Professions led men on a Slide of Regression to Lies and Deception
For an addiction to gold which Rivals Obsession. Then the Prince gave his Wise Direction.
"Only a beast Fights his Brethren."
3.His Disciples were Sent to Preach as the Prince Went in the Streets.
The Peasant Bent at his Feet and with a Grin in his Teeth he Begins to Speak,
"Dear Prince, I have no Meal to Eat. Help me Again Please!"
The Prince led him to a Tent with a Feast as he was always known to Defend the Meek.
And The Prince spoke, "Carry Zen and Teach and the knowledge shall be Within Reach."
4.The Prince Mystified the Land as the Pride of Man. They believed him to be
God's Right Hand. But back home with no heir to Guide the Land
There was a Fight to Stand as King to unite the tribes Divided by Sand.

The Cave

I start depictions of Mars descendin near the atmosphere
In large descriptions as I lay scarred but ridden
Of bizzare inflictions. Which I soon removed
With carved incisions into the hull of my skull
Down in my brain where horrors remain charred but livin
As memories of miseries which turn into bars I've written
With jarred precision til I learn lessons of my transgressions
And they are forgiven. Until then they stand guard of forbiddens
As I lay trapped in a cave, where minutes lapse in a day
As I'm clasped, A slave of the past I face,
My laughs decay into a drastic craze of wrath and rage
Til I collapse and pray and synapses portray imagery near me
Of lastin praise which last and stays
And which maps away across the paths in the brain
And I master the waves and crack the chains as sparks flew,
And I chart my cruise through the passageways
And I start anew but my hearts confused, Earthly gains, Is it a worthy game?
Its hard to choose with only but bizzare clues,
I can only hope and plead that this isn't what's supposed to be
As serotonin pleas for me to go to sleep,
Rest in peace, I scream into the morning breeze.

ZenLand Part II-The Revolution

Each day is harder gettin slain by Karma wondering when I became a martyr?
Che Guevara. Things best change tomorrow or I'll leave in a flash of bullets,
Blake, relax and cool it. "Fuck that them bastards blew it,
You're an avid shootist, Couple magazines, gasoline and a match'll do it,
Face it mate this path you're cruisin is a disaster brewin,
You wanna nine to five til the time you die? Then collapse into ruin,
But if you're the Master...Prove it."
I AM the master of my destiny I just mask my complexities,
"What about your past felonies?" Those were from bouts of doubt and brash jealousy,
Now I'm past that, I'm on rap tracks tryin to grasp the melodies,
"HAHAHA Hashtag backtocelibacy!! You lack the relevancy
To make a success, What happened to breaking necks and taking techs
And blastin persons?" That was my last version, I'm past that person,
"Fuck that moment of doubt, foam at the mouth like a rabies bite!!"
You know what?

You may be right....

Because these people make me like.....
Grabbin nines and shootin fucks to pass the time and loosen up
A master primed and suiting up with a savage mind that refused to love
Them Garbage Kennedys, I'm starting remedies with Marxist tendencies
To rip apart the enemies that guard the industries from harm or injuries
Because it's hard to live in peace while we starve and live in streets,
God's arms in our reach, Pfft...I'd rather carve in a priest
And take his arm or limb at least when I'm charged on hennessey
Til the sun sets, but I ain't done yet then I target the ministries
With men armed with heat screaming, "Viva la Revoluccion!!"
On the eve of the conclusion....