We'll Never Admit

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A political lyrics examination of history repeating itself and the denial that we are the reason and cause.

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Classic tragedy
He, the bastard be
Disaster piece
In fact, lets see
What the ratchet snatched with bad habits
Lasting past due dates and black magic
Bewitched, that son of a bitch has us
He laughs at us from atop his tall towers
The flaming bush sees planes
But they can’t trump the winner of this game
This nigga is insane joking with lives in such ways
Refrains us from saying shit out of fear it’ll be our turn if we play
It’s not the way that it should be
But this world runs as a fantasy
The one he imagines it to be
Put a crown on 45
He’s won as it seems
As long as we don’t act
These words remain fact
Remain intact during his everlasting attack on our values and past
Erasing what we have just to grow his fucking stack
Chasing bitches to grab by the pussy
And we bitch, but we also laugh
We’re half the problem as to why he’s where he’s at
But we’ll never admit to that
We’ll never admit to that

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Voiceless Virtual Rage

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As the internet continues to behave as the trashcan where we throw our opinions our collapse becomes more obvious from a distance.

Jack vents in this angered piece.
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Many of us exist in a perpetual denial of our own design. Screaming at each other, it’s unclear if its for change or to disperse the pint up energy. Casting blame in every direction of what we feel most guilty of. Unable to control these impulses.

And we continue, and continue, and continue, and nothing ever changes.

The ever increasing rage of society which began with the children which felt neglected and voiceless, like a plague contagion spread to the adults and the elderly.
But it’s never real. Our virtual personas are the monsters. In person, we’re too coward to make the same stands, but behind the safety of our electronics we find it justified to diminish the life of another. Because they aren’t real. Because we’ve never met them.
Enlightened or not. With reason or not. We believe we are justified in a pursuit. The world must know what we know, and believe what we believe the way we believe it. Because we believe it.

We’re unable to stop. It’s who we’ve become. The pause button was lost when we gave up on developing our voices in person and now even the elderly behave like children, simply trying to disperse this brokenness we’ve been handed.

There’s no fix in sight and the rain clouds will make it over the hills soon. They’re coming our way. We’ve never seen an umbrella so there is no protection. We’re stuck screaming.

It’s what we do. We point fingers here, and…

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Meanwhile...

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A thought on the madness of American’s on 6/22/18

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We murder and enslave over who’s dirt is who’s, then fear crossing imaginary lines.
Yet, we allow the children to starve and the sick to die having all the resources.
We cast blame on each other and deceive one another, then struggle to trust anyone’s word.
Yet, we riot for truth and shun those who don’t lie so well.
We refuse to acknowledge when we don’t, and rather ruin things than confess.
Yet, we hold guns, make mistakes and send each other into cages knowing we weren’t ready.

 

Meanwhile…
They rob us and the bombs fall.

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The Great Subtraction

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Kids in cages.
A Poem.

45 is smaller than 0.

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I’m going to flip the shit if they crack another motherfucking whip
Can’t handle it when I can’t spit
Rambling blazed for days
Holding a fucking clip
Shit stays the same way
It’s making me sick
Staring down barrels drunk
Like we’re outta luck
In stasis sterile faces that won’t quit
Cages mistake small kids
Taken away
They can’t be seen
It seems history repeats it’s scenes
Screams don’t stop the suit’s schemes
We should be ashamed
Turn the cheek and sneak away
Cell phone in hand
Selfies behind screens
Eyes on ‘em like laser beams
Hit record on that cam
Life the video game
It’s our mask while we hide in the dark
We’re Batman
All going insane
Yelling the same phrases night and day
No response
It’s like that
No one listens and things don’t change
Deranged, we keep playing the same way
Won’t fight back
Maybe someone brave will stand and save the day
But every time we call the hero someone ends up shot
It’ll happen until we’re down to zero
The Great Subtraction in action
This extinction event is meant so we can’t repent
When the end comes through
The end meant for those that won’t do
What they want us to do
The way they want us to
That’s just for me and you

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Fighting The Crooks: Part 2

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After learning the president has been lying to her for as long as she's known him, Team Leader Rachel Chambers sets out to learn the truth behind this secret facility her and her team have walked into, in this second part to Fighting The Crooks

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As if a veil of lies was lifted from her, team leader Rachel Chambers is frozen. Stuck. Terrified at what her eyes can’t unsee.

Hidden from within the shadows with three of her squad mates they watch as The United States of America’s First Lady directs a heavily armed troop to prep children for slave labor.

This team, self-titled ‘The Patriots’, have been faced with the cold hard truth that their patriotism has been in the name of a corrupt government all along. Their willingness to serves blinded them from what’s been going on under their noses all along.

“What do we do, Cap?” Zack the medic asks for the second time.

“I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. I need to think,” Chambers replies. “God! This is so fucked up!” She clenches her fists and jaw fighting back the urge to gun down every guard in the facility. But knowing she’d get killed in exchange is enough to hold her back. There is more than meets the eye going on in this facility and she needs to get to the bottom of it. She needs to get revenge on the corrupt president she’s served for seven years being lied to every step of the way.

Chambers’ thoughts are fogged while resisting the tunnel vision to act immediately. “Alexander,” She says.
”Yes, sir?” The stealth recon officer asks.
”Take charge. I can’t even focus,” Chambers tells him.
”Immediately, sir.” Alexander responds. For her entire fifteen year career leading the team she’s had Alexander Paviolla by her side as her right hand. Her better and calmer judgement. Her best friend. Greatest rival. Second in command. No soldier does Chambers trust more.
”Okay, team,” Alexander begins.” We have to get…

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But 'Merca

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A country of emotional jackasses with little thought.

They clearly don't understand the situation with the children.

The don't understand the adults they arrive with are not family, they are coyotes or smugglers attempting to enter the country pretending those are their children.

They clearly don't understand anyone that can prove they are related manages to stay together as a family.

They clearly don’t understand coming into the country illegally is... Well, illegal... Therefore, a crime... Thus, they are criminals just by coming in illegally. Because... Its illegal.

They forget what prison is whether immigrant or not, which is to get removed from your family and put into cell or cage for your crime. Thus, an illegal immigrant goes to prison for the crime.

The clearly don't get that there are like 17 Latin American countries these kids come from, not just Mexico, and without paperwork we don't know which.

They don't understand most of these kids show up alone anyway.

The clearly don’t understand the foster system continues to lose children and its literally safer to put them in a cage.

Trump says lets build buildings to put them in and house them and then the people scream prison and say no. Thus, a cage is the only option.

They don't understand releasing these children is impossible because there is nowhere to sent them without knowing where they came from...

But... 'Merca.

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Static Breeze

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In this short poem Jack attempts to express his mental prison to the reader.

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Bird watching from inside a cage is no fun
All the flight possible is witnessed with our own two eyes
All while bound behind bars, the cage door open
What fun is flight alone?
What fun is gliding the wind without a flock?
There’s no point in leaving the cage
But staying inside no flight is possible
Having clipped wings might make it easier
But not all caged birds learn to sing
Iron bars become the norm
Comfort the enemy
The rainbows never come visit
Neither do the rain clouds
A bird that learns to hum a fallen soldiers honor
It needs no more than another fallen soldier
Is this its purpose?
What good are wings on a corpse?

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Fake Mumbling

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Jack takes a shot at Mumble Rappers out of sheer boredom in this lyrical trash talk.

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Fuckin’ in the hood
That pussy good the way it should be
More straps than a thug
Hold ‘em to they mug
Like where the fuck my bucks be?
I ain’t bugs, G
I’m Elmer Fud, see?
I’m shooting ducks this season
Showing up to caskets drunk on drugs
Fuck your feelings
Suck a dog
I’m too dick for the shit I’m saying
Shit seems tame half the time I’m spraying
Acid on…

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Conversation with an Intellectual (David Adkins, Author)

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Jack gets the opportunity to have a short discussion with writer/author David Adkins. The conversation takes a metaphysical turn.

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Jack -
Propaganda shouldn’t lead to deletion. Rather, it should lead to questions as to why the individual believes what they believe.
They REALLY, REALLY want to tell you and don’t care what you have to say.
I say ask and listen. Then you’ll have your understanding and their understanding while they only have their own.
You delete them, you are different but equal. No better.
Information is power. 
Eat I all up.
You don't need to believe I or agree. Just have it so you know more.

David -
I normally agree, but much of what people believe they never question anymore.
Flat Earthers, vegans, Scientologists, Mormons, Catholics, Feminists, BLM participants, and many others.
Then they never come back with facts, only beliefs.
I love facts. Especially ones that differ from what I know.
But no, insults only... That is not a debate

Jack -
You don’t need to debate.
Just ask and let them answer.
Whether it makes sense or…

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Fighting the Crooks: Part 1

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Fighting the Crooks is a Political Narrative of patriots doing what they must for their country to honor the president.

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“This is the moment of truth, guys. This is where we make our stand against this liberal tyranny we continue to see,” The team leader says. “They’re no different than Hitler’s Germany. They feel it’s right to take hostile action against us for having opposing views while asking us to tolerate each action they took similar during the ruling of their leader. We will no longer stand for this!”

She raises her fist to the outcry of the other four team members,“In honor of the President!”

For several weeks they’ve planned out invading this facility to free a hostage held by the President’s opposition. The liberals, angry they’ve not yet gotten their way have begun to take drastic measures in their attempt to manipulate political choices.

This team lead by Senior Officer Chambers dubbed themselves ‘The Patriots’ upon devising a plan to rescue the hostage, the president’s wife. Originally they brought the plans to the president directly, but worried for their lives he…

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Clock is Slowing Down

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A short poem about the current broken state of society.

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Alright
We're all crooked, the end
We're all playing the victim refuse to sit down before the screen loud
The webbed spaceship, dead, faceless, anonymous and tasteless posting racist shit
Our thoughts are flung out into the digital crowd
The matrix, no Neo will save us now
Hoping they'll be proud we're pretending we know what we're talking about
How we feel about left or right
The red/blue pill fight stands whether day and night
Ignorance within us shines its dim light
Not quite the bright we had in sight
Machines take over in the middle of our blind plight
The sky is the limit, but we're too scared to take…

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Rosemary

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Rosemary is a brief comedy telling the story of a director of the same name during an award ceremony.

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Frozen in place Rosemary quivers as it dawns on her, the crowds gaze right through her. They've not yet recognized she's there. All her efforts in becoming a successful director gone to waste as no one knows it's the premiere of her film in the first place.

She isn't the most attractive of women. And this happens at each of her premieres. She goes unnoticed. But this time she's had it. Rosemary came ready to end the night with a bang.

"If they don't remember me now, then it doesn't matter," she whispers speaking to herself. A normal occurrence these days. Her delusive mind has gradually collapsed on itself and her obsessive need for this attention drives her motivations. She can't seem to cope with the fact that her films turn out to be each year's box office top seller yet she remains unknown to the world. "It's the first goddamn credit in…

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Pure Anger

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Jack discusses his battle with anger control problems in an attempt to be more open emotionally with the readers.

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It's stuck. Pinned up against the walls of my mind. There's no reason or source. It just is what it is. No control over it. It doesn't come out. It doesn't get seen. It lingers, frozen in place. Assuring me it is always there. Assuring me it'll always be there.
Assuring me there is nothing I could do to rid myself of this perpetual anger. It's ever graduating to a more intense version of hate and self-loathe. Warm from the inside. The connection to others is melted away by the furious heat.
No meditation exists powerful enough to subdue the broken will of a tortured monster. Destruction is all twisted minds know when rage-filled and out of control. There is never any order.
Hopeless is what they call it in the mountains where the cold rules all and the calm sit frosted fighting the physical pain with the mental.
When the mind is what attacks the body is what needs to control and that is what the rage has held onto. There is nowhere left to go.
Loathe.
Disdain.

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Never Idle

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Most of us want to give up without ever realizing that the struggle is the part that teaches us, not the accomplishment. Jack reflects on this matter.

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It's becoming a fight to stay conscious. Find myself fighting the gaining dark against the fading light. There's not even a tunnel at this point. It's a void with a spot we'll call a star. It's too far to reach out for. It's too small to tell apart. Managing to ever reach it might mean getting scorched. Never trying means being consumed by the everlasting empty. No floor to run on. There's nothing to grip. Can't close my eyes questioning how I'll ever close the gap and escape this black trap. There's never an answer. It's not in me to quit, so forever I suffer. It's the lessons I learn from the struggle that matter. And although there is no way in sight, seeing is not believing when my eyes are all that see and expect me to believe what they feed is accurate. It's difficult and I've accepted this. What can be done when life is a quest where we reach for the sky, keep climbing hoping one day we get there, but most of us fall and die. At least if we try our lives don't turn out to be a waste of time. It's the middle stuff that matters as things pass by. The destination means we're finished. That's the end of our lives. I don't plan on being idle and standing by.

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Closed Off

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In this piece, Jack reflects on his life and his craft

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Trying too hard
Not getting too far
The gas in this car is going empty
The pen running out of ink
I'll miss my thoughts if I blink
Closed off
Can't think
But I can talk mad shit
Spit real quick sick lines
Slick rhymes
But they don't mean shit
They're a waste of time
The words don't feel mine
They feel like I'm committing a crime
Against my insides
While they're dying caged
The blind rage I'm flung into lingers for…

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