'Anonymous', a poem written and performed by Luka Lesson. They say “come follow me, follow me" but they've forgotten that their prophecy is probably what's killing us all economies are costing me commodities accosting me constantly stopping the cacophony from calling for autonomy Impossible but possibly they got a free lobotomy the truth is often a collective oddity or anomaly And there's nothing exceptional really stopping me honestly I'm part of your astronomy like Ptolemy Equality has honestly gotten to be abolished and polished off like it's porridge now protestants hate the Pontiff don't bother me 'til we're on it and consciousness is upon us until the prophets are in my college and Anonymous my monarchy Man I get it - forget it don't embellish their letters presently your pestering my presence you're pathetic you're 7/11 in my memory I see your pedigree I see enemies as amphetamines that never enter me I haven't finished not submitting or being diminished I'm committed to admitting everything ever been hidden so you listen to my mission in collision with my spirit I'm admitting all my sinning and I'm giving no apology /// I’ve been to every gritty little village and city I’ve seen milli little kids without a penny in pity they're paying a pittance to the peasants to keep 'em skinny I’m trying to spread the message but it’s killing like Achilles Still spitting on the corner from California to Sydney speaking on the borders of paranormal and really and even if nobody is celebrating my victory my letters are spreading like confetti throughout the city Along all meridians kids by the millions living in the slums skin mostly obsidian family Abbyssinian African or Indian even in Australia Indigenous resilience. I’m waiting on the senate I hope to finally get it I’m waiting on the people to vote and finally vet it I’m waiting on the parliament to grow and develop I think it’s time we stop the whining and finally pay repentance But I’m not holding my breath I mean I’ve got a cold shoulder to stretch I mean I’ve got a boulder on my back and my neck 'cause It feels like holding up the Atlas when rapping my text /// They tell me I - coulda been a rapper but this shoulda woulda coulda isn’t action and actually it’s the rapper in me that keeps preaching in patterns thinking back to when I rapped on the streets for practice That's when I’d freestyle for no change no joke got no gains blew up - no propane no-one knew no names 'cause I didn’t really smoke or blow trees or coke dream so I wasn’t "in with the scene" I just hoped my lyrics would light fires and see if the right guy would hear it the right time and gimme a life-line Now I’m a zeitgeist hitting a typewriter poetry pied piper killing the mic I don’t need to be signed I believe in my sci-fi: a kid with the right mind can rocket it sky high. Half biggie / half hippie with tie-dye - turnin pipe dreams into pipelines Half elegant half Pastor/Reverend paragraph art peddlin fountain pen veteran and to the death of him weathered by every the element and every lesson is a blessing on my pen again
Production Year: 2015
Duration: 2 min
Series: Poems by Luka Lesson
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