2 films

2 films in the oscars

Palace of rhymes would like to recognize
two films in this year’s Oscars
that give humanity a possibility to prosper.
Five broken cameras and the Invisible War,

A palace of rhymes for Palestine,
Put yourself in the shoes of a man you can’t find.
Old school blues we use brings attention to the crime,
did I mention the Geneva Convention has been blind.

A palace of rhymes for Palestine,
For five broken cameras
Emad Burnat should have won an Oscar.
In the factory practically publishing ever offer,
for satisfactory results let’s move forward.

The assault on Palestinians is horror;
mass torture, detention, slaughter.

Imagine your daughter,
at the age of thirteen,
getting killed by an Israeli teen with an American M16
and more magazine for a war.
As the child releases the rock,
the soldiers moves toward the road block.
The sound of a mother’s cry,
“Doctor, doctor! Don’t let her die!”
This is one example why,
diplomacy fails and hands are thrown to the sky.

On the Invisible war,
of sexual assault in the vaults of the military, has a score.
Its thousands documented to have been raped,
affirmed to be more like tens of thousands who didn’t report their case.
Regardless, it’s still heartless;
while so few perpetrators face charges.
Less than a few hundred,
makes one wonder why the campaigns of change are blunders.
Kori and Rob McDonald are not numbers.

Letting women in combat, while 1/3 are assaulted is a real stat stunner.
In summer at Junk town next to bunkers,
Where runners say anything can be found with dollars.
Drugs come into kitchens quicker because of doctor’s
prescription subscriptions does not make problems proctored.
After watching the film,
Leon Panetta took power from the commanders,
to address the situation the documentary offered.

Neither of these films won the award,
but their purpose was to record the improper.
Never watched the Oscars as they’re usually a bore,
unless Michael Moore is denouncing a fictitious war,
finally striking my music’s chord.

College Incorporated

The cap and gown are in a package,
Purchased from co-founders of savage,
business pro growers over the average.

These critics teach to think,
about everything but the kitchen sink.

The clever better edge, is a beverage for those who drink,
leveraged from common pool interlinks.
Where honestly,
the awesome blossoming problem
happens to be,
tuition fees from Universities
and student loans where prudence is not shown.

another financial crisis of a throwback to 2008
is a great powerful vice grip of economic tape.

Unemployment is an annoying sentiment,
while remembering that social justice is always hiring,
and the job fair has FBI so we will not be attending.
Money is tight and bending before a break,
walking the graduation ceremony is a piece of cake.

Tasting like too big of a sugar high
that makes the head ache and nerves twitch.
G’s, that’s a high price sales pitch.
A Chocolate rich enough for the palate,
where the plate becomes your wallet,
and the dedication of chronically
submitting and receiving paper ballots.

Ends on one single diploma document.

The cap and gown are on a coat hook,
next to notebooks in case there is ever a need to go back and look.

Release is ten years of peace

Release is ten years of peace,
Traveling to see family in the middle east,

Bring a feast, bring an appetite,
Sing all night until unable to stand.
Dancing away problems into the band.

Happy Persian New Year,
on the first day of spring.
May it be grand and fulfilling.
“Salam, Salae No Mubarak,”
(Hello, celebration of the first).
In fact, the flow is so exact
compacts obtain traction to act.

Thirst in release is like ten years of peace,
Where are you at? Niece, cousin,
brother from another Muslim,
my aunt’s husband.

The Haft-seen is stunning,
The Cotlet is in the oven cooking,
With some nice rice with saffron spice.

Shajarian playing Iran’s music at night<

Release, like ten years of peace,
the ultimate price worth the fight,
Why else rap over beats?

Dwight D. Eisenhower writes the most important speech,
In 61′, studying rhetoric of weaponry and guns,

The international census has begun,
asking for arms control distributed by the ton.

The whole system recognizes Lockheed Martin,
when war profits are more than a bargain.
William D. Hartung’s book makes certain the burden,

Knowing others have started unveiling the curtain,
Is release, like ten years of peace.
– (at least as  the captain told me)

Hardcore is ten years of war

Hardcore is ten years of war.

On the motherboard, recording
and asking what for?

When these lyrics hit the floor
faster than spirits hitting stores,
the purpose answers for cash.

Anymore deplorable rapports,
Act to enforce tribal conflicts,
controlling ports in whole continents,
stolen at the expense of sense.

Bend these bars open in the fence,
by offense my audience cannot be condensed.
Hence, the pretense of defense.

Hardcore like ten years of war.

Intense psychological trauma,
unseen and unable to afford.
Your baby’s mama
can’t handle the trauma.
He seems lazy and only wants to smoke ganja.
His brothers were goners,
lit up in the fires,
of western expanding empires.

Hardcore is starvation of the poor,
before invasion and internal displacement.

Revolutionaries retire to martyrs,
workers evolve to machines who barter.

Hardcore is ten years of war,
getting harder after some more.

In order to stop this manic disorder,
Pour your love in to this world,
like a father figure
raising a boy to a man
or a girl to a woman.

Healing all casualties,
so no one is forgotten; again.

Hardcore is ten years of war.

Daily Briefing

My Family’s country was overthrown in 53.
That’s 63 years ago, but still less than a century.
It seems the flow will eventually see a penitentiary,
to punish he who publicly publishes the war machine.

palaceofrhymes.com with a daily briefing,
for the first rate soldier, private Bradley Manning.
Bomb the Suburbs like Upski
to word nerds of poetry.
Bonding what occurred on the curb,
selling verbal herbs for Kurdish sovereignty.

Learning Farsi,
“Farmedie, medune, che kar me co ne,”
You and I verse testimony,
of the true beauty,
to beautifying the truth’s ability.

Well, the poetry we brought has some physics.
Bought a scientist some chronic
who taught us to the program electronics.
After college, graduate school was Islamic.

In the elementary we studied history of policy in politics,
till the financial crisis and war of economics.
Forced my will to write skillful sonnets.
Terrific as Texas bluebonnets,
and as scary as military mercenaries.

The bubonic plaque of our time,
is now the deterioration of the mind.
Kind of scary, so read the literary, journal,
have one of your own at home.

In the furnace of pain and pleasure,
of being alone, there is no greater known measure
named to claim this thrown.

the proletariat

My favorite topic is the study of the proletariat.
The best class before the last semester passed,
asked how does economic structures puncture
the political function of this juncture.

At last, a real theory about class and conflict.
History for the absentee who couldn’t predict,
The philosophy of politicized science
is printed quick with western eyes of appliance.
Hegemonic tyrant against these defiant giants
used mechanisms of domination,
to control the means of production in nations,
now border-less reservations for multinational corporations.

The periphery to the core of poor exploitation,
is the direction of the proletariat’s future location.
Under the tropic of cancer line, un(der)developed
has no time to see these things unwind,
surviving and growing with what they find.
The Palace of rhymes,
would like to recognize
the original critical theorist mind.

Karl Marx

Karl Marx

In San Marcos talking with Saint Martians before dark.

On the most heart full spark,  that was started with art in the park,
marking thoughts bought with our smarts; not Walmart.

Got to go and leave for a swim in the river,
to part wild rice leaves stuck together.

Think of nice ways  to weave lyrics together
for its is such good weather.
Relieving my work for the editors worth,
he shall be here later to unearth further networks….

when taking poetry suggestions on the bus

The suggestions were: A beautiful day (as it truly was)
North Korea

March fifthteenth two thousand and thirteen
started a true changing paradigme of time.
When the beauty is not in a dream,
but awakened to hear freedoms ringing chime.
Not the wall street fat cats who howl and sing,
but lines from the Palace of rhyming kings.

The sun, infiltrated military bases
with writers who exposed currupt cases,
overthrowing dictatorship for an oasis.
As the light outside a cave burns faces,
para libertad, para del mundo,
In North Korea, Kim Jong-un
stopped all threats to play nintendo.

Oh, how the magnifescent sky,
may possibly pacify genocide,
if for only one day.

Here’s the chance!
Rivalries turn to romance.
Attention attention!
North Korea has changed its stance
stating only
“We too, now can buy blue jean pants.”

Happy Friday Part 3

Happy Friday Part 3

Hello, I spent my whole week
waiting for 15 minutes,
so lend my your ears and don’t fidget,
there will be bending of the continuum
of time with rhymes and digits.

Well, my freestyles are like my written,
Telling the rhythm as it is,
hidden in business selling shit to kids.
Hitting the parents with a price bid,
blaring evidence, ever since.
My advice is like free poetry,
the beans topped with rice if your hungry.

If not, get out the kitchen, its hot,
cooking pastries with pot,
& got the tastiest recipes
for a lot of emcees, who need
to eat their veggies.

To be clear, mommy doesn’t live here
so clean up after yourself.

Just getting back again

Just getting back again,
from spending time with friends.
Now studying and reading Chomsky’s
Hopes and Prospects text published in 2010.

Dreaming of my mother’s cooking,
while making my own, at home,
Free-styling off the dome.
To practice rhetoric like gymnastics,
realize the political landscape is economic tape,
but for whom?
Arise from the tomb,
awakening those around you.
The price value
is integrity’s growl to grow and bloom.

An eight page paper awaits my concentration
On theories of liberals and realists in international relations.
A critique, finished hopefully, by the end of the week,
with a weak textbook published by Pearson,
that cooked reason into misfeasance.

My beak is sharp as wiki leaks,
able to speak on cables, since given spectacles.
The prince Machiavellian cannot be noble,
when controlling a unipolar global,
defense pretense to intense killings of vocals,
young locals just getting back again to the hopefuls.

The prospect is the total soulful dedication
to real understandings of our role in  social populations.

Noam Chomsky, 2010

Noam Chomsky, 2010