Reading This
It’s a lie.
On honesty:
For whatever reason you refuse to feel this space we’re in, to know its insanity, really know it; whatever your particular anesthetic is, that you hold onto so desperately (the thing, I mean, that makes you think you know who you are); whatever that thing is you allow to keeps you sane, your ace in the hole, the psyche that keeps you trying to guess what your pimp has in store for you; whatever keeps you from screaming out at this very moment in absolute and sheer horror; whatever you fuck your brain with; whatever that is— whatever that is— it’s a lie, it’s a lie.
-Alabama 3
5 Users Commented on " It’s a lie. "
Correct me if I’m wrong, but I believe the above quote entitle “It’s A Lie” is originally from an American Poet/Rap group ‘The Last Poets’ from Harlem, New York. Your thoughts?…
I heard it in a song by Alabama 3, but that doesn’t mean you’re wrong ;’) In one of their songs “Mao Tse Tsung said…” they have (what I believe are) recordings from Jim Jones speaking some hours before the mass suicide/etc. in Ghana of over 900 ‘followers’.
If you can confirm the “It’s a Lie” source, I’d be interested to hear about it…
Yes, there’s a group called “The Last Poets” they were the prototype spoken word/rappers of the Civil Rights era from Harlem, NY. They were revolutionary freedom fighters. They started playing in 1968 @ Marcus Garvey Park (Manhattan). Their 1st self-titled album was released in 1970. They have a massive discography, are internationally known and have been written about in books. A few of their classic poems are Niggers are scared of Revolution, This is Madness, The Mean Machine, E Pluribus Unum and When the Revolution Comes.
I can’t recall if “It’s A Lie” was the exact title of the particular piece, but the above lyrics is definitely directly quoted from one of their spoken word pieces. I just found part of the lyrics I had written down back in college over 20 years ago. It may not be primary, but I guess this is what would be called secondary evidence. The following is a portion of the lyrics that I wrote down:
“For whatever reason you refuse to feel this space we’re in, to know its insanity, really know it; whatever your particular anesthetic is, that you hold onto so desperately. The thing, I mean, that makes you think you know who you are; whatever that thing is you allow to keeps you sane, your ace in the hole, the psyche that keeps you from trying to guess at what your pimp has in store for you; thinking you’re self human because you live a fraction, of a fraction, of a fraction of a life. Whatever keeps you from screaming out at this very moment in absolute and sheer horror; whatever you fuck your brain with nigga; whatever that is…whatever that is… it’s a lie, it’s a lie.
Give reality your brain you sleepy fantasy son of Walt Disney, it’s a lie. Here, inside this insane asylum, where you pin your hopes, your dreams and most of all your individuality, on a rickety old off the street pimp’s con game; the magic for turning human blood into U.S. Steel. Think! For a moment, of who you’ve got to be, in actions I mean: A drippy crotched, opened legged, old cunt; ordered up for and delivered to-your jobs on Monday morning. The greatest eight hours you’ll ever spend in your entire life, whore! Even prostitutes get paid.”
You can google these guys, they were awesome social and political poets of their day, and I believe many or all of them are still around. They grew from three poets and a drummer to seven young black and Hispanic artists: David Nelson, Gylan Kain, Abiodun Oyewole, Felipe Luciano, Umar Bin Hassan, Jalal Nurridin, and Suliamn El Hadi.
Wow! What a great reply, with a lot of great info. I really appreciate your taking the time to follow-up, thanks!
Rock Freebase fo Alabama3 confirms that this is a sample from the Last Poets.
