Just to say I didn't forget your birthday - but your card will (obviously) be late. Been kinda sick all week - it's finally settled down to be a cold so now I'm fully miserable - lol. I should be able to go to town in a couple of days so you'll get it probably in January, knowing how the normal mail plus the holiday delays make for lateness. I did think of you - sent loving thoughts and huge hugs. I love you - even if you are an old man. :)
The invocational holocaust the time Fuk'd black magical rhyme bomb'z yo mind Fuk'd u muthafukaz iz fuk'n wit da unexplained kemetic spirit'z and my nigga'z got'z da same thang shit, candle wax dripp'n, innerspace exist'n why Micah Johnson make dem bodiez come up miss'n nigga fuk it up.
The force of havoc blame traumatic'z yall cant touch me Im not yo god, godammit and I advise yall not to trust me Kemetic active thug inside my mind (?)ull get yall fuk'd up extremeley black wit slug'z inside diz shine U Niggaz cuffed up fuk any counter pressure get'z da stretcha from deez slug blowz traumatic'z got'z my mentalz tast'n death, now test da blood flow'z Young Micah inter Dallas sip da chalice fool whatz up Kemetic boyz mass choir fuk it up.
I've been commission to position yo existence come up missin look behind u forget yo shoulder dont look over, cause it'z over black bandanna'z boutz to blind u now yo shit iz ova, my peoplez got some getback BLACK INTERNAL GOD but yall dont seem to get dat yo systematic structure cant save u from my mentalz a black muthafuka wit diz barrel at yo temple get aquainted wit rigor mortis demise u surprize u, blacktize u now cant nobody recognize u, ooooh.
I'm sick and tired of being tired, what's required of a Rider homie I'm not a sympathizer, I'll night a nigga ass on fire And they tell me don't ever fire a bitch while you in the penitentiary letters and visits is cool, but bread is what I really need For my Ndugus, c-walkers and Su-woops, who was makin boo coo bucks and they bitches fell out like loose tooths now she act like she don't know me and she know I was rappin Ru's situation got ugly not she don't love me like she used to She don't love me like she use to and now she found somebody new What is she gonna do, He don't love me like he use to yeah tha homies acting brand new what are they gonna do Family don't love me like they use to, I don't hear nothing but bad news What are we gonna do, damn man I been down for a minute Tell-Me-What-Am-I-gonna do I'm tryin hard to get out but still stuck in this predicament tryin to collect my dividends I was livin like a stick up Man, hit a lick again I will stick it in ya face and tell you open up the safe, I'm on a major paper chase for paper from the caper to the razor, pistol packin blastin shit even though I knew law and now I'm sittin in my cell in nothin but socks and draws, it's not the life for a gangsta man, never that, Babylons took my paper and I will never get that cheddar back. Easy come easy go they make it to where we can't stack it, you gotta learn don't put ya eggs all in the same basket. Always roll solo man I found out the hard way, now I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place, I'm deep in this game man, now in too deep to get out, my dick so deep in her mouth I feel what she thinking about. Now what am I gone do if I get out of jail knock a hoe and collect my mail, then build up my clientele, stop staring at me breakin ya keck, like I'm a fine hoe, when I get to bustin you runnin like I'm tha 5.0, I'm doing time but you act like I died nigga I should shoot you out there claiming what's mine, why don't you love me like you use to.
What Does It Mean To Be Black?
Police murdered my Pop's when I was seven they all can go to hell, cause aint no way in hell, they can co-exist in heaven. Police stole my youth, a Fatherless child is all I knew, and sadly, how a lil nigga grew. Beautiful mother, so young and naive, left to do it alone, no job, with four kids to fead. We weathered many storms, freezing, and hungry ights with no heat to keep us warm. Too young to be King, but this was my thrown, the eldest at seven, strong, and playing grown. They say black lives matter, but the cops cant erase these visions of His blood spatter, So, tell me, what does it mean to be black?
A human beatboxer, or Table D. J. are the first people in our generation known to have spoken about this subterranean history, of musical and social connective creative space, that incarcerated Americans experienced before, during, and after many Civil Rights Movements and eras dating back into the days of blatant slavery.
Same songs, different lyrics, same movement, different generation, same hateful enemy, new solidarity of love, where the killing of dead time, with the energy of live entertainment, from some of the youngest voices that can only be heard, when the souls of the innercity streets of America consolidate in true power, simply by breathing in the fresh air of the fresh circulation of Will, and determination, flowing through the ventilation system of incarceration.
For this demo, we requested each contributing scribbler to identify by street Tribal name only, to highlight and honor the names located on each page, of just a few, of the thousands of victims, of militarized police terrorist murders, of American innercity youth, hey, y'all ready for some grimy consciousness?
So, without further adulation, Ladies and Gentlemen, again, welcome to The Vent, in prisoner zine format, at California deathrow, October 2016, Black Lives Matter!
-Sniper Azande Xzyzst Master of Ceremonies
(Cary Ball) 2 of 2
[Page 5]
New Generation Rising by, Xzyzst (exist)
New Generation Rising Kelsey, Pride, Jesse, Taco, Tookie, J.Rock, Moyo. New Generation Rising
Smurf Bird Lil G. & AL-B Juvenile, Lukanoz & CharlieC KiKi & Taco, DannyBoy & Goldie Loc Rock Head, Scrappy Moja Time & Moe
B-Man & Cee, Javier & A.D. Shawty & Christ, B.G. & Y.B. J-Kul, Young Detroit & Mahdi Rusty & Chaka, Potatohead & Brotha E.
Kwesi Snake & Whacc Sugar Rah & Shaq Adisa & AJani Kerm Muatta Lil Jack Fee Tracy Nut & Spreg Mao Bone & Bay Ant Blank & Wiz Jawaun Boo & Valley J.
Tajirio USO BOBO, L.A. Tone & Solo Ken DOG_E.DOG_J-DOG_ N.G. & NONO Bandit Jab & Swoop, LocSicc & Chris Will Rocc Cain & Mal Knockout June & Element
Batman & B-Mo, T. Maxster & E. Mo Dwayne Blaze Sanman Kelly lil Bandito SKwondro Squabblez Chunga Sonny Loko BowWow Sycko Two Crazy Bam Kaos C. John & Wyld
Nitty Jap & Roova Ray, K-Sean La-Twon & Saint Rayon Big Rock & Ru P-Funk & Drew & Young G-Wayne Monsta Wrink & Shoez, New generation youth Caucasians Asians Natives Eses Usos & The Jews
1 of 1 (Timothy Pride)
[Page 6]
Like They Use To by; Kaos (Sevyl Smith) 1 of 1
Man I can't even call it, it's scary this solitary confinement, no commissary to dine in, tryin hard to keep my thoughts str8 God got a plan for me what is my fate I know it's not to sit here and rot in this place I'm cryin on tha inside but all you see is mean mugz having visions of my paper is what I dream of But what am I to do while I'm locked in this pit visualizing tha streets but I wake up staring at bricks
[Page Two] Contents: A Write or Die Zine Production
Featuring: Xzyzst, Kaos, Toth, Syeko, Negasi, Big Rock, Narmir, Joker, Wyld, Batman.
Graffiti Art by, J. KuL
The Vent Title Page Name
Master of Ceremonies VENT (prologue) Oscar Grant Rap New Generation Rising Timothy Pride Rap Like They Use To Sevyl Smith Spoken Word Does It Mean to be Black Mario Woods Rap Angry Black Man Micah Johnson Spoken Word Audacious Demand Raheim Brown Spoken Word Where the Children Play Lavell Mixson Introspective No Man's Land Laquan McDonald PAPCO Group Blog Recent Comments Kenneth Harding Letter Narmir Nate Wilks Letter (response) Spears & Shields Dante Parker Mic Controller Cipher @Golgotha w/Joker Anthony Hiller Introspective No Clean Hands Tamir Rice Song Nobody Michael Brown Mic Controller Cipher @Golgotha w/Wyld Alan Blueford Rap Man Up Lin "Spit" Newborn Spoken Word Root of the Matter Kieth Scott Introspective Resolution of Power Treyvon Martin Master of Ceremonies VENT (epilogue) Terence Crutcher
Piankhi -- editor betweenthebars.org/group/papco
Anthony Rayson - Zine Publisher South Chicago ABC Zine Distro PO Box 721, Homewood, IL, 60430
Copyright Left 2017
[Page 3]
THE VENT (Prologue)
Vent - to give vigorous or emotional expression to, an opportunity, or way of escape, or passage, or relief of pressure, to cause fresh air to circulate, so as to replace foul air.
Welcome to The Vent, a subculture within a subculture. So, imagine, well, just those of you who haven't already experienced this, but imagine being arrested in America, oh lawd!
Yes, it's personal, and life just got real, on unexpected levels, you're sitting in a jail cell, prison cell, or Juvenile Detention cell, like so many of us, you hear sounds of rhythmic pounding; designers of institutions renders every captive blind, so there is no way you can see where the sounds are coming from, so, where is it coming from?
The sink? No, The toilet? yeah maybe, but for You, hell no, it's got to be the air vent, right? And by captive nature, you climb on top of the sing to press your ear against the air vent and discover an underworld, in real time, live sessions of other worldly spoken word performances, recitals of Poetic Asides, political dialogue, and commentary, All day, all night rap battles, and some of the best singing you've ever hard, No busters allowed clause in full effect.
Massive euphoria, applause, oohz and awwhhz, laughter, and the thick tension of silence when you hear voices inside the vent calling out to you, mostly to see if the new homie got flows, as the vent craves new energy.
Now, for a few of the elderly, the haters, and racist cops, all of this ain't nothing but a bunch of goddamn noise, and even those brief Rude interruptive static moments seem to be a natural component to what happens inside of the Vent, locked up, and locked down, and yet, still free.
RSS
The invocational holocaust the time Fuk'd
black magical rhyme bomb'z yo mind Fuk'd
u muthafukaz iz fuk'n wit da unexplained
kemetic spirit'z and my nigga'z got'z da same thang
shit, candle wax dripp'n, innerspace exist'n
why Micah Johnson make dem bodiez come up miss'n
nigga fuk it up.
The force of havoc blame traumatic'z
yall cant touch me
Im not yo god, godammit
and I advise yall not to trust me
Kemetic active thug inside my mind (?)ull get yall fuk'd up
extremeley black wit slug'z inside diz shine U Niggaz cuffed up
fuk any counter pressure get'z da stretcha from deez slug blowz
traumatic'z got'z my mentalz tast'n death,
now test da blood flow'z
Young Micah inter Dallas sip da chalice fool whatz up
Kemetic boyz mass choir fuk it up.
I've been commission to position
yo existence come up missin look behind u
forget yo shoulder dont look over, cause it'z over
black bandanna'z boutz to blind u
now yo shit iz ova, my peoplez got some getback
BLACK INTERNAL GOD
but yall dont seem to get dat
yo systematic structure
cant save u from my mentalz
a black muthafuka wit diz barrel at yo temple
get aquainted wit rigor mortis demise u
surprize u, blacktize u
now cant nobody recognize u, ooooh.
by: Xzyzst (exist)
I'm not a sympathizer, I'll night a nigga ass on fire
And they tell me don't ever fire a bitch while you in the penitentiary
letters and visits is cool, but bread is what I really need
For my Ndugus, c-walkers and Su-woops, who was makin boo coo
bucks and they bitches fell out like loose tooths
now she act like she don't know me and she know I was rappin Ru's
situation got ugly not she don't love me like she used to
She don't love me like she use to and now she found somebody new
What is she gonna do, He don't love me like he use to
yeah tha homies acting brand new what are they gonna do
Family don't love me like they use to, I don't hear nothing but bad news
What are we gonna do, damn man I been down for a minute
Tell-Me-What-Am-I-gonna do
I'm tryin hard to get out but still stuck in this predicament tryin to
collect my dividends I was livin like a stick up Man, hit a lick again
I will stick it in ya face and tell you open up the safe, I'm on a major
paper chase for paper from the caper to the razor, pistol packin
blastin shit even though I knew law and now I'm sittin in my cell
in nothin but socks and draws, it's not the life for a gangsta man,
never that, Babylons took my paper and I will never get that
cheddar back. Easy come easy go they make it to where we can't
stack it, you gotta learn don't put ya eggs all in the same basket.
Always roll solo man I found out the hard way, now I'm stuck
between a rock and a hard place, I'm deep in this game man, now
in too deep to get out, my dick so deep in her mouth I feel what
she thinking about. Now what am I gone do if I get out of jail
knock a hoe and collect my mail, then build up my clientele, stop
staring at me breakin ya keck, like I'm a fine hoe, when I get to
bustin you runnin like I'm tha 5.0, I'm doing time but you act like I
died nigga I should shoot you out there claiming what's mine, why don't
you love me like you use to.
What Does It Mean To Be Black?
Police murdered my Pop's when I was seven
they all can go to hell, cause aint no way in hell,
they can co-exist in heaven.
Police stole my youth,
a Fatherless child is all I knew,
and sadly, how a lil nigga grew.
Beautiful mother, so young and naive,
left to do it alone, no job, with four kids to fead.
We weathered many storms,
freezing, and hungry ights
with no heat to keep us warm.
Too young to be King, but this was my thrown,
the eldest at seven, strong, and playing grown.
They say black lives matter,
but the cops cant erase these visions of His blood spatter,
So, tell me, what does it mean to be black?
By, Aswad POPS
--Toth
The Vent cont.
A human beatboxer, or Table D. J. are the first people in our generation known to have spoken about this subterranean history, of musical and social connective creative space, that incarcerated Americans experienced before, during, and after many Civil Rights Movements and eras dating back into the days of blatant slavery.
Same songs, different lyrics, same movement, different generation, same hateful enemy, new solidarity of love, where the killing of dead time, with the energy of live entertainment, from some of the youngest voices that can only be heard, when the souls of the innercity streets of America consolidate in true power, simply by breathing in the fresh air of the fresh circulation of Will, and determination, flowing through the ventilation system of incarceration.
For this demo, we requested each contributing scribbler to identify by street Tribal name only, to highlight and honor the names located on each page, of just a few, of the thousands of victims, of militarized police terrorist murders, of American innercity youth, hey, y'all ready for some grimy consciousness?
So, without further adulation, Ladies and Gentlemen, again, welcome to The Vent, in prisoner zine format, at California deathrow, October 2016, Black Lives Matter!
-Sniper Azande Xzyzst
Master of Ceremonies
(Cary Ball) 2 of 2
[Page 5]
New Generation Rising
by, Xzyzst (exist)
New Generation Rising
Kelsey, Pride, Jesse, Taco,
Tookie, J.Rock, Moyo.
New Generation Rising
Smurf Bird Lil G. & AL-B
Juvenile, Lukanoz & CharlieC
KiKi & Taco, DannyBoy & Goldie Loc
Rock Head, Scrappy Moja Time & Moe
B-Man & Cee, Javier & A.D.
Shawty & Christ, B.G. & Y.B.
J-Kul, Young Detroit & Mahdi
Rusty & Chaka, Potatohead & Brotha E.
Kwesi Snake & Whacc
Sugar Rah & Shaq
Adisa & AJani Kerm Muatta Lil Jack
Fee Tracy Nut & Spreg
Mao Bone & Bay
Ant Blank & Wiz
Jawaun Boo & Valley J.
Tajirio USO BOBO, L.A. Tone & Solo
Ken DOG_E.DOG_J-DOG_ N.G. & NONO
Bandit Jab & Swoop, LocSicc & Chris
Will Rocc Cain & Mal Knockout June & Element
Batman & B-Mo, T. Maxster & E. Mo
Dwayne Blaze Sanman Kelly lil Bandito
SKwondro Squabblez Chunga Sonny Loko BowWow
Sycko Two Crazy Bam Kaos C. John & Wyld
Nitty Jap & Roova Ray, K-Sean La-Twon & Saint
Rayon Big Rock & Ru P-Funk & Drew & Young G-Wayne
Monsta Wrink & Shoez, New generation youth
Caucasians Asians Natives Eses Usos & The Jews
1 of 1
(Timothy Pride)
[Page 6]
Like They Use To by; Kaos
(Sevyl Smith)
1 of 1
Man I can't even call it, it's scary
this solitary confinement, no commissary
to dine in, tryin hard to keep my thoughts str8
God got a plan for me what is my fate
I know it's not to sit here and rot in this place
I'm cryin on tha inside but all you see is mean mugz
having visions of my paper is what I dream of
But what am I to do while I'm locked in this pit
visualizing tha streets but I wake up staring at bricks
[Title image: "Vent"]
[Page Two]
Contents: A Write or Die Zine Production
Featuring: Xzyzst, Kaos, Toth, Syeko, Negasi, Big Rock, Narmir, Joker, Wyld, Batman.
Graffiti Art by, J. KuL
The Vent Title Page Name
Master of Ceremonies VENT (prologue) Oscar Grant
Rap New Generation Rising Timothy Pride
Rap Like They Use To Sevyl Smith
Spoken Word Does It Mean to be Black Mario Woods
Rap Angry Black Man Micah Johnson
Spoken Word Audacious Demand Raheim Brown
Spoken Word Where the Children Play Lavell Mixson
Introspective No Man's Land Laquan McDonald
PAPCO Group Blog Recent Comments Kenneth Harding
Letter Narmir Nate Wilks
Letter (response) Spears & Shields Dante Parker
Mic Controller Cipher @Golgotha w/Joker Anthony Hiller
Introspective No Clean Hands Tamir Rice
Song Nobody Michael Brown
Mic Controller Cipher @Golgotha w/Wyld Alan Blueford
Rap Man Up Lin "Spit" Newborn
Spoken Word Root of the Matter Kieth Scott
Introspective Resolution of Power Treyvon Martin
Master of Ceremonies VENT (epilogue) Terence Crutcher
Piankhi -- editor
betweenthebars.org/group/papco
Anthony Rayson - Zine Publisher
South Chicago ABC Zine Distro
PO Box 721, Homewood, IL, 60430
Copyright Left 2017
[Page 3]
THE VENT (Prologue)
Vent - to give vigorous or emotional expression to, an opportunity, or way of escape, or passage, or relief of pressure, to cause fresh air to circulate, so as to replace foul air.
Welcome to The Vent,
a subculture within a subculture. So, imagine, well, just those of you who haven't already experienced this, but imagine being arrested in America, oh lawd!
Yes, it's personal, and life just got real, on unexpected levels, you're sitting in a jail cell, prison cell, or Juvenile Detention cell, like so many of us, you hear sounds of rhythmic pounding; designers of institutions renders every captive blind, so there is no way you can see where the sounds are coming from, so, where is it coming from?
The sink? No, The toilet? yeah maybe, but for You, hell no, it's got to be the air vent, right? And by captive nature, you climb on top of the sing to press your ear against the air vent and discover an underworld, in real time, live sessions of other worldly spoken word performances, recitals of Poetic Asides, political dialogue, and commentary, All day, all night rap battles, and some of the best singing you've ever hard, No busters allowed clause in full effect.
Massive euphoria, applause, oohz and awwhhz, laughter, and the thick tension of silence when you hear voices inside the vent calling out to you, mostly to see if the new homie got flows, as the vent craves new energy.
Now, for a few of the elderly, the haters, and racist cops, all of this ain't nothing but a bunch of goddamn noise, and even those brief Rude interruptive static moments seem to be a natural component to what happens inside of the Vent, locked up, and locked down, and yet, still free.
(Oscar Grant) 1 of 2