The Pen/Sword Prophecy

Submitted by Anon on 22 November, 2008 - 5:13 Author: The Ruby Kid (aka Daniel Randall)

The Pen/Sword Prophecy
In about twenty seconds, the future of rap music beckons
And you'll be wondering whether the world's changed since you played this record.
Who can know for sure? But you might be at the start of this
The artist leading modern-day slave revolts like Spartacus.
A heartless world is hardest to exist in, I keep spitting
Like cowboys with tobacco when the bar-room door gets kicked in.
Keep listening, and you might just hear a rhythm
That tells your whole life-story like a posthumous inscription.
Big schisms between exploiters and exploited class
Cannot simply be dismissed, so don't put paper on the cracks.
The tirades of shit rappers do not bother me;
I stop them like a picket line stops scabs from gaining access to the colliery.
Honestly, I spit prophecies in rhymes and now you're bouncing
But to keep them honest, I'm carving out the future I'm announcing.
Pronouncing on conditions is a must,
But if you've got no better vision to propose then your analysis is dust.
Trust, we must steal fire from the gods like Prometheus
And turn it to our purpose — there's a part to play for each of us
Do battle with authority like Lucifer
And if we lose our paradise, we'll make a new one that's more suitable.
I'm an infidel, a sinner and a heretic
I'm sure a tidal wave is coming but I stay one step ahead of it
I never quit — I fight for my sister and my brother
So the poor can take courage and the rich can take cover.
I prefer the winter to the summer,
Because heat might make you melt but ice will only make you stronger.
Trees become clenched fists shaking themselves towards the heavens
And in the rock and stone is strength that we can find and use as weapons.
Wind mentions the remembrance of all those who went before us
But this war is ours to fight and no-one's gonna fight it for us.
Ignore us at your peril and meet tragedy
With alacrity I battle and reveal the masque of anarchy.

When dawn's broken, the beast of potential future is awoken
Seeds of a new world germinate inside the carcas of the old one.
Quiet words spoken to the twilight come to shine bright
And remind my brethren of what the cadence of my rhyme's like.
Limelight seeking does not appeal to me;
If I cannot stand with collectivity, not a shred of this is real to me.
Deal me cards that I can use and pay your pennance
I'll be playing hands of heads up with Death on the seal after the Seventh.
If my enemy brings the sword, I come with pen in hand
Then vanquish him to steal the sword so I've got both at my command.
Quote lines, make a stand, plant my banner
Call upon ancient power like Arthur drawing out Excalibur.
My words recall the spirit of an older time
Reanimated and brought back to life in the form of scripts and written rhymes
No-one ever said there'd be no trouble
Coz all hitherto existing society's predicated on this same struggle.
Before I'm done spitting the last sixteen bars of rhythm
The whole world may've changed, beyond all recognition.
Pigeons on the bridges will take flight
Pendulums will cease to swing, and every single clock will stop at midnight.
The downtrodden and exploited of the earth will rise again
Find the perpetrators of tyranny, recount their sins and make 'em pay for them.
Poets will come flooding in great numbers from the shadows
Microphones will turn to longbows, written rhymes will turn to arrows.
Bad rappers who once thought themselves to be invincible
Are now subject to constant punchline and the highest form of ridicule.
The pen and the sword will cease debate;
Shake hands, part ways as mates and conclude that each one has its proper place.
Grafitti writers will bomb pictures on the sky
And dead rappers will inscribe a lyric verse on every mountainside.
Every mouth will cry out triumphantly in victory
And the memory of these words will pass swiftly out of history...

Sometimes outcast, sometimes unarmed
Sometimes outcast, sometimes unarmed
Somtimes outcast, but all of us are honest
I'm spitting poems just for the only true prophets.

The Ruby Kid

The Ruby Kid fronts a hip-hop band based in Sheffield. Along with three of the other four members of the group (Max Munday, Louise Gold and Heather Shaw), he is a member of Workers' Liberty. Many of his performances are benefit gigs for working-class and anti-capitalist campaigning organisations. To contact The Ruby Kid, email; for his tracks see

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