Thursday, 1 January 2009


Thus Spoke AK47

"I'm a firebrand revolutionary bitch, Che Guevara with perfect tits."

AK47 is a half Scottish half Slovenian obsessive compulsive hardcore hip-hop lovin straight edge atheist who spouts Nietzsche quotes at random intervals. She has a first class honours in Religious Studies and a Masters in Humanities with a research focus on Religious Terrorism. Her Masters thesis was entitled “The Problem with Bloody Religion: A Critical Analysis of the Profound Relationship Between Religion and Violence upon the Theatre of Global Terror” , which advocated a new theory of ‘religious violence’ involving the idea of metaphysical scarcity. She also wrote and directed a play entitled ’Pillowstalk’ for the Edinburgh Fringe Festival in 2000 which was dubbed by one critic as ‘offensive yet intelligent’, a bit like herself at times.

Since then she has worked teaching English to foreign national criminals in a prison, tutoring academic study skills at a university, promoting underground hip-hop and fetish clubs, and busting up fights while working as a Glasgow bouncer. She is currently running an international secular hip-hop/protest poetry activist movement called The Anti-Injustice Movement (The AIM). The AIM is a worldwide movement of activists, political emcees and protest poets who use intelligent and creative non-violent methods to fight global injustice, perpetrated by the government, organized religion, or corporate vampires. They are lyrical protesters who throw words instead of Molotov cocktails. AK47 co-ordinates the movement, promotes the various hip-hop artists involved, and is a firebrand protest poet in her own right. Her poetry cuts as deep as a Columbian necktie.

She has also recently become the UK Chapter leader for revolutionary hip-hop organization/guerrilla apparel clothing brand Guerrilla Republik who are also an AIM affiliate.

AK's 'grandeur of aspiration', in her own words, is to: “ Deprogram the minds of those who have been lulled into sedation by the soothing lies that surround us. ”


Dead Inside 

My heart feels disdain with the strain of cheap cocaine 

My serotonin levels are deficient 
I vacuum up the dopemine to straighten out my brain 
I take uppers and downers in an ironic attempt to not go insane 
Cocaine nights, valium afternoons and lesbian sex make me forget 
That everytime these men raped me I was anything but wet 
It's all in the past of a baby prostitute they nicknamed Colette. 
 But let's be realistic I'm just another statistic 
And when Necro sings about White Slavery 
He bastarizes the bravery of abused 'whores' everywhere 
Who get up in the morning when they don't fucking care. 
Cos when you've been raped with a broken glass bottle 
You're not really there, 
You can't unsee the flashbacks behind your hard paranoid stare 
But I was one of the few that did survive, 
Hard and smart enough to academically thrive 
But the sad thing in life is not in dying, It's what dies inside of us when we are alive. 
Dog Collar Daddy
The trick baby never recovered from that first broken nose,
She became harder than Tyler Durden,
Kept her so called 'friends' at a distance and her enemies real fucking close.
The problem with being in vice is that you end up smoking ice,
And every dirty pervert thinks he can give you his advice,
While he's fucking a pre-pubescent with a motherfucking knife,
Then he puts back on his dog collar and goes home to kiss his wife.
Then he stands upon the pulpit with a hard on in his hand,
Screaming 'sex outside of marriage should be legally banned.'
"Homosexuality is a sin," he proclaims and "Fags should burn in hell!"
While his son's cartoon bedspread is sanctified with daddy's salty smell
"Eve is part of Adam's rib!"
Thus he curses to hell women's lib.
That's why he fucked his daughter when she was only in the crib.
But it's ok,
He said sorry,
And God forgives him?
Women: The Most Haram of All Meat
Faceless drones of black silk shuffle through the street,
They can't show their faces in public places,
Or they'll be raped by Mohammed for not being discreet
The brides of Allah are bled out of identity,
They are the most haram of all meat.
Their lives are slaughtered like swine,
In an abattoir to the divine,
Behind black silken prisons they have ideas and visions,
But if we don't grant them no rights,
They can't make no decisions.
Religion holds the trump card that we need to discard
But in this climate of theocracy this is so fucking hard!
The liberals for liberals sake say that Sharia is about choice,
When oppression is institutionalised people don't use their voice
When submission becomes a sacrament only the masters will rejoice
But there is never no freedom in slavery
Hiding a punch in the face ain't about bravery,
Muslim women are people like you and me,
Thus we are all duty bound to set them free
Never bow down to the will of Allah,
Nor mutter the words 'inshallah',
Be proud to be the dirty kuffar,
Because political Islam you've gone too far!
Once Upon A Crime
The Combat Kid in the video arcade was playing at GI Joe.
Then he opened fire at milk break,
Wasting fourth grade like a pro.
Channel nine asked “ Why d’ya do it son? “
Combat Kid only smirked “ I dunno. “
And Mary Poppins pulls an Uzi from her carpet bag, and gives Jane and Michael ammo.
Little Orphan Annie got adopted,
By a paedophile ring.
“ It’s a hard knock life for us! “ the children sing.
And the pillar of the community laughs.
Please leave the light on, “ the children said.
“ We get bad dreams and we wet the bed. “
But the room is empty, and the lightbulb red.
And the sun won’t come out tomorrow.
Oliver Twist screams at his persecutors “ We Want MORE! “
Alice knows Wonderland is just the mescaline.
And perfect Cinderella is a cock sucking whore,
And the boy that cried wolf was not lying.
But what’s one more little kid crying or dying
“ Your children are not dead. “ the Pied Piper said.
“ They’re just waiting until the world deserves them. “
The Shopping Mall
Are you only half alive?
Do you not know who you are?
Have you bought the dream?
Do you want to be a Superstar?
A hippie mad dog cult leader?
A Bardot bitch in a boudoir?
Mercedez Benz, Versace, ornamental bidet,
Ray Bann, biofoods and a cafe au lait,
Pearl white smiles,
Do you want to be part of a cliche?
The bleach blonde Barbie plastic nympho,
With her 'Cosmo Guide To Feminist Fellatio',
And the average American psycho.
The Billboard,
Chewing gum TV,
The Rat Race,
The Powers That Be,
I’m an anti-social,
In an anti-social society.
Lolita's Lullaby
Dirty bleached blonde baby whores,
Credit card kicks,
Scrape the knife down my arm happiness,
Truth for me is internet murder graphics,
Nihilistic resignation.
The lullaby of comfortable misanthropy that makes it all okay,
In the long run we’re all dead anyway.
How can you push me when I’m already in free fall?
Daily fantasies about wasting those bastards at the local shopping mall.
And it will all have been wasted.
I’m nothing; in the future, in the present, or before.
I’m just a £30 pound a fuck whore.
Nothing less,
Nothing more.
The bruises that you cry for aren’t even sore.
I’m just a piece of abused shit ravaged to the core.
There is no redemption.
And the hatred seeps further than you can ever reach.
I’m the maggot in the putrid peach.
I suck upon the sickness like an overfed leech.
You will never know me,
Because you weren’t ass fucked, gang raped or handled with plastic gloves.
You just watched too much TV,
And you’ll never be me,
And I’m really glad that you will never see that shit that I had to see.
Please don’t look at the the pictures they took of me.
She cowers in the corner,
Needs someone to hold her,
Maybe she's worth nothing just like they told her.
MA Research: The Problem with Bloody Religion: A Critical Analysis of the Profound Relationship Between Religion and Violence upon the Theatre of Global Terror
The End Short Story on Weaponizer
© 2012, AK47. All rights reserved.

No comments:

Post a Comment