Pirates of Providence
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About Pirates of Providence
4‘Bout | US
Late in the Age a’Greed, the WAY of world had worn thin. The well almost stone dry, winter waning reaching toward the eternal spring and all the while the ice we accumulated at last, was thinning… Gaia spoke. A wheel spinning, the bag of bread down to the last heal...it went bad without slaying. But it called out nonetheless - far and few souls - native and immigrant, African and otherwise, treasure and trash, clowns, jesters - cups a plenty - so full and sum robotIC - a cast of characters, earthlings, primal, green, barbarians...connected to an undeniable force of kismet. Up river it the thaw brought about a dignity, a proof, a testament to metal - wrought of joy, pain, iron and steel || inquantifiably powerful, graceful and glorious in luster and love. Those rising above - the civil slavery that had shackled my mind, (our minds, so many minds - nevermind.) Post-Modern homo-sapiens living in the habitat of post humanistic western culture (1200-2100CE) - these folk were literally being stalked and unbeknownst to them it was clear to all (all but the human - the laughing stock of the zoo) By the time the vultures started circling overhead || those who could hear the steady beat that even the epoxy coated concrete couldn't dampen - knew it was nothing G||new - it had been a long time coming, lost in translation - now - hearing the perfect poetry - it was a cosmic cipher - a code in the dreamtime - striking accord and resolution, quelling uprising and revolt - it was infinite, it was forever - and those who heard it now marched, steady - slow - sure...moving onward, waiting when that was required (with patience or at least the respect of deliberation) always in the now, after, before, and evermore we are were and will continue to be - within and expanding || contracting toward eternity.
As peaceful warriors, pirates of Providence, pieces of a whole - together they completed a puzzle that had been forever and day coming together - and falling apart. They, who had practiced (and slayed the beast of perfectionism and procrastination - which are evil vexations of no import) and honored their spiritual disciplines in spite of the culture they had been raised in - stood in awe at the tipping point, raised at last, and like a harvest, gathered.
Somewhere in the North (of an already inhabited and thriving continent “discovered” by the explorer Amerigo Vespucci) “the Heartland” as it had come to be known in the 19th-21st centuries, where western winds off rockymounts blessed amber prairies of barley - like the starling clouds oscillate in the sky, the fields would speak in cipher, like a river, the everything, and oneness was undeniable. Those troubadours (traveled, wandered, sometimes with the troops - honorary soldiers I s’pose...brothers in a band indeed) - with diligence they prayed to become instruments of peace gathered to speak what little truth they had come upon in their widespread travels, and more precisely to travel far and wide to quell the worlds panic and sing the songs their Mother had given them. Their aim...to be loyal, to do no harm, remain students always (teachers only by accident) and to share their experience be it of where naught to go or in moments (happy accidents) delivering a mystic message - for problems require solutions - and if at first you don’t succeed, try...try again. . So along this lay line, in a galaxy far, far away, somewhere outside of time. Inspired by Liberty and Justice for ALL. once again life was able to bloom with all it’s fire and all it’s humility. For this we weren’t worthy...we felt. Yet nonetheless. Grace, Humility. Dignity. Triumph. Glory. Be. Just. It iS.
#sharetheforce
Late in the Age a’Greed, the WAY of world had worn thin. The well almost stone dry, winter waning reaching toward the eternal spring and all the while the ice we accumulated at last, was thinning… Gaia spoke. A wheel spinning, the bag of bread down to the last heal...it went bad without slaying. But it called out nonetheless - far and few souls - native and immigrant, African and otherwise, treasure and trash, clowns, jesters - cups a plenty - so full and sum robotIC - a cast of characters, earthlings, primal, green, barbarians...connected to an undeniable force of kismet. Up river it the thaw brought about a dignity, a proof, a testament to metal - wrought of joy, pain, iron and steel || inquantifiably powerful, graceful and glorious in luster and love. Those rising above - the civil slavery that had shackled my mind, (our minds, so many minds - nevermind.) Post-Modern homo-sapiens living in the habitat of post humanistic western culture (1200-2100CE) - these folk were literally being stalked and unbeknownst to them it was clear to all (all but the human - the laughing stock of the zoo) By the time the vultures started circling overhead || those who could hear the steady beat that even the epoxy coated concrete couldn't dampen - knew it was nothing G||new - it had been a long time coming, lost in translation - now - hearing the perfect poetry - it was a cosmic cipher - a code in the dreamtime - striking accord and resolution, quelling uprising and revolt - it was infinite, it was forever - and those who heard it now marched, steady - slow - sure...moving onward, waiting when that was required (with patience or at least the respect of deliberation) always in the now, after, before, and evermore we are were and will continue to be - within and expanding || contracting toward eternity.
As peaceful warriors, pirates of Providence, pieces of a whole - together they completed a puzzle that had been forever and day coming together - and falling apart. They, who had practiced (and slayed the beast of perfectionism and procrastination - which are evil vexations of no import) and honored their spiritual disciplines in spite of the culture they had been raised in - stood in awe at the tipping point, raised at last, and like a harvest, gathered.
Somewhere in the North (of an already inhabited and thriving continent “discovered” by the explorer Amerigo Vespucci) “the Heartland” as it had come to be known in the 19th-21st centuries, where western winds off rockymounts blessed amber prairies of barley - like the starling clouds oscillate in the sky, the fields would speak in cipher, like a river, the everything, and oneness was undeniable. Those troubadours (traveled, wandered, sometimes with the troops - honorary soldiers I s’pose...brothers in a band indeed) - with diligence they prayed to become instruments of peace gathered to speak what little truth they had come upon in their widespread travels, and more precisely to travel far and wide to quell the worlds panic and sing the songs their Mother had given them. Their aim...to be loyal, to do no harm, remain students always (teachers only by accident) and to share their experience be it of where naught to go or in moments (happy accidents) delivering a mystic message - for problems require solutions - and if at first you don’t succeed, try...try again. . So along this lay line, in a galaxy far, far away, somewhere outside of time. Inspired by Liberty and Justice for ALL. once again life was able to bloom with all it’s fire and all it’s humility. For this we weren’t worthy...we felt. Yet nonetheless. Grace, Humility. Dignity. Triumph. Glory. Be. Just. It iS.
#sharetheforce
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Genres:
Hip - Hop
No upcoming shows
Send a request to Pirates of Providence to play in your city
Request a Show
About Pirates of Providence
4‘Bout | US
Late in the Age a’Greed, the WAY of world had worn thin. The well almost stone dry, winter waning reaching toward the eternal spring and all the while the ice we accumulated at last, was thinning… Gaia spoke. A wheel spinning, the bag of bread down to the last heal...it went bad without slaying. But it called out nonetheless - far and few souls - native and immigrant, African and otherwise, treasure and trash, clowns, jesters - cups a plenty - so full and sum robotIC - a cast of characters, earthlings, primal, green, barbarians...connected to an undeniable force of kismet. Up river it the thaw brought about a dignity, a proof, a testament to metal - wrought of joy, pain, iron and steel || inquantifiably powerful, graceful and glorious in luster and love. Those rising above - the civil slavery that had shackled my mind, (our minds, so many minds - nevermind.) Post-Modern homo-sapiens living in the habitat of post humanistic western culture (1200-2100CE) - these folk were literally being stalked and unbeknownst to them it was clear to all (all but the human - the laughing stock of the zoo) By the time the vultures started circling overhead || those who could hear the steady beat that even the epoxy coated concrete couldn't dampen - knew it was nothing G||new - it had been a long time coming, lost in translation - now - hearing the perfect poetry - it was a cosmic cipher - a code in the dreamtime - striking accord and resolution, quelling uprising and revolt - it was infinite, it was forever - and those who heard it now marched, steady - slow - sure...moving onward, waiting when that was required (with patience or at least the respect of deliberation) always in the now, after, before, and evermore we are were and will continue to be - within and expanding || contracting toward eternity.
As peaceful warriors, pirates of Providence, pieces of a whole - together they completed a puzzle that had been forever and day coming together - and falling apart. They, who had practiced (and slayed the beast of perfectionism and procrastination - which are evil vexations of no import) and honored their spiritual disciplines in spite of the culture they had been raised in - stood in awe at the tipping point, raised at last, and like a harvest, gathered.
Somewhere in the North (of an already inhabited and thriving continent “discovered” by the explorer Amerigo Vespucci) “the Heartland” as it had come to be known in the 19th-21st centuries, where western winds off rockymounts blessed amber prairies of barley - like the starling clouds oscillate in the sky, the fields would speak in cipher, like a river, the everything, and oneness was undeniable. Those troubadours (traveled, wandered, sometimes with the troops - honorary soldiers I s’pose...brothers in a band indeed) - with diligence they prayed to become instruments of peace gathered to speak what little truth they had come upon in their widespread travels, and more precisely to travel far and wide to quell the worlds panic and sing the songs their Mother had given them. Their aim...to be loyal, to do no harm, remain students always (teachers only by accident) and to share their experience be it of where naught to go or in moments (happy accidents) delivering a mystic message - for problems require solutions - and if at first you don’t succeed, try...try again. . So along this lay line, in a galaxy far, far away, somewhere outside of time. Inspired by Liberty and Justice for ALL. once again life was able to bloom with all it’s fire and all it’s humility. For this we weren’t worthy...we felt. Yet nonetheless. Grace, Humility. Dignity. Triumph. Glory. Be. Just. It iS.
#sharetheforce
Late in the Age a’Greed, the WAY of world had worn thin. The well almost stone dry, winter waning reaching toward the eternal spring and all the while the ice we accumulated at last, was thinning… Gaia spoke. A wheel spinning, the bag of bread down to the last heal...it went bad without slaying. But it called out nonetheless - far and few souls - native and immigrant, African and otherwise, treasure and trash, clowns, jesters - cups a plenty - so full and sum robotIC - a cast of characters, earthlings, primal, green, barbarians...connected to an undeniable force of kismet. Up river it the thaw brought about a dignity, a proof, a testament to metal - wrought of joy, pain, iron and steel || inquantifiably powerful, graceful and glorious in luster and love. Those rising above - the civil slavery that had shackled my mind, (our minds, so many minds - nevermind.) Post-Modern homo-sapiens living in the habitat of post humanistic western culture (1200-2100CE) - these folk were literally being stalked and unbeknownst to them it was clear to all (all but the human - the laughing stock of the zoo) By the time the vultures started circling overhead || those who could hear the steady beat that even the epoxy coated concrete couldn't dampen - knew it was nothing G||new - it had been a long time coming, lost in translation - now - hearing the perfect poetry - it was a cosmic cipher - a code in the dreamtime - striking accord and resolution, quelling uprising and revolt - it was infinite, it was forever - and those who heard it now marched, steady - slow - sure...moving onward, waiting when that was required (with patience or at least the respect of deliberation) always in the now, after, before, and evermore we are were and will continue to be - within and expanding || contracting toward eternity.
As peaceful warriors, pirates of Providence, pieces of a whole - together they completed a puzzle that had been forever and day coming together - and falling apart. They, who had practiced (and slayed the beast of perfectionism and procrastination - which are evil vexations of no import) and honored their spiritual disciplines in spite of the culture they had been raised in - stood in awe at the tipping point, raised at last, and like a harvest, gathered.
Somewhere in the North (of an already inhabited and thriving continent “discovered” by the explorer Amerigo Vespucci) “the Heartland” as it had come to be known in the 19th-21st centuries, where western winds off rockymounts blessed amber prairies of barley - like the starling clouds oscillate in the sky, the fields would speak in cipher, like a river, the everything, and oneness was undeniable. Those troubadours (traveled, wandered, sometimes with the troops - honorary soldiers I s’pose...brothers in a band indeed) - with diligence they prayed to become instruments of peace gathered to speak what little truth they had come upon in their widespread travels, and more precisely to travel far and wide to quell the worlds panic and sing the songs their Mother had given them. Their aim...to be loyal, to do no harm, remain students always (teachers only by accident) and to share their experience be it of where naught to go or in moments (happy accidents) delivering a mystic message - for problems require solutions - and if at first you don’t succeed, try...try again. . So along this lay line, in a galaxy far, far away, somewhere outside of time. Inspired by Liberty and Justice for ALL. once again life was able to bloom with all it’s fire and all it’s humility. For this we weren’t worthy...we felt. Yet nonetheless. Grace, Humility. Dignity. Triumph. Glory. Be. Just. It iS.
#sharetheforce
Show More
Genres:
Hip - Hop
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