Fuck Your "Fiscal Cliffs"! Do Your Goddamned Job That You Are Sadly Paid For! (White Male, Thirty Years Old, Marsh Super Market Employee) 2012

None of this life matters if you really look at it.  Think about it.  It is about as fleeting and vagarious as the wind.  But for some reason we believe!  And in what?  An empty promise of a fulfilling life?  Everyone knows contracts, truths, guarantees...can be preempted at any time.  It's just a matter of, what is next?  And, now that we are at the segue, what is next?  If you don't know, then you are entering in a badass contract.  No entity gives you a reprieve for today.  No.  No.  No!  Tomorrow is the only thing that matters in this, "What have you done for me lately," society which we are dreadfully apart of and in.  And, what is next?  Who the fuck cares!  As long as me and mine can continue to subsist and exist.  Point blank!  I don't want to hear about "Fiscal Cliffs"  and shit like that!  I've paid my taxes Mothah fuckahs!  Keep the shit movin!  The f uck? 

I've got two kids and child support!  And if Daddy don't pay his child support, my ass goes to jail!  Do you rich politicians understand?  You overpaid blow-fuckin-hards!

Sleep Apnea (Aaron Thompson) 2010

You told me you would be there during the day...and during the night.  A comely sight.  But the plight which I have to traverse is worse than anything you could possibly imagine.  Places and times to begin.  A thin win.  Paper sin.  Plotting and pointing the pen.  When will I ever win?  I sent the solace of holiness to hopelessness.  I dread the bread and the wine I used to think was so fine to dine on Our God's flesh.  It was all just a failed test from whence before.  I sleep when I snore.  Then I awake for my daughter's sake.  But thankfully, one fateful day, I will sleep no more. 

Let The Music Play? (Anonymous) 2014

Everything is about hues.  Tones.  As in music, the music goes where the music is intended to take Me.  I can’t do anything about it at that point.  Cut!  It’s a wrap!  The music has already been planned, arranged….now is playing.  And there are only three choices  at my behest:  Turn the music up, turn the music down or, blessedly, turn the shit off.

The Gas Pill (Forty-Five Years Old, French-American, Black Chemist And Inventor, Paul Derriere) 2019

I created it way back in 2000.  I was scoffed at.  I went to all the big names: Renuzit; Glade; Lysol...they all sent me on my way.  Then I went to a Proctologist, a doctor.  And everything changed in a magnificent way.  A glorious way.  Oh, sure the person taking such a "vitamin" daily would get complications in about twenty years subsequently.  But that wasn't a problem because by that time the profits would be set in stone.  I would be rich and so would be too the investors and fuck the bullshit.

I invented all types of scents: Blueberry, Violet, Strawberry-Banana, Linen...an endless amount of scents.  Shit, just use your imagination and along with the formula: instant good smelling shit and farts.  And in 2016 it was all the rage. 

But nature is a mothah fucker.  It is what it is.  And by the time the populous at large understood three years later that it would fuck up their given G.I. tract, in a bad mothah fuckin way, everybody was getting rich, bitch!  And fuck your personal health.  Good Lord!

I didn't realize it.  I really didn't.  Please believe me!  But a human being has to understand the simple fact that, "There's always a price to pay when you think your farts and, especially, your shit don't stink!"

Comment dit-on en francais?  Merde est suppose mauvais odeur et merde!

Darland Albert Hopson, Passed Away Monday, November 12, 2012 (Broke Black Prophet) November 13, 2012

It was 70 degrees the day before he died.  Quite befitting.   He was always a warm and caring person.  Then the day of his death it was 35 degrees in this midwestern intemperate climate.   But that's the way life has always been.  Hot or cold, not lukewarm.  My Brother was a kind man; a gentle man; a good man.  We will miss him so.  Stoic.  A dependable human being.  When he said he was going to be at your destination at a certain time it was going to happen.  There has been so many times he has never disappointed any of his siblings.  And what can I or anyone say about that fleeting characteristic in a human being?   Many will miss Brother Al.  I will miss him so.  So let it be written, so let it be said.  He walked the walk and talked the talk.  No in betweens.

It was cold when he crossed over into another life.  It is hard to imagine him the way that he was before he died: feeble, weak, vulnerable...a human being.  I will always see my Brother Al as something other than what I just described.  He was a hu-man, in every sense of the word!  And that's all I have to say about this Beautiful human being who passed over into another life which I must too some fateful day.

His memory will always be frozen in whomever's psyche, especially mine, who was fortunate enough to cross his warm enlightening path of this oft times severely cold and dreadful life. 

"Heerrre's Romney!" (Broke Black Prophet's Conversation With Friend, Dana Henry, And Dana Informing Him On Why He Was At The Indianapolis International Airport Going To Fiji.) November 7, 2012

I saw it.  You saw it Hop.  I was all packed up and ready to go, literally.  But I was smoking my last cigarette at the time as he was giving his acceptance speech.  And he had the nerve to make a statement about what his thirteen years old grandson said was so funny, mocking his grandson’s young voice, but when he said the statement it was evil,

“Yeah my grandson and I were talking.  And he is so intelligent but sometimes he gets goofy, you know how kids are.  Well he says to me, ‘Paw-paw!  When you win the election, you need to do like that man did in that Stephen King movie, The Shining, Get in front of the mic with everyone watching the New President Of The United States, Paw-Paw Romney!’   And in front of everyone say, like Jack Nicholson said in the movie, “Heeerrree’s Romney’,”  Oh I laughed about that.  So this is for my grandson 'Heeerrree’s Romney!'"

And with that, I ground out my cigarette.  I put on my jacket.  Picked up my suitcases.  And proceeded to get my Black ass out of this fucking United States of America!

"But he didn't win D," I said.

"Hop!  Rich people, since the beginning of time have won!  And just because Obama won doesn't mean a Goddamned thang!"  He vehemently said.  I didn't say anything.

"Yeah!  That's what I thought!  Truly come visit me in Fiji.  'Kay Hop?  I'll hollah!"  He said and disconnected.

Yo Mothah Fuckin Decision (Black Male, Newly Married) 2013

Marriage ain't easy.  I don't give a fuck what anybody tells yo ass!  Sheeit!  Hard as fuck!  Yah heard may?  It is what it is.  But, that's the nicety of the shit.  Yo ass gostah deal with the shit.  You!  No one else!  Yo ass decided to marry that mothah fuckah.  No one else.  You!  You understand?   I hope you do.  Like Tim Gunn says, on Project Runway: "Make it work," mothah fuckah!  Yah feel may? 

Soon Enough (Vietnam Veteran, Agent Orange Victim, Albert Darland Hopson) 2012

I'll be gone soon.  Oh, no need for luggage.  I won't be returning.  Gonnah make a new start.  Smell the air of a different environment, finally.  I can't wait.  Cause I'll be gone soon. Thank the Lord!

Hope For The Future (Thirty Years Old, Social Worker) 2001

I wish I had some panacea to wish this life away.  I wish I had some type of saying that would make people believe that everything will be all right.  I wish I had a long life to live to keep imposing on the youth and subsequent adults so that I can make them understand, "Everything is going to be just fine, Sunshine!"  ...Oh, I wish I had that much faith!  But I would be telling those same youths, a mother fucking lie!

Time To Pay For This Long Vacation (Sixty-Five Years Old, Theological Satirist) March, 2020

Things will change most assuredly, in a horrible way.  That’s what happens in the scope of time, change always happens.  However minute.  Time and time again in Our God given life, we have seen the smallest things are the most crucial ones that cause said changes.  Why?   You may be asking yourself.  But it is simple really.  The human animal is superficial and We can see those things that are ocular.  But its always those little infinitesimal things that gets Us caught up because we have been conditioned to see what we can see.  Not delving deep to look beyond and see what we can’t.  Too much work I suppose for all of Us.   And I guess too in this Eden that was set up for Us to take care of and to labor…we are just tired of fucking working.  You see, when one stays in a place for too long, oft times one forgets why they are in that given place to begin with.

Ring Damnit! (Fifty-Five Years Old, Attorney At Law) 2014

People don't like the true picture.  What you see, is what you get.  No!  No! No!  Not with me Boo-Boo!  Hell-to-the-naw!  I'm fifty-five years old and haven't ever seen times like this.  Hiding.  That's what I'm doing.  Shit!  Times are hard!  And I know that they are, but goddamn!  I'm embarassed.  I'm even using coupons at various fast food restaurants, for heaven's sake!  You tellin me people have stopped suing one another?  That Pro Se is the way?  I sit in my office waiting for the phone to ring.  Often times too damn long.  But what else am I supposed to do?  I had to lay off my legal assistant because all of the sudden people seemed to not need a good attorney any longer.  And I'll be damned if I take these cases for less than what I am worth.  Damn that!  My counterparts are doing it because it is better than being idle.  But idle I must be!  I'm not going to water down what I bring to the table and moreover my profession that I love and hope that I will be able to continue.  But shit!  Clients are making less also.  A vicious sorry ass cycle!  In a bad mothah fuckin way!  The fuck!?

Time Will Ultimately Tell (White Female, Thirty-Four Years Old, Daily Weed Smoker) 2015

It only last a little while. The things that you have. And they were about to lasts a lot less. That's the way it is. C'est tout! But the funny thing about it is that everything is about structure, meaning and time,  all three of those things were getting hazy. All murky into one or this other but then again everything takes time. Time, that used to be in abundance, that now is again. Shit! The way things are going it will never be enough time to right the wrongs but it has been more than enough time to wrong the rights. There's more hours in a day like today. But I guess one can say that about yesterday. Nothing ever stays the same. And why don't they?  But shit is getting fucked up! And it's about time!

Just Nasty (Eighty-Eight Years Old, Black Female, Divorcee, Died At Ninety Years Of Age, 2012) 2010

Whah?  Suck Whah?  She remembered it like it was yesterday.  But it was way back in 1942.  Suck my dick!  Whah?  You nasty sonofabitch!  No!  I will never suck your so called "dick"!  What is wrong with you?  Only whores would do that!  I'm your wife Jarvis?!  Then he had the nerves to say, "That's right Mabel, so you shouldn't have no reason not to suck my dick!"  The nerve!  I'm a Christian woman, born and raised.  I loved that man more than words could ever express.  But, I left his Black ass and never re-married.      Or had sex again.  Or had to, as he told me, put up with, sucking a man's dick!  A shame before God!

Heaven Is Dead In My Future (Suicidal, Twenty-Eight Years Old, Laid Off Pharmaceutical Line Employee) 2011

I've made so many promises that I've failed to keep;
Said many of prayers but all I do is weep;
But a brighter day is to come when I finally go to sleep.

Get Ready Cause Here It Comes (Thirty-Nine Years Old, Black Male) 2016

You get lost for a time, if you’re lucky.  If you’re not so lucky, you’re lost for a lifetime.  I was one of the lucky ones.  I started seeing what life was and what life was eventually going to be.  I stopped focusing on what is because all was lost.  It was time enough to start preparing for what was revealed to me in my waking sleep and I started slowly awakening.  I was lost in the time of the walking wounded and the walking dead.  And the scary part about it was, I started noticing I was one of the very few starting to wake up. 

Guinness Foreign Extra ( Beer Blogger, username: lovethatdarkthickbodiedstuff) 2012

I have found my perfect mate...for life!

Mother Earth Will Always Have Her Say (Average Midwest Citizen) 2018

It's starting to get crowded here.  But where else are you going to go?  People want what they want.  Two, three, four...twenty children and they are witnessing the same thing as all of the rest of US.  This is my production.  My life.  My world.  Don't you see?  This is the future I foresee and I give a damn about the world around me!  Yes, things are getting bad.  Very much so.  But we don't care.  Haven't for a very long time to say the least.  We are hopeless.  And we will forever be...until...

We Ain't Seen Nothin Yet (Video Archive, From New America Library Northeast Territory, Bi-Centennial Recording, Broke Black Prophet, Pre-Fall-Out, 2013) 0313

I Wish I Were Two Again (Black Stoner) 1982

I snap the cap. Pour the libation from frustration down my throat; not taking a breath until the river runs dry. Crunch the can; making an aluminum boat. I pull another. The snap happens again. I won't get there, until I reach ten; then properly high.

Thy Chaldea Arise (Twenty-Eight Years Old, Chaldean American) January 1, 2020

I had done most of my undergraduate studies at the University of Wyoming. Most people, my friends included, had a look of disgust on their given faces when I had informed them of where I was studying abroad. It was ingenious really. My Imam, who was paying for my education in this United Hates of America, a title my Imam had given it. He thought it was quite amusing, “In time. You insolently bastards. In time! And Yosef after it is all said and done, you will be known throughout Our next history. And those scum of Our God’s and peoples land will be no more!” He would say to me often. I knew my destiny with my God given first thoughts. A path of absolution. A path of destruction and righteousness. A path, “Where a very few men have gone before.” I was a surveyor. Now, in my second year of graduate studies at the U of Wy and the third year would be spectacular. December 6, 2020 would be when one of Our Chaldean nuclear bombs would reach the United Hates of America, destination: to one of the biggest calderas in the world, Yellowstone National Park. And Our Chaldean Tribe will be once more supreme. And the dregs of this Eden will be once again purged!

Bobeeny (Aaron Thompson, Amid A Two Years Old Custody Case In Johnson County Indiana) 2010

She was there before his own daughter. What was he supposed to do? He loved her liked his own. That’s just the way it was and is. On visitation he would look at her and say to himself, “Come on, roady! This is how we have always road out!” Wanting to be with his Blood Child as well as she. But he couldn’t do that. She had a Father and he had to respect that. What kind of Father would he be to his own if not understanding that simple fact? When he was living with her mother, the mother of his child, he couldn’t pull trump. Hell, no! So the way he treated his daughter he had to treat her too. When he would go some place with his daughter he would ask her, “You rollin with us Bobeeny?” And most of the time she would say, “Yes!” But now things were quite different. Undesirably so. But they were. There was another parent, Father, involved and he damned well needed to understand that. He loved her. Loved her like she was his own but that was not his responsibilities. He had one child with her Mother which he was trying his best to stay close to but was failing miserably based on some judicial, Johnson County, racial bullshit and her mother trying her best to make him fail as a parent. But he missed and loved her all the same. Like he does often times with his own. Life was a stone cold bitch. He knew that to be certain. He remembered when he first met her, a wild child. Running here and there, couldn’t stand still to save her life. And the only thing he could think was, “I can help her.” She just needed someone to pay her some attention, to make her understand, “I see you! Do you understand?! And that is not acceptable behavior!” And to keep reinforcing that. That’s all. He remembered when his blood daughter and she would be in a room playing and he would check on them every twenty minutes or so. And she had asked him, “Why do you keep checking on us?” And he had said to her simply, “Because you are children.” She never asked him that again. His Mother used to say, “You check on children often when they are noisy. But you check on them two times as much when they are quite.” Damn right bout that. One had to remember whence one was a child. No supervision means no accountability which leads to fuck ups, sometimes in a detrimental way. Because yo lil ass is still learning this fucked up life. And a responsible, caring adult needs to be there to guide you and tell you, “Now, you are fuckin up! Don’t do that again!” In so many words. He knew her plight from his own childhood. Felt her shit and sympathized with her. Being the last of twelve, eleven boys and one girl. He felt invisible most of the time. No one paid him any attention. And when they did he didn’t know how to act: What in the world are they paying attention to me for? Why are they talking to me? What are they saying? Leave me alone! No, I really don’t want to be alone. I always feel alone. And I don’t like it. I feel loved and lost at the same time…He had always hated life for that confusing fucked up time. He had always believed that his Father and Mother were good parents but now with him being older and with his own , one and only, child he started understanding, “How good of parents can people be with twelve offspring running around the fucking place?” Nobody needs twelve children unless they are running a big ass farm or some shit. He had his hands full of rearing one. The fuck?! Complexities. Life is. And he surmised…it will always be. But there was still time for simplification…and, Our Blessed God, atonement.

The True Fuckin Picture (Broke Black Prophet, Near Salvation) 2013

Welcome to the world which we breath and live in. Not a pleasant sight, is it? Oh, your eyes are open aren't they? Now? You don't like what you see? Oh, let me focus your lenses for you a wee lil bit. Damn! Can't do that. I'm sorry. You all right? Give it a lil time. It will be all right. No? The fuck? Oft times the aperture is all fucked up! Can you see now? Good! Fucked up? Oh, now yo ass is seein just fuckin fine!

The Same Old Song, Just A Different Mothah Fuckin Tune (Black Stoner) 1982

Feast your eyes on the demise of this insanity of inhumanity. Calamity of absurdity progressively getting more dirty as the time winds down. A frown is the clowns' perpetual lineament. Spent a lifelong depressive song to drown out the cries to nothingness. Bless no more the children being boiled in the cauldron of life's despair; unaware as their souls begin to exanguinate, to alienate itself from the whole.

The Merrymakers (Black, Twenty-five Years Old, Male, Speculative Fiction Writer) 2015

They were called, Merrymakers. Comprised of females and males in equal portions. Spiritually picked by the forces of humanity. Selected from every tribe on Earth. Somehow, on their eighteenth birthday, to each one, an energy led them to where they needed to be. And from there, the gift of knowledge was imbued into them, psychically and emotionally. None had ever questioned what led them to the place where they were destined, but they knew why they were there and it didn‘t matter their origin. They were not there to be parents or to breed; that in and of itself would not be prudent nor would it aide in the human existence of why they were brought to this place, to obtain the knowledge which they were to absorb then walk the various land on this Earth to deal out those powers from which they were given supernaturally. It was all of Divine circumstance. So they thought and believed. But it was way more sinister than what they ever could have imagined. And in the end, they would dearly pay for their given innate transgressions.

I Ain't Scared No Fuckin Mo! (Anonymous) 2013

Mothah fuckahs kill my broke ass! For real! Gonnah sit up there and threatin you and shit! Whah? Go head with yo sorry bad ass self! Do it! Can't stop yo ass from doin shit any fuckin way! Do it! Ain't nothin stoppin yo sorry ass from doin whatcho super-silly-mothah-fuckin ass sayin, what chew goin tah do, but air and opportunity!

But let me tell yo puffin up ass som'ehn befo you go do somethin stupid...mothah fuckahs ain't scared! The worse mothah fuckahs in the world you want against you is a mothah fuckah who don't have a goddamned thang tah loose! Live and in colah mothah fuckah! And let me tell you somethin else, aftah the shit that chew do has been done and settled, you best believe mothah fuckah, yo monkey ass is gonnah be scared! Very much so! Guaran-fuckin-teed! Payback's a bitch!

Muh fuckahs, with Our broke non-scared asses, ain't fuckin round no fuckin mo! For real!

Independence: Is An Illiteracy (Anonymous) 2013

People talkin all that bullshit about, I don't need anybody. Sheeit! Whatevah mothah fuckah! What-the-fuck-evah! You hear me! Bull-to-the-shit for real! Talk all that shit if yo sorry ass wantstah but yo sorry mothah fuckin ass needs some fuckin body! "A man is not an island unto himself." Damn right bout that shit. Don't wantstah hear that noise. Everybody needs some fuckin body! If...yo ass is human. And if yo sorry ass is readin this shit right the fuck here, I'm glad tah tell yo ungrateful ass, yo ass is fuckin human. That's why yo ass is readin this fuckin shit! Cause yo ass is reachin out to anothah mothah fuckah yah don't even know tah feel alive! Don't try tah play with me. It's just between you and me. Nobody else. But yo broke ass best believe you bettah start understandin the reality of the situation with these hard times that are here and the harder times that are tah come! There's some shit that is comin round the cornah fo yo ass that ain't gonnah be nothin nice! Nothin nice at all! Keep sittin up there with yo no count high pride ass if yah wannah, but soonah or latah, yo ass gonnah have tah depend on anothah mothah fuckin body! You hear me? And if you don't. Oh, this life has a way to teach yo prideful ass a lil thang or two, or three...And befo its too late...you best start makin alot of fuckin friends, cause hard times are right around the cornah tah say, "Hell-the-fuck-o!"

Porter or Stout? (Beer Blogger, Username: lovethatdarkthickbodiedstuff) 2009

Darland took a nice swallow of the Stout. Tasting every bit of the chocolate malt and the wonderful coffee flavor of the hearty libation. Libation was what Porters and Stouts were to him. Beer was the other stuff out there. Now this, as he took another healthy pull off of the pint he was working on, is a damn beer as he smiled ever so slightly indulging in his love and his mistresses, Porter and Stout. Both having traditional male sobriquets but all woman each one of them. Making love to him for two to three hours at a time. He looked longingly which now was a kind of hourglass shape she was dressed in this night, her skin sweating ever so slightly, just the right temperature to start with then warming up just to room temperature, the perfect love. Poor Porter. That’s what he loved about the two of them too. Some days coming in the form of thick, or slim, and then with curves depending on where you go for the coital activity which would surely transpire once the plan was in place and the right place was picked.

Calling him all the time, “Come meet me up the street please. I’m dark and beautiful and oh so tasty lover,” she would call to him lustfully. Most of the time he would fool them both and go someplace else and if they found him fine, if not a Canadian, Jamaican, German, Japanese...any of the other women would suit him just fine, but wouldn’t spend too much time with them though. At the most he could only go a couple of rounds. One of them he forgot the nationality damn near cussed him out, tasting her so-called sweet juices for not even a quarter of the time. Americans. Damn them. They all tasted the same. Some bland pussy there boy. He was here to tell you. Some of them even having a twang to them. Pussy so bad make a mah fucka like him damn near shit his drawers at work. Running to the bathroom because he just couldn’t meet at the places they knew. No he trying to fool them to see if they could read his mind and damned if either one showed up. A Canadian or German always there. They knew what the deal was. He would never be faithful to any one other than Porter or Stout.

When they called him and he was horny for their dark sweet caramel juices, he, hypnotized would go to them and they would make the sweetest love. Often times they'd come home with him. One of them getting mad because, depending on the evening he only wanting to spend time with one or the other. Both of them being equally cool about the situation all were in. This sexual triangle he had gotten these two beautiful, lovely ladies into. They didn’t deserve it. They could have many guys out there that would choose between the two and not go back and forth, making love to one for hours and then turning around two nights later and spending only three hours with the other. But he was hooked on both and given the perspective night, he just went crazy and have to have both. Juices mingling in his digestive system. Marrying the two. And the both of them hated it but both were vying to be his one and only love. Both thinking their sweet juices would eventually make him succumb to one or the other.

Both kept changing and he never wanted to choose, it was fun watching the morphing of their bodies at the numerous times and just as many locations they had sex. They were wearing him out. Maybe he didn’t have to choose. Shit he was living every males fantasy, having two women who know about one another and both being down for the menage thing. He was in the heezy fo’ sheezy my neezy. But sometimes it wasn’t his fault. Was it his fault that only one of them showed up. There was no choice then. He didn’t have to choose. Whichever showed up then hell that was the one he was going to get down with. Plain and simple. He didn’t have time when a bitch didn’t want to put out. Didn’t have time for her ‘man’ supposedly. He would go where he was appreciated and the other, shit, you better get yourself together, because there was a lot of other hos' out here that wanted Daddy’s company.

“Heh! Heh!” he hollered out, “Put the money in the bag! Put the money in the bag!” as he cheered the people around the bar and they all laughed at his very good impression of a familiar commercial that had just played on the big screen television located behind the bar. Her name was Guinness Extra Stout tonight. He Loved this tasty lady. Had a body to die for. Umm! He kissed Guinness passionately, tasting every bit of her chocolate nectar, and asked for another round. Guinness Extra Stout was going to get her ass waxed tonight as he indulged himself with round two, and yes, started waxing that ass. This was at least a four or five rounder night. He was going to suffer like hell tomorrow. But what was a nigga to do? Her ass was in rare form in.....? He looked around for a name and saw the book of matches he had been using, “Chumley's.” Damn right about that. Damn right about that as he finished her off, and round three was just around the corner. Definitely a five rounder. Definitely. Maybe even six, you lucky woman he thought to himself, thinking about poor Porter. Maybe another time bitch. Maybe another time. He was horny as hell as he started up the third round, polishing that ass very slowly now. He was going to take it slow. He wanted to make Stout one happy woman tonight. He might even have a few smoke breaks in between. Poor Porter.

Stout started to talk to him, “Where’s that bitch at now? Hunh? Where she at Darland? That bitch don’t love you. See how I make you feel. You don't know what you gettin with those other bitches. On a scale from one to ten, I'm nine point five niggah. And those other bitches with their pale ass skin. They don’t love you either. How many names those various bitches have? Hunh? I’m special. Not too many of me around nigga! I’m strong as hell and a lot more tastier. My shit staying on your tongue for hella long. You know I’m the only one for you. You know it. Look at Porter. Can’t get no love. And those other bitches are a dime a dozen. Oh, and we won’t even talk about those bland ass Americans. Shit. We are a breed of our own. I come from the land of the Stouts. We are the strongest because we are unique. The blacker the berry baby. The Blacker the berry baby,” she spoke lustily into his soul. He knew she had a point. All the others just didn’t compare to her black ass. Body five thousand for sure. She was right about her taste. Residuals of brown still being present on his tongue even when he would brushed the hell out of it. "I do Love you Guinness X," He whispered in her ear and tasted her with one long gulp and a lick of his upper lip to not waste any.

Foster's (Beer Blogger, Username: lovethatdarkthickbodiedstuff) 2008

I maybe crazy...but do I taste a little ginger in this lager? I'm quite sure I do. And some type of weird, metallic bitterness? What's that all about?

"Foster's: Austalian for metallic tastin ging-eh bee-eh."

Yo Ass Can't Tell Me Shit! (Anonymous) 2015

Child Psychologists that don't have a chick or a child!

Marriage Counselors that aren't married or better yet have been married and divorced times three!

Substance Abuse counselors that have never had a substance abuse problem!

Male OBGYN who has nothing to proffer to the female patient because they are male, having the wrong equipment; and females still line up to see him!

Niggahs reading books about Malcolm X and Martin Luther King written by white authors! And believing the shit contained within its covers!?

Niggahs and Spics fighting for a country that shuns their mah fuckin asses, er day, er second!

Announcers talkin bout football, basketball, soccer..and ain't evah played a sport in their sorry ass lives!?

Mah fuckahs talkin bout the homeless and have never went without a roof over their perspective heads!

Talkin bout hunger and don't have a fuckin clue what the twinges of abdominal pains are all about when yo ass is broke, and all you can do to satiate those twinges is to think of nourishment or bum a cigarette so those same pains will lessen a wee bit!...

We some fucked up individuals! Listening to these so-called professionals and experts that don't have the faintest idea of the processes save for what they have read or studied; not been through! Hell nah! That would be too much suffering for those elitist mah fuckahs and a lot more work! And why should they work and suffer anyway? They have the credibility without the experience, understanding or knowledge.

Ain't that some shit! How in the fuck you gonna sit up there and tell mah fuckahs bout somethin and never experienced what you are perceived to be experienced in? What the fuck!

Dysfunctional...are not we all! Yao Ming? And that ain't no Beautiful thang! Hell-to-the-nah! That's some ignant shit! We some sorry ass, ignant mah fuckahs! For real! And we pay for their so-called words of wisdom and diagnosis! Yah heard may! Get a fuckin clue! Just mad! Mad at this bull.....shit!

Hope For The Future (Anonymous) 1993

Even though yo ass know the shit is gonnah turn out the way that the shit is gonnah turn out…sheeit, you just keep it in yah heart, every-fuckin-single-time, that, this time, this mothah fuckin time, everything is gonnah be cool, just okee-the-fuck-dokee-smokee! But no! No! No! No! This time ain’t been no damn diff’rent than all the rest. Same ol’ shit just a diff’rent mothah fuckin day. Whoomp, d’ere it is! In yo face…hunh! But what else yo sorry black ass gonnah do? Not hope? Not pray? Not dream? Not…Even though yo ass know you only dealin with this othah mothah fuckah cause of Our child; I gotsta deal with this mothah fuckah fo a long ass time, at least til the age of gettin the child out of an university, some fourteen yeeahs and some change or a lil’ mo…fo the child’s sake…I have tah hope fo ah bettah day ev’ry time I have tah speak or meet the othah parent, fo whatevah reason, and think, somehow, someway, we can be fair and cordial tah each othah…for the child’s sake. And the bad part bout that shit is , I don’t even think that the shit will evah happen, but it sho makes may feel good tah hope, this time is gonnah be diff’rent!

And tomorrow is anothah mothah fuckin day!

Always Detours (Aaron Thompson, Still In A Four Year Old And Running Custody Case In Johnson County, Indiana) 2012

“Mommy said that you are a liar because you lie to her,” my daughter told me from her booster-seat. I smiled at her in the rearview mirror and she smiled back.

“Well,” I started saying to her, “Are you listening Momma?” I asked and she said a simple, “Yes.” Locking onto my eyes in the rearview mirror.

“Okay. My theory is, Momma, that, if you don’t have anything nice to say about the other parent, then you don’t say anything about them at all,” as I peeked up from the road to lock eyes with her again, her eyes still told me that she was attentive, so…

“That’s why babay, I don’t say anything about your Mother,” I said to her, smiling, locking eyes, she smiling back. “You understand Momma?“ I asked smiling.

“Yes!“ She said smiling, extending her left arm over her head, being careful not to hit her hand on the underside of the car’s roof, and pulling it back quickly, an overhead fist pump; as we continued driving to our destination.

“Oh, look Daddy!” She said excitedly. “Chucky Cheese’s!”

Oh Lord, I thought, that is not our destination. But we may just have to make a detour.

Well…hell.

Hello Mister Mouse…or Mister Rat…or...whatevah mothah fuckah!

Evil Speaketh (Twenty-Nine Years Old, English Solicitor) 1878

Evil acteth and speaketh;
And the law enacteth and seeketh.

Evil teacheth;
And the law preacheth.

Evil winneth;
And the law doth sinneth.

Decisions And Badass Decisions (Thirty-Eight Years Old, Broke Black Prophet) 2003

Decision makin. Sometimes the hardest muh fuckin fact of life! Yah heard may! But yo sorry ass tried tah do everything yo Black ass could think of tah make things right. But yah see, yo thinkin is what's the fuckin problem in the first goddamned place. Yo thinkin is based on what you think is needed, not what another thinks is needed. And if the othah muh fuckah involved got anothah agenda, then yo Black ass done made some badass decisions! If a muh fuckah time and time again done told yo Black ass you failin, no matter what yo sorry ass has tried tah do or have done...then yo ass should have gotten a clue a long fuckin time ago. Yo sorry ass just been pissin in the fuckin wind, fo sho!

Again, yo decision makin didn't have a goddamned thang tah do for the othah, but had everything tah do bout what chew thought you could do for that othah. Way fuckin different. Very much so. If that othah person isn't pleased with yo sorry ass there ain't ah thang on this earth yo sorry ass can or could do tah please 'em, cause ain't nothin you can do tah please 'em.

They done already got their mind made up that you are a fuck up! That you are a sorry ass! That you are...a piece of shit! And, most importantly, that you are, from here on out, a whippin fuckin man or woman! Gonnah keep yah down so their asses can stay up! Shee-ot! Fuck that noise! The fuck, times two!? Whatevah mothah fuckah! Ain't nothin yo ass can do, or could have done! Absolutely-positively-not-a-goddamned-thang!

So listen'ere, finally start with some good decision makin and get yo happy ass on down the fuckin road! Be ghost! Bye-bye, boo-boo! Yah feel may? And the sooner yo sorry ass realizes that, the better your decision makin skills gonnah be! Yao Ming?

Peace! More to come...

I Am...Because Of You! (Anonymous) 1962

Nothing can sustain itself without symbiosis. Nothing. If an organism doesn’t understand the primal fact at its core that: I am…because of you...

Well…say , “Goodnight,” for the last time!

We Some Broke Sonsahbitches Fo Sho! (Thirty-Two Years Old, Indianapolis Native, John White V) 2007

There's not too much to listen to;
Only severe cries of boo-hoo,
Coming from the masses,
Of course from the lower classes,
Wailing incessantly with the soft gentle breeze;
Everyone having hay fever and starting to sneeze.
98 percent of the world under the poverty line.

And According to the rich:

"Everything is quite fine!
Employment is up in this Bitch!
Don't sit up there and whine!"
As they dine, eating expensive cheese and wine.

The media expresses also to one and all,
Along with this fucked up administration's
Many southern drawls.

But all of us poor mothah fuckahs know,
It is still cold as fuck,
With blizzard like snows
Up to Our fucking Elbows!

Janet Strong ( Midwest / Women's Liberation Movement Speaker) 1969

The only difference between US, the only difference is:

Men are men because they do not trust; women are women because WE do!

Spring Is Just Up The Street! S.A.D. No More! (Forty-Seven Years Old, Broke Black Prophet, Pre-Salvation) 2012

I went out and spoke to the environment. They accepted me into their always welcomed world. I graciously took them up on their offer. I looked up at the Sun with its formidable presence and said, “How are you doing Mr. and Mrs. Sun? I love you. And I’ve missed you both so!” The Sun smiled as their rays beamed into my soul, cascading all through my body.

And I walked basking in The Sun’s presence. I tilted my head up again and looked all around and I said to them, “I've missed you Mrs. and Mr. Blue Skies! I love you!” The Blue Skies smiled, shooing the children (The Clouds) away and now stood backdrop blue. Ummm!

I witnessed my fellow humans having smiles for the same reason , accepting the invitation of Our environment that has always welcomed everything which dwells amongst Us, free. I smiled and walked and I finally just had to do it:

I extended my arms wide, accepting everything, the same as Our environment, and yelled out at the top of my lungs, with Joy and happiness,

“Hi everybody! I've missed You all so very much! And I Love You!” As I twirled in adolescent merriment.

The Warming And The Last Cycle II (Anonymous) 2017

In the hyperbaric chamber, buried six feet deep in Russia's frozen tundra's permafrost, which was not so much frozen or tundra or perma any longer. The ten-by-ten-by-ten chamber's signal was activated, sending the alarm to the counsel. Adam Ten and Eve Ten began to stir. Their life support system fully activated and in less than seventy-two hours they would awaken. With the understanding that the chamber which used to be six feet underground, was now only three feet under, given the melting of once was hardened ice, almost impenetrable. But not for their species from which they were sent. They had sent the implants directly to that location by pure thought. Poof! Just by thinking as one accord. Anything or traveling anyplace in space was possible just by pure thought with everyone thinking as one to make the travel possible. It was the greatest form of energy. Pure energy. Which their species had honed, perfected.

This was a great honor for anyone of their species because if one was chosen to be the male Adam and the female Eve, and then sent to what was known as Earth. And if the ones' chosen instilled the given knowledge which ultimately lead to Earth's final non-self-destructive ideology, well, both would become supreme Gods amongst their species. And one couldn't ask for anything better given the ultimate goal of their species, "To aid in the sustaining of any life form that exists in the universes. Save for altering or doing everything for said life form to sustain itself in the universes or millions of worlds." The thought being, every life form, however small was meant to be, for some reason or another. Why? Was not for them to ask or even to answer. A life form, any life form, was worth being sustained. But the damn humans were enigmas indeed.

And the Counsel once more from the troubled enigmatic world named, Earth had received the signal, the alarm which didn't surprise them. All of them had hope this ninth time given their productivity and the way they had finally understood to use the Earth's energy to move speech across space and time. They just knew this was going to be the time Earth and it's life forms of humans, would possibly equal them in their intelligence. Being able to finally move matter through space and time with just their thoughts, their physical body along with their intellect would finally understand they housed within each one of themselves the ability which would awe each one of them; yet, humble them also. The Counsel had thought to themselves, Adam Nine and Eve Nine would have what all of their species coveted, being: Supreme Gods of Teaching The Ways To Ultimately Sustain Life. And they were saddened that they would have to send the disappointing thought to the previous implants, Adam Nine and Eve Nine, that it was, now, Adam Ten and Eve Ten's turn to try. (to be continued...)

This Life Isn't Just Fun And Games (Twenty-Nine Years Old, Broke Black Prophet) 1994

I'd rather be respected any day than liked by these lil disrespectful miscreants we procreatin today! Fuck these adults! Yah can't do shit bout a mah fuckah that's already made up their minds bout this hurr life. But this younger generation? Oh, you can make a damn difference! Oh, yes yah can with yo ignant ass! Best believe that shit! They just lookin for an adult tah give a good goddamned! Adults so into themsevles now they can't see, "The forest from the trees!" Damn right bout that! These damn parents and adults lettin these lil snot nose youngsters get away with all kinds of abhorrent behavior. "Get up!" And the lil mah fuckah responds, "Shut up you freekin idiot! I'm tryin tah sleep!" The fuck? "Come on now! Please get up?" And the beat goes on, "Shut up! I hate ch'ou!" The fuck times two! Askin and pleadin with a child to get up so they can go to school? The fuck wrong with US? The damn inmates done took over the damn prison in this mah fuckah, for real!

And then these adults gotstah the nerves tah say, "I don't know why He/She is actin this way?" Shiiiit! I can give yah one good goddamned reason with yo no count havin ass! It's because yo ass tryin tah be their friend instead of their fuckin parent or responsible guardian. A lil mah fuckah talkin tah me like that sayin tah my Black ass, they on the same level as me. Now, you done crossed the fuckin line with yo not knowin sorry ass! Now I gotstah show yo no count havin lil ass what takin on bein an adult is all about, "Get yo sorry fuckin ass out of that bed! The fuck wrong with you! Get-the-fuck-up!" Nice speak is fuckin ovah! Yo lil ass wants tah take it tah an adult level, well, let me teach you a lil som-ehn, som-ehn! You wet behind the ears lil bastard!

But, you see, the parents of these given children have made these lil disrespectful mah fuckahs what they are. Listenin tah these child Psychologists that don't have children, or if they do they always workin and not spendin the appropriate time with the lil assholes their damn selves. Listenin tah the people who have children gettin expelled and those same children goin in and out of juvenile detention... You-better-recognize!

"I want my child to have a real childhood. I want them to be a child and have fun." That's all fine and fuckin dandy! But it is irresponsible when it becomes more about childhood and fun than what that given child needs in becoming a productive, respectful, responsible adult. What about structure? What about work? What about taking responsibility? Once that lil mah fuckah walks out your fuckin door the people that really care are behind. What type of ideology does society have for your Love Child? You best believe it ain't the same as yo monkey ass! So, they can learn now, or learn the hard mah fuckin facts of life later! And later with society, ain't gonnah be a pretty thang at all, let me tell yah with yo dirtay face! Society could give a real good damn about yo lil insignificant offspring amid a four billion and some change!

The choice is simple: You can make them pay a reasonable, Loving, caring amount now; or, the steep inflated, "I don't give a fuck about you," price later! And if you choose the latter...may your God have mercy on your soul! Yah heard may? And that...ain't a Beautiful thang at all! Oh, no it's not! Just fuckin sad! Sad awhile! Too-fuckin-sad!

Peace! More to come...

Take A Hit Off This! (Black Stoner) 1984

Free my head and my mind to find the kind hand extending toward my being, seeing the beauty not from a forty but Love to you and me. See the trees in the leas without fees to make them a national park in this stark fetid world that has curled into a ball to suck them all. Saul would never paw so low to scrape up the dirt for his soul trying to make it to heaven with seven lives praying on him, staying with him, weighing on a hem of cloth that would take away the cancer, the answer lying beneath in the soiled sheets, a meat market of the earth for what it’s worth, un-birth another human being not seeing in the guise of humanity’s eyes so myopically, moping about, down and out...you clearly see the heap overflowing to seep on the trash of the subsequent ash, mash another potato to enable my mind to be on a carbohydrate hit, to mix and fix the issues in the multitudes always rude not from the poor which I adore and more...overtake my body to try to slide into the tea of the slant eyes full of surprises from their pure genes beams a mighty sunray to the part of the world without a curtsy to the white mans law of their perceived land. Stand amongst the palm trees and leave this earth smoking green having dreams of a better life without the samurais and knives taking lives, with bullets the druids of their conditional thinking, drinking on the corner in dark alley ways. Taking the human subconscious to not be righteous, wallowing in the smarmy mindset beset by those who make the laws, a clause never giving pause to the imaginary white Santa Clause. Cause I be watchin the villain in the tub and on the ceiling where I cleanse, it all depends what the hell are we here for? Adore all the fails that ails, madness much sadness rapping on my door, to ignore the snores coming from a happy family so dreamingly, wondrously. As I walk and bath myself in the shadows, who really knows about the blows of a certain race, the sub-space of this real “Terra Firma,” learnah thang or two. Sing the blues until you’re ninety-two, if yah wanna cause thunder clapping in your nerves triggers you dumb niggers. Electricity is what causes action, satisfaction and reaction. Figures we could be sullied by the muddied past, a repast taken so long ago from souls left in my brightness of being, seeing a bright future to nurture the further existence, a remittance that must be paid, laid upon the scope of humans non-kind, always....ever of days of darkness, departing us from the trust of one another. Take cover! It ain’t never over! “Woman and Man they come and go but the earth abides forever.” Whatevah! We too clevah! Pass it one more time!...Ooowee, it’s hittin so nicely. So pricey but not spicy...lost in the Love of pity to succinctly go on the brink to stink this globe, the earring hanging off the higher power to prosper in the dark hours, raining showers twenty-four seven never unleavened to the point of looking like pita or naan, as the can opener falters from the ....

The Warming and The Last Cycle (Anonymous) 2017

The signal came from the planet known as Earth. They looked at themselves in surprise because the signal was not supposed to go off for the next twenty lunars, 100 earth years. The cycle was getting faster and faster for the humans. That was for sure, as they nodded to one another, not speaking, all done as one accord, telepathically. They had put the implants in time. The humans had to learn, when it was all said and done again. Had to prepare them for what they, time and time again, do to themselves and their environment. One of these cycles maybe they would learn and then they will be able to know the truth. But it looked like to the Counsel that instead of getting more intelligent with each cycle they were killing themselves off faster and faster.

The Counsel long wanted, after the fifth cycle was done, to just be done with the humans and the universe would be extinct of that species. But they could not do that, they understood that the humans had a reason for being on Earth. And in understanding just that, they kept supplying Earth with the implants so when the warming started, the implants, after most of the humans died, the ones alive could be taught what they needed to do, to start the next cycle, the tenth cycle. Twenty lunars, at this pace, in five more cycles it would be hopeless. And if the implants failed in their given teaching, then the human species by their own choice, made themselves extinct. And The Counsel would not have to worry about the human species, and the truth of what they had to offer this universe. They were not permitted to change or alter anything in aiding the Genesis of the cycle only to guide. Only to be ones of knowledge and once teaching is instilled in the various few humans left after the warming, the implants return home and all watch to see what else the humans will become.

(to be continued...)

I'm Sorry Tah Tell Yo Sorry Ass but, Life Is A Fuckin Gamble! (Thirty Years Old, Broke Black Prophet) 1995

I absolutely love muh fuckahs who think they "Know." Oh, you ignorant, mislead and lost soul you! Why do you say such vile things about another human Meredith? Let me indulge you since you asked. I was the same as the soul which is the topic of note. I thought I knew. I have found throughout my miserable, pitiful existence: I don't know shit! Knowing; I have found is just a defense mechanism to make one feel secure. But the sad reality is that, none of us poor souls are indeed safe. A thin line every day we wake between knowledge and the unknown, death. "The Bible is the truth!" Many avow so proudly. Is it really muh fuckah? Or is it just good speak one avows to everyone they come into contact with and that will listen to comfort them in their given insanity of Hope? Hope. A four letter word, let me tell yah. And since one Hopes for a wondrous afterlife...I would have to say, "I hope your sorry ass is right!" Not hope for me! Damn that! I'll take my chances. As in Texas Hold'em, I got two cards, and I'm gambling the five community cards are gonna be enough to take the pot! Yah heard may? And it is still...A Beautiful Thang! Oh, yes it is! My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs.

Peace! More to come...

You Better Watch Your Step (Black Stoner) 1987

Peak around this world to see what is real. Peel away the layers as the soothsayers have become the new drug dealers in this raw deal; tweaking the truth in a self-righteous ruse to boost their loose caboose. We, staring at their derriere unaware that their mouths have become an anus spewing shit. All needing to take Imodium so that the podium can be sanitized; an epiphany finally realized: we’re living in a sullied cow paddy laden world…stepping carefully always looking down, like a scared animal, aware of the faintest sounds.

Naked You Come Into This World. Naked So Shall You Leave. (Forty-Eight Years Old, Broke Black Prophet, Saved, Post-Cancer Scare) 2013

People always tellin me about myself. Don't write so vulgar. Why do you have to say some things? You need to keep some shit to yourself... But you see, to me, that's what's wrong with this here life. Everybody posing. We don't know shit from shine-ola because people keeping things to their damn selves. And for what? Because we want people to think we are a certain way even though in our heart of hearts we know we are putting up a false facade? The fuck you hidin yourself from muh fuckah? You scared for people to see the true you? And why prey-tell would you want to do that? Maybe you have some evilness within you that by not avowing it somehow it will dissipate? Poof! Be gone? Shit, I got news for your blues muh fuckah, you are what you are whether you hide from others or not. You can hide it from others but the worst thing in the world is to try to hide it or deny it from yourself. The worst crime and transgression in the world is to hide the true you from this finite life. Why, you ask? Well because there is so much of the true you that the generations to come will aide in the progression of humankind. We sit up here and lie to each other; moreover, we lie to ourselves! Damnit! Are you part of the solution? Or part of the problem? We tell our offspring not to lie; yet, we lie to them everyday by denying those same offspring our total being because we don't think they should hear certain things. The taboo of the cancerous seed if you will. Let me give you a narrative in my own life if you will indulge me for a wee bit.

I remember when I was growing up Mommy instilled in me, "Boy if you don't bother nobody, nobody will bother you!" I loved Mommy til her death, but I hate to say it but that was some straight up bull-to-the-shit! Good speak? Sure. But the shit ain't true. Did Mommy lie? I'm not sayin all that at all but what I will say is that she honestly believed that based on her life and the way that she lived her given life. And maybe she just was raised in a different time whereas that statement of truth to her was merited, but in my life, and what I have experienced and read about, that statement is incorrect. There are some fools out here, in abundance that prey on people with that mentality so they may take advantage to satiate their predatory needs. Sometimes fatal teachers. Sometimes one has to instill cancerous cells into their offspring, in a psychological aspect, in order for them to be able to deal with the plethora of cancerous organisms on this terra firma. So those same offspring will not be harmed or killed by said cancerous organisms. A somewhat mental radiation that will strike subsequent organisms in the offspring's lifetime. What, I guess, I am trying to say is that, one, a parent cannot protect their child from the various strains of human cancers, but...a parent can prepare them to deal and regress those that come into their individual lives, keeping at bay, if you will, the malignant strain of cancer to them and to society.

And that...is a Beautiful thang! Oh yes it is. My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs!

Peace! More to come...

What The Real Doctor Ordered (Forty-Eight Years Old, Broke Black Prophet, Saved, Post-Cancer Scare) 2013

I used to go to church. But fuck that shit! Fuck it! Fuck it! Fuck it! And did I say, Fuck it? Well, if I didn’t, Fuck it! This manmade religion is given in doses, one Sunday (and maybe if you’re lucky, one or two times during the week. And that‘s if you‘re lucky) at a time. All the time, in this here religion food pyramid, you are very deprived from the nutritional value you need to sustain a spiritual healthy lifestyle on, not only a daily basis but, an hourly basis. Very much so. You see, anything, given in doses to the populous at large, is a prescription, something that one chooses to take given the different ailment(s) that the prescribed medicament is supposed to cure, or at the very least, manage whatever is ailing you to partake or persuade you in to taking the prescribed medication of note; ergo, religion.

So, one must deduce, by taking said doses of medication, religion, means that: something is wrong with you! Yeah, something is wrong with you , because you have been going to the wrong “specialist” and the real Specialist has told you in the word to just, “…come unto me.” No money needs to exchange hands and you don’t even need insurance or that prescribed medication that you have been forced to take all of your life to get help, just “…come unto me.” You don't need an appointment, or a set time...to seek my help. Anytime is the right time! Just, "...come unto me."

You see, doctors only want to stay in practice by keep giving you adulterated medication.

When You seek help from, The Only Specialist…The Only Specialist, will cure you. And you don’t even have to go out of your door on Sunday if you don’t want to. Because The Only Specialist will make you understand in a truthful, caring way: You are the cause of Your own ailment(s). Quit blaming the doctors/churches/society that prescribed it to you.

No more. No less.

You don’t owe anyone shit! Except to The Only Specialist, Your God! And Your God guaranteed salvation, gratis!

We're Not Dead...Yet! (The Head Tribal Member, Female, From An Earlier Cycle, Post - Third Great Flood) Year Unknown

Feel the breeze,
At ease,
Not a sneeze or a wheeze,
But a tease,
Of what this life could be.

All in,
Though we have sinned
In this intended end.

Put a fork in it,
Because we will never win it.
Sent it,
A long time ago,
Special.

Kill the will,
The thrill,
As we all get ill
From the overdose to the human rights bill;

Never to feel,
All the unique thoughts.
There are no lucky salts,
To throw over the shoulder
As this world is starting
To burn, never to smolder.
Breath in! Breath out!
We’re still,
Thank…Our… God’s… will,
Roaming about.

My Mind's Playin Tricks On May! ( Black, Stand-Up Comedienne) 2002

So I wanted to ask her, but shit I couldn't once realization set in: "I don't have a fuckin phone! Goddamnit!"

I knew she had been there, couldn't find the mothah fuckah, "Shit! You gotcho phone? Good, could you call my phone? Thanks" I had said.

"Oh, never mind," I had said, because I saw it near her elbow resting on the dining room table.

Two hours later, I can't find it! I was right there! I saw it near her elbow, she had even acknowledged seeing it, not having to now go over to her purse and pull out her cell phone to call lost phone of note. So...it was fucking there! So where in the fuck is it?

Oh, I see. Maybe under that winter hat that you put down over the phone after, I said, "after," you had put that hat over the same phone which you had not only ten seconds ago put on that same table, covering it now, with that winter hat you had just taken off, not seven seconds after, to cover seemingly lost phone...Stop it! Damn! I get it! The mothah fuckah is under my "winterhat." Whatdoyouknow? There it be!

But it still fucks my ass up, that if I had the fuckin phone I could have just called and asked her, "Where the fuck is my phone cause you were sittin up here and saw it yo damn self?" That still fucks me up! Right? I'm just sayin! Makes no fuckin sense...but hey?

Still Averaging Small HuMen (Recovering Black Stoner) 1993

What do you want from a front? Runts run the stunts. They’ll tell you, then fail you. Ballyhoo about the shit they have never committed. After lies have been pitted with truth. It’s uncouth! A blind person could see through that ungodly cloak. Made of hemp, as you know, you can light up inhaling not getting high off the fetid smoke. But we continue to drink the Kool-Aid, that’s always been manmade. While we slowly fade…

The End of Days (Elder Tribe Person From An Earlier Cycle,Post Fall Out) Year Unkown

Hear and read these words of Love and Joy for all of you tribe persons that have become before and which come aft! We send these words to all of you who we know will continue to make US who we have always been and we will always be, the human race!

Remember the days when the North winds become the South.

Remember the days when the East winds become the West.

Remember the days when there are numerous days of Sunshine ; and remember the days when those same Sunny days have become a few.

Remember the days when there were a many friends; and remember a time when, I have no friend or foe.

Remember the days when men speak good speak; and remember a time when that same speak turns fro.

Remember the days when one helped their fellow human; and remember the time one only helps oneself.

Remember! Remember these words and many more of statements of Love and admonition! These words, if one brings them into their heart of hearts, will make one understand:

These are the signs of: THE END OF DAYS!

So saith US all!

Be well My Fellow dark travelers! There’s effulgent light to come! Make good choices! Remember to be good to one another! Because there are always, Blessed God, better days to come!

AMEN- AWOM!

The Truth Will Always Be Gratis (Forty-Eight Years Old, Broke Black Prophet, Near Salvation) 2013

You ever had those times My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs where you feel totally separated from this world? Like, this can't be fuckin real? And if this can't be real? Then what the fuck is real? Cause what my Black ass is and has been witnessin most of my life is a fuckin haze over the true picture. Cause this shit, clarity notwithstanding, is fucked up! Yah heard may? People still looking at the media for some truism. I'm glad tah tell yah Sweetness, it just ain't gonnah happen. Unh-the-fuck-unh! Not in this lifetime. The truth is...all around you. You deal with it every day of your sorry ass life. You talk with it. You wake up with it. You go to bed with the shit. You interact with the mah fuckah, and on and on it fuckin goes, at nausea um. But our stupid asses still tryin tah find that fleeting, delicate truth outside our lil world. Um! The fuck wrong with US? The truth will never come from without. It will always stick it's ugly mug up from within then, the truth springs forth without. Not the othah way around. Yet...we still do the shit in adverse, finding it from without, then within; that's called conditioning. Not the truth!

Oh, don't get me wrong My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs, far be it from me to sit up there in the scorner's seat like I'm an innocent. No! No! No! Cause in order for one to espouse such statements, one must have seen the characteristics in one. Which that one would be me. So lets just say I am talkin bout my damn self too; ergo, findin truth from within, not without. Cause shit...I am! While yah playin. What is this life without those hard judgements and findings within one's being? The roughest mah fuckin thing in this life is tah find truth within yo damn self. And to accept it, to take ownership of it.

But the most Beautiful thang My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs. The most Beautiful thang, is to try, within your sorry ass self, to own your Truth, and sell the shit for nothin at all, gratis, without the imposition tah others of your owned truth!

And that, My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs, is...A Beautiful thang! Oh, yes it is! Peace! More to come...

Perpetual Teardrop (Black Recovering Stoner) 1991

Oh, the eyes tell all from this brawl as we fall from grace from this place; succumbing to this fist fight of our collusion of plight. Hope is long gone from sinning, so they say, winning as we die slowly from dismay and decay. Necrosis taking over as we lie awake daydreaming for Heaven’s sake; taking a copious amount of pills for the ills; we, the poor can’t afford the thrills before we pass into the hereafter; benefactors, being the satisfactory depository of the more elite persuasion; heaven on earth being the self worth of the transgressed history of humankind; the poverty stricken sickened eternally by a Godless God, who must be a man, because of his understanding, knowledge and adeptness of torture. Grow up to be mature, endure this intense nauseating pain as the last years wane. Nature taking its course of course; endorse and enforce a law made up by the ones who have solely benefited. Acquitted by their constitution they rule supreme. God is to fear and only in my dream… if there ever is or was one. Wake me up! Please, from this ongoing nightmare…dry up my lonely constant tear.

Niggas (Elaine Hopson II, Tribes Person, Aspiring Writer) 2019

He was so hyped. Nerves on edge. Ready to kick someone’s ass. Gettin crunked. And what do you know? Here his boys were, blaring out that shit, “I don’t give ah fuck! I don’t give ah fuck!” His favorite song when he got fucked up. Hypin’. Give me your money bitch, he would say to the mothah fuckah he was robbin at the time. Rememberin the rush of the whole episodes as the song continued in his mind and he seein all these fools again he had jacked on many of occasions. Could jack someone right now, or at least shoot a mothah fuckah. He was just lookin for some wrongdoin tah go down or to get into. There it was. Black ass mothah fuckah lookin straight up at'im playah hatin his ass off. Well, mothah fuckah, I saw you lookin for trouble and by god you definitely found it. As he smiled at his imminent quarry. The guy smiled his smile showin one shiny gold left front tooth.

He took two quick steps toward the gold tooth brotha and cracked him square in that damn gold tooth. His fist feeling the impact and being as one. Crushing teeth, bone, fuck it, matter. There was matter after he was through. No discernible parts and you know “parts is parts” as he laughed to himself about the old advertising line from one of the fast food chicken sandwiches or chicken nugget commercials. “That’s all folks!” as porky pig would have said. And as the mother fucker on the movie "Friday" would have said and he said just like the mother fucker too, jumped all in his face after his head hit the floor, “You got Knocked the fuck out!” He said into the gold tooth niggas mouth and felt the music and began to dance feeling like he had not felt like until now, tonight.

He thought maybe he should have yelled in his face, “You’re not a daisy at all,” as Doc said to Ringo on the movie "Tombstone" as Ringo was falling to the ground after Doc Holliday had shot him in between his eyes. Maybe he would say that the next time he knocked a fool out.

“Sing that shit! Where’s the other mothah fuckah tah hit!” He said to himself scoping the crowd and his boys just shaking there heads. Let a nigga learn some Martial arts and a nigga goes foul every time. He saw their looks. He didn’t give a damn. He’d hit them too if he had to. Fuck it! Another motha fucka down don’t mean a damn thing. Just another motha fucka critical. Then he came up to this bitch. Who in the fuck does she think she is? He thought to himself. Shit the way he felt tonight and the action he wanted , shit he wasn’t against knocking a female out. She just looked at him with this smile. Kind of set him aback a little. Fuck that little fine bitch. Oh, don’t get it twisted, she was fine. But damn. A nigga gots to do...” He thought as he leaned over and squeezed that ass after he had told this disrespectful bitch with the nicest ass he had ever seen and looking the way she was challenging him? Oh, the next grope would do it for him and put this bitch in her place. Shit, that shit had him hyped like a motha fucka. He reached out and grabbed that luscious ass, squeezed hard and then everything went black.

He came to in the brightest environment he had ever been in. What in the hell? With the tremendous amount of weed he had smoked and just as much booze he had consumed, now waking up and his thumb feeling as though it were swollen. What in the hell, he thought to himself then a slight pain went up his arm then one of his boys came into focus then another and another. “That bitch damn near killed you nigga. I could have told you to not fuck with that bitch. That bitch don’t play. You see any of us laughing? We know. You just didn’t know. Do not. Do not fuck, I'm tellin yah, with Angie nigga. Big old mistake, with a capital B. The fuck wrong with you? We know you know some shit, but that bitch knows some real shit.” B Lo had said looking at his other two boys that were in the room with him. They nodding in agreement. “Look nigga,” B Lo had told him pointing at his heavily bandaged right hand. Michael looked at the direction of B Lo’s index finger and he realized he was injured some kind of way. Michael’s haze was gone, orientation finally setting in and understood now the cause of his discomfort in his right hand. Then the memories of the event started up and he remembered the woman, shit who wouldn’t. And saw himself reach out and she reacting and then there was no more he could recollect. It was all lost in the lost time after. He didn’t know what had really happened, he figured he had blacked out. Would not have been the last time he had passed the fuck out. Marijuana and Hennesy will make a motha fucka think he can do and get away with anything. But the thing about the passing out before he had vodka and other shit on top of the Hennesy. So he never would have drank anything else, because he knew what that combination would have brought about. Sure he would do it over his boys or at the crib but never out in a club.

“The fuck happened man? I remember feeling on that fine sisitas ass then nothing. That motha fucka I knocked the fuck out get up and cold cock me or something? Cause if he did that mah fucka can take a hella punch because I thought a nigga broke his hand for real. Oh, that’s it. Did I pass out and then realized my hand was broke after the buzz wore off?”B Lo just listened to Michael talk. Whatevah motha fucka he thought to himself. Shit I’d get amnesia too. But shit he didn’t know why Michael was trippin’, shit he the only nigga that wasn’t hip to Angie but a mah fucka had to learn some way. Had told the mah fucka to stop shit like that in the first place. Did that shit all the time. Told him, “Mah fucka look. You go out with us nigga you got to start chillin out man. Shit we don’t want to get in no shit. We got enough to worry about than you wanting to start some shit all the time and feeling on bitches asses. Do that shit again, I don’t know about these other mah fuckas but I know I can’t roll with you no more unless we all chill at the crib. I’m gettin too old for that type of drama.” Nigga didn’t listen for shit. But Angie had taught that ass a lesson. And she being a lawyer too and this nigga thought he was going to get away with that shit? He better recognize. And if he didn't from that encounter. Angie had her way of persuadin a hard mah fuckah like Michael. But you can't tell niggahs shit. That was for damn sure.

***********************
The club was rocking. Victor and Angie had just gotten there. Angie just needed to get out of the house and get loose, as she would call it. They had hit a joint before they left the house and they were still feeling the effects when they entered the club which was nice because they instantly hit the dance floor. Song after song they had been out there. Then Victor had to relieve himself and told Angie and she didn’t care, she said she’d be right where he had left her. So she continued to dance. All of the sudden there was a commotion somewhere in the club and she knew it but she did not respond because that was niggas. Couldn’t get together for shit without somebody acting up. So she kept vibing, waiting for Victor to return. Then this motha fucka, kind of handsome but thug all the same was coming her way so she looked at him and he gave her a condescending look, so she never being one to back down accepted the challenge and stared back at him with contempt understanding now this was the genesis or part of the aforementioned commotion, given the fact people were looking and pointing at him as he walked through the people on the dance floor. She continued to stare at him and she saw his hand and was surprised to be the recipient of a grope. Right on her ass. He was saying something but she could not hear him over the music so she yelled don’t do that again, not caring if he heard her or not, he had been forewarned. She was shocked to see his hand come out again and there, his hand, the squeeze. Angie had just as easily had taken her left hand, found his right hand which was still firmly grasping her round ass, adeptly took his hand in hers felt for his thumb, located it and did one quick jerk and inverted it and heard the crack and saw her previous assaulter drop hard on the floor, not moving. She didn’t care. She was just about to follow up with inverting his elbow and breaking it when she realized the music had stopped, then orientation finally came upon her. She was mad. Real mad. Angie had a very bad temper. She looked around and saw one of Victors friends, Tops, looking at the guy on the floor just shaking his head and for some reason he looked up and saw Angie looking at him Tops smiled at her, winked at her and nodded just behind her, she turned to see Victor coming her way looking at the unconscious body on the dance floor. “Uh, I think we should go,” Victor suggested. He knew whatever happened was not Angie’s fault. Though Angie had a bad temper she gave a nigga a little leeway so he knew this nigga probably took the leeway as she being easy or too nice and tried to take advantage of the situation, thinking Angie was like a lot of other women that let things slide with just a cussing out or at the worst a slap. The silly mah fucka in a heap at Angie’s feet didn’t know Angie for shit. That’s why he was incoherent on the floor motionless.

She looked at Victor and said, “Niggas and flies man. Niggas and flies.”
“I hear ya,” Victor responded knowing the very familiar phrase that had been around since he was a young buck growing up, when they were young people in the hood people had been saying the same phrase, “Niggas and flies I do despise. But the more I hang with niggas, the more I like flies.” He smiled at the statement after she had said it. Angie often times was hilarious when she wanted to be. Even in times like these. Angie never worried about too much. She was at ease with herself. He would sit back and just watch how people reacted to her. She could move a crowd without physically moving it, as if it parted for her. Her presence, the certain way she carried herself, plus she was not hard on the eyes at all. And a body to die for, literally, which that mah fucka at her feet certainly almost did. He was just lucky. And, he knew for damn sure, just fuckin stupid. (to be continued...)

My Sister Zoe (Sixteen Years Old, Male, Black, Tribes Person) 2007

My sister was and is my life. I was born on December 30, 1990. My sister Zoe was born December 6, 2001. I even watched her being born because my mother’s water broke and dad was at work and I couldn’t drive so we had to call 911. They didn’t make it in time so my mother had her at the house. It took less than two minutes from the time my mother started pushing and I saw Zoe's dark hair on her head starting to protrude from Mom's vaginal area. Then, she just slid out. And it was like the paramedics knew the exact time to intervene because when Zoe Thompson slid herself out into this world they were knocking on the door and I let them in. They took all of us in the back of the ambulance to the hospital and I was in awe of my sister since that very episode. She was and is so beautiful.

I learned to take care of her immediately. Watching everything my mother and father did. Zoe was mine as well as my mother’s and father’s. When she was brought home and she was in her crib I would spend so much time just looking at her. When she needed to be fed or changed I was on it. I had watched mom and dad do it so it was no problem at all. After feeding her, I would sit in her room in the rocker that my parents bought for her room, and rock her and burp her. She would be so comfortable. I would put her face next to mine, her head lying on my shoulder burping and resting. She was and is so beautiful.

I would sleep on the floor in her room so my mom and dad would not have to get up during the night. As soon as I would hear her starting to be irritated I knew she needed to be changed and I would change her, kiss her on the cheek and lie her back down in her crib, sit in the rocker and watch her fall peacefully back to sleep. Zoe fascinated me so. I love her. I was going to protect her forever.

I would run home after getting off of the bus and get there in time for her afternoon feeding and feed her. My mom and dad would smile at me all the time. I don’t know why. I wasn’t doing anything extraordinary, I just wanted to be there for her. She is my sister after all. I loved when she smiled at me. I would ask her, “What are you smiling at?” And she would smile even more and I would hold her even tighter.

I would take her out on our screened in porch and point things out to her explaining to her this new world she was witnessing. “That’s a Toyota Camry. Made by a Japanese company.” I’m sure she didn’t really understand what I was telling her but she indulged me all the same. “That’s a tree. It’s spelled T-R-E-E. Can you spell that for me?” And she would extend her hands trying to grab my nose or my cheek. “That’s my nose Zoe,” I would explain to her nasally. “Nose is spelled, N-O-S-E. Now you spell that for me?” She would continue to hold my nose fascinated by maybe by the shape and the way my voice changed while she gently held it closed.

Time has passed but the way that I feel about my sister never has and never will. I was and am an “A” student. My grades did not get like that until my sister was brought into this world. She has changed me in a very good way. We sit out on our screened in porch,now that she is school age, after the day is done and I’ll ask her about her day and she tells me everything that she has learned, the new children that she’s met…she makes me smile. Then she’ll ask me after she is through with her daily updates, “So, what did you do today Tommy?” And I would fill her in and she would ask me questions here and there, always so attentive. At the end I would always say, “There, you see? Our lives are not so much different after all.” She would smile her beautiful smile, get up out of her seat and say, “Yea!” And come and hug me, then would retract a little bit, looking me in the eye and say, “I love you Tommy.” I would smile back at her, usually beaming and say, “And I love you too Z.” And she would embrace me again.

I love her. And I will protect her forever.

Deep Throat (Black Recovering Stoner) 1990

Take the bus, not the rocket to lust, a must amid all the humanoids, devoid of sentient reasonability; an illiteracy along with the falsity of chance being enhanced as our candle burns out; doubt being problematic in the equation of life’s frustrating query. I would be leery even if the truth were avowed, as I stand proud on the eve of judgment; a dollar never being spent on the gamble to the preamble. Ain’t nothin nice or funny as our eyes witnesses the demise; to know anything, in this life, that will ever make any sense to the nonsense is to:

“Always follow the money!”

Deuce (Forty-Five Years Old, Broke Black Prophet And Niece, Elaine Hopson II) 2010

“Are you sure you don’t want to meet’em?” I asked Deuce.

“Hell, naw! What the fuck we gonnah talk about Unc? You and Daddy telling me they claim that they are white and shit, so, I ain’t got no time tah be talkin tah some people, supposedly my two sisters and one brother, that are confused about who they are! And denyin who I know I am, which if yah didn’t notice, is Black! Puh-leeze! I’d rather eat brussel sprouts,” she said offhandedly.

“Brussel sprouts? The hell that come from Deuce?” I asked her laughing a little.

“Oh, of course you didn’t know, I hate me some brussel sprouts. Ugh! Makes me gag just to think of’em. Fo sho!” She started laughing too, gesticulating half putting her right index finger toward her open mouth acting as if she was going to create emesis. We both started cracking up.

We were sitting in a restaurant, located on the north side of Indianapolis, waiting for our food to arrive. A Greek restaurant which I had taken her to one other time and she fell in love with the food, and the male server who was giving her the peeks whenever he had the chance, like Deuce and I hadn’t noticed. He was our same server today and Deuce was checking him out with her little peeks too.

“I ain’t really intah white guys Unc, but that one there is fine,” she said.

“I can understand. He’s Greek, and let me tell yah a little something lady, they just light skinned niggahs but don’t want to admit to it. Cause the Moors were puttin their stamp on all of those lil islands like that in that neck of the woods. Yah feel may?” I said conspiratorially to her.

“I know that’s right. You so funny Unc. You make me laugh and feel good when I’m around you. Why don’t you have a woman Unc?” She said while looking at me with concern and confusion all at the same time.

“Damn. Now that will take a minute or two to answer, my Dear Niece,” I said trying to throw her off by making it seem as though it will take a long time answering her question, hoping maybe she would decide it wasn‘t worth it. It didn’t work.

“Time I got Unc. Answers from you I don’t,” she said.

“My niggah,” I said to her smiling.

“You already know. Now speak on it Unc! Let’s hear it,” she said while leaning forward, putting her elbows on the table, looking me dead in my eye, unwavering. I don’t know how it happened but she definitely had gotten this from her Father, my deceased Brother, Chauncey.

“Okay,” I started out, looking off into space trying to find a point of reference.

“Like in some of my creative writing classes that I have taken Unc, just start talkin and the story will just start falling into place,” she said as she picked up her unsweetened iced tea and took a sip. I took a sip of mine. Put the glass down.

“Here we go Deuce,” and I began to tell her the story of my life because she needed to know from one of her many Uncles, to get to really know her now deceased Father. I knew that. And she had picked me to take her down the rabbit hole of our family…

Incog-Negro (Forty-Eight Years Old, Broke Black Prophet, Near Salvation) 2013

The only thang stopping yo scared ass is, air and opportunity. That’s it. Mothah fuckahs wanstah sit up there and be mad bout the way their perspective lives are goin! Shee-ot! Fuck you! With yo sorry mothah fuckin ass! Who-the-fuck-is-You! You ain’t no bettah than the next person, or the next… just anothah mothah fuckah who lives and breaths, that’s all! You-ain't-shit! With yo funky ass! The fuck!

Tired! Just fuckin tired My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs! I talk hard but howevah my broke black ass talks don’t mean shit because when it is all said and done, I’m just as confused bout this here life than the rest of you mothah fuckahs. Damn right bout that! Shit!

But there comes ah time of clarity; when shit starts fallin intah place and then the truth is known. But now, here in lies the quandary, what the fuck yo sorry ass gonnah do bout it? Hunh?

Well, I’ll tell yah what. Yah get incog-negro on that shit! Drop off the face of the map, disappear, so yo ass can rejuvenate yo tired and weary soul so you can fight the good fight when it's all said and done, like I’m gettin ready tah do today. Times are sho nuff changin, and with that, so too must I… and you too! If yah wantah make this fucked up world a bettah place! Start makin a diff'rence…or fuckin die! There are no in betweens! None! Yah heard may?

Feel it! Envision it! And it will be so! That... My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs...is A Beautiful Thang! Oh, yes it is!

Hollah atcha latah! Peace!

I Am A Gentle Breeze (Fifteen Years Old, High School Student's English Creative Writing Story) 1981

Don’t you miss me? Didn’t you miss me? How I touch you so softly, like butterfly wings on your skin, I send a fresh sense of air and cool you just enough, to even make your body scream out in the universe the sensations I give to them. I am a gentle breeze, feel me move. Soaring ever so high. Letting myself take control and dip and dive to depths unknown. Sometimes I wonder why I can not go into the water and feel its solids? Only being able to touch the surface but that is like all other entities I come about. Sometimes I wish. I wish I could go through any matter staying there for awhile and letting myself understand what it is like to be that entity. That state of being. I am a gentle breeze, feel me move. I have feelings just like any other entity. I often feel under appreciated except in the summer in Florida or some other humid state, I come past and I see the smiles of all the humans I brush and breath life into. But they never utter a word of thank you to me. I have feelings too. I am a sentient being also. DO all of you think that just because you are human and you rationalize that you are the only feeling entity on this earth? It is because you all are elitist? Thinking that only entities that have your language should be addressed or on the same level as the oh so superior human. Oh how I could tell all of you stories of where I have been, the other entities I speak to. All I’ve ever wanted was one of you all to address me and appreciate me in your language to say as I go bye and fill you with soft, warm emotional feelings and in an instant so many memories rush through your mind the instant I brush bye you, Thinking you are on an exotic island and looking at the clear blue sky or Seeing a person of the opposite sex the most beautiful person you have ever met and seeing them in that vision slowly jogging toward you and you know and you wait and just watch this most beautiful person you could possibly imagine , flashes, endless of flashes go through your mind in seconds, and you say not a , Have a good day. I am just saying all of us, if you humans would start just thanking us audibly you would see how many of us are sentient beings. We stay quiet around all of you because of your arrogance, only finding yourselves and your language and interactions amongst one another palatable. We all speak as we go past one another. I am a gentle breeze, feel me move. Address me as in passing and maybe you will learn my language and other entities. We have always been and always will. Maybe we can speak to one another and find a solution to your imminent problem. I am a gentle breeze. Feel me? Feel me!

I have brothers and sisters too. You didn’t know that did you? Of course you didn’t you have never stopped to speak with me, to address me, or any of my siblings. We all do what we do, some of my brothers: Tornado and Hurricane they are messes. So mischievous but they are really kind at heart. Then there are some of my sisters: Gale and Wind…I love going out on adventures with my sisters, we have so much fun. Tornado and Hurricane go out by themselves, we’re not into that kind of misbehaving. Mother, Mother Nature that is, oft times because of them keeps all of US inside, where we can’t go out and play, not being able to play with all of you. Mother grounds us for awhile because of the things Tornado, Hurricane and some of my other brothers do. Just have to have more attention than any of the rest of us. But that’s some of our nature I guess. And everyone has one, nature that is.

Happy Valentine's Day Lovely Lady! (Anonymous) 2012

You see me naked without dress.

I love you because I feel ashamed about the vices I succumb to.

I love you because you do not judge me of those said vices.

I love you because you let me be me.

I love you because I see myself when you let me be me.

I love you because you are You.

I love you because you are beautiful in every way.

I love you because we are souls that are one and the same; lost in this world but found by some unfathomable entity that makes our love so profound.

You are the light in this vast darkness;

Hope in this world of hopelessness;

Order in this world of disorder;

A foundation to this building that has long since been unstable;

Life in this world of the dead;

A refreshing smile in this alien place of frowns;

You are everything in this world that is and what this world could and should be…

And on this Valentine’s day of 2012, I Love You even more, my Beatific Beauty!

I...Love...You!

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXXXXXXXXXXXXX

It's Still Time (Broke Black Prophet) 2012

Don't know why I feel compelled tah share this with you all My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs. But get in, where you fit in. Got some numbers fo yah:

2, 15, 22, 42, 48 PB 6

Feel it! Will it! And it will be so! See yah all in N'Awlins in about a month!

Peace! More to come...

Respect Doesn't Come From Your Looks, From Your Dick Or From Your Pussy! Goddamnit! (Broke Black Prophet, Pre-Salvation) 2008

Mah fuckahs always talkin shit. I hear women talkin bout how many men come onto their sorry asses and shit. I'm thinkin, I could go out right now buy some shit tah look like a woman and within an hour of goin out this fuckin door tah this apartment there will be at least two mah fuckahs tryin tah come on tah me. Sad awhile. But for some reason women are impressed with themselves by this traditional behavior of men. Or you have in the adverse, men goin around comin ontah women and they feelin all good about themselves by women either takin them home or givin them a number or takin their drink...I don't really give a fuck. Whatevah mah fuckah. Yah see how fucked up the cycle is? But yo sorry ass has tah break that mah fuckin cycle. Yah got tah not Love yo damn self, but yah have tah be at the very least comfortable within the skin that yo sorry ass is in. Cause, believe me Sweetness, that shit ain't gonnah change, with that mah fuckah fo life Son! Belee dat kid!

Because if yah really look at it, in your core being, exterior ain't shit! Shiiit! Look at ugly mah fuckin Donald Trump or Eddie Murphy. Oh, there're the doubters out there right now sayin, but they got money. That don't have shit tah do with the point I'm makin. They made the money because they were respected in their craft or profession. Let's take for instance on the women side of things, Madonna, lets face it, is whooped! With a capital "W!" I don't give a goddamned whether yo sorry ass is a Madonna fanatic or not, the woman is busted. Or Gweneth Pawltrue, or howevah yah spell her damn name, I don't care how the media has hyped that woman up, all I see is an ugly woman. Damn that! Digressing, all four of them have a big ass flaw, they are severely unattractive but they are respected. And they're not respected by how good they can fuck. They are respected in their given talents. Maybe fuckin is one of them, but I don't hear the shit on TMZ or no shit.

People always talkin like looks are so important. Looks don't mean a damn thang if yo sorry ass ain't respected. You might be a drop dead gorgeous mah fuckin fly ass woman, but if yah givin it up tah every goddamn body, respect gets thrown out the fuckin window and all yo ass becomes is a fuckin Ho! Because respect comes with a certain sense of standards, one of them being, restraint. Controllin yo shit. Or if you are a man, (and I ain't even goin tah say handsome cause I don't know why in the fuck women fuckin most of these overweight, ugly, misogynistic, arrogant assholes? Cause I don't give a fuck how much money Oprah got, there is no way my dick could get on hard for that ugly woman! Unh-the-fuck-unh! But back to my point.), fuckin every damn woman yah damn well please, respect gets thrown out the fuckin window, and all yo sorry ass will be known as is a fuckin Ho!

And why does this happen My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs? Because whether you be male or female that shit shows signs of weakness; ergo, a flaw in the perception of respect an individual has for the one that used to be respected, unless yo sorry ass just wantstah be known as a great Ho or a great Whoremonger. But I'm glad tah tell yah, yo ass has one hundred million or more of competitors. So go knock yo sorry, no count havin ass out! For real! Shiit! Dogs can fuck! Monkeys can fuck! So can the rest of the animal kingdom!

Now, mah fuckah thinkin, why the fuck you stuck on sex? If a mah fuckah wants tah have multiple partners I don't see the problem? And here in lies the problem with yo stupid no count havin ass! Since gestating in yo Momma's Holiest of Holies and springing forth intah this world, the only thang yo mothah fuckin ass will evah own is your body, yo sacred temple. And tah let mah fuckahs stick in or stick on the only shit you will evah own, is disrepspectful and quite negligent to the only priceless thang yo ass will evah own in yo short good fo nothin life, your Holy Temple of your body! The fuck wrong with you? The fuck wrong with US? In my forty-three year sorry ass life I have known eleven women. Of course the word 'known' is used in the Biblical sense as a euphemism for, having sex with anothah. Don't know why I used the term but I did. So, there...on the othah hand I guess I do know why I used it because it is prudish and I am not a prude by any means so I used it as a means of incongruity from the written prose prior to. But anyway, before I was so rudely interrupted, eleven women. Might sound like a lot for some, but not shit tah most. But it is what it is. But again, the last sixteen years I have only known two. And I don't really give ah good goddamn whethah you believe that shit or not. Yah heard may? Again, it is what it is?

And why did I tell you all this My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs? Cause, it's ol' school which should be new school too and year round school. What-the-fuck-evah yah want tah call it mah fuckah! How yo sorry ass treats yo body is in direct correlation of the respect you have for yourself and the respect others have for you. I may not like myself a whole hellofalot of the time and I might be a broke Black ass mah fuckah. But I sho the fuck respect myself goddamnit and I don't need or want to find that respect in various vaginal areas! And that makes all the difference in the world. Best belee dat shit! And it is...A Beautiful Thang! Oh, yes it is!

Peace! More to come...

The Pawnshop Blues Of A Crack-Head (Thirty-Two Years Old, Hawaiian, Recovering Crack Addict) 2014

He had pawned enough mother fucker... tah understand, with his crackhead havin ass, not tah say, "How much would yah give me for this?" Fuck, no! No! No! No! It's always, " How much would you loan me for this?" Now, that's whatcha broke crackhead ass asks! "Give me?" Tear yo ass up! Statement of desperation. And fuck that, though yo sorry ass needs a hit like nobody's b'ness! Gottah be a smart crackhead if yah wannah keep crackin the right way. Whatevah the fuck that shit is?

"Loan me?" Now that's ah real b'ness person. Want ch'o shit back goddamnit! "Give me?" Now my ass knows, as a pawnbroker, yo sorry ass don't want ch'o shit back. Yo ass desperate. And desperate makes my ass some money. Nevah see yo sorry ass again...At least, not fo the bullshit yah tryin tah pawn me. Shiiiit...

At The Daycare (Thirty-Two Years Old, Male, Black, Stand-Up Comedian) 2010

So you gottah lil Sweet muh fuckah playin and shit with her friends. Then all bets are off when she sees Daddy. Drops all the damn blocks she was hordin from the othah lil muh fuckahs. Fuck it! Damn! Take the shit! My Daddy's here with y'alls sorry asses! All happy and shit cause Daddy done picked my Black ass up. And before, six o'clock on the nose, Momma's usual pick up time, with her no job havin ass. I'm just sayin. Feelin all good! Yeah, Daddy let me give you a hug and some sugah. This be My Daddy! Wantin tah stick yo tongue out at the othah lil muh fuckahs! You poor lil sorry bastards and bitches! But you don't dare do that, cause yo ass is gonnah be back here with these sorry muh fuckahs, I loathfully call "my friends," tomorrow mornin. Shee-iit, can't rub that shit in! Oh, no! So you just smile, wave and respectfully say, "Goodbye everybody!"

Musing Valentine's Day (Twenty-One Years Old, Married, Male, Caucasian) 1981

Flowers Per dozen are tripled.
Your pocket this day is very crippled.
A man-made day like the rest,
Every year I seem to flunk the test.
Cupid's arrow and stuff like that,
I could really hit Cupid with a bat.
Every year you seem to buy more,
Wandering around broke in the store.
Yes, the plastic will see much action
This Winter's day of passion.
Buy! Buy! Is the only reason;
For Many of days in every season.
You give and smile like you are thrilled,
And what you are really thinking about is getting billed.
Your loved one that is so happy about the gift you gave,
You're wondering how many bucks you could have saved
If you could have just given a traditional card,
As they look at the five by eight and think,
"You can take this and shove this up your ass, real hard."
Even though you have been taught it's the thought,
Your love is now based on the price of the gift you've bought.
So you have to give an expensive gift, then wine and dine,
Because that is when you really shine!
Just remember that this is just one day out of many,
That you will spend your every penny,
So, as the days of the year accumulate,
Your available credit will dissipate;
But don't forget it's all for love,
That is why you are in debt way above,
You sit around thinking what to do?
Put the relationship on hold until the days are through?
No! Now, that would be too easy and a whole lot cheaper.
Is it really cheaper to keep her?
I'm convinced days like this and so many more,
Were made up by the retail and floral stores.