Karon (Elaine Hopson II, Tribe Person, Aspiring Writer) 2016

So many dicks. Just so many she had lost count. Didn’t mean shit to her either. Any one of them. Going through the motions. Motha fuckas fucking her all kinds of ways trying to make her respond. She never would. She would just lay there while they did what they did. She doing what she did out of some innate response to all of the various sexual partners she had in her past. “Why don’t you make any faces or noises? Even when you get on top you just ride with no expression on your face.” She would just look at the various guys that had said variations to that statement to her. Had caught every STD imaginable except for hepatitis, AIDS or syphilis. Thank goodness for that she thought now to herself. Every once and a while a herpes bump would find its way on her upper lip just to the left of center. Big old ugly motha fucka too. Would go and take her acyclovir quicker than shit to get that bitch down. People knowing what the deal was. She was a little more careful because of catching this shit she couldn’t get rid of. It wasn’t a general practitioner that had found it out either. She had went in for a routine eye exam at Dr. Darland. She had told him about something was bothering her eye. After the eye exam he dilated her and after she was fully dilated he had taken her back and looked into the black hole into her soul, the pupil. He was finished and had said. “You really need to see your family doctor,” Dr. Darland had said to her very calmly.
“Family Doctor? What for?” she asked very incredulously.
“Well I don’t know how to tell you this but the discomfort that you have been feeling in your eye is herpes.
I can detect those kinds of diseases by doing a dilation which I just performed on you. That’s why it is so important to get dilated if not every year at the least every two years.”
“Herpes? How in the world can you see that in my eye? I ain’t never heard of that,” not in a defensive way but of a concerned wanting to know way. He continued to tell her the various steps that Optometrists take and how certain diseases appear in the eye including herpes and told her it was not uncommon at all.
And damn if he wasn’t right. Blood test had shown that yes in fact she had contracted the virus. That is when she did a reality check. She had two children that depended on her and it was time for her to get a little more serious about life. And she did. Albeit there were a couple of mah fuckas she let slide and hit it without a rubber but she vowed after the last one never again.

Really could have been dead by now. She had no idea of how many videotapes were out there of her fucking the sorry ass niggas she fucked for one reason or another. She didn’t give a damn. It didn’t mean anything. That shit meant nothing to her. She kind of smiled to herself of those mah fuckas letting their so-called boys see the tapes and their boys looking at the blank expression on her face while the scene unfolded and the videotape running, “Damn man, you ain’t doin shit with that. She lookin like you boring the shit out of her.” She had big thick dicks, real small dicks, in between dicks, pencil dicks, dicks she couldn’t half find...It was endless. She would put a little spin on one of the lines in the Armour hot dog commercial which would make her laugh when she would get down on herself like now. She started singing it almost inaudibly to herself, “Fat dicks, skinny dicks, even dicks with big old nuts.” She began laughing. It worked every time. She thought about this one she had seen, she forgot the niggas name but he had this long dick at least nine inches long, at least, but the width she swore was no bigger than her thumb. That is when she found out that pencil dicks were true. She remembered his face but could not recall the name. She had trouble recalling any of her past sexual partners, it was all a blur. She remembered he was fucking her, thinking he was doing something and his dick feeling as though it was poking the shit out of her, like yes, a pencil was inside of her poking around hitting spots and her not hardly being able to wait until the mah fucka shot his load. Thinking throughout the whole act, come on mah fucka or you are going to have to get the fuck off of me. He finally did shoot making all kinds of ugly faces and shit and she got up and put on her clothes and got the fuck out of his apartment and never went back again.

Karon was tired of niggas. Never thought of any of them for as long as she went with them or fucked them, and sometimes even while fucking them she thought of the only man she had ever thought about since she laid eyes on him some ten years ago. Victor. She could never get that man out of her mind to save her life. She cried about him many a nights wondering why he never felt about her the way she felt about him. Loved that niggas dirty drawls. Would drink his dirty bath water. She could imagine how he would feel inside her, definitely not like any of the other dicks she had. His would be special she knew. He was special. Any man that made her feel the way he did just by being around her she always knew he was the one for her. She wondered what an orgasm felt like. She had never had one. None of the many guys she had been with had even remotely got her to that point. Sure some times it felt good but that is about all. Every once and a while one of the men would hit a special spot and it would feel better than what she had felt before. But she knew it wasn’t an orgasm. Shit not from what her friends had told her it felt like. They telling her about feeling all tingly and then something going on inside which felt as though it was being released, “Girl let me tell you. A motha fucka make you cum,” Chanterelle her Hair Stylist was telling her at the beauty shop, “girl you will sho nuff know it. Am I right Bee Bee?” Chanterelle had turned to the Hair Stylist whose booth was situated right next to hers.
“Shit. You ain’t said nothing wrong girl. I’m here to tell you. Will cosign for that statement any day of the week,” Bee Bee had responded back smiling and looking as though she was experiencing an orgasm in memory in her recent past and finally saying, “Umm. You know that’s right,” shaking her head emphasizing the statement even more.
“I told you girl. Motha fucka hit that shit right, you’ll be sprung for sure.” Chanterelle added.

Here she was 29 years old and the bitch still hadn’t a Big O. All those mah fuckas. not a damn one could fuck well enough to give her pleasure. Or maybe she really wasn’t mentally into it. Just fuckin. That’s all she was doing. Filling time. Like she felt she was doing most of the time doing things to not to be bored and for God’s sake not to be alone. Bitch needed a warm body next to her. Especially in the winter time. Damn those were some cold lonely nights there boy. Practically trying to throw pussy at any one of the mah fuckas to come over and just lay next to her. But she knew she had to give up some ass to make them stay at least a little while but shit it wasn’t like the bitch hadn’t did it before. They weren’t asking her to take it up the ass or anything like that, just stick it in until they came, piece of cake. Suckin their dicks? Hell no, a bitch had her limits. She wasn’t nor was she ever going to suck a niggas dick or nuts. Fuck that! Nasty mah fuckas. She remembered one guy had taken off his drawls and the funk hit her all in the face and she had straight up told him, get your nasty ass in that bathroom and take a shower or at least wash your nuts! Thinking to herself how guys talked about how bad women can smell sometimes and those mah fuckas having some hella stank nuts. She smiled to herself about that. Whew, she was tired of niggas.

Like now she started thinking of the bad times in her life when she was young. Her mother lettin those motha fuckas fondle and fuck her. She had told her mother about her two uncles and the two step fathers she had during her formative years. She was helpless. Her Mother not even paying any attention to her saying, “Now, Ronnie they were probably just playing with you girl. They didn’t mean any harm. No, you just don’t like them so you are just making these things up so I will put them out of the house.” Her own mother she thought. She cried for a little while like she usually did about this time in her life. She had no place to run to nor anyone to turn to. She cried because she wished she could live her childhood again and be a kid and worry about kid shit. She was never able to do this in her entire life, be a child. That is why she let Dontrel and Deaunte do whatever kids were supposed to do. Maybe a little too much but damnit they didn’t harm anybody. They were good kids if she had to say so herself. Even Victor loved them. Would take them to see a movie while she did whatever she wanted to do, “Now Ron check this out. Me and the boys will be gone for about four hours, I’m going to take them to Mickey Dees and then to the movies. Now don’t be tryin to not be here when I bring them back”
“I wouldn’t do that to you boy,” she would say with a playful look on her face.
“I’m not kiddin Ron,” he would say to her.
“Oh, will you stop it. I’ll be here. Now go nigga. Bye badasses.”
“Bye Mommy,” the boys would say in unison anxious to hit the streets.

She started thinking of Victor again. She remembered when he first hugged her. He had this lean, hard athletic body. Umm. That mah fucka was and is the shit. She remembered he hugged her for having such good grades her first semester in college. She smelled him, and even after his eight hours on third shift, he smelled of Lagerfeld, soft warm and inviting scent. She wanted to kiss him then, passionately. His hair always impeccably cut and lined, and goatee and eyebrows as black as night almost artistically etched on his face, goatee looking as though it were drawn on as manicured as it was lined. Brotha man was clean as hell and a drop dead fine ass brotha for real. She smiled at the thought of him then and her impression of him. Sweet, fine motha fucka. Was the thing she first thought of him when she met him on the unit. Could not really talk to him in a conversational manner. hypnotized by the nigga and how eloquently he spoke. Way far from the brothas she grew up around and were in her neighborhood still, Brightwood niggas. Crazy son of a bitches lived for the day and the day only. Here this nigga was talkin about careers and college and no children. What? Had she heard right? Mah fucka got to be gay. Hell no. Nigga lookin like that and no children and how he was representin’, shit something was mightily wrong with this nigga. She had found out Victor was just one of those niggas that took care of business. Trying to step into the world of legit in this illegitimate world. Straight up! Nigga was down for his. Victor she had found out was a nice man, a find, a one of a kind. The only real man she had ever met really. She started crying again. She wanted him in her life more than anything. She caught herself when she heard Dontrel and Deaunte in the kitchen. “Whatcha’ll doin in there little niggas? I know somebody is supposed to be in bed. They better be there when I check on them if they know what’s good for them,” she yelled out and heard the feet scurrying off the linoleum kitchen floor and them scrambling in their bedrooms getting into their beds. She smiled. She knew she would not have to check on them. They were good kids. They were all she had really. And those little motha fuckas needed a Daddy, she knew that for damn sure. So she called him.

“Hello?” Victor answered.

“What’s up my nigga?” Karon said to him.

“Whad’up, whad’up my nigga for real? Whatcha know no good? When you gonna come over here and slob on these nuts?” Victor said to her playfully in a way only they understood.

“As soon as you come over and lick on these lips down south mah fucka. Come over here and give Mommy some tongue on this pussy.” She retorted in a breathless lusty voice.

“Watch out d’ere now. Mah fucka be over there before you know it. Fuckin around,” Victor said

“Who said I was playin?” Karon pushed gently.

“You need to quit it. What’s up girl?”

“Nothin. Just thinkin about you.” Karon playing and not.

“I was thinkin about you too. I ran into Ellen yesterday at the mall. You remember we used to trip out on her at the hospital? She was a straight up tight ass white woman wasn’t she?”

“I hear you on that. I remember her and I almost came to blows. For real. You know she was on the west side on Peds South and I was on the East side. She being all nasty and putting her phone on make-busy trying to be funny and two of my kids on my side of the floor codin like a mah fucka. Just came back from heart surgery and she knew damn well not to pull that shit on me. Shit after everything settled down I went and cussed that bitch up and down one side to the other and she never pulled that shit again, I tell you that. Crazy my ass. I would have whopped up on her old white crazy ass that day. She knew damn well I wasn‘t playin. Hunh.”

“You talk mo’ shit than a little bit with you ninety five pound ass.”

“Ninety-eight pounds thank you. I’m tired of y’all mah fuckas talkin about how skinny I am. I’m a nice size. Damn. Mah fuckas always got somethin to say. “

“Shit, don’t be tryin to act all mad. Miss badass.”

“Damn straight. And don’t ever forget it.”
“Right, right. Hey how’s the Terrible Ds doing? They in bed. They have to be in bed because I don’t hear them in the background nor you every second hollering at them,” Victor said and giggled just a little.

Karon smiled and said, “No you didn’t? Yes, they are in bed Mister Smart ass and they are doing fine, thank you.”

“Well tell them Uncle Victor said, “What’s up?”

“You know I’ll do that. I don’t know why you just don’t come over here and visit them your damn self. they do ask about you, you know.”

Victor smiled. He liked her two children. They were bad but they were a good bad. It was hard to explain. They were very mindful children surprisingly when you got serious on them. Knowing Karon the way he did he could not believe her children were really so well mannered knowing how she could be. She was always very good with her children. Oh, she would call them all kinds of names and they better not repeat what she said, but somehow those children loved her to death. Didn’t take what she said to heart whatsoever like they knew Mommy was having a hard time and she is just blowing off some steam we know it and we love you too Mommy. Some hella good children.
“Well that’s a good thing. I think. They could ask thinking to themselves, when that crazy son of a bitch coming back? Just warn us two niggas before hand Mommy, damn,” Victor said.

“Shut up!” Karon said while laughing.

“You know I’m right. Those some grown ass boys there.”

“And don’t I know it,” Karon agreed. “Sometimes it gets so hard Victor you just don’t understand.”

“I can only imagine Ron. I can only imagine.” Victor feeling her shit. Life was a mah fucka and with two children and the nigga in the joint for the next twenty to twenty-five. Shit. That was a fucked up hand there.

“But for real when are you coming to visit us?” Karon asked.

“Oh, I’ll come pretty soon. I got to take care of some business first.”

“You need to quit nigga. You know you need to give that game store bullshit up. You know you are much better than that Victor.”

“Yeah, that’s what everybody tells me. But shit a nigga gotta do something. I’m Assistant Manager whatever that’s worth. The store ain’t bigger than a minute. Plus they let me after I told them I wasn’t workin any more week-ends and they said no problem. You know I didn’t have anything to loose. If they would have told me I had to still work weekends a nigga would have just jetted. Niggas be all up in there buying games for their systems. Colts players be comin in there droppin big loot on that bullshit. Two sometimes three thousand dollars on just games. ‘I’ve seen shit and I’ve seen shat. But I ain’t never seen no shit like that.’”

“Stop it. You so silly. That was pretty funny though. Where in the hell did you pick that up because that is the first time I’ve ever heard you say that?”

“I read it in this book I read this past week. You know me, still reading at least a novel a week. Trying like hell to keep the non dead brain cells fresh because the green they say kills some mean cells.”

“Fuck them. They always saying shit like that. They just trying to stop mah fuckas from smokin that’s all. Yeah and when we gonna chill out again? We have so much fun just chillin,” Karon said.
“Soon, I promise. And we do have so much fun don’t we. You remember that time we stayed up and watched almost every last one of those Def Comedy Jam tapes and we cracked our damned sides from that shit?” Victor asked.

“Boy that was the shit,” Karon now laughing, remembering, “We got high all night and had so much fun eatin and laughin and shit. Whew!” She slowly stopped laughing and said, “I miss you Victor.”

“Oh, I miss you too Ron. We’ll hang out soon okay. I’ve been looking for a place to stay because Angie I think is close to throwin a nigga out.”

“You know I hate her,” Karon said.

“Now you told me not two days ago that you liked her,” Victor said.

“I know I did. And I meant it too. It’s just I mean that in a good way I guess. You know Angie has those three “Fuls” goin on,” Karon said.

“What the hell are the threefuls?” Victor asked.

“No boy, not threefuls but three “Fuls”. Successful, beautiful and I bet a handful in bed. You got any two of the three you can write your own ticket in this world man or woman. You see, I hate her. The bitch,” Karon said.

They both started laughing. Victor was laughing with tears in his eyes. Karon was straight up the craziest and most colorful with the English language of any nigga he knew. The girl was funny as hell.

“Well Ron you have two of the three. And I only say two of the three because success is in the mind. It is all about perception and perspective. So looking at it like that I would have to say you have all three,” Victor said.

“There you go with that philosophy bullshit. And how would you know about the handful when we haven’t got down like that?” Karon asked.

“Do you not remember you showing me certain pictures and video...” Victor said.

“Awright. Awright. Damn,” Karon cut him off, “Sometimes a bitch be trippin that’s all. Loose her fuckin mind if it didn’t come with the package when she was born. Your ass don’t be forgettin shit.”

“Now how in the hell could I forget those images? Those are there to stay Ron,” Victor said.

She smiled and let out an embarrassed and almost shy chuckle.
“You know how we roll girl, we don’t judge one another. You know you my mah fucka girl! You know this man! Check that, wo-man!” Victor said.

“That’s right. Let’s get that shit straight,” she gave the little chuckle again, “You so silly man, you know that right?” Karon asked.

“Yeah. But you know how we roll. We can’t help it,” Victor said.

“I miss you Victor,” Karon said warmly.

“And I miss you too. Are you all right Ron?” Victor asked.

The tears started coming down her face again and she sniffled just a little. Victor heard the sniffle.
“Would you like for me to stay with you tonight girl?” Victor asked.

“Would you please. Bitch don’t want to be alone tonight. And I would really like to see you. The boys would too but they are both asleep I think,” Karon said.

“I’ll be right over,” Victor said and rang off.

I'll Give You A Sewer (Eighteen Years Old, Male, Caucasian, Adopted At The Age Of Ten By An Abusive Religious (Apolstolic) Couple) 2014

If it were left up to me,
I would piss over the whole world;
Then, turn around and let the fecal
Matter flow, making sure it covers the Earth,
Strike a match,
And watch the shit burn!

Death Is A Living Death (Twenty-Seven Years Old, Female, Artist, Caucasian, Tribe Person) 2010

Life is death.
Death is life.
They go hand in hand;
One has two deaths
And only one life;
Some might argue,
But that's the Truth.
What are we before conception?
Nothing!
What are we after we leave this life?
Nothing!
So, I have been through death before
You see?
So, I have my second death to look forward to.
That's all we live for is,
To die.
If you muse over it.
Why do so many try to deny
What is imminent?
Like the sun is going to rise;
Oh, you may not see it because of overcast;
But it is there.
I assure you!
Death is not like the sun,
In that you know when the sun should rise;
Death...
No one knows when it is going to happen?
Unless...one chooses suicide.
Other than that it will surely happen;
Either by age or by a mishap.

I am not afraid of death!
Assuredly!

So, endure it like I,
Because we die...to live...to die.

MOBO (Michelle Obama/ Barack Obama) One More Time (Twenty-Eight Years Old, Conscientious Objector, Ex-Marine, Male, Black, Tribe Person) 2012

I don’t want to seem ungrateful or hateful. I want you to understand the fact of I am! And that We are!

Can’t change what is. We have to forgive. Sift through all of the drama which they, and maybe even you blame, on President Obama. Mrs. Michelle quells the silly sounds of dissent which circumvents the silly voter to never wander.

But we understand,
Know, as the snow pummels our streets never neat to defeat the huge salt trucks among US.

Be Careful For What You Pray For! And Maybe Not. (Innocent, Forty-Two Years Old, Male, Black, Tribe Person, On Death Row) 2007

I was going down. My soul, my body…my life. For what? You may be asking. Well, what I call a little difference of perception and most importantly, truth. When one, like I, knows one has not done anything wrong, and another, lets say, in this case, the criminal court system says that I, in fact, did and the jury believes that court system…well…your ass is grass. Like mine surely was. Running out of time. Clock winding down in a crucial way. Um!

I was one of the few on Indiana’s Death Row. Oh, that’s not something to be braggadocios about, just stating facts is all.

Someone, not me, had decided to be light skinned, bald, five-foot six with dark clothes on, walking (I don’t know to this day why they believed a person, even Black, would be stupid enough to just be be-bopping down the street, la-la-la-la-la…after viciously killing someone…but damned if I will ever understand white people and their mentality. Jury of my peers my ass! The jury was lily, pure as the driven snow. Shit) and decided to kill someone that night.

And guess what? That’s right, yours truly, minding my own business, after a long days work meandering on our fair city’s downtown street, Capitol Avenue…and you can just guess the rest. That’s why I’m here. Wrong place at the wrong fucking time. But for the Indianapolis Metropolitan Police Department, I was at the right place at the right time and now we got that ass!

How lucky can a Black man be? Couldn’t hit the lottery for shit all my forty-two years of Black ass life! But looky here! Bingo-Bango-Bongo! Can’t say that I hadn’t prayed many of times to hit the lottery. And it is funny how one’s prayers are answered. God telling me in a horrible way that I should have been more succinct with those little specificities.

But damn, what a way to learn...

Sans A Conscience (Black Stoner) 1984

Take me to a world where I will not hurl all the bacteria laden food I have ingested, inspected but never respected. Tainted nourishment once thought of as uninfected because of the many safeguards of our federal government; whores that have smelled the last cent of scent from the money laced lobbyists to fence and never to whence from their repast they have passed unto the populous’ table that was laced. Traced the faces of the many innocent children, women and men. Send them a smarting trend to never defend from their lying rhetoric, pathetic tricks. Picks the locks of the plethora of chaste religions shackles to go fishing, never wishing or listing the wrongs from the mighty bong filled with green, not dope fiends because it is not composed of herbs which would disturb their sinister ways as their brain decays to the human factor. We, never being heirs or benefactors of a death perceived to have happened so long ago, a pristine bowl they have fired up, sending toxic vapors to forever savor. Labor until we die. We will never reach the prophetic high.

It’s too fucking late to sigh and cry!

The Conscientious Groupie (Elaine Hopson II, Tribe Person, Aspiring Writer) 2015

Think about it. That’s what she was, finally she had to be true to herself, she was a has been of a fucking groupie. She was fucking the young man she remembered as she was looking at the video. He, jammin his ass off and she wanting him the more and more he gyrated. Yeah, she remembered the now dated video she viewed daily on the show, “Back In the Day, Old School Videos.” Whew wee wasn’t she the whore back then? She had to have sucked over 2000 dicks and fucked just as many band members. She probably could have been rich if she would have charged for the suck and fuck, or just listened to her mentor, Tina. But no, being with the mothah fuckahs was payment enough. She looked at herself often in the mirror. Only Thirty-four years old and looked damn near close to fifty. Damn, how the fast lane wears on a bitch, she thought every time she looked at her reflection. She never felt bad about it. Never any regrets. Shit she had learned from the best when she first started down the road of Hedonism. She remembered that’s what her teacher, her best friend, Tina had told her when she had informed her of the ropes, running it down to her when she was only seventeen getting into the game...

“Shit bitch, you startin about the age I was sniffin after these niggahs,” she was saying as she smoked a Salem 100. “The best life there is, if you ask me. Kind of changing though. All these niggahs wantin tah fuck yah in the ass and shit. And without a condom! ‘Let’s try a d.p.’ Fuck done happened tah niggahs is beyond me girl. Talk about the white man and just like ‘em. You a fine little thing though. You play your cards right you can have anything you want. Don’t be like me. Fuckin these mothah fuckahs for free. Hell, no! Get somethin out their asses. Look like me and shit after its all said and done,” as she continued to suck on the menthol cigarette like it was a steak for her lungs to munch on. Looking as though she was enjoying the hell out the smoke.

She blew out the gray plume of smoke with the same two fingers she held the square in she pointed both toward Keisha. “How old you think I am Key?” She looked at her with a smile on her face knowing like hell that Keisha would get it wrong. “ Before you answer girl, let me take a little pressure off yo ass so you won’t give me no bullshit answah. Listen, your answah can’t hurt me. Shit, look at my life. I’ve fucked and sucked so many mothah fuckahs in so many different places in front of so many other people don’t even worry about hurtin my feelins. You know what I’m sayin? Now, give me your best-shot there Key.”

Keisha did not hesitate, “I would say thirty-seven.”
Tina laughed at this. She laughed hard around a cloud of just expelled smoke and it caught a little in her throat and she began to cough from the irritation, but still she laughed. “That’s what I like about you bitch. You are one straight shootin bitch let me tell yah,” she looked at Keisha then and saw she was a little disturbed about something. Tina knew what it was, still with the smile on her face she said, “I’m sorry girl. I forget you are still kind of sensitive about certain things. I don’t mean any harm really. You know I’ve been in the game for a long time honey and those kinds of names you get used to bein called. You start not seein them as hurtful really almost terms of endearments as crazy as that might sound to you right now. So when I say bitch and ho and all that shit I don’t mean to sound like I’m tryin to put yo ass down, its just the environment that’s all. But damn thirty-seven? I’ll be shit. This lifestyle done took a toll on old Tina for real;” she trailed off and looked away from Keisha thinking, lost in memory. After awhile Keisha spoke up, “Earth to Tee! Earth to Tee!”

Tina jumped just a little and looked at Keisha, in a where the fuck did you come from look, then got oriented and said, “I’m sorry girl, sometimes that happens. Shouldn’t have taken some of that acid some of these niggahs done got into. Used to smoke just some of the finest weed evah! Shit! Now they done went totally out of their black ass minds! Anyway, where were we? Oh, yeah, thirty-seven!” She cackled again and took another drag off the menthol, hard and deep, collecting her thoughts and looking at Keisha with a smile. Finally exhaling and saying, “Thirty-seven!” Shaking her head. “Goddamn! I do like yo ass! You sure you want tah get into this shit? I’m tellin yah girl it’s the fast lane in any major city, and once you move ovah into the mothah fuckah, it’s almost impossible to get the fuck back ovah! And I‘m not sayin that mah fuckahs won‘t let you back ovah, yo ass just gets used to going ninety miles an hour and before you know it, yo ass forgets to do preventive maintenance, start breaking down and shit, then yo ass starts looking, as you said, thirty-seven! You know what I‘m sayin?” She had taken another pull after the statement waiting for Keisha's reply. Keisha said nothing just kept looking at Tina, waiting.

“Damn girl, you gonna answah the question or what?” Tina said in between puffs.
“I’m waiting for your answer before I answer. You haven’t told me how old you are yet. So based on what you tell me, is something I have to take into consideration.” Keisha said earnestly.

“Um! And smart too! I do like yo ass! Why don’t you get out of high school and go to college and be a lawyer or some shit. You got the brains for it girl!”

“Tee, are you gonna tell me how old you are or not?” Keisha asked.

“Okay, damn! I’m twenty-six. I done told you it’s a fast life. They call it a fast life because you compress so much living in a short amount of time, hence, my ass lookin thirty-seven, as you say.”

“I’m sorry Tee! I just...”

“Don’t be sorry about the truth girl. Don’t evah be sorry for what you feel and how you feelin! That’s what’s gonna separate you from the rest of these bitches. A mah fuckah ask you to fuck you in the ass and you don’t want to get fucked in the ass, you say hell nah! Your terms, your body! A mah fuckah asks you to suck his dick and you don’t wanna, you say, hell nah! Your terms, your body, your experiences. Don’t evah be sorry for your truth or your feelings! Makes the game much more enjoyable! You see what I’m sayin?” Tina said while firing up another menthol, barely letting the other cigarette to have time to extinguish.

“I’m listening. Please continue.” Keisha said while taking another sip of the Riunite Lambrusco, with more ice than wine that Tina always had bottles of in the refrigerator and in abundance.

“Continue! There you go again. Did I say I like yo ass? No, let me reword that statement. I love yo ass! You make me think how my life could have been so different. I’ve always liked words. How people utilize them. You not goin to sound like these othah mah fuckin bitches out here in the game, I tell yah that! You sure you don’t want tah get yo ass out of high school and be legit? Pro’ly make a hell of a lot mo money and respect. Look at yo’self differently when it’s all said and done. Shit. Look at me? Life is long memories are fleeting girl. For real!” As she picked up her glass and took a long swig of the red wine herself, took a piece of ice in her mouth, crunched it up, took a long pull off the menthol, inhaled, exhaled. “You see what I’m sayin?”

Keisha had taken another sip and looked off in the distance. Thought about everything Tina had told her. She loved this woman like a mother. Keisha’s mother being a crack head, still out on the streets crackin while her grandmother worked two jobs taking care of her and her two younger brothers. Tina didn’t sugar coat anything, nor was she judgmental, nor did she tell her what she should do, Tina had the gift. The gift of giving anyone she spoke with the facts, as she knew them and letting them make their own decisions. She had discernment.

“Tee, I really don’t know what I want. I just know that every time I see D’Angelo in that video, I want to fuck his brains out and make him hit one of those high notes just for me. Shit, fuck that weed you talkin bout niggah, or heroin...whatevahthefuck! I’m the real deal, I’m your Brown Sugah. And that’s the truth Tee.” As she looked at Tina and sucked on the piece of ice she had sucked in after taking the last sip of wine in her glass.

“You are lovely girl. So damn honest. I wish I was the same age as you and we could have tore this world up! Me and you, shit, nothing could have gotten in our way! I’m tellin yah! Well, shit. They hardly ever let my old ass backstage anymore, even though I still got this round ass, nice titties and flat stomach. But you...shit; yo ass will have no problem at all! I already got us tickets. And that mah fuckah got a concert this weekend. So, you in or not?”

“Tee, girl, you know I’m right there, front and center!” Keisha said while picking up her wine and sipping the little last drops left, mostly mixed with melted ice, with the most mischievous smile. And Tina doing the same while firing up another smoke and sipping the red wine herself... (to be continued)

Recoil (Twenty-Two Years Old, Male, Tribe Person, Sentenced to Five To Ten Years For Brutally Murdering His Child Molesting Father, Currently Being Appealed) 1988

A mind tormented;
A race segmented;
A fist that is curled;
A confusing world;
An oppressed ideology;
A life of pure misery;
A feeling of perpetual rage;
Your footstool, the stage;
A drama without lines;
A play that no one defines;
A role that is extemporaneous;
A life is over instantaneous.

My Testimony (Forty-Eight Years Old, Broke Black Prophet, Saved) 2014

I am a Believer. Let me tell you My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs! I-Am-A-Believer! God dressed me up again! Fed my broken poverty stricken soul, until I couldn’t eat any more! And God continues to feed me to this very second! He guided me! And turned my life around! Because I…Am A Believer.

You see, they gave me some bad news, well not really because I already knew! Told me it was bad! How bad? So-bad-Dr. Whiteman-has-never-told-me-to-this-day! But the Lord is a merciful Lord, Oh, yes the Lord is! He gave this poor, pitiful soul another life? How, you might be asking yourself? Well cause I was praying everyday after I had gotten some confirmed bad news! Dr. Whiteman, God bless his soul, was understanding enough, to just keep it between us! But I left another soul out but I didn’t understand! Who was that third soul in that room with this poor soul and Dr. Whitemnan? Oh, my Dear Sweet Brothahs and Sistahs you know! Oh, yes you do! It was the Lord! Shame on me Lord! I know now! You don’t have to worry about me any more! Because…I am a Believer!

I was praying diligently, the only prayer, every day, The Lord’s Prayer! The only one I pray to this day, the only one, that’s what My Lord gives into my heart because I can‘t preach or teach you about Your Lord, The Lord is going to give each one of us a touch from the Lord‘s soul…

Well back to the testimony, on the seventh month that I had prayed, prayerfully, the phone starts ringing! Who the world? So, I’m going to tell you this story of God’s glory! And I’m going to leave it be! But, be A Believer then you’ll see! I get off my knees because I was praying at the time, right when I had gotten home from work, I walk over to the phone. And I pick it up!…

"Hello," I said
“Meredith? Is that you?” He asked.
“It’s Meredith Dr. Whiteman. I’m glad you called and checked on me,” I said.
“Amazing,” Dr. Whiteman said excitedly!
“I’m sorry Dr. Whiteman. I’m not understanding.” I said to him, confusion all in my soul. But you see what’s happening? If you don’t, I’ll go on! Let me proceed, please, even if you do! Cause sometime, I mean sometime…you have to tell the whole testimony, to get to the truth! Thank You My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs!!

“Meredith you just don’t understand,” Dr. Whiteman said, “ Why don’t you come on in…today? And let me run some tests on you?”

“No I’m perfectly fine. And I’m feeling fine. I don’t need anymore tests,” I said.

“Do you understand it has been seven months and I wouldn’t have given you seven days , seven months ago? Listen, come on in, we’ll do some tests because this is truly amazing! My colleagues wouldn’t believe it? Do you understand? Every doctor who I showed your whole medical record to agreed it wasn’t weeks for you, it was an hour by hour diagnoses, ‘but he’ll be gone soon, very much so.’ And I only gave you back then a week at best the stage it was in…” Dr Whiteman was saying…then all of the sudden my body started to heave, feeling emesis getting ready to occur! I hear Dr. Whiteman saying over and over now in the receiver, “Meredith are you all right? Do you want me to send someone?” While my body kept heaving doing it’s best to purge whatever was trying to get out of my body. Heaving…and heaving…then finally…Thank the Lord! Even though it seemed that whatever was pushing out of my body was not going to fit it seemed because it didn’t seem like fluid, it felt like an huge object was trying to dislodge, but wasn’t going to be able to do so, and I would probably die just from the object getting lodged in my throat disabling me at that point to breath. But at that point I didn’t care, whatever was going to be was going to be, because even if it killed me, my soul was neither here nor there, it had itself to the point of Nirvana, live or die at this point is all the same to me right now. And that’s when the Lord comes in because that was the test for me. Which side would I take, the path of Good, praising God just for giving you life; or the path of Evil, cursing God for putting You through this in the first place, vanity. But I took neither because I learned at that point, I can’t fight what is, what was and what will always be. Oh, My Sweet Lord!

Then all of the sudden vileness came out of my mouth. Blackish, yellowish, grayish…matter came spewing out of my mouth and plopped right on the floor in front of me. While sweat was pouring down my face, ready to faint it had hurt so bad and had taken so much out of me. I had lost the phone someplace in the middle of this horrible trauma to my body. And I had plopped down, right next to this vile, maybe seven by seven inch blob, of jelly like matter. And I started to cry because I knew what it was My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs. At that moment the Lord had taken my cancer out of my body. Setting me free. I picked up the phone to hear Dr. Whiteman in a frenzy hollering my name and I said to him simply, “Whatever nastiness that was inside my temple is now purged Dr. Whiteman. The Lord has freed me from that evil. And you are more than welcomed to come by right now and scoop it up and run whatever tests you want to run on this…this…thing.” And to my surprise Dr. Whiteman said, “I and three lab techs will be over in less than thirty minutes.”

My God!

Peace! More to come…

Finally Eternal Light (Fifty Years Old, Broke Black Prophet, Saved) 2015

Oh, the sun is shining;
Blinding rays that stays;
My Beautiful Black skin
Roasting from the outside
Not from within.

I've turned the tide,
From a toxic relationship,
Where another constantly lied.
I must take a sip
Of this life's promises.

I'll stream along the sunbeams,
For now and dream;
It's always radiating light
Even in the night,
So it seems.

"You Are Fucking Right!" Cause That's What Your Sorry Ass Wanstah Hear! (Forty-Seven Years Old, Broke Black Prophet, Near Salvation) 2012

I ain't got nothin for yah mah fuckah! Nothin! Yo ass says somethin, "You right!" Yo ass says somethin else, "Shit! You right!" The fuck else you want me tah say to yo monkay ass? Cetainly not what I see and certainly not what I think. So, "You fuckin right!" Alls my ass gotstah say.

Shee-it! Mothah fuckahs don't wanstah here yo shit! For real! These are the same mothah fuckahs that get on their perspective knees and pray to God for answers. God gives them the answers to their tired ass queries. And what the fuck do they do? That's right, the fuck what they want! Not what the fuck God done told'em! And they sittin up there talkin to you bout some shit! The fuck niggah! Yo sorry ass wastin a mothah fuckahs time, which my time is in short supply, you super-silly-mothah fuckah! If yo ass ain't listenin tah God, yo ass definitely ain't gonnah listen tah my sorry, broke ass! If God ain't signin off on how you been handlin yo shit my Black, broke ass most definitely ain't eithah! The fuck!?

Then the shit don't work out fo their sorry asses and they have the nerve tah come back tah yo broke ass and say, "Well, you said I was right?" You damn skippy I did! You are right! You didn't ask me how I would handle the shit. Never! Not one goddamned time! And based on that, howevah yo ass wanted to handle the shit was/is fine by me...mothah fuckah! Don't try tah play me! Asshole!

Cause that's why I write this here blog, tah get the shit that's on my mind out! Let it go out into this hurr cyberspace and float around and maybe somebody will catch it, feel it and say to themselves, "Shit! I'm not crazy at the fuck all! Not aftah readin this crazy mah fuckah! I finally found a kindred spirit!" Yao Ming?

People always talkin the same old shit. Get fuckin tired of that fecal matter, makes my fuckin leg hurt for real. Give my ass somethin I can bust my head on, let the shit marinate then afterwards, I'll let it steam for awhile, ingest it, finally feedin my atrophied soul. Cause my ass is gettin hungry like a mug! Can't take this same tired ass rhetoric I've been hearin all my goddamned life. Niggah can'ts takes no mo! Good goddamned!

People listenin, readin this propaganda they still callin news and still believin the shit! The fuck we thinkin? The fuck wrong with US? Like a mah fuckah who done caught their significant othah time and time again cheatin, and the mah fuckah still believin the mah fuckah been gone fo three hours just tah run up tah the store, that's a block away, tah buy some goddamned smokes! The fuck! Yo ass ain't learnin a god-damned-thang! You-stupid-mah-fuckah...You! Cause why? Cause mah fuckahs don't want tah witness the goddamned truth! Like ol Jack Nicholson said in A Few Good Men, and of course I'm paraphrasin, " Our asses can't handle the fuckin truth!" This shit ain't bout me. No! No! No! It's bout you! So get a fuckin clue! I'm just a pitiful soul tryin tah find the truth in this conditioned untruthful world! Word, tah you and yours! I ain't shit...but I'm tryin tah be shit. And what kind of shit are you? We can get the fuck along, or we can destroy one another. And the latter just ain't a Beautiful thang at-the-fuck-all! Just fuckin ugly!

Mah fuckahs says tah me, "Man, you crazy. Shit you be sayin..." And once again, You right! And I maybe crazy. But what the fuck are you mah fuckah? That's the only question our asses should be tryin tah answah in these times, "What the fuck am I?" And whatevah yo sorry ass comes up with. I'll be right there sayin, "Well goddamn! You right!" That's all I gotstah say bout that! And that My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs, is a Beautiful thang! Oh, yes it is! Peace! More to come...

Metamorphosis (Forty-Nine Years Old, Broke Black Prophet, Saved) 2014

Been going through some things My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs. But that’s beside the point. The Lord is a merciful Lord. Oh, yes the Lord is. You see, sometimes when you think you are not worthy, for some reason, the Lord makes you understand how significant your perceived insignificant self is. And you ask the Lord, Why? The Lord is not ever going to answer you, that’s defeating the purpose. The Lord telling you at that point, because…And you have to fill in the blank yourself. But you know. You knew a long time ago what your purpose in this life was but for some reason you, I kept fighting against it. Then the Lord up and saves you from a near death experience, then the skies open up, the sun penetrates into your soul…and the sad part about it is, you knew all along and the Lord had to take you to the brink of this existence to get you centered the right way. It’s time for me to shine!

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

Peace! More to come…

Don't Believe The Hype! "Just Say N.O." Takes On A Whole New Meaning (Twenty-Four Years Old, Black, Male, Poverty Stricken, New Orleanian, Pre-Katrina) 2003

Shee-ot! Mothah fuckahs wansta sho yo ass the good side of a fuckin city all the fuckin time! That's because the cities know, chances are, yo ass will probably never come across me and my Brethren! Puh-leeze negro! I ain't the one! For real! They, the various cities, always marketin, doin public relations to the umpteenth degree. They need tah quit it! To understand and get the pulse of ah city, like ours, yah gotta get the dirt; go to the dirt; feel the dirt and get the smell of the dirt! Then you see how shit is grown in the various locales.

The shit always starts with dirt, then shit germinates from there. Can't grow shit out of thin air, that's what they want yo stupid broke ass tah think, tah believe! The fuck you think you talkin to? Hell, no! I knows differently! Best believe that noise! Go to some of the neighborhoods in the various cities, they are not only dirty but muddy as fuck; yah see mothah fuckahs sniffin and shit! Prey is in the air! Fresh fuckin meat! Mothah fuckahs can sniff a Poff in a second! Cause they know who is from the streets and not. And if yah not...I got that ass! And sorry fo yo fuckin luck mothah fuckah you! You done fucked round and come across the danger zone! Oh, they didn't tell you about these lil' neighborhoods in our fair city in those lil' nice, neatly packaged brochures, did they? I'm quite sure they didn't! You were lookin for a vacation, some adventure...well we's gonnah give you all of that properly! In a very bad mothah fuckin way! And when and if yah come visit our so-called, "Nice" and "Wonderful" city again, you'll know bettah the next time! If yah get out of the shit yo sorry ass done stumbled across this time! I gua-rown-tee!

Even The Flies Despise (Black Stoner) 1979

I am life and life is within me! A pity society doesn’t see that same thought. A dire drought bought by the greedy to give the needy thirst until they burst from famine. Tends to lend a subtle approach to the vile joke they poke without the yolk as the nucleus, a flower without stamens. Genesis, Exodus...they say, Fuck us, “Fuck’em!” As our poor asses pass the grass to surpass the nas...ty ill ways the wealthy have behaved among them. Saved all their money to never share the honey or the lovely high that is nigh. Keeping the seeping smoke of the best green to them as they inhale mightily. Puff! Puff! Pass... mah fuckah! The protocol for the grass. A wrong bong. A strong wistful song one, like I, cannot discern nor be able to learn the lyrics of tricks. Promises to burn in another body with nobody watching over me but engulfing fire which should inspire me to be docile, not hostile? Pile the shit on bricks then burn it for the energy needed to feed it; bit by bit as the warmth intensifies with their burning lies. Flies wait for the smoke to abate as they satiate of such fine edible byproduct of a fuck up. Suck up all the waste after they have spit on the shit. Fed themselves to the brink of gorging. Foraging no more on plants but the pure human conscientiousness among us.

Tired Of Being Alone (Forty Years Old, Broke Black Prophet, Pre-Salvation) 2005

I was crying. Having a pity party with myself. I knew this and had been knowing for a very long time. But again, I was alone. And I was tired of living this life alone. Spent many of my life's years doing just that, staying by myself, being alone. I didn't like being alone any longer. I could only guess that with time one started understanding by looking at oneself every day in the mirror that time never stops. One doesn't stay the same age with the passage of said time.

When I was in my youth I thought of nothing but the sweet sound of silence in my own place, alone. Having my own solitude, my own walls to my various apartments I had lived in being my fortress of isolation. Now? Now was very different. I knew with every second of every day that passed my life was getting shorter and shorter. And with that, my time, my life on this earth was doing the same, and my life would end soon. Subsequently having nothing but time to myself, maybe total darkness of emptiness for eternity...I didn't know exactly, but I knew that one died...alone. And I had made up my mind that when it was my time I wanted someone to be there. Maybe along side of me. Maybe gone to the store but would be back in time to be with me when I finally crossed over to... final loneliness.

I thought it was so apropos, most of my life to be named Singleton. I had looked my given birth name up in the dictionary and I smiled, because it made all the sense in the world when I was just a senior in high school.

Singleton - 1) An individual separated or distinguished from two or more of its group.

Interesting I had thought at the time. But what was the most enlightening experience I had ever had about my affinity for solitude was when I read the next definition:

Singleton- 2) An offspring born alone.

Fuck that! A name is just a fuckin name! And fuck that shit! For real!

Peace! More to come...

Let The Fire Roar (Twenty-One Years Old, Sexually Abused, Male, Tribe Person, After Killing His Father Who Had Repeatedly Molested Him From Age Five Until Age Fourteen) 1987

I turn to the sun,
Letting the fire permeate,
My skin
My soul.
A catalyst
For my desire
Of uncontrollable rage,
Released through
My pores
My sweat;
Sweat, that will
Eventually,
Mix with the atmosphere,
Making the skies
Open up,
To cool
My Black skin
My soul.
Sated is my rage.
And I turn to the sun;
Which is gone;
Replaced by an overcast.
No more fire?
I laugh;
And great is the laughter.
Hopefully,
I will see you
In the Sweet Hereafter.

The Making Of A Monster (Seventeen Years Old, Sexually Abused, Male, Tribe Person) 1983

Confusing thoughts
Run through my mind;
A childhood lost,
A World unkind;
Embedded thoughts
Religiously imprinted,
Turned into faults
Now unscented.

Limited Accessiblility (Elaine Hopson II, Tribe Person, Aspiring Writer) 2016

You can get shit anytime! That's the fuckin problem! Do you understand? Yah, see, give people shit around the clock, what you are doing is making a society understand there is no constraint, there is no rush, 24 hours a day and seven days a week...we got somethin for yo ass! Wrong! You dumb som bitches! The fuck! That ain't the way you do shit if yah want ah civilized society! Unlimited access means that shit can get obtained anytime, don't worry about it, I'll pick it up on my way home. Shiit! If the mothah fuckah closes at 4pm, how your ass gonnah pick it up if you get off at 6pm? Now, right there is a quandary. Sho nuff! But cha see, there in lies the problem, of the bewilderment statement because that ain't what's happenin! So fuck it! I mean, what happens to the body if it never gets any sleep? That's right! It shuts down! And we are no different because of limitless access to everything that is wrong with this Earth!

Boundaries (Elaine Hopson II, Tribe Person, Aspiring Writer) 2015

She heard him cry out. She wanted to do it right here. Make the bastard suffer, right here so she would not have to hear him babbling any longer. She never fucked with the good breed. She understood a long time ago. Fuck the bad people. When you fuck the good people you go to Hell. And lord knew she didn’t want to go there. But he was telling her what to do anyway to make it into the Kingdom. Shit she knew all too well. “Kill all the men! Well the bad men! And start this world in the right direction!” Shit she was doing her share. All she needed was the other ones to get off of their asses. You either stand for something or you will fall for anything. Damnit that was the way that it was. At least the way that she saw it. She heard him sniveling. “Shut up! you sorry sack of shit! you fucking whore! you’ll be my Bitch now! Won’t you? you bitch!” She hurled back and cracked him on the side of his head with her knuckles with ease but with much force. He yelled out something to her and began sniveling again. Everyone of these so-called men to a man was a sorry piece of dogshit. Would put their own mothers lives to save their pathetic little asses. The misogynistic bastards. She reared back and cracked him again on the ear making sure it covered his orifice to hurt him a little more. She did. he said something else but did not say it with much conviction this time. He starting to understand his dilemma. He tied up and immobile. This crazy bitch in front of me. Something is now wrong with this picture. She saw it too and loved that look. She was in control now mother fucker. If you didn’t know, oh you for damn sure are about to find out. She started the music and danced around him. With the beat either stopping to kick or stomp on him. He grunting every time. Shut your ass up wife beating mother fucker! One, two, three, Stomp. One, two, three, kick. Alternating back and forth making him feel even more the pain she had and that he had handed out to more than one woman. She was an enforcer of sorts. This was truly the land of opportunity. Here she was, four black belts in various styles of martial arts and being unemployed. But damn how shit worked. Fate was a mother fucker. It all started with a conversation with a white woman and the shit just took off from there.

...She had been speaking with this woman at the JCC (Jewish Community Center). They both had seen and spoken with one another on many of occasions. Both being very physically fit and coming to this gym five to six times a week at least. The woman had been crying she could tell. Crying like a bitch that had caught the old man shlonging a blonde beauty. She hadn’t said a word just listened as the woman told the story. For some reason had nothing to do with the conversation at hand. Just started going off on her husband and how he was going to leave her and she had nothing and she would be out on the street. Blah, Blah, Blah. “So what you gonna do about it Jeanette?” She had asked and Jeannette looking as though she did not want to even hear the question that she had said out loud. Damn the bitch was in bad shape. So she had asked her what she planned to do about her imminent plight and Jeannette still looking as though she was mortified by the question. She continued to look at Jeanette waiting for an answer. “I Don’t know?” Jeanette finally said.

“I don’t know don’t cut it. You better get- the -fuck -to -know, then. Girl you talkin about your life. Fuck him. he was wrong. You have to figure out to what extreme you want to take this as far as your life is concerned. He’ll probably marry the bitch. There you are all in love and shit still feeling like a failure... Listen to me. Ain’t no dick worth all that shit. There are some bad mother fuckers out there let me tell you, but ain’t none of them swingin it like that! None! You hear me? And on top of that ain’t no man worth that either. Fuck all these mother fuckers. Like my brother says to me all the time, fuck’em and feed’em beans!”

Jeanette laughed at that through the tears, “Oh, I wish I were as strong as you Joy. You got your shit so much together. I wish I had your strength,” Jeanette had said, now starting to stop the tears a little.

“I’m not sayin all that Jeanette. Shit my ass got my moments. All I’m saying is, it is not that deep. And you have that strength too. You just have to tap into it and bring it to the fore girl. Quit lettin men run your life and get your ass out of that tired ass victim mode. Just start taking control of your own life. And once you start doing that, the shit is easy. Because, after that, you have no one to blame for your life except your damn self. And if you still want to blame…well…you just want to stay a victim. So, fuck it. Suffer! But don’t complain about it no damn more. Please,” Joy said very bluntly.

“I wish I could talk like you. You speak so raw, open…free. How did you get like that?” Jeannette said.

“Jeanette, I’m going to tell you a story. There was this mother fucker, right? Loved the shit out of him. Don’t know why but I would drink that man’s dirty ass bath water,” Joy said. And Jeanette started laughing.
“For real,” Joy said, laughing a little herself, “I would have. Shit, I had a thing for his ass. That’s a copout, shit, I loved that man. Damn! I loved the shit out of him. But we were arguing for some reason one day. Shit, I don’t even know what the argument was about, but what I do know is, that mother fucker slapped the shit out of me. And all I was thinking was, forgive the language, but, “Niggah what was you thinking? Cause you done fucked up now!” That same hand he slapped the shit out of me with, I broke the thumb and middle finger so quick his ass was impressed, but in pain, as hell. In one slap the special shit I had for his ass, was the fuck gone! Fuck that Jeanette! And I would like to go back to him and break both of those fingers I broke, that I'm sure by now has healed, not only on those fingers on his right, but his left hand too! Shiit! That mother fucker left a scar on my heart that hasn’t healed for the past five years. The mother fucker! Don’t do that to me. I Loved your ass! But a bitch got her limits! You done crossed the fucking line! Now you must understand the repercussions of the stupid male ignorance you have just partaken in. Because this woman has been trained and armed. You might get me. But you are definitely going to have a painful, lifelong keepsake from fucking with me. I’m not the one! But that’s what I’m saying Jeanette! You have to figure out your boundaries of, how much do I love myself or how much I want to give my one life to this individual who crossed the boundary and will most definitely cross that same boundary again, a boundary I abhor…

My Name Is KIM (Keep It Moving) ! (Thirty-Four Years Old, Female, Black, Tribe Person) 2012

I’m gonnah make this world a better place! Oh, yes I am! Just by bein my damned self!

“What’s up my Sweet Brothahs?” I’ll ask with a smile.

“Fuck You!” will be their responses.

“Right On!” I’ll say with that same smile.

And I’ll say, “What’s up my Sweet Sistahs?” I’ll ask with a smile.

“Fuck you bitch!” will be their responses.

“Right On!” I’ll say with a smile.

And I’ll say, “What’s up my Sweet Beautiful World?” I'll ask with a smile.

“Fuck You!” Will be your responses.

“No! Fuck You!,” I’ll say, “Cause this shit ain’t even paid for!” And I’ll fuckin smile awhile.

There's Only One Way (Forty-Eight Years Old, Broke Black Prophet, Near Salvation) 2013

This life is funny. Quite hilarious in fact. Oh, My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs, you just don’t understand from whence a Brothah is comin from. Or maybe you do? Shit, whatevahs clevah. We just fuckin round anyway. Yao Ming?

What do you believe? I mean really believe? Mothah fuckahs talkin bout the lawd and makin it tah Heaven and all that bullshit! Fine. Real fine! Mighty, at that! But what say you when the shit hit’s the proverbial fan? I betcha get a whole nother attitude don’t cha? “Cause, shit, lawd, I didn’t sign up for this shit! I be’s a good sheep in the flock. Why yous pickin on may?” And the lawd responds, (cause yo sorry ass is an ignant, stupid ass, selfish mothah fuckah, for real!) “Because I can.”

Just like ol’ Job, you think that broke down mothah fuckah signed up for the shit God let shit happen to him because of the devil’s dare? You think he signed up for all the fucked up shit that happened tah’im cause he loved the lawd? Lawd ain’t yo goddamned protectah! That’s where the shit gets fucked up! For real! Bein a protectah and bein a guide is a whole nother different shit. Like everyone else on this mothah fuckin planet, Job was fuckin human. Shit, the lawd knew that shit! The devil did too! And by the lawd and the devil knowin the shit, they knew ol’ Job was fuckin up. I mean I can guide yo ass to safety , but…like most mothah fuckahs yo ass wantstah look around, step off the path an inch or so tah take pictures and shit…that ain’t the way that I guided yo ass! That is not the exact path I told you to take to keep you safe! That’s why this mothah fuckin devil’s here because of this type of trite bullshit that y’all try tah pull all the goddamned time! “But lawd I just took one foot off the path to get the right angle for the picture. But I still stayed on the path.” And the lawd likin the shit out of this shit because these mothah fuckahs still ain’t getting it!

So the devil comes in as an enforcer of truth, in the heart. The lawd steppin back again while the devil comes in with a vengeance , tearin ol Job the fuck up! While Job keeps whining to the lawd, even havin the audacity tah tell the lawd in so many words, “Back the fuck off!” While the lawd just smiles watchin the devil whippin ol’ Job in tah shape while the lawd says tah himself, “It is all or nothing! You will understand, after this, about the Love of God, or the Love of Self?” And ol’ Job, aftah it is all said and done, broke-the-fuck-down and shit, humbled like a mothah fuckah, done kicked that ass propah! Oh, yes the lawd did! Ol’ Job got rewarded, cause he started understandin, “this shit ain’t evah been bout chew!” And, “…So Job died, being old and full of days.” (Job 42:17)

Yah see God guides US. And we are protected by God’s guidance. ‘But…if one decides to put inferences, too much thought , make up their own path…with the Guidebook I have left you to get you to your destination safely. Don’t blame me! Hell-No! Blame your own fucked up interpretation because my shit is easy to follow and easy to understand! You fuckin heathen!’

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

Peace! More to come…

Shit Is Shit (Nineteen Years Old, Caucasian, Tribe Person) 2014

There will never be serenity;
Nor a good place to ever be.

Living a lie never leads to the truth;
The testament to the human race, so uncouth.

I have never seen truly black and white;
I really just see a Beautiful human sight.
Being rich or poor is why we all fight…

There is no difference between any of US!
Our heads are even situated commonly in our anUSUS.

Dividends (Forty-Two Years Old, Broke Black Prophet, Pre-Salvation) 2007

There was a time My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs I had not a clue who I was. Oh, let me tell yah, I'm talkin about an individual who I thought I Knew. Today is different. Today, I am starting to figure out who this hurr mah fuckah who sits hurr typin this shit out for you and yours to be a witness to and not based on self. No! No! No! With my dirtay face! I've been living for self for some 42 years. And it ain't gotten me any-the-fuck-place! I am older and my Dear Loved ones and Friends are older; hence, as one gets older the more prone one is to calling out my given bullshit which I have spewed. One gets less tolerant of said bullshit or lies, distorted truths as one matures. If, one is a sentient being at all. If a friend tries the same bullshit over and over again, a friend, a real friend, will call a spade a spade when they witness one. That one was and has been me! Yah heard may? I've been running all of my life from commitment and obligation. Shiiit! I haven't even committed to my own life in the past, always talkin that suicide shit! Puh-leeze nig-gah! Tryin my damndest to not owe this world or life nothing when I die. But each one of us has a remittance, especially me. One never gets out of this life without paying a debt to this here society, to this here life. It's our duty, my duty to make this life better for my Daughter and the generations to come. Less we forget. But what good are we then?

Peace! More to come...