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.