Carpe Diem! (Thirty-Five Years Old, Broke Black Prophet, Pre-Salvation) 2000

I've never seen society reversing like it is today. Lived thirty-five fuckin years and ain't witnessed the type of shit I'm seeing. Mah fuckahs talkin bout, "Well what about me? I have a life too." Boo-the-fuck-hoo mah fuckahs! Shiiit! Those children didn't beg your ass tah be born. In no shape, form or fashion. With your dirty faces! No! You were too busy gettin yo mah fuckin freak on without protection to fuckin realize what this freakin will bring to bare for some eighteen years or more. Steep price. Quite hefty. But yo ass had a choice. Protection? No protection? And guess which one yo sorry ass chose? So you gets no sympathy or empathy from the populous, talkin that shit, "Well what about me?" What about you?! Fuck you! Fuck! You! No count mah fuckahs! The child first and yo ass...well... I'm glad tah tell yah, but now, yo ass comin in a distant second! And if you didn't understand that after birth, then give the mah fuckahs up or get with the fuckin program with yo selfish ass!

Yo ass is single. No, doubt bout that shit. But the one word that you always fail to realize is the most important one of all that goes along with the single: parent. Yo ass is a single fuckin parent. Nobody told yo ass tah have children and still wantin tah act like a real single person, like a damn fool. No responsibilities or obligations except to yourself if you don't have a chick or a child. But what are these mah fuckahs doin now? Fuck those little mah fuckahs I gave birth to; or, implanted the seed, to cause the birth to...! It's all bout me, damnit!

The fuck wrong with us? Then we wonderin why this younger generation shootin up some shit? Killin mah fuckahs for no other reason, but for...because. Wonderin why they are so self centered, hedonistic and lazy asses? Wondering why their asses have no hope for the future and shit. Because yo ass didn't condition them to have a future, mah fuckahs! So worried bout yo damn self and just forgot about the integral rearing, the foundation of your...child. Not, instilling in them what they deserve, to look forward to a fucking future goddamnit! It's our actions that have taught these little miscreants, "Seize the day!"

And look at where we are today? Holy shit! Scar-the-fuck-y! You-better-recognize mah fuckahs! There's still time. Time for what? Well...that answer is totally up to each one of us. We had a choice of what we have done with lost, selfish and wasted time. But we also have a choice of what we do with this here present time, for the future of these lost and hopeless children. They are the only entities that should matter, with our past time asses!

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

You Must Suffer...For Her! (Aaron Thompson, After Six years of A Custody Case In Johnson County Indiana) 2014

It was time. For the past seven weeks, until this day, the voice calmly, softly and comfortingly had said, "Fast."

He knew the voice was right. Throughout his troubled life, the stresses, the evils, the problems...all were taken away with a long fast. The problem was, he didn't want to do it. At 44 years of age, he was tired of fasting. It hurt so bad the first three days; the hunger pains, the thirst, the stress that his body took on from abstaining from mostly all that he so enjoyed.

"Fast," the voice said again, as if reading his negative thoughts. After the first three days, then it was only a matter of mental strength. The hunger pains subsided, became manageable. The thirst, he would quench with just taking a mouthful of water and holding it there. Imagining the time when he could drink water again. Then he would let the water dribble slowly from his lips until none was present any longer. Say the Lord's Prayer and whisper to the winds, "Soon."

"Fast," the voice repeated.

He slowly shook his head. Tears starting to form in his eyes. He finally asked the voice, "Why do I have to always suffer?"

"Because," the voice simply stated.

He shook his head again because he knew what the voice was going to convey to him. He knew the answer even before he had asked the first query. But he had to hear the voice's response to the known question and subsequent answer.

He took a deep breath. Held it deep in his chest and let the exhalation pass slowly from his mouth. Tears now rolling down his cheeks. Finally he choked out, "Because, why?"

The voice with its sincere, calming tone said, "Because it's not about you any longer."

He broke down on his knees and cried uncontrollably with grief, pain and pity. Covering his face with his hands, ashamed even that he had thought, let a lone, asked such a selfish question which he knew the answer to before he had asked.

While the voice said over and over, "The both of you are going to be just fine. Be obedient and fast for fourteen days. You are going to have to do this, and many times after, until you sleep forever...for her."

(to be continued...)

Only For A Season (Aaron Thompson, At The Genesis of His Custody Case In Johnson County Indiana, Being Denied By The Custodial Parent of Visitation) 2007

I have visions.

I have visions of me hugging my Daughter and kissing her on the cheek and saying to her, "Daddy's here Sunshine!"

I have visions.

I have visions that sees her with the person that she loves, being happy in the distant future. Making other lil happy beings.

I have visions.

I have visions of getting her school clothes when she starts understanding what she likes to wear or not, even if it might have to be from Once Upon A Child.

I have visions!

I have visions of her smiling, making this world a better place just with her Hopeful Beautiful smile!

I have visions...

...Lately, I have visions of me dying and never being able to witness that same Beautiful smiling face again, before I leave this fucked up life.

I have visions.

But for a time now...horrible visions.

Nobody's Gonnah Eat That Shit! (Recovering Black Stoner) 1991

Feast your eyes on this utter surprise of this lost American dream; Peaches and cream have turned into rancid fruit and sour cream. Lead leading the red states, blue too, cause we’re not fuckin through…yet! Having millions of babies who are all infected with rabies, like rabid dogs, foaming at the mouth and scratching down south at their innate scabies. We continue to produce more cancerous lots; perpetually wiping away snot but the drainage will never dry up based on the septum’s imperceptible smell of carnage. The foliage has turned mahogany with the blood crusting in the sun from Our fated felony. Tarry no more, time for the sentencing! Guilty as charged; now it’s overtime for the firing!

Our Faux Priceless Jewelry (Recovering Black Stoner) 1991

The fire has begun. The fine, perfect and roaring Sun. Soaring above scorching, torching the weeds. The seeds amid the misdeeds, misread. Led to the feeds of foraging and gorging needs that will eventually lead to Our ill fated destructive necklace; Our pristine, paid for, priceless jewelry of shackles made from worthless sin-laden beads.

The Stank Weed (Twenty-One Years Old, Father of Two, Colonist of New America) 1693

I too have seen thine destruction cometh upon thee. I Have tasted over and over the vile addiction which thee induces into thee temple. Spit out its darkish matter which it hath left on thee tongue, in thee throat. Yet, still I transgressed. So, I too have sailed across those waters marked “Hazardous” and “Dangerous” accordingly, I paid the both no attention at all. But, as the last days comes upon thee spirit, upon thee soul, I must start adhering to those same signs that are supposed to avail every traveler with facilitation to each persons life with its addictive properties, but like so many, I too disobeyed its warning signs. And there is always penances for disobedience aft. I am starting to hear the signs deep inside my lungs. Starting to feel the aftermath since partaking in its addictive qualities since the age of wee ought eight. Then too, I must start the healing afore thee death befalls thee temple which is nigh assuredly. So too must ye!

Start With The Appropriate Ingredients And The Shit Will Turn Out The Way The Shit Is Supposed To Taste Like (Black, Sixty-Eight Years Old, Vietnam Veteran, After The Boston Marathon Massacre Debacle) 2013

I'll never understand the human psyche.  Never!  Time and time throughout Our history nothing has been accomplished by killing the poor!  Rien!

But for some reason the small so-called "chosen" few thinks that with killing the working class, somehow, some way, things are going to change for the better for the disproportionate amount that don't have shit! 

Well, let me tell yah ah lil somethin sunshine, it ain't gonnah happen! Ever!  Not today.  Not tomorrow.  And it definitely hasn't evah happened in Our broke ass history!  Nev-er!  Yah heard may?  Nev-the-fuck-er!

You see, yo sorry ass been goin bout it all the fuck wrong with yo dirty face that needs a good ass washin!  In ordah fo shit tah get bettah, yah have tah start from the top down.  Not the down tah the top.  Your ass just pissin in the fuckin wind.  And that same piss has been drenchin yo stupid ass fo a long fuckin time!

So, check this out.  Start killin and maimin the wealthy...and like Justin Wilson, The Cookin Cajun, would have said, "I guar-roan-tee"...shit will change for the bettah! 

And you know that's right!

The Diminution of Civility (Unemployed, Thirty-eight Years Old White Male, After The Boston Marathon Massacre) 2013

"We're in a war!"  The man cried out as he watched his wife being stretchered out with half of her left leg missing. 

No we're not, I thought as I watched the latest of mistidings on this American soil.  When you take work from people this is what you get, cha-fucking-os!  The fuck!  Ain't no devil, some evil gnome roaming around the mothah fuckah.  Hell no!  Just lil ol US!  C'est tout!  Bitches!   Rich mothah fuckahs still eating caviar and shit and I don't have no way to feed my starvin family?  Oh, somebody's gotstah fuckin pay!  Goddamnit tah hell!  Misery loves company?  Well, let me sho yo sorry ass the company yo ass gotstah keep fo bein greedy!  Not wantin tah share! The fuck who you think you dealin with? The slaves have been edumacated!  And emancipated!  While yah playin!  Le roi est mort!  And keep that mothah fuckah dead!  And with more to come!  You know?

Daddy Finally Understands by Aaron Thompson (Short Story About His Only Child; In an On going Five Year Custody Case In Johnson County Indiana) 2012

“Dats dunder,” she said, coming into the kitchen after getting out of bed.

“Yeah, yeah, Babay. That’s thunder. Just go back to bed, lie down and try to go back to sleep,” he said to his daughter.

“I’m scah-wahd,” she said

“Ain’t nothing tah be scared of Babay. Just go back to bed and don’t look out the window,” he said.

“But dere’s light,” she said.

“I know Babay, that was lightening. Just go to bed. Everything’s fine. Be in to tuck you in, in about a minute. Okay?” As he continued to sauté the onions and the bacon he was preparing for the baked beans he was working on, at eleven o’clock at night, that were going to cook at a nice and gentle two-hundred and fifty degrees for about eight to nine hours in the preheated oven. Ummm!

“I want juice,” she said changing the subject.

He stopped in mid stir. Looked at his daughter and smiled. Turned off the burner. “Okay Mama. Lets get you some juice,” he said gently.

He got her juice. Put in "The Red Shoes," on the DVD player. Sat down and held his daughter until the storm passed.

A little later she was sleeping in his arms and he kissed her tenderly on her forehead. Smiled at her and at the untouched cup of juice still on the coffee table.

We Are Creating A Lawless State of Mind (Forty-Seven Years Old, Broke Black Prophet) 2013

Thy Writer Is God (Anonymous) 2007

Put a pen to paper to savor this life without cruelty.  Let the writing utensil slide and glide over the pristine society coming into fruition world which is to become nigh.  I am God as I create words, the Bible for the characters contained within.  There is no devil, it's just me as I begin to make them sin; all up to me to make their perspective lives win...or end.  Damned criminal as I guide there lives from feast to famine; magically forming beasts in the east and west; north and south does not matter on my earth because both have no worth nor mouth.

I am giddy as hell as I spell another word to disturb another believer to deceive or not.  And like reality, all the players will be an absurd lot. 

Oh, no! (Forty Years Old, Unemployed For Two Years, Black Male) 2013

So the mothah fuckah asks me, "Part-time produce.  Is that something that you'd think you would be interested in?"  I'm thinking,"Shit yeah!  Brothah needs some ends comin' in."  But what I said to him is, "Yes, I would."  Then he says, " Okay, let me give you your drug test." Cool I thought.  He instructs me to take the white stick out of its package and put the stick between my cheek and gums. Okay.  "It'll take about seven to ten minutes.  I'm sorry,"  he said.  "Okay," I respond and put the stick in between where he instructed me to put the damn thang.

"Take it out and let me see it," he commands.  I take the swab stick out and show it to him.  "A little longer.  I'm sorry. The indicator has to be blue, then I know it's enough time," he says.  So, I stick the swab back into my mouth and wait. 

Then, after a time he asks me to take it out again.  I do what he asks.  "Okay, it's ready,"  he says.  I put it into the the receptacle like he tells me to do.  Then he says, "Oh, we have to do it again.  There was not enough saliva accumulated on the swab to get an accurate test."

I'm thinkin, "We, my ass!  Fuck you!  It's time to go!"  And I got my Black ass up and got ghost.  Hello, unemployment line again!  Mothah fuckah!