I love to write.
Absolutely, positively, love the shit out of this shit! Just let your mind go! Freely.
Ain’t nobody around that’s going to stop this mental thought, unless somebody
shoots my ass, stabs my ass…you feel may?
But the progression of this thought is ongoing; ergo, I still be here as
a witness. And I ain’t dead just
yet. That’s what I’m getting at. Writing is the truth if it comes directly
from the author to the human minds, and maybe not so human minds. There was this chasm for a long time,
filtering down the power of the author’s voice to one’s voice in the various
translations throughout humans’ time. But
not now! Shit no! Twitter, chat rooms, blogs, Instagram…makes
the history being made much easier for the ones who will come aft and have to
decipher: the fuck happened to those
other stupid mother fuckers in the past?
They will have those thoughts and expression in real time at nausea-um. And what say you then, my future brethren
and sisteren? What will you do with this
real time information to better this life; because if you don’t utilize this
information to adjust our humans’ destiny, we will surely repeat it again. Is that what you really want?
In Loving Care, To All Of You Who Have Survived,
Broke Black Prophet
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