Icehouse Edge, Miller Brewing Company (Beer Blogger, Username: lovethatdarkthickbodiedfunkystuff) 2012

It's not the best tasting malt liquor in the world but that's not why a beer connoisseur, such as I, drinks this shit.  Fuck naw.  Avowing 8% ABV it keeps its promises.  It's what I call a: fucked up beer,  IWGYFU (It Will Get You Fucked Up)!  Yah heard may.

Back in the day, the Native Americans would have traded land for this shit!  And if you are a diabetic?,  beware, this shit is sweet as all get up!  For real!

Peace, my hoppas!

I Hear You, Yo Honah! I Fuckin Hear You Loud And Fuckin Clear! (Anthony Thompson,Johnson County, Indiana) June, 2015

Motha Fuckas don't want ta see yo monkey ass! For real! You listen to these muh fuckas that don't know shit bout this here judicial system, especially as it applies to this here paternity, custody...or whateva hearings bullshit. People don't know what the fuck they talkin bout. Let me tell yo ignant ass somehn! These courts are so backed up and shit, they don't have time for the trivial bullshit you think is relevant. You, may think the shit is relevant, but yo relevancy don't have shit ta do with the fuckin law. Ya heard may? You can get mad all you fuckin want but the evidence the court is lookin at is what they go by. And the Motion or Petition they are judging is all that they are lookin at. Not yo five, ten, fifteen years of fuckin marriage or a fuckin relationship yo sorry ass done had with the Father or Mother of said child. They ain't got time fo that bullshit!

Yeah! Yeah! Next booty on duty motha fucka! Gotsta keep it fuckin movin goddamnit! Well I just want the court to know...Whah? That shit ain't in the Motion! Fuck that! What else yo sorry ass got for my tired ass? Gots no time fo shit that ain't been put in the proper legal way. There's law you ignant motha fuckas!

Here in lies the rub. If you don't know proper procedure as it pertains to the law, judges get quite pissed. Not just by the one who is Motioning or Petitioning but by every goddamned body involved! If the shit ain't got nothin ta do with the best interest of the child, then get the fuck out of my fuckin courtroom! This shit is bout what the Mother wants or what the Father wants. Not what the fuckin child needs! Get-the-fuck-out! And don't let me see yo monkey asses back in here anytime soon! Or there will be hell ta pay! Ya heard may?

Shiiiit! I got ears yo Honor! I got fuckin ears! Best believe that shit! For real!

Peace! More to come...

This Is Only The Beginning (Elaine Hopson II/Deuce) 2018

You are perfectly created.

You are uniquely you.

No one else can be you.

No one is like you...

And this is where this story of our individuality begins.

Please, stay tuned.

(...to be continued)

2015 (From Another Learned Poor Person) November 2020

We guessed it was always in our faces. The sign being there most of our lives. All the times humans have used the phrase over the years, "Hindsight is 20/20."

Well, 2015 is when we should have known something. Global warming; volcanoes stirring and erupting, tornadoes every where...; the human condition worsening; nature loosing its shield, the atmosphere thinning...But no one looked at the year that we were in. No, one!

20/15, as far as visual acuity is concerned, is better vision than 20/20. It was there, right in our faces all this time. The year of our Lord 2015 in the optical realm had been forecasting our human fate; albeit, unbeknownst to US; we knew what was going to come in 2020. 20/20 is when normal visual acuity has been obtained. 20/15 is when you see better than what is deemed "normal."

We witnessed it. Right in front of our eyes all along, 20/15 meant the year 2015. But we didn't pay it any mind whatsoever. Clarity had come in 2015.

The horrible shit we should have seen coming, back in 2015, hit the masses in 2020.

But by then...it was too late.

The Voice Of...by Deuce (Elaine Hopson II) 2017

They wanted me to accept this pedophile Black preacher James Denton on the show; a show that was named after me: Kyle Johnson "Make The Right Decision."  Ol' Pastor Denton on this shit with these elaborate shirt sleeves cuffs which were monogrammed/inscribed with his name on both cuffs with cuff links of diamonds that I am sure that set the preacher back a couple of thousand dollars.  Cazal eyeglass frames another $650; the lenses to be put into that same frame, Physio Enhanced Fit PAL(Progressive Addition Lenses), Crizal Sapphire ARC (Anti Reflective Coating), Transition Grey Xtra-Active lenses...settin the "preacher' back fo sho easily another three stacks just with his eyewear alone.  But we are here in this studio to discuss poverty to the poverty stricken.  The fuck man? Fuckin niggah pastors!

I had heard the vile things Pastor Denton had did and continues to sickeningly do with our youth.  And I guess you have already surmised, I do not like the mother fucker; not one iota.  Filthy waste of human fecal matter and sperm is the way that I had always seen him.  There was no emotion on my face when I was introduced to him at the various functions around this finite world of Naptown; Indianapolis, Indiana.  I never smiled at his trifling ass.  Nor did I ever offer my hand as far as a gentlemanly introduction.

Shit!  As far as I am concerned, yo ass is a preacher and it is known, not gossiped, that you fuck little boys as well as little girls...there ain't a goddamned thing we need to talk about with yo stanky funky sorry ass.  Yao Ming?  I don't ever have to interact with yo stank pedophile havin ass again.

And when we do meet again somewhere down the road of absolution for my family and I; I just may well will have to  wipe yo funky sorry ass stank, worthless piece of fetid human flesh off of the face of this God Given Green Earth!  Yah heard may?  Amen!

But for now, I have to watch his sorry ass being in the forefront of this civil unrest in Baltimore, Maryland.  Knowing full well with a spirit like "his" front and center, shit just gonna get worse, not better.

I have never seen nor read of how to make sour fruit or rotten food better.  So, I definitely understand that it is what it is.  After which, all that it is good for at that point is refuse or compost.  I sighed as he tried again to put out his hand in greeting, and again I just looked at his outstretched huge hands, black as charcoal in color, then looked up with disdain.  He just shrugged, not getting it at all, or maybe he just didn't give a damn anymore with his filthy self, and sat down in front of the guest microphone across from me.

I sighed heavily.  Today just may be the day.  I reached under the round counsel which we were sitting around, felt the familiar leather of my satchel; unclasped the flap; pulled the flap toward me, reached in to feel the cool safety of the steel...(to be continued)

Righteous Indignation (Broke Black Prophet) 2019

There always has to be blood on the street; on the sidewalks; on your face; and definitely on your hands.  This is what it has to come down to, blood; viscerally so.  Good speak has gone out the window.  Rationale becomes the thing of the past.  The only thing left is pain...and blood; and lots of both.  And this is where life ends and begins organically.  Where the earth gets its nourishment, from our absurdity.  We have never learned from our fated past.  We only know how to keep recycling it even bloodier than before; not only the story of our history but the story we love to keep remaking like a bad story line that someone keeps pushing on the populous in hope that it will make a killing at the box office; alas, this is no big budget picture nor fictional account.  It is real life with real lives being lost at an astronomical rate.  But we throw caution to the wind and say, "Let it be!"

I don't know about all of that.  But I will say, "So be it!"  And this time, an insurmountable number of you elite are going to perish just like we, the poor; and the meek shall inherit this earth once again!

And by God's  glory, let the pain commence and the blood start flowing!

Et Tu Thy Hypocrite? (Michael Johnson, Ex-Smoker and Ex-Drinker; Listening To His Ex-Smoker and Ex Drinker Father-In-Law Robert Bailey) 2015

I didn't like the way he said it.  Some type of fucked up self-righteousness that was profound to me.  He said he used to be; now, he proclaims he is not.  But that has never made sense to me.  If one was an alcoholic one will forever be.  One just chooses not to drink alcohol any longer.  And the same with smoking. If one smoked cigarettes, one will always be a cigarette smoker; but now, one just chooses not to smoke cigarettes any longer.

The only ones that can avow that they are not either of the alcohol or cigarette addicts are the ones that have never been addicted to either one or to both.

And he had been both at one time; yet, he spoke of both like some vile entity that he could have never thought to have been.

My father-in-law stating, "A person who smokes and is an alcoholic ain't shit!" And All I could think is, "Ain't that the pot calling the mothah fuckin kettle, 'Black Ass'?"

Cylical 394 (BBP 2008)

There is something wrong! Not a question, but a stone cold fact! Say what you want. Believe what your ass wants, somethin terrible is 'round the fuckin cornah! For real! The way this politcal shit is playing out in Washington...Ain't nothin the fuck nice! Call those mah fuckahs Sand Niggers if you want, you ignorant elitist bastards! But I know my people, we all carry those niggah genes! You better recognize! You gonna go over into a niggahs' country, kill their Mother, Father, Sister, Brother...and think I'm not gonna get your ass if I live through this shit?! The fuck you thinkin! "Revenge is a dish best served cold!" Or hot! Whatevahs clevah! Yao Ming? We done opened Pandora's Box over in that Middle East, and we done fucked the fuck up! "Curiosity killed the cat." Perhaps. There is always time enough to repent for thy sins...until death overtakes. Yah heard may? Sho you right! Check it out my Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs...

Cyclical - 394

What is it that is in it? Bit on a pit to put reality in check. Inspect the dialect circumspect. Defect into another country so I can select another derelict? Homeless, helpless and depressed? I’ll stay right here and swill the beer! Drunkenly awaiting the change that is to come, the “to” is gone, here again’s the “from”… and I’ll soberly cheer!

Meredith Singleton Circa 2000

Chloe says, "Hiiiiieee!" Hah! Ain't that some shit! Peace! More to come...

Meredith

The Cloak and Dagger of Religion (Michael Heart, Thirty-Three Years Old, Radio Personality) April, 2015

They wanted me to accept this pedophile Black preacher James Johnson on the show; a show that was named:"Make The Right Decision."  Ol' Pastor Johnson on this shit with these elaborate shirt sleeve cuffs which were monogrammed/inscribed with his name on both cuffs with cuff links of diamonds that I am sure that set the "preacher" back a couple of thousand dollars.  Cazal frames another $650, the lenses to be put into that same frame, Physio Enhanced Fit PAL(Progressive Addition Lenses), Crizal Sapphire ARC (Anti Reflective Coating), Transition Grey lenses...settin the "preacher' back fo sho easily three stacks and half just with his glasses on.  But we are here talking about poverty to the poverty stricken and the reason why niggahs are poppin off crazy in Baltimore, Maryland. The fuck man?

I had heard the vile things Pastor Johnson had did and continues to sickeningly do with our youth.  And I guess you have already surmised, I do not like the mother fucker; not one iota.  Filthy waste of human fecal matter is the way that I had always seen him once I researched his muddy past.  There was no emotion on my face when I was introduced to him at the various functions around this finite Black world environment, like my wife says, "The world is only two niggahs deep."  I never smiled at his trifling ass.  Nor did I ever offer my hand as far as a gentlemanly introduction.

Shit!  As far as I am concerned, yo ass is a so called prominent preacher in our Black community and it is known, not gossiped, that you fuck little boys as well as lttle girls...there ain't a goddamned thing we need to talk about with yo stank funky sorry ass.  Yao Ming?  I don't ever have to interact with yo stank pedophile havin ass again.

And when we do meet again somewhere down the road of absolution for my family and I; I just may well will have to  wipe yo funky sorry, stank ass, worthless piece shit of fetid human flesh off of the face of this God Given Green Earth!  Yah heard may?  Amen!

But for now, I have to watch his sorry ass being in the forefront of this civil unrest in Baltimore, Maryland.  Knowing full well with a spirit like "his" front and center, shit just gonna get worse, not better there and around the country with the shit that's goin down now.

I have never seen nor read of how to make sour fruit or over ripened food to reach its peak of sweetness in a recipe because it is not possible, no matter how much cane sugar you put to try to mask the spoiled taste!  He is sour and over ripened fruit.  A cancer to our Black community.  So why in the fuck, did these sorry ass white owners of this Black radio station schedule him to be interviewed on my show?  I knew why.  But reality is a bitch of a bastard oft times.  And the pisser about it is, Pastor Johnson nor these white owners really understand my limits; but they will find out soon enough.

(...to be continued)

Reality Checks (Forty-Two Years Old, Devout Southern Baptist, White Male, Married, Father of Two) 2017

Sometimes I put my hand in space to feel some type of air;

Sometimes I pull one of my hairs from my leg to feel;

Sometimes I laugh out loud to see if any one responds;

Sometimes I close and open my eyes to see if anything has changed;

Sometimes I stare in awe and horror…

Because what I am witnessing in this world today just can’t be real.

Digital Data Dogma (Blake Shelton, Thirty-Two Years Old, Computer Geek) 2013

"So what am I supposed to do?  Wish that the information is the truth?"  I asked.

"Well, most of the information is correct over the internet, but you have to fact check to really be sure," Robin said.

"Shit man!  I remember the time when all you had to do was to open up the 'Encyclopedia Britannica' or go to the library and poof, instant truth," I responded.

"And that's the problem Blake.  At least given your scenario there was something called fact checking.  Now, people are just Googling for God's sake and hoping for the best, unbeknownst to them," Robin said gesticulating all over the place.

"I hear you.  But damn, right now that's the best that we've got," I said.

"Well, that's the problem too.  Everyone is getting lazy.  Just type in something and read Wikipedia or some shit; because everybody knows that if it is on the Internet it is the truth!  My God!," Robin said.

"Welcome to the set-up Robin!  But we let them do this to us," I said.

"And that's the pisser Blake!" Robin said beside himself.

(...to be continued)

I'm Just His Coach God Damn It! (Head Coach, Billy Blades, Indianapolis, Indiana) 2011

So we lost.  No doubt about that!  Shit no!  Got our asses handed to us in a big mothah fuckin way!  Fo sho!  But what the kicker is, I'm walking off the field and a parent approaches me, "Hi coach.  My name is.."

"I know who you are.  You're Donald's father .  What can I do you for?"  I ask not feeling this shit at all.  Don't ask no mothah fuckin questions to no damn coach when it's the loosin fuckin coach; thus, me mothah fuckah!  But I'm keepin it together...just fuckin barely.

"Yes, you're right!  But I just wanted to ask you one question if I may?" Mr. Klein asks.

"I'm cool with it.  But I just want you to know we just lost if you didn't notice sir and I never am really together mentally after a loss so if this can wait I would really appreciate it sir," I said with as much patience as I could possibly muster.

"Oh, it's only a short question which I am sure will not take much of your time," Mr. Klein pushes on.

What the fuck, "Shoot," I say.

"I would just like to know coach, why in the world would you call a two yard play when we needed five yards to get a first down?" Mr. Klein asks.

"Now we are talking about the fourth down play which we didn't convert that turned it over to the other team who ran out the clock subsequently. Right?"  I asks.

"Exactly," he responds with a little too much excitement in his voice for my liking.

"The same two yard play that your son Donald, one of our starting wide receivers, was a recipient of.  That play?"  I ask workin the setup.  He really should have caught me tomorrow but such is life, one deals with the present.  So I must deal with what is in front of me now.

"Yes!  It's a simple question.  But if you don't want to answer it, that's fine.  But you do not have to scoff at me for something you do not have an answer for!" Mr.Klein now where I want him.

"You know what sir, you're right.  Please forgive me.  But first of all I asked if you could wait for another time to ask me what you wanted to ask me.  And I guess you could not since your schedule is so busy and my schedule is empty supposedly.  Digressing, I say all that to say, I'm sorry, and you are right.  I should answer your question and I most assuredly will.  To begin with sir, there is no way I would call a two yard play.  We don't even have a two yard play in our playbook, nor I am pretty sure no other team does also.  So will you indulge me?  Can I ask you some questions?" I ask with the utmost feigned sincerity.

"Sure,"  he says.

"When you ask Donald to take out the trash when it needs to be taken out, does he do it?"  I ask.

"Well, he's pretty good at it I guess. I would say most of the time, yeah, most of the time," Mr. Klein says with not much verve.

"I'm sure you ask him to make his bed every day, does he?"  I ask.

"Well...not really. No I can't say he does that," Mr. Klein says.

"Okay, would you agree with me, just with those two things that would be just teaching him the basic or the fundamentals of what is expected of him in this life or at least while he is under your roof?"  I ask.

"I would agree with you on that," he says looking kind of like, where is this going?

"Forgive me of how I'm going to put this to you but this is how I feel I need to express this to you.  But, you are his father and he doesn't do the things that are expected of him when his father tells him to do it on a regular.  I'm just the mothah fuckah's coach.  And when the play is designed for him to do a five yard out route and he decides to do a two yard out route...shit!  Don't blame the fuckin messenger!"  I say and walk the fuck away.

Welcome To My World (Broke Black Prophet) 2005

I’m going down.  Where?  I do not know.  But I am.  It’ s so much easier to sink into the filthy ocean, or crumble to the dirty ground than to fly over this piss ass ocean and fly over this shit infused earth;  just so much easier. Because to show the truth, and to learn that same truth, is hard; and it also hurts like shit, oft times.  Nothing comes overnight.  Nothing.

Since there is always doubt in this fallible mind of mine; hence there is always failures to the things that should not fail.  But like anything else, faith takes exercise to strengthen.  And with that exercise of that faith one, like I , can look forward to the many hours, days, years and sometimes lifetime of training faith into my soul which leads to many epic failures and epic disappointments.  And faith is not quite there yet because of sloth.  But sloth too is commonplace within my world named: Meredith Singleton Hopson; population: one.

And every person has their own given world which they control…yes, being their given perspective God in their body of an universe; which every truth springs forth from, begins.  Genesis to Revelations, birth to death…What saith thee?  Is the only question and whatever one answers is “The Truth” in their given perspective, in their given universe which that kingdom one rules spawns one's destiny or fate.  Whatever is clever.    

Thine Light Shines Forever More

It was going to be one of the most disapproving events in our nations human history.  But such is life. There was nothing anyone could do.  Once things have been implemented, those things were going to be carried out accordingly.  It didn't matter whether those things or events made any since or not to the human existence, those were things and or events that had been considered and now were going to be skillfully addressed.

I smile like a child now.  There was nothing I nor anyone else could have done to change our humans history.  It takes a village...and that village was and has always been traumatized from history's past and present.  But...that's what's makes us human.  Hope.  Though things in this life seem inconceivably hopeless, we are inextricably doomed to fail.

(to be continued...)

I Wish You Were Here! (Once Recovered Black Stoner, Now A Stoner Once More, Washington D.C. Native) 2015

Sending stars from above as the lift off occurs;
Blurs through my sight as the lights of the earth get a little smaller.
I holler from the lovely emotion speeding toward the atmosphere as my soul starts to level off;
I select a better view as the jettisons stop.
I hop on my back to pay attention to outer space,
Throwing up a peace sign as I stare in wonder;
The thunder rumbles through my back and out of my chest,
Aftershocks from the sky a little below me.
The best is yet to come as my soul gets ready for re-entry...
Being gone what seemed for so long.
I land so softly upon the green earth, touching down.
I turn around and say,
"Fire it up again nigga! 'Cause I'm goin for nother round!"
The sound is tremendous as the smoke is sucked in,
The rockets burning off what isn't needed.
B-B-Boom!
And it's lift off. . .all over again.

The Face Of America? (Broke Black Prophet) 2009

"I'm going to do what's best for America!" These sorry ass politicians say time and time again with their lyin asses! Niggahs, puh-leeze! The fuck you think you talkin too? We ain't no lowly, depressed and shiftless slaves anymo mah fuckahs! No, we be edumacated. Why yah playin. We's can read and we's can writes! Yao Ming?

How in the fuck can these mah fuckahs do anything for us when you only have party systems? Please tell a niggah cause he would really like to know? Shiiit! That dog don't hunt here anymore juniah! Unh-the-fuck-unh! With your dirty faces! Y'alls asses have to start takin accountability for your actions now. Done laid so many of us sorry asses off, fired mah fuckahs, sent jobs overseas and givin jobs to everyone in America that isn't an American! The fuck?

And I don't wannah hear that shit no mo bout Mexicans! Fuck that! They are just some of tens of millions in America gettin our American jobs. Lets talk bout all these non-naturalized Irish, Russian, British...just tah name a few, flyin under the color washed radar. Yeah, let's talk bout these white illegals! My Black American ass is tired of hearin bout the ones of color. Let's talk bout y'alls white foreign asses gettin a pass from this white oriented media and political arena. While yah playin. But ain't nobody talkin bout that shit! Oh, and what a surprise! We all have been conditioned to think only people of color do wrong, one of them bein, workin illegally in America! Fuck You!

And what do the Mexicans do? Just like American niggahs do, go on the defensive. Talkin bout they have rights and shit! No! No! No! You silly son of a Bastard! Wrong-fuckin-argument! What y'alls broke Mexican niggah asses need tah do is start pointin fingers toward all these white illegals workin in this mah fuckah, that far surpass y'alls Mexican asses in numbers. But, no, what do you do? Keep talkin bout cho rights. And I hate tah tell yah, with yo ignant asses, American niggahs been talkin that shit fo a long ass time and look how far we've come? Those mah fuckahs ain't tryin tah hear that bullshit!

You see whether yo ass is Puerto Rican, Spanish, Ecuadorean, Colombian...you still considered by the white American media and the white populous at large, a fuckin wetback. Don't chew see? The complexion, texture and color of your hair and especially the accent is a dead ass give away in rural Idaho, Indiana, Ohio...shit, pick a state mah fuckah in the US of fuckin A. You see what our Black sorry asses been goin through? Get some! Yous an easy ass target just by your characteristics to this white owned media and white ass federal gov'ment. And a lot of y'all havin the nerves tah hate us, niggahs? The fuck you thinkin boo-boo? Cause we from the same mah fuckin boat, literally and figuratively! With yo ignant asses. Take old, Vladimir from Russia or Helga from Germany... well to those said rural places in America, well, shit, that's what America is about.  That's what is considered: The Face Of America.  They blend the fuck in. But not cho darky ass! Do you understand what I'm tryin to convey?

Anyway. Just a thought. Shiit! Next time My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs! The next time. Cause we need tah quit all this bullshit.  Cause the only real Americans are Native Americans and yo broke asses see how this here You-S-of-Fuckin-A's treatin "real" Americans!

But for now, I won't take any more of your precious time! And it is still, a Beautiful thang! Oh, yes it is! Peace! More to come...

The Voice Of Reason (Broke Black Prophet) 2008

So, the mah fucah was sittin up there, right? Mindin his own business, doin what any male does that has this here Internet, piquing his interest which oft times is prurient! Should be called InterTube because that was the only shit to be watchin. Shit, Youtube, Pornotube...pick your poison mah fuckah. But that's what he was doin. Any how. The mah fuckah come across one of the millions of tubes out there, and commences tah watchin it. Well he clicked on it at first, because he thought it would be interestin, so to make a long story short, it was a woman havin anal sex with a man. The rough nasty kind. Well, he was surprised because the tag line showed, "Steve Irwin's Stingray death." And his ass was like, "What the fuck?" But what made his ass even more fucked up was when he didn't click out of that tube in time, while the mah fuckahs was still doin their b'ness, oh, you didn't hear the usual moanin, shit naw! Some type of fucked up evil voice comin over loud and clear tah his ass, and he could have sworn just before the tube ended, by the swift left click of his mouse, he could have sworn he heard in this slow, evil...you know...this shit you done heard the devil sounded like all your fuckin life...well anyway, that mah fuckah said tah him, "Doooon'ttt gooooo doooooowwwwn ttttthiiiiissss rooooaaaaadddddd! Yooooooouuuuuu haaaaaavvvvvvve Beeeeeeennnnnnnn fooooooooorrrrrrrrwaaaaarrrrrnnnnnneeeeedddddd. Meredith!" Like a 45 runnin on 33 and a third speed, then at the end, with his name runnin on the right speed for the 45 record. Out of all that he knew he heard the latter part, his name.

Leave the shit alone mah fuckah! Been cured ever since. And that My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs, is a Beautiful thang! Oh, yes it is! Peace! Yah heard may? More to come...

Fucking Children Ain't Cool! Most Of The Elite Are Pedophiles. And They Need To Die...Soon! (POPO-HED, General Angel Martinez, Speaking To The City Of Hollywood Council Members) 2018

When it hurts the people in power then there are changes made to the laws that everyone is supposed to be abiding by.  Because woe is me if a person like I gets caught doing a misdeed.  “Tis the gallows for thee!  And off with thine kinky hair!”  But when those same people in power are breaking said laws everybody should be just keepin it movin, cause we know what’s we doin you ingrates! 

But we have all heard that bullshit before, over and the fuck over and the fuck over and the fuck…does a niggah really needs tah keep going for all of you My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs tah see what the fuck has and is happening in this bitch contained in this world we call life?  Oh, you the fuck see it!  Live and in HD colah muh fuckuhs!  And they ain’t even tryin tah make the quality of what the real deal Holyfield look fuzzy.  Fuck no!  Why the fuck would they do that shit?  We still buying like all good citizens do.  We still watching the various mediums they have created for us to keep us busy and docile, like the good low-life dogs that we are.  Yet, they have the propensity in such an un-transparent way to fuck and fuck up our youth with their very aggressive and perpetually carried out of the pedophile doctrine that has always been implemented and carried out by the elite of this life in every corner of this fucked up world.

If a child is unable to be just a child in this world, then what is life?  This is where we came up with the underground, Pedophile Offense Perpetrators Officers Hollywood Enforcement Division.

Our Motto :We don't give a shit who you are!  If you fuck children, you are never above the law of California!  And you best believe, there are some inmates waiting to meet you.  

(to be continued…)

Cloyingly Sweet Love (BBP) 2007

Love is sweet.

The warmth engulfs me,

Molecules racing around

At an enormous speed in my body;

A catalyst has been implemented;

Causing a reaction that I cannot control.

Love is sugar to the emotions;

If enough is added,

There is nothing I can do,

But keep tasting the sugary nauseating sweetness;

And let the molecules race;

And be in awe of the speed.

Declaration D'Amour (Traduction Par Vingt-Quatre Ans Le Mâle Noir) 2007

I look into your eyes,
With no surprise
I realize,
And see affection
Oh; alas, not pointed in this direction;
But I wish with an abundance of expectation.

But your heart is too dissected,
Not one,like me, being selected,
by your love that is apparent,
A love for others that is inherent,
From Maternal obligation
And subjugation.
That is not the question,
Whether you know real love or not,
The consensus: we are all a mixed up lot.

One of these days you will choose me or another,
And show the real Love you do smother;
Then you have taken the step to go further,
Down life's dark road;
Which many have come back with horrors told;
But some are still traveling down,
Trudging fearlessly without a frown.

They have decided to go down that road: that journey
Oft times not finding it blissful or funny;
But they have found it to be exhilarating and interesting,
Not Boring.

And believe it or not...even Sunny.

Hunting: That's What Y'All Men Folk Call Sport? (Black American Satirist) 1983

Now, in America, they did studies, sayin that if a woman has lil titties, they can't fuck. Talkin bout some kind of insecurity, not measurin up. Some bullshit! I hear that on the opposite side, women talkin bout lil dick muh fuckuhs. So, what's the fuckin point?

I mean, in China, I ain't heard no man talkin bout those lil titty Asian women. Or the lil titty Asian women talkin bout lil dick Asian men. So again, what's the fuckin point? Your fuckin environment and it's people make up your beliefs... And your fuckin points! That ain't nothin scientific. Fuckin fact. No science involved, just fuckin natural, is all.

If I were a deer, I'd be laughin my ass off at the muh fuckuh with his camos huntin garb on waitin, thinkin he blendin in and shit. But yah see, my ass is a full-timer, muh fuckuh! I see yo pathetic, part-time-havin-nature-sorry-ass, but a muh fuckuh needs his sustenance, needs tah fuckin eat! Just befo my life as a buck ceases.

But my ass is human! So fuck those muh fuckuhs tryin tah fool Nature's Angels! Yo ass ain't gottah do that shit no mo! For real!

Musing Valentine's Day (Twenty-One Years Old, Caucasian Male) 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 woefully 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.

Jersey Girls (Black Stand-Up Comedian And Satirist, Lambert Jones) 2008

Gottah woman lovin the shit out of that ass and shit! Oft times fuckin the dogshit out of yah! Down fo her mothah fuckin man! No mattah the circumstance! Shiiit!

Then what does yo sorry ass go do? You go put anothah mothah fuckahs name on yo sorry ass back, male no less, with corresponding team and number tah boot! The fuck?! That's some gay ass shit, with yo hypocritical, homophobic, no count havin ass! Like Ol Seinfeld said, "Not sayin there's anything wrong with that!" No! Hell no! Not-the-fuck-at-all!

But don't sit yo happy ass up there and condemn gay men for lovin men. And yo ass sittin up there havin: Brady; Manning; Wayne; Jordan; Kobe...fo every damn body tah see and tah witness, on the back of yah damn shirt! And payin good fuckin ass money for the shit! The fuck you think you foolin?

Yo woman's name ain't proudly silk screened on the back of that mothah fuckah! And she's tearin yo shit up! Gratis! Oh, No! A man's last name is on the back of yo shit that you paid, at the very least, fifty fuckin dollahs and the mothah fuckah ain't even suckin yo damn nasty, smelly ass dick and balls! The fuck wrong with y'all "bitches"?

Brings a whole new mothah fuckin meanin to, "I gots that name and number!" Really? Uhm! You sorry mothah fuckin "real" men! That shit ain't sharp at all! It's gay as hell! And I ain't mad at cha at-the-fuck-all! Belee dat son!

All I'm sayin is, just step the fuck out that mothah fuckin closet! And tell that Beautiful woman yo ass been foolin, she's relieved of her womanly duties. Cause I gotsah man to take care of my needs and fantasies. Right cheer ons my back! And tell all the gay men, "I'm sorry!" Cause you are!

The End of The Petrodollar Is The Beginning of The End (Anonymous) 2017

“Look at me! Look at me!” So says each titty as it is presented in this vast second hand supermarket of visual rotten product; byproduct of the mind being blind from brainstorm’s warm silky sexy essence. The long phallic causing dramatics as the jeans screams at its seams, as the ladies seem taken aback at the noticeable protuberance; a bulge, enhanced by a non-partial vein of conditioned vanity of a humane society which has never shown humanity. Fancy another animal whence one was evolved. We have solved the quandary of the other creatures that are featured in this Global motion picture. Being rational is not even a solution that’s deemed final! Cannibals vying for a bigger piece of meat that is in abundance on this terra firma as we all are afforded man-made concrete. Trying to throw attention from a “reasoned” dimension, “I live! And the others’ give!” An elitist thinking; not even drunk or have been drinking. Soberly avowing sane speak. Peek around the corner of the cross street you’re about to meet, instead of looking straight ahead. It ain’t all about you, Boo-Boo. Boohoo! We all stand in this realm. Overwhelmed by how we let our Eden necrotize into this blighted mess now un-sanitized. Confess with empty chest. Capitalized to the point of bankruptcy. Chapter seven will not even put us into solvency. Yet, we still keep spending; getting ever more in debt. Well the Creditor is demanding a remittance. Time to serve our sentence. The penance…life; without the possibility of parole; to help get back the Loveliness in this existence. Don't let the evil control! “It is finished! Amen!” Now, go gather the whole.

Seeing Is Believing...continued... (Loquacious, Thirty-Two Years Old, Male, Tribe Person) 1976

...Think about what it will be like if there is a heaven. It has to be one of the worst things that could happen to a person. All day every day paying homage and praising an entity all the day long. Or will it still be incremental as in days? Maybe there will be no time. Maybe one will just be. Maybe. Maybe there will be no sleep. Maybe one will have no time to themselves. Maybe one will always be in the company of others passing something other than time. Maybe one will just be glad they are not in the other place. Whatever that may be. A lot of Maybes.

I often think of what it will be like if there is a Heaven. I often think. I think about these people like to this day no matter how good life has been for them they complain like nobody’s business. You know if there is a Heaven there will be the ones that complain after awhile. Complaining that there is nothing to do in this so sterile environment. Nothing to do but praise “Him.” People may say the things I am writing are blasphemous but if I feel the way I do in the written prose what difference does it make? I mean if I do not say it does it not make it less true to me? I feel it so I say that it is the truth.

You see everyone is looking for a savior. Looking for someone to instill the truth into them. If it was the truth, the Gospel, people would not be doing a tenth of what they indulge into on a daily basis. There would be a crime free world with people working together and doing what they had to do for the human condition. Understanding we are not alone in this world and we can not progress in this society or this earth without others. Others make us solidify the truth as we know it. Other individuals make us understand our own existence. If we did not have other people to view and to make up what we know as reality we could not make sense out of our own life. We could not say with total certainty that we do exist without seeing other life forms. I remember reading some philosopher making the statement of, “I think; therefore, I exist!” Do we really as it pertains to that statement? I mean without witnessing another life form or another creature or living entities, can one honestly say they exist? Sure one can if one makes up their own reality but after awhile that wears thin and one must need another living entity to reaffirm their belief in their own existence.  And even if one looks at just pure thought, how would one be aware of their sentient awareness without the physical body...(to be continued)

Tangents (BBP) 2004

Tangents, dissecting...then the puzzling begins. We are innate human puzzlers. Sometimes I just wish my mind would shut down...and shut the fuck up, if just for a little while. Fall into a thoughtless, blissful slumber. Ummm! But my time is short just like all of my human companions. And we must make and take the best of it! Yao Ming? This was on my mind and it took on its own volition so I just let my mind take a well needed shit, and now I'm sending the shit to you. Yah heard may? And you will not even have to clean the screen after reading it. And that...is a Beautiful thang! Oh, yes it is. Check it out, My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs...

Tangents

People think they do things on their own. They avow, “I did this by myself! Built this business up with my bare hands! Blood, sweat and tears!” Niggah pu-leeze! Narcissistic rhetoric for sure! Best believe that shit! How did you get that job? It took someone to believe in you and hire you. Then it took someone else to hire them for their given position to be hiring you. And on and on it goes on up to the CEO. The board of directors hired that mah fuckah or that mah fuckah is the sole owner and he only has his position because a bank loaned him the money to start the business. And the bank was only able to do just that because of the many people who have savings, checking, IRAs…in that given banking institution. Nothing on this earth is done by oneself. People need people or nothing would get done, nor would anyone have a goddamned thing to brag about that they ill perceived have acquired solely.

People talk about they are an excellent driver. “I have never had an accident or ticket!” They avow proudly. Are you really mah fuckah or are you just a little too full of yourself to see the real deal going on all around you to make that little statement possible? Did you not notice that to make that possible the other drivers around yo ass somehow stay in their given lanes and all it would take is for one to swerve or brake unexpectedly…then your ass would be saying, “I only had one accident in my life.” It isn’t you solely who has made that possible. You ever been driving on the interstate and get side by side with a sixteen wheeler? And the only thing your ass sees when you look over are axles and wheels and all that mah fuckah needs to do is to start coming over and that ass is grass! Yao Ming? But somehow that mah fuckah keeps it together between the lines. You see we all work together to make the smallest things we take for granted possible.

“This is my house!” Haven’t you heard that shit! They say that they bought it so it is their possession but I didn’t see them building that mah fuckah. Moreover, don’t pay property taxes on that bitch for about five years and see what happens. “Well you have to pay property taxes that’s the law!” But it’s your house, so you said! “That’s just the way it is!” Shit I don’t have to pay wearing taxes on this shirt, pants or shoes I've adorned. You see, you own the house, mah fuckahs will give you that, but that property which that home sits upon will forever be owned by local, state and federal entities; ergo property taxes because you don’t own the property, only the home, the property you are leasing and that lease is good as long as your ass pays the taxes on the property. Oh, they’ll let you own a car on your own because a car ain’t worth shit if you can’t drive the damn thing; hence, tags. As long as you plate that mah fuckah to pay the taxes to be able to drive your vehicle on our streets and highways, you are good to go. And don’t your ass dare park that piece of shit on the street without plates or plates that are expired. Oh, sure, it’s your ride but it is sitting on our streets illegally; ergo, we gonna tow your possession and keep it until it is properly plated or sale your vehicle without your sanction because it is ours now because it was setting on our property, an inanimate trespasser which we must arrest.

Get behind on federal taxes and those mah fuckahs will come take “Your” home, car, television, rare books…so as you can see, you don’t own shit! Everything you buy is conditional. Sometimes take your husband and wife given that you both were co-conspirators of tax evasion. Then try to take your children and give them to family members or place them in the system. Or take your children because they deem you negligent, an ill parent. So, as you see everything is conditional and you don’t do anything by yourself because of said conditions put into place by the elite to keep the slaves from trying to break free from enslavement. Keeping your ass in check clandestinely. But we don’t see this transparent reality and that is the beauty of this ruse. Unspoken conditions which we abide by like the good slaves that we are.

In another event, I was looking at Newt Gingrich on Meet the Press one day with Tim Russert. Gingrich as usual, talkin shit! And he said something that I would have taxed his ass if I was Russert. Russert asked, “Do you think that you were wrong for trying to impeach former president Bill Clinton for what he did?” Gingrich responded, “Tim, I’ve been divorced two times…” Whah! Whah mah fuckah! Stop the fuck right there! But let me continue because this was priceless what he said subsequently, “…and during those times, I was deposed. And I had to tell the truth. He lied in front of a federal judge. A federal judge! That is something I and the American people just couldn’t stand for.” And if I was old Russert, I would have said, “You’re a very religious man Former Mister Speaker aren’t you?” And I’m sure old Gingrich would have taken the bait hook, line and sinker. I can see him now, “Of course I am and that’s why I had to do what I did.” Then I would have asked him so calmly, showing him nothing, not letting him see what I was setting him up for, “And you would agree that a federal judge is not higher or isn’t on the level of God?” And he probably would have a good time telling me how ridiculous that question was, because now he is in a no win situation because he has to be on the side of God, his constituents would eat that mah fuckah alive and his career would be done son. And after which I would ask him with finality, “So you took vows, promises, oaths in front of man and most importantly God, to be wed through sickness and in health…til death due us part. You lied in front of God, not just once but twice and you sit here and try to tell me how you had to try to impeach a man for a stain on a dress?” You’re done son! The mah fuckah would have been babbling his ass off! Where are the true hard news reporters anymore? Please tell a niggah! All died along with real news. We just stuck with bullshit now. Fluff and stuff! That’s what they should call the news now, “Today on Fluff and Stuff…” Anyway.

Let me tell you something My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs. When the real truth starts revealing itself about this life, it’s gonna be so ugly. Revolts, chaos and disorder will blanket this earth. But it will be so Beautiful! An ugly Beautiful mess! I just hope I live long enough to witness it. My battle cry when the plethora of the walls of lies start crumbling down, brick by sorry ass brick, will be, “Get some you! Get some!” And that…will be a Beautiful thang! Oh, yes it will!

Meredith Singleton Circa 2000

Peace! More to come...

We Some Grown Asses! Fuck That Diversity Training Bullshit! (Broke Black Prophet) October, 2006

Meredith S. Hopson
MERHOP@safeco.com

Mike McGavick:

Re: Diversity

Dear Mr. McGavick:

Since becoming employed by Safeco, just seven weeks ago as a Customer Service Representative in the Indianapolis Contact Center, I was more than excited to work for such a progressive company. I am a Black American man. Thirty-seven years old and was quite offended by, “The Color of Fear” workshop. In all due respect Mr. McGavick, I don’t understand the rationale behind it whatsoever. I listened to my fellow co-workers of their views on the video we had just watched? All I could think of is that it was structured to have that type of outcome. I understand completely the position the two white males were in, being that it was six minorities to two of the majority. The video was set up to have the white males acquiesce or there would be no reason to shoot the video nor would any profits result subsequently. The two white males went through what was commonly known as the Stockholm Syndrome. Not saying they were taken captive but they certainly agreed to a period of time at the location to speak about their perspective viewpoints about race based issues. After the one white man quickly acquiesced it was just a matter of time before the other, more stoic white man to succumb. He had no allies. The outcome is in direct correlation of how society works, the majority views always wins.

Are you no different? I asked this with the deepest of respect Mr. McGavick. You avow to the company that you want diversity in SafeCo and that, “ a company that isn’t concentrating on diversity is a company that is eventually going to fail.” Fine and wonderful. But there is one flaw in your vision. Like companies who have said the same thing have done, they have always started from the bottom up, like you did, not the top down, like you did not. All nine in SafeCo’s Executive Management are white. Lily. No diversity whatsoever. Oh, I’m sorry, there was one female. Definitely monochromatic though. No person of color to be seen. I posed this question to one of our “Color of Fear” facilitators and he said, “It takes time. There is a limited pool of candidates in the minority pool...” I quit listening at that point. This was a Black man saying that. A very limited pool of minority candidates to take an executive position? So what, the majority pool is limitless?

Indulge me for a moment Mr. Mcgavick please. When is Safeco going to stop saying, like so many other Corporate American companies have been saying to blacks and minorities all this time, hurry up and wait. Don’t you and everyone else understand that it is easy to pad numbers on the bottom to make your company look diverse, but we both understand that is not where the ‘real’ money is made. Smoke and mirrors. Talk and numbers, that’s all it is. Just like the Director of The Color of Fear, there is an outcome I do believe you want to come out of your vision. I must question after one of the aforementioned 100 percent white executive ran visionary’s action is not congruous to said diversity statement. My question would be to you, “What is your real motivation?” I understand it isn’t because you are trying to elevate qualified blacks and minorities into the executive levels of management. My only answer then would be, its all about the money. If that be the case, please try another angle. We do not need another company using “diversity” as a way to put more money in their pockets. As a way to make the populous at large to think SafeCo is going to do anything different than what other companies have been doing throughout our corporate history, to exploit the ones who are struggling for the company’s ‘greater good.’

As far as the “Color of Fear,” if I were you I would save myself a lot of money and not do it any longer. I wish you would take another look at it the way I looked at the video. Mr. McGavick we are all adults and no workshop in the world is going to make a racist see themselves, especially a workshop done in a corporate setting. But hey, it’s your and SafeCo’s money. Make everyone understand it is up to all of us to be tolerant of other people’s culture. If not all day, for at least eight hours or however long you are at work. Hey, one has to start somewhere and walking starts with a step. We are not school children who cannot get along with their fellow playmates who have to be set in the corner, or in this case watch a video and discuss your views, in order to get along. That’s what that workshop felt like to me, like I had been bad and I need to have more training, in this instance ‘diversity training.’ Like Nike professed in an ad campaign, “Just do it!”

In closing, I hope to God this does not lead to my career demise at SafeCo. Mr. McGavick sometimes I tire so much of hearing rhetoric. Meaningless words. Endless banter about change, yet, the same steps are taken time and time again and no change has ever come. I don’t see any change coming from this workshop nor instituting an individual over diversity. I’ll tell you why. Whenever one appoints a person over a system it is hard to discontinue or purge that system because of job loss and the overall reason of creating said position, “To add more diversity and instill tolerance of people who are intolerant.” Once the system is created then the solution is not viable. One looses their job when a solution or solutions come to the fore; ergo, one has created a system that is going to work in adverse of what it is really was supposed to be put into place to overcome. But, I hope Mr. Carter is worth the plethora of money that will eventually be spent. Remember, and I am sure you are aware, a system begets systems.

Thanking you in advance for your time. If you have any questions or concerns please do not hesitate to contact me.

Sincerely:

Meredith S. Hopson


Two months later they fired my Black ass!  Corporate America is about conformity.  Individuality?  Kiss my ass!  You better recognize My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs!  For real!

I couldn't stand Corporate America at that point. Still can't! Never will be able to be in a Corporate atmosphere ever again. Just stinks of lies. Yah heard may? Peace! More to come...

Meredith

Jame's Thoughts (Elaine Hopson II, Aspiring Writer) 2018

He really didn’t know what he would do if she left him. He had not a clue. He had heard from an elderly person a profound statement. he was just sitting with the man conversing with him and being interested as hell, he loved talking with elderly people, they had so much knowledge and so many stories. “Boy let me tell you,” he started, “ You hear all that noise, ‘ya’ marry a woman because you can live with her.’ I say damn all that...”, as he stopped to catch his breath having the nasal cannula perpetually inserted into both nostrils and the oxygen tank that went with him connected to the long hose which led to the cannula lugging around and behind him when he sat or walked, “...yeah damn all that. Ya’ marry a woman because you can’t live without her. Ya’ see what I mean son? Shit you can live with anybody if you want or had to. But can your life continue as it is without that woman in your life. Ya’ see what I mean?” As he took another long breath as to steady himself. Shit he knew exactly what that old man had told him. He was looking at the woman every day. Living with her. He had not a clue what he would do without this woman. He did not believe he could live without her. He was sure he would just wonder through the rest of this life in a perpetual daze until he expired. Oh, he loved her. Loved her stupid. Oh, loved her so much, if she told him she did not want him any longer and she wanted to move on, he would certainly let her go without any hesitation. That is how much he loved her. If she wanted to move on with another individual that would be fine by him. He would not be able to eat subsequently for maybe half a year or more then the daze would start, he would hope. He didn’t think he could live this life without her in a functioning manner. A zombie would be the closest to his lifeless body. But he would let her go. That was love. That was unconditional, pure love. He would not make it hard for her to leave. He would still be there for her. But, he would let her go. Just so she would be happy.

He had heard motha’ fuckas’ talking all that noise about if their woman left them for another man they would shoot the ‘bitch’ and the ‘nigga’, “Ya, know what I’m saying?” would be their last statement and he would always tell them, “no!” They would look at him with a quizzical look and he would continue, speaking the old mans knowledge to the motha fuckas, “Ya, see brah. That ain’t love. That’s obsession. That’s controlling. That’s for selfish reasons not love reasons. That act would be all about you not about the woman. So a relationship is nothing more than your feelings not the woman’s. So, shit, you are not in a relationship, you, then are in a master- pet-relationship. If you love that woman you let her go. Now, that’s real. Let her fucking go and let her flap her wings. Set her free with not a hint of negativity. And if you see her subsequent to the relationship being dissolved you respect her enough to speak to her and who she is with and smile with not a hint of jealously in your soul or exterior. Smile because you are happy for her. Rejoice because you had time that you had spent with her. Now that is love. Pure love. Amen.”

“That’s bullshit,” would usually be the response.
“Is it now?” was always his with a wry smile on his face and ending the conversation by raising his eyebrows and addressing the person once more, “Good talking to you!” Oh he wouldn’t feel good about it at all, the relationship ending but if that is what made her happy then so be it. All he ever wanted for her was to make her happy and to see her happy. If he was not making her happy then by all means let her move on. She never did understand that part of him. He realized that. She would look at him as though he were some foreign person she had not yet met when he would tell her certain things, “If I ever fail to make you happy in this life please move on. I just want you to be happy,” or, “If I disappoint you in any way I would understand if you needed someone other than me.” He would be so sincere in his words. He never thought he deserved her. She had this inner light within her which beamed constantly but not to the radiation which it could which he found absolutely breathtaking. Oh, she experienced other men, he was sure of that, but he never asked and never wanted to know about her past relationships. “Why don’t you ever ask me about my past relationships? And when I try to give you some insight you say you really think I should keep those things to myself. Why do you do that?”

“Del listen,” he began, “ the most significant word in past relationships is the first. Meaning they are in the past. Don’t get me wrong, it is not like I don’t care about you but why do you think I do not divulge information about my past relationships? I do that for the same reason I just told you, they are in the past. Does that make sense or should I explain more?”

“Please, if you would James. I am trying to understand really I am. I don’t see any harm in sharing our past relationships or not because they are in the past. They do not make a difference now.”

“Exactly. My point exactly,” he said to her.

“I guess I missed something. It is almost like you are talking in some kind of hidden code,” she said not upset but in a genuinely confused tone. She knew He would explain himself very thoroughly, that was one of the qualities she loved about him: patience and conciseness. She guessed that was two of the qualities she loved about him.

They were walking and talking. As always, getting to know one another. Their hands, usually when they walked together, holding one another. He had squeezed a little and released the pressure as if to say , stay with me on this.

“Del, what I have found with people and even within myself, is that all of us carry way too much baggage. Especially when we deal with another person in a relationship. What I have found to be true, my truth, is we base our existing relationship on all the other relationships we have been in. That in my opinion and in my truth is wrong...”

“So what are we supposed to do? Purge everything we have ever experienced in our life or in relationships in general and like when we are born become a tabula rasa all over again?” she said releasing his hand to gesticulate a little with both hands making her point. Reached again and took his hand in hers as they continued to walk.

“Touche,” he smiled at her and she smiled back, “Now I will explain myself.” he said and continued to smile and she smiled back and said, “Please do handsome,” as she took her off hand and squeezed his bicep as she moved close to him and put her head briefly on his shoulder, “Okay continue. I will not interrupt again, I promise.”

“Oh Del,” he said and lovingly kissed her softly on the forehead. “All I am saying is this, When one is in a relationship with another person one must not think of past relationships which will eventually lead to them comparing their most recent relationship with their past relationship or ‘ships. Which, I believe, is not fare to the person with which they are having a relationship presently. You see whenever we compare an individual to another in a past relationship, like how they are treating you or how they speak to you or even getting sexual with penis sizes or breast sizes...”

“What? I’m sorry James you threw me off with that last statement. What does that have to do with the price of butter?”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t interrupt me until I explained fully?” he asked rhetorically smiling all the while.

“Hey. Shoot me. I’m human. You’re the one that got on dick and titty sizes.” she said having fun with it.

“I know but it is all for a reason, trust me,” he said to her as he played with it too.

“And so I will. I promise I won’t interrupt again.” She said as if she was a child looking down and swinging her arm which made his arm swing also.
“Like I was saying,” he looked down at her playfully and he knew she knew he was looking at her. She just kept her head straight with a smile and jabbed him playfully in his side, prodding him to continue. He laughed out loud and began, “As I was saying, when one is comparing PENIS sizes or Breast sizes, Uh, um...” he looked down at her again to play with her about her use of the non P.C. words for the human anatomy. She jabbed at his side again and both of them laughed loudly in the crisp night air. (to be continued...)

A Parent's Work Is Never Done...Until It's Done - 393 (BBP) August 2010

Mah fuckahs don't understand! Yah feel may! I always told people I didn't want any children. Why? Was always their query to me. I would tell them, "Parenting is for everyone. But, everyone shouldn't be a parent." After that child is born your life as you know it or knew it is finished! Done son! Yao Ming! Ain't no such thang as part-time parenting! No, no, no, no! Full time mah fuckah, twenty-four and seven! Next booty on duty! Get some! Nothin but work until you die or by some horrible circumstance the child dies before you do. A lot of these fuckin parents just don't understand that. Thinking subsequently they will have time to play. Shiiiit! I got news for your blues mah fuckah, somebody done told your ass the fuck wrong! Yao Ming! Should have thought of that shit before conception, gestation then subsequent birth. And if your ass didn't realize it until the child was born...well...you better recognize expeditiously. There's too many of these little bastards runnin round causin strife, malfeasance.

Clock the fuck in! And get to fuckin work! Before yo ass gets fired! Oh, I'm sorry, if you didn't know...termination is not an option! So you got a job to do! And parent the best you possibly can! Yao Ming? Sho you right! And like so many of you, I have a child that needs my Black ass!  And I sho nuff gots work tah do! And once the arduous labor is done, sit back because if you gave it a total commitment, you can say to yourself, "We did a fine job indeed!" Sweet Jesus! And that...will be a Beautful thang! Oh, yes it will!  Check it out My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs...


A Parent's Work Is Never Done...Until It's Done - 393

In the many cellars there are dwellers of such fine character; manufacturers of labor’s intensive quality product; those are the ones who have the knowledge of building a better Humanoid; devoid of the capitalistic and selfish approach; in the human business not because of science, but for the mere drive to make a better conscience to make a more superior product than they. On such rare occasions they may take a lunch or break, but not for long because it is too much at stake. The final replica needs attention, not too mention, the product sits idly by thinking of a worse way to decay. But the fine dwellers will have none of that. Can’t have a brat. Ignat throwing bricks, instead of being productive building structures, with those stones; the process of incorporating mind, soul and bone. When the final outcome and the final work day is done, they’ll say, “Now there’s a job well done!” Smiling proudly as the child, now adult, rolls down the assembly line, “Time for a vacation! And finally feel the warmth of the Sunshine!”

Not Even A Morsel II

...
The roses were dead. Like he assuredly knew when he had presented them to her and she said offhandedly without much enthusiasm, “Unh! Now you decide to get me flowers?” It didn’t take him long to figure out what that, “now,” meant in her statement. It didn’t take no English major to tell him what inference he should derive from it. “Now,” meant a decision had been made without his input, so it wasn’t anything nice, a decision made by her, and her alone which meant it was about the relationship. Which would only mean one thing, like the roses now five days since presentation, the relationship was and is dead too. He picked them out of the vase. Walked to the trash receptacle in the kitchen, opened the lid. And as in the last rights, said a small prayer, “I know she’s going to leave me. But thank you God for letting her spend the time she has with me. Let her go forth and be blessed with nothing but happiness align her path. You know how I feel about her but just keep her and our child safe. And I will walk with you forever and ever. Amen!” He hadn’t noticed he had closed his eyes but it took him opening them to realize it. Maybe it was just a conditioned response when one prayed? He didn’t know. He looked down at the trash inside the can; still moistened coffee grounds along with the soggy filter; under which cans of diet soda; used paper towels…four separate cracked egg shells. He smiled at that as he threw the dead flowers in. And like every living thing that has died or has been dead for a long time, finally burying it, the closure comes; albeit, with weighted heart. You know it is and was for the best. Somehow one knows everything has to end and all it takes is covering it up with dirt; finally making a grave, a site for the many markings in the mind to understand finality, death and its ubiquitous ominous signs.

Yesterday was a Sunday and a killer to boot. The last two weeks had been nothing but fussing and fighting and he thought yesterday, a Sunday would give some type of rational thinking to them both. Wrong answer! Arguing about shit that didn’t matter at all. Just shut the fuck up! He wanted to yell out but he knew if he did that the argument would have gotten worse. It ended, like most of the arguments did, on a sour note. She saying, “Well fuck you! I can’t take this shit! I’m gonna take a bath.” And she did. Another night of him sleeping on an uncomfortable couch and she sleeping in the bed. He having to work in the morning. Monday being her off day.

He knew this would be marked very clearly. Wanted to remember the signs again for why the death occurred, being a quasi-coroner. Yes, he knew all too well what happened to cause this long fated death of he and Sam’s relationship. It was the cause of death he had seen many of times in the various relationships in his life: The cause of death, Chronic Adam Omega’s disease. Nee Adam Stephan Omega. He only was the disease and had caused the many casualties in his various relationships. He figuring out finally he has always been an ill perceived devout, Tolerant non-Tolerant soul. Though his self righteousness told him otherwise, that he was tolerant of others beliefs and person. He has always been far from it, an elitist visionary who is non-tolerant like the souls he finds so uncomely. He shook his head about his conditioning, still looking down at the trash with dead flowers now atop.  He looked up and closed his eyes again, this time knowingly; flicked his right wrist, the top of the receptacle whooshed downward and closed tight. And said in a whisper, “It is finished! Amen!” He turned with a tear rolling down his left cheek, he wiped it off. Smiled and thought, “Every thing will be fine.” It was time to get on some comfortable clothes. The work day was done. And he knew another job had just begun. (to be continued)

Not Even A Morsel

Just brainstorming. Came up with this little ditty. Check it out My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs...


Not Even A Morsel

They had met quite wonderfully enough. But like any other thing that has baked, grew, ripened to become a delectable entity, with time, the shit just gets old, rancid. And maybe that’s what she needed, something fresh. Stale, three year old, bread. Mold covering the outside trying it’s damnedest to affect the internals. And like any bacteria, the bad, overtakes the host. Eventually leading to a point that there is nothing that can be salvaged and digested from the matter ever again. Inedible. She knew it was going to happen, but like most women she tried the hangin on credo because that is what is expected in this post-ERA era. A woman can’t cut and run like the men have been doing for thousands of years, leaving the man fending by himself, child to rear, alone.

“And why has that been so?” She asked herself such a profound statement, alone, contemplating just that, “Getting the fuck on down the road sans chick or child, sans baggage!” Traveling light like the days she always dreamed of. Need something fresh! Being able to sample and look at the marvelous produce that is out there! Yeah! That’s just what she needed, freshness! Ahhhh! Why not? You only have one life, she rationalized to herself, as she lay in the tub, de-stressing from another day of hell, fussing and fighting for no reason at all. Just couldn’t get along to save their lives not even with the child, now two years old. Yes, and she also knew, picking the freshest produce required work. And work started, and it didn’t stop until the work was done. And life wasn’t getting any longer. So things had to be implemented expeditiously, today or maybe tomorrow.

He had even said that, “I just want you to be happy. If not with me, than without me.” But she had heard all that shit before. She had met mah fuckahs that said that very statement, ended up being the worst to get rid of out of the lot for sure. Stalking you and shit. But he always said it with confidence, like, “I hope you really find what you are looking for after you leave my Black ass!” Like he knew something she didn’t, or thought of something she hadn’t thought of. Then he would always say the last statement that made her always doubt herself big time, but he wasn’t saying it cynically, but saying it as a statement of fact, of finality, “Be happy and don’t look back.” But she noticed after a time, he didn’t mean it for her to doubt herself. Far from it. Some type of unconditional love advice telling her, “Move on! Go forward! Have confidence in your decision and never think, “What if…? Moreover, once you make that statement never look toward me again as a significant other because I didn’t make you happy.” She always felt eerie in a way when he said that statement, made her ashamed in some way. Made her think about the reality of her given choices and how her choices determined her fate in life and only her fate because of said choices.

Yes, tomorrow she will start the day anew, begin to start cleaning the refrigerator out, to restock with freshness. She smiled at herself from that little witticism. Maybe that’s what happens when you start cleaning up your garden, replanting and subsequently harvesting the freshest produce around? But it starts with work. And work doesn’t stop until the job is done. As she melted into the suds in her bubble bath she breathed out, “Ahhhh! But it starts tomorrow!” (to be continued...)

"Where's My Fuckin Monay? You fuckin Broke Bitches, You!" So Saith These Modern Day Pimp 'Preachers' (Broke Black Prophet) 2014

These fuckin preachers. Don’t cha just love these assholes? For real. People really don’t listen to these charlatans. They talk bout God this, Jesus that and then what does their asses do? Oh, you the fuck know. They say in the same breath, “Come to me! I can hep yah!” Then they throw in, knowin your ass ain’t gonna hear it, “That’s what God said!” But you see what he is sayin and what yo ass is thinkin and not really connectin the dots til yo ass is brainwashed subliminally into thinkin that preacher and God are one and the same because yo ass didn’t get what the muh fuckuh was doin. And if you really listen in the last statement they put less of an emphasis on “That’s what,” then they say in a more pronounced one, “God said!” It’s like a muh fuckuh says, “I’ll be…” Just leavin it there, dangling. And yo ass knows good and goddamned well that muh fuckuh wanted to say the, “Damn,” so bad it hurt.

But, cha see, it's bout conditionin the audience’s mindset, week aftah week you get used to the same preachers timbre, inflections, almost melodic because there is a certain cadence and delivery that one expects from said confidence wolves' oratory, hypnotic in a sense; hence the reason preachers kind of deter your ass from going to other churches on Sundays. Got to keep the slaves under control. Not for God sake! That would be too righteous. But for my Black or White lazy ass sake. Shiiiit! While yah playin. Ain’t no pimp game like these Goddamned OG (old gangster) pimp preachers. No! No! No! Next booty on duty, niggah! Six days on the stroll and give my ass my cut, my ten percent, so saith the Good Book! “Bitch better have my money.” And,“Would Thy rob God?” And is that all you can afford church? I know if yah gots ten then yah gots twenty percent easy. You worked hard this week, “But this church works harder!” Is not your God worth every penny he kept you alive these past seven days as a witness? Come on nah!

Pee-fuckin-you! You sorry sacks of shit, You! Muh fuckuhs! Get a fuckin real job! Quit livin off your perceived whores! Fuckers! But I don't mean no harm My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs. I really don't. Just tryin to make yah mad if yah not already; cause we all have to sooner or later, and Lord willin, mo sooner than later.

 We got to turn this shit round.  We just gottah! And that is...A Beautiful thang! Oh, yes it is! Peace! More to come...

Get Some You! (A Guilty Conscious Need No Accusers) (BBP) 2007

Why is abortion still on the table? Given the climate of this world, what in the fuck are these muh fuckuhs thinkin or still talkin bout? Shiit! Get a real life muh fuckuhs! For real! More pressin things in this here US than some sorry shit that don’t amount to a hill of beans to the vast populous at large. A very fuckin few, let me tell yah sorry no count havin asses; and y’alls asses continue to worry our broke asses with this fecal matter, this bullshit! Fuck...that...shit!

I tell yah what to do, fuck all this bullshit. All these political hacks and law enforcers. Put those muh fuckuhs on the machine, a lie detector, and ask them real questions. Live and in coluh muh fuckuh! Ain’t no shame in this game. Get those muh fuckuhs under the hot lights tah see what they're really made of.

Shiit! These various law enforcement departments believe in the shit so much, lets see it work on the real liars in this here You-S-of-A. People always thinkin so damn small. Keep doin things half ass backwards.  Goddamn it tah-hell!

Tell them all, the sorry ass mothuh fuckuhs runnin shit in this 'Land Of The Free,' to take DNA genealogical tests so we can see who has got niggah blood in them or not. Fuck it! Quit all this speculatin bullshit. Lets get this here science, especially, DNA science involved, put those bitches to the test and see how much you muh fuckuhs believe in this "pure" science after most of y’alls asses get some less than sobering news; that most of all of white America got niggah blood runnin through those perceived white exteriors. Fuckin around!  While yah playin!

Give random drug tests to every one of you dickheads: law enforcement officials, political figures, CEOs, CFOs, POTUS... so you can see how humiliating it is. But if you don’t have any problem with it subsequently…well…where’s the damn cup? Yao Ming? I’ll be the first to piss a gallon in that mug. But y’all will never do it. Because government has the same shit goin on as the populous at large, y’all just are absolved from this sorry ass bullshit that We have to go-the-fuck-through. And why in the fuck is that? You all should be held to a higher standard than we. All of y’all should go and give a hair follicle test and all tests should be public record so we can see for ourselves who thine hypocrites really are? Assholes!

Want to talk shit, then back it the fuck up. Damnit. Get some you! Get Some! But they never will if we do not demand it. And we can make it happen. Oh, yes we can!

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

From A Learned Poor Person 2019

Think about humans and living. Looking at it scientifically one has to believe what is really God is the Earth in itself to be able to survive in its universe, in order to stay an entity, its inner life which breeds forth in us all, sends out its forces to diminish man so its, core will never die in the hands of man.

You see there has always been humans, but ever so often the earth sends out its destructive forces to kill man just enough, leaving enough of them on this earth to take care of it so it will always be a viable system in its universe. Spewing forth a massive amount of fire and ash, to limit man and what they have done to its epidermis. Purifying itself from the parasites it lets live on its surface so it will stay well groomed and continue to live. But parasites, like most are, do not know when to stop procreating and limiting the destruction humans/parasites start messing up too much of the skin and a balance must come and the parasites must be scratched off or cleaned off; ergo, an antibiotic, or spray that works as an agent to kill all the parasites living on terra firma. Fire and brimstone, fire being the source of the genesis of the destruction and brimstone being ash and rock from the explosion that ignites from the purification process. The two combining as a blanket of death until just enough of the parasites survive; hence, Apocalypse. Subsequently…

Humans eventually, being in such small numbers after procreating a thousand times over, the caveman starts existing and the genesis of modern day man starts anew. Eventually getting in balance with the earth and groom it so balance of the forestry will stay intact and other things on the earth's surface which is in perfect balance, surviving the various destruction's over the years, and flourishing when man is limited then being in balance when humans start building, foraging, hunting…The earth needs to survive, not man. Nature in reverse.

Insurgents (BBP) 2007

Insurgents. Mah fuckahs need to quit it. Insurgents means, if yah didn’t know, Iraqi citizens stayin to defend their shit. Shiiiit! What would yo ass do if you saw tanks and shit comin down Meridian street, downtown Indianapolis, with ten thousand or more foreign soldiers gettin ready to take ovah? Shiit, most of y’all wouldn’t run. I tell yah that. I know my ass would get my shit and hunker down. The first mah fuckah kick in my door… well...sorry fo yo luck mah fuckah! For real.

That’s what you would be at that point, what the US calls, insurgents. Free citizens tryin to make ends meet and these foreign assholes tryin tah take or ruin the little my Black or white ass has got! Insurgents? No, those are proud Iraquians. What else do those mah fuckahs know? They and their families have called Iraq home for thousands of years and you goin to tell mah fuckahs, “We understand. But get yo ass tah steppin!” Niggah puh-leeze! Then call me an insurgent too because I would be fightin the fuck back. I ain’t got shit mah fuckahs, “Bring it the fuck on!” Ain’t that what Mentally Challenged Bush said with his Battle cry? Ain’t as easy as it looked like it would be, is it there, with your sorry ass? “Or get the fuck out!” Saddam is dead and gone, what the fuck y'alls asses still doin round these parts? Get the fuck out of their land mah fuckahs. "Mission accomplished!" That's for damn sure. So why are our American asses still over there? Yao Ming? And that ain't no Beautiful thang at all. Just sad. Sad awhile. Too sad! All my Black ass has got! Peace! More to come...

Without Me There Is No Life (Elaine Hopson II, Aspiring Writer) 2016

This life begins with me. As I opened my eyes upon this world, it all started from my gestation from my Mothers womb and subsequent world was created, by my mind, my perception, my being. It all starts with me and ends with me. I am the Alpha and Omega. Because with me not verifying this reality, life does not exist! How can “Life” itself continue? Life is only relevant to the living, and when I die, life has no relevance. So, the word "life" is an illiteracy because of it's finite nature to the human animal. Only in the relative scope of understanding by the ones who continue to ...live.

And when I close my eyes for the last time, life is no more for everyone and every living thing on this planet.

KeyVick (Elaine Hopson II, Aspiring Writer) 2016

I’m just sayin. I ain’t too pun-chew-al. If you want punctuality, you need tah pick a nigga up. That’s all I’m sayin’, and a nigga be ready.” Victor said to Keyana.
“Okay, I’ll pick you up then. Eight o’clock. Okay?” She said in her sweetest voice.
“That’s what I’m talkin bout. I’m on time when a mah fucka pick me up but I ain’t too punk-chew-al when I gotstah do the drivin thing. You talkin bout. ‘Don’t be late Victor. Be there.’ Well shit if you want to run things then pick a mah fucka up and show him round town. We be on your time now.”
“Okay, babay. See you tomorrow at eight.”
“Bet,” Victor rang off.

*******************

Here he was, waitin on a mah fucka. Out on the damn doorsteps in front of his apartment, freezin his damn nuts off. This bitch tryin to make a damn point or some shit. He didn’t give two damns! If she wasn’t in front of his place when the minute hand struck four. She could kiss his black ass goodnight! He fired up a Bali Hai, a smooth clove cigarette. Smokin to keep his mind off the chill. Takin in his environment. Waitin like only a nigga could do. Doin it the way it should be done, in a mah fuckin cool ass way. Noddin his head in a only the hood would know at a mah fucka, a nod that says to one and all, "I’m just waitin for a mah fucka nigga, peace out. " And they see the demeanor, like only street niggas know, that mah fuckah legit, lets roll out, be cool my nigga, he got a nod back at the various mah fuckas that rolled pass, always mah fuckas speaking back at the mah fucka in a friendly nod respectfully reciprocated. Tops had always said about him, “Mah fuckas be askin bout you bo-ah!” Tops had said after taking a long hit off the Jay while holding it in and talkin at the same time.
“Fuck that,” as he received the peace pipe, “I don’t bother no mah fucka. I ain’t got no enemies. And if they perceive me as their enemy, they have the problem, I don’t. I don’t fuck with no one unless fucked unto!”
Tops lost most of the weed smoke that was in his lungs by the crazy mah fucka and his damn language. Mah fuckah funny as hell using the type of language and being able to jones like his ass did.
“Nah, mah fuckah. I’m talkin ‘bout in a good way. Dawg! Your name is solid round this mah fuckah. Mah fuckahs be like, damn, where your boy Vick at man. He coo as hell! You remember I told you I knew we were gonna be friends for a lifetime when your ass jumped in that fight when those five niggas was gonna jump me?” Tops asked smilin and reminiscing about this mah fuckah sittin next to him, mellowin out with. His nigga if he never got any bigger. Vick was a solid mah fuckah. He smiled when people knew Vick was his best friend, his road dog,
“Yeah,” Victor said to him, back there with Tops remembering the same event. “Me thinks we would have gotten our asses kicked. But I would made at least two remember never to cross path with this crazy mah fuckah again. “ Laugin at his comment. Because he would have. Shit Angie had taught him a thing or two in jiu-jitsu. He would volunteer to be her partner and he would go over to her house, and she and her father would have a gui for him and the both of them taught Victor how to rumble. He couldn’t touch Angie in that category. She would have him tapping out in no time. He definitely would have gotten at least two maybe all of them once they started hearing bones crackin and a mah fuckah lookin like they been shot. Sheeit. Ain’t nothin like that. A sound you know a mah fuckah fucked up.
“Mah fuckah be likin you that’s all I’m sayin. Thanks for being a true friend man, on the real.”
“No problems my nigga. You know how we roll!” As he stuck his left hand out for a pound and stuck the right one out to pass the bud. Tops gave his friend pound with his right hand and took the jay with his left.
“Right on, man,” Tops said to his man Vick, as they watched Jay Jay, Judge Judy, lambastin this trailer park trash white man.

Here he was. Likeable Vick, freezin his nuts off, for a look at that woman one more time. Umm. But shit, principle, was principle. And damnit the clock had struck four. He was takin his black ass back up to his apartment and chill his ass out. Fuck, Keyanna,"... like the key you open the door with," he remebered her sayin upon him askin her name. Nigga women? Always concerned about being different. Like the name says it all. But this black bitch! Shit, ain’t no woman worth the nut cold he was gettin. Not even the way she was lookin. Fuck this! He thunked his butt. And turned and wouldn’t you know it, black Land Rover pullin up the parking lot. She smiled this sweet smile. While she pulled up where he was and opened the door from the inside and pushed it open to let him in. “Need a ride?” Keyana had said seductively as she licked her top lip slowly, playfully.
Victor was not amused in the least. He stepped up to the side of the SUV and said to her.
“I’m takin my black ass up to my apartment. I’m done for the night. You have a better one lady,” as he shut the door and went up to his apartment. Went into the bathroom. Stripped. Took a lukewarm, then hot shower. To relax himself and warm himself. He got out and dried off very thoroughly. Almost exaggerating the movements, like a mime. Trying to make this action and everyone after, definite, to take his mind off of his frustrations. People always playing games he was saying in his mind. Trying to make some kind of sense to it. He lotioned well. Then he put on deodorant, Grey Flannel cologne and brushed his hair, eyebrows and mustache. He had just put on his long sleeve tee and loose warm up pants with no underwear when the phone rang.
“Hello?” Victor answered.
“Can I come up?” Keyana asked in the most sexual voice he had ever heard. Something was underneath that question. Shit, and if it was, he wanted to find out. Would be a fool not to.
“You still down there lady?” he looked at the clock it was a little after nine.
“I knocked on your door for thirty minutes and I’ve been blowin up your cellular and home phone. But you wouldn’t answer either. So, can I come up?” There went that voice again.
“Keyana. Me casa. Su casa. I’ve told you that. You don’t have to ask to come over to my place. As long as you remember what we’ve discussed.
“Good. ’Cause I’m at your door now.” (to be continued...)

Time To Scoff And Shake Yo Mothuh Fuckin Fists

I don't know about y'all; but this niggah is gonna vote Republican next time 'round! Fuck that! Those white republican men on Capitol Hill know how to level out the playin field! For real! They are equal opportunity fuckers.

You Black? Shiiiit! Take that!

You White? Oh, I'm sorry! Take that you!

Are you rich? No? Sorry for your luck! Fuckin take that, you; White Trash lazy excuse for the white race! Take that again! Unh!

They don't give a damn! Yah heard may? White, Black and everything in between, these Republicans are the best thing for us Black broke muh fuckuhs! Shit, we used to being broke! But now...these white stupid poor people will start to understand, "Your own race is, and has always been, fuckin yah!" Some white muh fuckuhs still hatin niggahs! The fuck?! How many Black muh fuckuhs holdin a political position when they passed The Civil Rights Act? Please help a niggah out! Yao Ming?

How many niggahs you know to this day owns a fortune 500 company that has anything to do with these stupid ass honkies gettin the fuck laid off at an ass kicking rate?! We have never had real power. It has always been the White Men. And these no count poor white people always blamin niggahs for their plight. That muh fuckin dog don't fuckin hunt no mo because just read the news or watch television. Your white broke ass is gettin sold down river! Slaves are not we all? Get some you!

But don't blame us niggahs anymore because its live and in color muh fuckuh! And if you still want to defend your ill perceived white race? Get some again! Unh-the-fuck-unh! A revolution is inevitable! "...The Chaldeans will rise and scoff, shaking their fists at the rulers." And the Republicans will put it into action, and final liberation will be obtained! Think about it! And it is still...a Beautiful thang! Oh, yes it is! Peace! More to come...

I feel Yah - 422

People make me want to puke oft times. No count muh fuckuhs! But then my ass realizes, I am people my damn self!! Fuck a duck in a sixteen wheeled semi-truck! Yao Ming? No matter how much I shower, I will never be able to wash the malodorous funk of being human off of my Black ass skin. But it could be worse! Yah heard may? I could have never had the opportunity to experience this whimsical sorry ass existence. And after the cons have been tallied...it is still...A Beautiful thang!  Yah heard may?!  Oh, yes it is My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs! Check it out...


I Feel Yah - 422

What you said wasn’t true, sends a blue mood into a chaotic manic state. The place of extreme hate. Satiate the mandate and out date such vile de-humanistic behavior. The Savior has turned a blind eye, sighed from the mess he generated and left. Bereft about the insolence running rampant. The sycophant, the poor, thine heart abhors. Stores into the fat cells at the gates of hell; causing numerous flare ups as he realizes his fuck up; to have made man was inhuman. A gender called, woman…well he understands. Smiles and shines upon the Angelic figures in such awe, with such prideful-ness…blesses with such vigor.

Meredith Singleton Circa 2000

Peace! More to come...

Driving Test?

You can't make another human being want you. No matter what you do Sunshine, shit is what it is. For real. Hope all you want. The shit is still going to be fucked up! Yah heard may? Spend all the time of your life worrying about bullshit that doesn't amount to a goddamned thing. And for what? And yo ass knows the real deal Hollyfield. Shit, you the fuck know. Oh, yes you do! But what does your ass do? Why? Because the shit keeps your ass busy. Keeps your ass interested because yo ass has an inquisitive nature. Just have to find the truth. But what is that truth without the other telling you what you long for? That's the muh fuckuh right there. You don't know shit if the other muh fuckuh is playin games. Toyin with yo sorry ass unbeknownst to you because you like things done neat and clean, di-the-fuck-rect-ly!

But you see, it doesn't have a damn thang to do with you, yo ass is just along fo the ride and you have not a clue the destination. And maybe that is the con which you have fallen to with knowledge aforethought. Because you know. You know to tell the muh fuckuh to let your ignant ass out! I'll fuckin walk goddamn it! But there is no fun in that My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs. No! No! No! You say to that muh fuckuh, "My ass is rollin with you!"

But cha see, bein a passenger instead of the driver causes a problematic effect with yo life, though you know you drive straighter than shit and you know where you want to go; but this muh fuckuh! This muh fuckuh can't drive fo shit! And as you think with perilous thoughts, "Where in the fuck will we eventually wreck?" Yo ass still sits passively in the passenger seat intrigued. Stupidity with a capital "S". But stupid you roll recklessly with this ill driver. And you can only think to yourself, "What the fuck is wrong with me?" Silently urging the out of control driver, "Drive on muh fuckuh! Let's see where you take us! Cause this life is boring as shit!"

Fuckin dumb. But what's a niggah tah do? Yao Ming? As I sit back and watch; wishing like hell I could take the wheel. But what's the fun in that? And that...is A Beautiful thang! Oh, yes it is! My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs. Peace! More to come.

The Bastard

Anything can happen! You best believe that shit. But what one should do is never be surprised by what transpires. One is only accountable for their own actions. For anothers'...shiit! Fuck that shit! Yao Ming? And it is still...A Beautiful thang! Oh, yes it is My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs. Check it out...

The Bastard

“Listen, Niggah. And since the subject came up. Have you really looked at Justin? I mean look at him man. Really look at him?” Chris had said to his brother Rene.

“What do you mean Cee? Of course I look at my child. The fuck that mean anyway man?”

“Can we talk Ren? I mean we been here,” Chris tapped his heart with his left hand index finger, his right hand holding a Camel Light.

“Of course we can talk. We always talk. I hope there isn’t anything that we cannot talk about.” Rene said confusingly, not knowing where the conversation was headed, but wasn’t particularly fond of the course, given the topic of note, his child.

Chris took a long pull on the Camel light, thunked his ash, motioned as if he was cracking his neck on both sides, and with each deep bend either way there were two or three loud pops that sounded off.  Rene shook his head and smiled wondering how Chris was always able to do that, and now that he thought of it, Chris only did it when it was something of concern he had to take care of or speak of.

Chris righted his head and expelled slowly and began talking as the smoke was still trying to make it past his lips, “I’m glad we feel the same way about each other. I wouldn’t even had brought it up, but a Niggah got four years. Four,” Chris held up four fingers to emphasize the number stated, “After four My Brothah, that’s it. It’s eighteen years of a sentence.” Chris stopped and waited to get a response, any response out of Rene, to make sure he had Rene’s full attention from here on out.

“Okay,” Rene said bewilderingly, “Now that you have me totally confused. What the fuck are you talking about Chris?”

“Listen brah. You got until Justin is four to contest any paternal obligation. After that, you can kiss the baby, because you just bought someone else’s. For real!”

“What?” Rene said still confused because now the topic had gotten kind of ugly and he was trying to recover so he could think straight.

“Listen, Ren, everyone in the family has said it. We just cooler with each other than with the rest of our Brothers. I wasn’t going to say anything, I thought after awhile you would see it for yourself, but damn! You got six more months Brah and that child, you can like it or not, by Indiana Law subsequent to four years, no matter who the biological Father is, I know its not you, you will be paying for that little bastard. Straight up, for the next eighteen years and beyond, kid. I’m just telling you. I knew no one else had said anything to you about it. You know how we are? Can’t talk about shit amongst ourselves. I made up my mind I was going to say something to you because damn a deadline is coming, kid. You better recognize,” Chris took another long pull on the Camel Light and watched his brother’s face turn from confused, to understanding what Chris had finally brought into the conversation. He should have known bad news from the cracking of Chris’ neck before this conversation even began.

“Are you suggesting, Justin is not mine?” Rene asked Chris not mad but in an absurd questioning tone.

Chris exhaling a cloud of smoke as he spoke again, “Quite frankly, hell no! Rene, listen, I know you always wanted a boy and all that. I know that. But your wife has had an affair and has fucked around on you. The proof is in the pudding. All you have to do is get a paternity test, divorce the bitch, fuck the child, that mah fuckah ain’t your responsibility, Niggah. Plus, she either still is, or at the very least, has. And fuckin’ anothah motha fuckah without a rubber, while a person’s still married, that ain’t wise if you are a husband cheating, let alone a wife, that is just damn stupid. I’m just saying that because not only can a woman bring home a disease, but somebody else’s, as in your case, offspring. You do what you want Brah and I am going to get off this subject. But you know how I roll brah. You have been my favorite brothah out all twelve of us. I know you Niggah. And I know you deserve better than the shit you will be taking for the next eighteen years if you take on that. Fuck that bitch! The worst thing a woman can do is blame another child on you.”

“Hold up Chris! What the fuck is wrong with you? What the fuck has happened to us in the last ten minutes man? Is this a joke? Calling my wife a bitch, my child a bastard…”
Rene almost at a loss for words, Chris had never spoken like this toward him, they would cuss at one another like they used to do, the idiosyncratic ways they took into their adult life from the hood, it didn’t mean shit either. But this was personal and he didn’t know what the world had happened? (to be continued...)