Fresh Air (Fifty-One Years Old, Broke Black Prophet) December 30, 2016

Another year as a witness my Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs!  Another fuckin year!  Yah heard may!  I know that you did.  But that’s what, to me, is becoming more transparent; more clarity is setting in about this here bigger picture.

 Shit, you got Pizza Gate, ubiquitous nasty pedophiles; President Trump; The Mandela Effect; False News with the Major Networks; Propaganda in “Free” USA; The Russian Blame Game; Flat Earth Evidence;  Lies, on top of lies, on top of lies…well shit, no wonder this world is fucked, the fucked up!  Everybody in this piece, not peace, confused like a mothah fuckah!  And the beats just keep on getting heavier! 

Am I tired…sure, but just like everybody else; that’s all; no more, no less. 

Fifty-one years to this day I was born into this…shit!  And the smell hasn’t gotten any better.  The environment still as fetid smellin as when I had taken my first breath comin out of my Mother’s Holiest of Holy’s.  Now what?

Well, all I can tell you My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs is, in my truth, the older I get, the more outward I get.  What do I mean?  I mean, in my youth I was a selfish mother fucker!  Straight up!  Inward like a mothah fuckah!  Life was about my existence and the pleasures this life had to offer me, and fuck everybody else!...  Shit, I’m just tellin truths!  Too old not to. 

And I guess that’s what I’m tryin to convey to all of you...when the fuck does your ass find out about who you really are and what the fuck you have to add to this still stank-ass-funky ass life?  

What?  Just to be like everyone else and keep breathin this rank life and one day die?  Noooooo!  Fuck that and the cat in the hat!  My truth, there has to be more than this shit I have been breathing for the past fifty-one years.  Gotstah find some Life Air Freshener!  

Make a mothah fuckah or two understand this life ain’t all about this shit we’ve been breathin into our lungs!  Start sprucing up this place one mothah fuckah at a time!  And finally get rid of this shit smell for good!

And it starts fifty-one years to the day I was birthed…but better late than never...

(...to be continued...)

Save US...We Are All Drowning! (BBP) January 21, 2017

Fuck you!   Fuck you!  White America!  You are drowning and no one is trying to throw you a life preserver!  These other “Global” fuckers want you to fuckin die!  And you just don’t give a fuck!  Goin the fuck under!  Glugg-glugg-glugg… The best you got? 

Talkin bout niggahs makin this nation what it is, a deplorable state, and you white mothah fuckahs are sellin this shit for fuckin peanuts, fuckin fiat money that ain’t worth the paper it’s printed on!  The fuck wrong with you mother fuckers?

Ain’t no niggahs in charge of this here U-S-of-fuckin-A!   The fuckin rich fuckin pedophile Brits done weaseled their asses right back into power clandestinely.   Have you ever just listened or read John F. Kennedy’s “Secret Society Speech”?  No?  The fuck!  It fuckin figures!

What about Obama?  Yeah, what the fuck about Obama!  You damn-dumb-simple shits.  Ain’t no Black mothah fuckah evah, since the existence of this America, been able to do shit without y’alls white asses cosigning like a motha fuckah!  What?!  You fuckin heard my Black fuckin ass mothah fuckahs!  A niggah can’t do shit without a white man’s sanction even to this very day, even if yo nigger ass is the so-called President of this USA!  Fuck y’alls white sorry-ass-denying-asses!  Fuck y’all!  Put any Black, Brown, Yellow…face in the mix, it’s the white mothah fuckahs makin-it-the-fuck-happen!  I gives a good god damn!  Look in the fuckin mirror goddamnit!  And you’ll see what is staring back atcha and realize what the truth really is:  “My own white people have been playing me and fucking me hard…without lube!”

Quit bein mad at our darky asses cause it’s y’alls sorry pale skin mothah fuckahs that are fuckin each othah and blamin the darkies for it!  And I say to you sorry mothah fuckahs:  “Quit lying to each other before it’s too fuckin late!”  We, the Black Americans, are tired of your blame.  This shit is all your fuckin fault.  So, wake the fuck up and make the shit right!

We Black folks still for some reason got our hand out for you to accept to join us in this broke plight that we all non-rich are in!  Keep rejectin it if yah wannah!  But it will be a sad fuckin day when that same hand you been rejectin is the same hand you witness goin under with your denyin white ass with our look of: I told your mothah fuckin stupid ass it ain’t evah been bout no damn racial shit!  Glugg-glugg-glugg…

Just Kickin Rocks (BBP) Friday, January 20, 2017

On the fields of cotton everyone’s plottin.  Dreamin of Freedom cause you really don’t need’em.  Feed’em something sweet and sour every hour.  Cotton mouthed gone south to rebel the hell of the treasonous ways of this here U-S-of-A.  But it’s okay.  

You just gottah walk…

Sashay and go away for a day or more.  Vacay to a beach and snore.  One cannot teach the repetitive nature of absconding this farce of life to keep the sanity.  But you gottah keep it movin, groovin to this funky beat blaring, hammerin never stammerin with the quick wit that it emits tellin you how it is.  This existence never lies...and that's no surprise....

You just gottah keep bobbin your head and walkin...quit with all that fuckin talkin.

(Created while listening to: Zhu "Generation Why")

The Redeemers (BBP) 2017

The farther a man goes up the ladder the more shit that same man has to do to climb up that same ladder.  

One might say that the ladder is nothing save composed of wood or aluminum and rungs which one man would use to climb upward.  Well, yo ass would be wrong.  

You see, it’s all about where one is trying to get.  

One is thinking in the traditional sense where one needs some aid to advance; albeit in an upward fashion because one is only so tall; ergo, one needs assistance to make it upward to whence one would like to ascend.  

But what about a depraved mothah fuckah that’s not trying to ascend?  Has your ass ever thought of that?  No, I'm sure, quite the adverse.  

I have investigated time and time again where one needs that same ladder to aid, not to ascend, but to descend.  Yes, this is all truth.  Ascension and descension are the same depending upon the space which one has to traverse to get to where one aspires to be.  You might be asking yourself, “Why would one want to descend, if one lives on earth?  Why would one want to work in adverse instead of progressing upwards toward the light?"  

Oh, you pure ignorant soul of this earth.  That is such an unforgettable naïve and pure human response to this man-made darkened existence we call life.  But let me tell you something.  There are people that exist such as, myself.  Yes.  Positively.  I am one of the many Redeemers on this earth.  And the evil that is spreading forthwith will be just as expeditiously abated by ones just like me. 

And I’ll show you how…

Broke-Sorry- Ass American Bitches! (Anonymous) December 19, 2016

People worrying too fuckin much about what another mother fuckah’s doin instead of taking care of what is proximal: within the space which they take up; given a twenty mile radius.  That’s all.

 Believe it or not; most people work and die within a twenty mile radius from where they were born and grew up.  I said most motha fuckah!  Can’t stand these mothah fuckahs that just dismiss when you say some shit like that…Most goddamnit!  They ain’t listenin!  Well, I know a friend of mine, now the boyfriend’s mother other-childs-mother’s father…The fuck?   Again, I said most damnit!  I don’t know my Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs! 

Shit!  We got Trump damnit!  Do you understand?  You better recognize?!  Trump?  Puh-leeze!  Putin finally going to make some White House visits cause a mothah fuckah speaks Melania’s same language Comrade…shit!  Yah know?  Givin all kinds of fuckin US secrets to the mothah fuckah and the president of this here United States has not a clue cause he don’t speak fuckin Russian like his wife does, a wife that is now getting dicked down by Putin?!   Putin-it on Melania!  You stupid…  Just another limp dick, short, old, sorry-ass, ugly, quasi-rich…white man that doesn’t have a damn thang to loose…other than like Mortimer and Randolph on Trading Places, we, the American people are just another bet,  that the real rich lost with the example of note:

 “Mortimer, I bet you I can get this Nouveau rich, Trailer Park mother fucker elected as President!”

“Ridiculous Randolph!”

“How much you wannah bet Mortimer?”

“Oh, the standard…”

“A dollar again.”

“You got that right!”

“You’re on!”

We can only support the mothah fuckah and hope for the best.  Cause America’s electorate voted for the mothah fuckah!  Not US!  So fuck it!  You won that mothah fuckah on a bet…well goddamnit to hell, let’s see if yah cash in on the bee-atch!

Purging Of The Adam Effect (Morgan Dewitt, Peoples Activists/PAs: Archive Number E-10-6-2016-20:08-CY-10) NWO666-20/20ED

“Just say no!” I didn’t make that slogan up!

Shit no!

 But I’s gotsta steal it!  Oh….yes lawd!  I-the-fuck-do!  And fuck you too-boo-boo! 

Yao Ming? 

Straight up…b.b.b.buttacup!

 Ya’ feel may?  Or, maybe you don’t? 

It’s all good in the hood misunderstood!

 Passing byes,

While the ladies dance majestically bye. 

A true miracle has just transpired that I didn’t think to try just... until then:

Begin seeing the fellow-female-human-being as startling Beautiful;

Instead of sin.

The Wordsmith (Deuce) November 19, 2019

For some reason he had carpentered his desk, adding his own little touches to it, here and there.  Oh, he wasn’t trying to say that he made the desk.  No, he would have to probably study for eighty years of woodworking before he could ever make such a fine proper desk as he possessed. “When one works, one should work in the proper environment of said life’s work; moreover, if proper environment is not obtained then your life’s work becomes a job,” his Father’s edict throughout his juvenile life, “And believe me, you don’t want no damn job!”  So, no, a job was not an option whatsoever.  And Daddy had been right on the money with that maxim…

  

But I am getting off of the story a wee bit.  The alterations of note… Why the alterations you may be asking?... 

Well, hell, my ass is paranoid!  Shit, what do you want me to tell you?  I just love woodworking?  Or some shit like that? That’s what he’s here for!  Shit!  I told him I wasn’t no writer, that’s why I’m telling him the shit...

 

Oh, I’m sorry, you’re correct, the purpose of aforementioned tweaks on the desk.  And please forgive him, he gets like that sometimes when he wants to try to take over the story…

Well, like the white people, he did enjoy himself some safety.  And your ass cannot be too safe; ergo, constructing a side pistol holder on this fine wooded proper utility! 

But the agent, or so called agent, didn’t have a clue.  So it was no surprise to him when he was on his computer, Blogging as he usually does, writing about the future and the injustices of all humans that are not rich, when a white man, with aviator sunglasses, wearing a John Deere baseball cap, plaid shirt, blue jeans and cowboy boots, just walked into his room which he uses for said Blogging.  The guy smiled and he thought that odd.  He kind of smiled at the intruder and said offhandedly, “So this is really like this shit goes down?  Like those foul, trite assed movies that they make and flood the market with this shit?  This is how it goes down?”  He asked in amazement.

The guy, still smiling, simply says, “Yeah, pretty much.”

 Damn he sure has some nice teeth to have a southern twang like he does.  Those teeth are definitely real, not some damn dentures or paste-ons , he liked to call false teeth, oh, forgive him , veneers…Shit his mind started to be not focused like usual, not focusing on the situation at hand that if he didn’t reach for that .380 Beretta semi-automatic which was nestled that he so adeptly, if he must say so himself, manufactured the pistol holder there on the right side of his desk… tomorrow, this fine pieced desk he could not enjoy, nor his invention, nor his life...

He smiled to himself thinking, “And that just ain’t goin ta happen…at least not today.” 

(…to be continued…)

The Flash (Forty-Two Years Old, Keahi Sakata, San Diego, California) December 06, 2020 0700

We saw a flash but we didn't know where it was coming from.  The flash was so bright we instantly closed our eyes in fear that, to keep them open would lead to very bad visual acuity, to say the least.

It was bulbous, glorious if I can explain it that way, taking over the horizon with it's brightness then dying down to be able to open your eyes again, the safety zone, then the darkness trailing nigh, like it had affected the whole entire world, the sound, then the rumbling, audibly as well as physically and it's firestorm leading towards us.  I experience this foreboding empathetic depressing feeling of helplessness.

Something was very wrong but it took us maybe a minute to figure that out because of the magnitude of the flash and its aftermath.  Then after we figured it out, it was almost too late...

Time To Turn Off Some Of Those Motha Fuckin, Too Expensive, Bright Ass So-Called Lights! (Unknown Author, Mid-West Region) DED (data entry date) @ 2018-12-06-0030-INTDOC-US-R-66

Time To Turn Off Some Of Those Motha Fuckin, Too Expensive, Bright Ass So-Called Lights!

You can tell the future from the past.  Whatever you have witnessed in the past leads to this here 

future.  And for some damned reason way down deep in your gut you denied it like a motha fuckah!  Oh, yes yah did.  Takin this shit for granted cause, “I’s havin fun!”  And look what that fun has added up to?  “Damn!”

 

I sho nuff saw this shit comin like a muh fuckah!  And look atcha with you old ass!  Unh!  All’s I can say bout cho old Black ass!  Shame fo God…

”What God!?”

Yah see that’s  where yo Black ass fuckin up!  Like all these otha muh fuckas round here, faith wanin like a muh fucka!  Cause whah?!  Y’all’s asses done founds out the mastahs  been lied to, too!  Not just y’alls Black asses!  The white people feelin that big filthy rich dick up that ass!  Bang!  Bang!  Bang!!!  Er'body gettin fucked!  Now er’body up in this bitch mad!  But cho Black ass knows betta!  And it’s time tah start feedin that arid soul some good rich inexpensive faith, til that muh fuckah full as shit!  Cause that’s the only truth yo Black ass has evah known as the truth, Your faith!  It’s bout cho individual faith, not anybody else’s.  Fuck that!  It’s time fo yo everlastin light tah shine!  By turnin off some of these false rich unneeded blinding effulgences.  So we can start seeing the future again, while in the past.

(...to be continued...)

Revelations of The Flat Earth (Fifty-Two Years Old, Eoin Cody, Kilkenny, Ireland) 12:01 AM, Thursday, February 14, 2019

We have found out there has never been a person that has landed on the moon.  There have never been any planets.  No solar system.  No space.  No black holes.  No nebulae.  No meteors…our atmosphere has been a firmament, as noted in the various historical biblical texts, of the various religions ingrained in our society, that were put aside long ago for no other reason save for ridicule and ostracization by society and loosing viability as a valid religion; ergo, the religious sects fearing the extinction of said religion because of the religion telling the truth.  

We, society, Catholics and Protestants, have been lied to throughout human time about our reality on every level; the powers that be, complicit in the deception to mislead us from our God... from the truth.

Our minds not being able to comprehend the infinite flat plane of this level of life.  So we bent this flat plane of a life to not challenge the mind.

We, as a collective, finding out in a horrible turn of events that God, is in fact, real.  And judgment is now being exacted.  

(...to be continued...)

Familiarity Breeds Contempt (Aaron Thompson) 2016

There’s nothing worse to me than going through pain by your-damn-self.  Now, I’m not talking about physical pain, wanting someone to take that bullet with you or that multiple stabbing going into your flesh… hell no, I’m not that type of dick.  Not at the fuck all.  My ass be just a regular-non-super-sized-one-hundred-percent-non-GMO…dick.  Yah heard may?  Nothin special kind of dick, just me.  Normal dick shit. Yao Ming?  But back to what I was sayin.

 

I’m talkin bout emotional pain.  The kind of shit where you want to take a scalpel and cut the shit out but that shit ain’t possible.  I’m talkin bout catchin some fuckin blues for real, so blue the blue shit bout ready tah turn black, borderline like a muh fuckah!  But it’s not close to borderline, very definite.  So definite that you can explain the pain deep inside your soul but a doctor wouldn’t even be savvy or adept enough to even know how deep to cut or where in the fuck in your torso to be successful in purging the, with the now, what it feels like, cancerous type of pain, the genesis of it anyway without killing you their damn self.  And medication on any level has been diagnosed to be negligible and not an option.  

So where do you go to cure this unbearable pain?  No place, that’s where.  You affirm the shit.  Recognize the shit out of it and you deal with it, because depending on the severity, the shit may be hurtin for days, weeks, months or years to come.  And you knew that even before the excruciating emotional pain began.  You the fuck knew the pain had to come and stay one day.  But all you can think of is, “Can my old ass survive this episode?”  You smile at that question because it's been asked and answered for the past ten years.  And your Black ass is still here as a fuckin witness to this oft times painful existence.    

Well, like anything in your life, everything has been painful and nothing has come easy that has been worth a damn in your life that was sans pain so…you have to learn how to deal with it because you also know emotional pain doesn’t last forever unless that’s the torture you want to put yourself through: perpetual emotional pain until you die.  

No, that is not a viable option at-the-fuck-all because that would lead to madness and the madness is already present in your wrecked soul and if it gets any worse, then dirt and silence becomes your friend and that’s no way to put a period on your life or show your love for the one who you are painfully still breathing in this life for.  Oh, no!  

You see, the only thing you must, not shall, do My Dear Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs is to be one with the pain and deal with it!  Because emotional pain is commonplace in my soul!  

What do you fuckin got this time?  No better than the last!  I guarantee it!  And one of these days…one of these days…I will finally put you down for the last time, the final death blow! 

But for now…give me your best fuckin shot!  You sick fuck! 

Muscatatuck Urban Training Center (MUTC), Butlerville, Indiana / Hiding In Plain Sight (BBP) Monday, August 21, 2017 9:30 AM

I asked before I decided to visit if they had a tour of the more than 1,000 acre facility.  “Sure,” the person named Alex Jonas said, “Anytime between, eight to four will be just fine,” he continued.

“You mean I don’t need an appointment or anything to witness it?  I mean it looks as though you all are busier than shi.. I mean heck,” I said.

“Oh, buddy, it’s not like we haven’t heard words like that before.  You’re fine.  But hecks no.  I’ll be here.  I’m the one that gives all the newbies a tour.  We sho nuff don’t have nothin tah hide down here.  Just come on down you’ll see.  Okay,” Alex said so amicably.

“I’ll do that Alex.  I’m anxious to see all of the urban mock facilities you have down there for training exercises for God’s sake that the experts say: Are state of the art, ” I said.

“For sure, for sure buddy.  Pictures don’t do this place justice at all.  Just come on down.  You’ll see.  Bye now,” Alex said.

“Bye,” I said and we both rang off.

(to be continued...)

"Soylent Green" and Other Refinements (Fifty-Eight Years Old, Wheeler Aulseitz, Bioethicist) November 15, 2018

We never thought of it really.  How could they?  I mean I understand protein is protein but turning the dead human species into energy bars; and having the nerve to call them, “True Life Bars,”  and then the motto: “The life within this healthy food  will aid you in living forever and we guarantee it or a return of your full monetary purchase price.  And keep the rest on us!  We are True Life!”  

So they said and no one was really suckered into it, save some broke down rich person looking at some radicalized shit that claimed that they would, oh, just that, live forever.  There was no manufactured eugenic formula made out of all else, we nasty humans, that would keep one in the fittest shape imaginable forever.

But damn.  You would have to be here to witness the shit that is on display.  I mean mother fuckers some one-hundred-fifteen years old looking as though they do not look a day over thirty.  How's a scientist in any capacity going to discount this diet plan to the naysayers?  The shit was working and the people taking it didn’t give a shit of where the tasty tidbits came from that is making them look quite fabulous I have to say.

(...to be continued...)

Sending Out An S.O.S.! (BBP) December 31, 2015

Lost, how else could he possibly explain what he had been for the entirety of his almost fifty-one year old life?  He felt like a fucking alien in a world that was supposed to be a place where he was birthed, a place where he had factually lived for all of his life.  So, why in the hell did this world feel so foreign to him and why did he feel so foreign to it? 

Uncomfortable wasn’t even a good adjective to use for how he felt constantly.  And he wouldn’t even get started speaking about the depression that he felt every day of those over fifty years of this life which was forcefully and abhorrently injected into his soul, a depression which had never gotten lighter; no, quite the adverse, it was weighing him the fuck down to the point of breathlessness.  He couldn’t fucking breath properly any longer.  Panic attacks, palpitations, mania…

  So, as you can plainly see, he was tired; real tired.  The one question that constantly went back and forth within his mind was, “Do I belong here?”  Because it sure didn’t feel like it.  The fuck no!  And that led to the next question, “And if I do belong here, then what is my fucking purpose because my Black ass is tired of being so fucking depressively lost!”

(…to be continued…)

Alas, God Doth Made A Mistake And It's Time To Correct God's Sole Error! (Broke Black Prophet) September 11, 2017

People will always blame their given makers.  And when all else fails they will blame the ultimate maker, God.  Why?   We are not taught control.  We are not taught that we are God and that God is within us.  We are not taught proper parenting albeit playing God.  We have known amongst ourselves time and time again about society's shortcomings and where this world is going wrong; yet, we do not want to take accountability of ourselves playing the God which we have chosen to become incarnate, i.e. creating children in our own likeness; ergo, creating this fine world that we are now witnessing.

 

We want to listen to so-called experts making excuses for our trying to be God asses who have failed and just like Our God we don’t know how to say, “I fucked up!  I should not have created in my own image!  My ass is way too wrapped up into my damn self to succeed as God!” 

So here we be.  Still lying to ourselves, still lying to others and, most importantly, still lying to Our God who imbued within all of us humans with the same ill characteristics that God passed onto Us, we being God’s children, of deflection and denial. 

We will always be who our makers bred us to be, in their own likeness and in God's own likeness.  Like it or not.

Less, we have enough about ourselves to quit being scared of our makers and to say to them, "You fucked up!  And I'm going to make this shit right!" And to finally break the dreaded, fallible and unforgiving cycle.

(...to be continued...)

Playing The Dozens/The Final Story (Broke Black Prophet) January 1, 2020

There was twelve of them but they never had been close.  Not to his eyes and experiences anyway.  He guessed that’s the way it was for most big families.  People thinking that the bigger the family the closer that same family but he was here to tell all who could hear and read, that was not the truth; quite the contrary.  He hated most of his family; loathed every part of them.  Why?  Well, that was kind of complicated and intricate.  When one has been in a situation for some fifty-four years it is hard to just define the problem in a word, a sentence, a paragraph or a chapter.  No it takes a book often times to get through the quagmire, the muck and to come to the reason and even then others looking from the outside in still would say, “I don’t get it.” 

So fuck it.  I’m talking about me.  My life.  Writing in the third person just ain’t gonnah cut it.  If a mothah fuckah is going to tell a story then tell the shit right!  Is that alright with you?

Well, let me see if I can explain my reasoning in the best way that I can and we’ll see what the verdict is subsequently. 

Are you ready my dear brothahs and sistahs? You sure?

 

Take my hand while we walk and talk, I tell a story better that way.  Good.  

And here we go…

I was born Meredith Singleton Hopson; the Last of twelve children born to Morgan Lambert Hopson and Elaine Henderson-Hopson. ..

(…to be continued)

Black, White, Blue And False Flags (Sixty-Two Years Old, Matthew Moses, IMPD Commissioner) September 27, 2016

“Here’s what you are going to do men.  You’re going to act like policemen.  That shouldn’t be so hard should it?  They’ll make all of you look like movie stars!  Because we have to take back the streets!  That’s what we do by the way.  The streets are our domain, our shit!  You understand?  I’m sure you do.  These people behind me on this dais are here for you; are going to help us do just what I said to you previously, to take back our streets from these thugs!  This is all inter-departmental and I want you to all understand that.  Nothing goes outside these walls.  This shit is only “Blues News” only and of the highest confidentiality,” Commissioner Moses said looking out at his subjects, the great Indianapolis Metropolitan Police Department. 

They had come to him, “How well do you lead?  We need a great leader to lead great men and we heard you were the one.  Governor Pence said as much.”  Well shit if the ex-governor had that much confidence in him well by god it was time to make a change, like they had surely told him after.  “We need great men to do as they are told without question and they will be rewarded greatly as well and you will be a man to be afforded such exorbitant greatness as well, if you know what we mean?”  Of course he knew what they meant.  It was what any outstanding leader looked forward to in times like these, he would be in the historical annals of greatness.  Get out of my way and I will take the reigns forthwith.

Commissioner Moses looked down at his gold Masonic ring with the emblazoned gold Eye of Providence, gold square and gold compass engulfed by the black onyx backdrop, and a tear almost ran down his face, but he composed himself just in time before the teardrop had gotten heavy enough to make its way downward; he looked up, nodded to all of his fine policemen and held up the right hand which carried the fine piece of jewelry and turned the ring toward all who were in the room, all of the policemen in the room stood from its power.

“What we were promised is about ready to become reality!  It is time for us my dear brothers!”

(…to be continued…)

Non C'è Di Che (Sixty-Two Years Old, Alberto Schuiello, Capo Di Tutti Capi, Indianapolis Nucleo Familiare) December 30, 1990

I have learned over time to not shout, to not yell, to not scream…we, as people, are desensitized to that. 

So, what I do is, I say something one time, just one time, very calmly, very directly and if things don’t get accomplished the way that they should be, the way that I envision it, I beat the shit out of someone; with the same calm demeanor. 

And that has made all the difference in the world to my way of life and to my increase in business viability.  

Methodology To The Madness ( Fifty-Three Years Old, Joy Elaine Jennings) July 6, 2016 9:56 PM

“Oh, my God!  Oh, my God!”  Tyrone said, “Joy, wake up!”

“What’s wrong?  What’s happening?...”  Joy said, getting oriented while she jumped out of bed.

“No, Joy.  Nothing like that,” he said.

She stopped and tried to wipe the sleep out of her eyes so she could see her husband clearer through the sleep filled haze she was experiencing. “Tyrone.  Come on now?  We both have to get up in the morning and go to work.  Come to bed please.  We’ll talk about whatever it is in the morning.”

“But they’re trying to kill us, Joy!”  He said.

“Who is trying to kill us Ty?” Joy said.

“The cops!  White people!...They just killed another one of us in Minnesota!”  Tyrone said.

“Oh, my Lord…” Joy said as she flopped back first, onto the bed which she was just before he interrupted her visit in sleep nirvana.

“You’re going back to sleep?  We have to do something!”  Tyrone said.

“What would you propose for us to do?  I’m all ears,” Joy said with her eyes closed hoping like hell she could visit the place which just a minute ago she was visiting peacefully and unencumbered.

“Quit being flippant.  I can hear it all in your voice.   I speak with you about these subjects and I told you these vicious and senseless killings of us Blacks were going to escalate!”  Tyrone said.

With that being said by her husband, like most of the time, she had to quell this argument expeditiously so she could get some godforsaken sleep.  Like in the past, if she did not indulge him he would goad her all night until she did indulge.  She sat up in bed, yawned loudly, “I told you we need to get rid of that damned Internet!  It’s been nothing but trouble,” she said transitioning herself to discourse mode.

“Get rid of the Internet?  I need it for my work, paying bills and emails.  I’ve told you that is not possible!”  Tyrone said.

“And like I’ve suggested before, since you’ve put your work in the mix, they don’t pay a dime of this household’s more than one hundred and sixty dollar Internet bill.”  She said revving up.

“We’re talking about what is happening to the Black community now.  What does all of that have to do with the information I just informed you about?” Tyrone said.

“Everything and nothing,” Joy said.

“What?”  Tyrone said.

Gotcha! Now she was ready to fully transition.

(to be continued…)

Yuri Bezmenov And America's Last Stand (Thirty-Three Years Old, Jack Herbert Cameron, Conscientious Objector, Revolutionary Leader) August 25, 2019

You can talk until your tired ass is blue in the face and it still won’t make a damn bit of difference.  You see the people who are running this shit just love to see broke folks jaw-jacking because it doesn’t amount to shit.  The elite are used to that reverse psychology bullshit.  They always promoting: talking it out or doing things without violence…blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah…!  See what I’m saying? 

And the first thing the elite do when they don’t get a country or a person to do what they want is to go in with guns a blazing!  Killing any and everyone involved in the little ‘miscommunication.’  That’s what the elite call it, ‘miscommunication.’  Sounds nice, does it not? 

“We’ve tried numerous of times to handle these things with civility but in the end the animals sent in ISIS and we just had to rectify the situation save the threat would affect us all, you see.”  Interpreting, that just means that our rich asses told their broke asses to do something and they didn’t do it so we had to kill the sons of a bitches.  And we sit back sing Kumbaya and “America the Beautiful” and shit, and the bastards are one step closer to disassembling the greatest and the last stronghold of the land of the free on this close to being boned Red planet. 

We better recognize tout suite.  And,words to the wise: you better not get rid of those precious arms ever! Because, we have some serious fighting to do!  If we want to continue to be free...

(...to be continued)

When Will I Die? (Eighteen Years Old, Gupta Chaudhry, Prostitute Since Age Ten) Dhaka, Bangladesh 2014

Taxonomy, a prelim to the beginning and to the end; send my soul to another consciousness for another non-human business.  Discuss never more the humanistic side of our desire to address the nonsense of our existence.  Persistence to recompense for the past of non-forgiveness; since the genesis of our time we have been in the sublime. 

Alas, I tire…aspire to retire; but, until then, I must keep stoking the flickering dreaded fire.

Shall We Fly? (Forty-Six Years Old, B. R. Little Sr., Muskogee, Oklahoma) January 01, 2020

I love to fly.  

At first I stand upon my perch looking out at space, 

A little more downward 

I see the earth and everything which lives upon its surface, 

I want to be one with the environment; 

So I drop off, 

Descend at a rapid speed, blinding in scope; 

But, just before the matter begins to thicken, 

I level off on a dime.  

Getting my orientation, life is clearer.  

I smile then I dive into the action!


(Created while listening to: Maxwell / Lake By The Ocean)

The Lord Is My Shepherd II (The Beginning Dialogue of "Mother, Jugs and Speed II") (Albert "Mother" Johnson, EMT, In Transport to Methodist Hospital, Indianapolis, Indiana with Possible Drug Overdose Victim, Matthew Thyce) 2014

“Shit man we got to hit him!  Nothing’s worked and we are still a good five minutes away!”  Speed said.

“Man I don’t know!  You know how they doin Speed?  They firin motha fuckas over this shit.  I mean shit man.  The motha fucka pro’ly gone brah.  I mean he’s been foamin like a soap dispensa for bout a minute now.  We’ve done all that we’ve been trained to do, and if we pull those paddles out and this motha fucka don’t make it..shit, they down two stacks and they can’t bill no fuckin body, cause of our fuckin decision makin?  Come ohn brah?” Mother said, “Yo Jugs, you hearin this?”

“The fuck Mother fucker!  Of course I’m hearin this shit.  Your shits always mic’d up!” Jugs said.

“A man can’t be too careful, yao ming?” Mother said.

“Speak on it, Mother!” Jugs said.

“What’s your vote?” Mother said.

“Tag that ass!” Jugs hollered, “We’ll all make it to that mother fucker alive! Begin the electro-fuckin-cution!  E-T-A, two minutes and some change!”

“You heard the boss, let’s fire this motha fucka up!” Mother said.

“Man, I really wish the fuck you wouldn’t talk like that in this type of shit!” Speed said.

“Oh, man boo, Motha fucka hit him!”  Mother said.

“Clear!  The fuck…” Speed credulously said.

(to be continued…)

The Comeback (Twenty-Nine Years Old, Clardy O'Neil Pharmaceutical Entrepreneur) Reno, Nevada - April 14, 2020

People always downplaying drugs.  Shit, when the shit hits the fan, and it’s sho nuff gonna, let me tell ya a lil’ some’ehn some’ ehn, fuck all that food, start stockpiling drugs! 

Shit, Apocalypse comes and you are one of the survivors.  Does yo ass need a wiener schnitzel or a fuckin Xanax?  I’m sorry tah tell yah, please pass the lil’ white pill. 

Do you know when the shit hits the fan, a motha fucka will probably be so fuckin worried all the time, they can’t even sleep?  I don’t know ‘bout chew but, “Shit, where did I put that fuckin Ambien?”

 I mean they got some shit, check this out, you got a family of let’s say, four.  You knock two of those mothah fuckahs out, from the jump, with some Ambien; then you only have to provide for really, two every day.  And put that shit on rotation: wife and son, daughter and I; always two asleep to reserve resources, and a idle motha fucka ain't usin that many resources...  See what I mean? 

They got some shit that will literally put a mothah fuckah in suspended animation, which to me, is way more important than a fuckin can of tuna!  Fuck You!

And do you not realize how much that shit is goin ta be worth  negro when a motha fucka needs some damn relief when Apocalypse decides tah say, “How yall doin mothah fuckahs?”  Sheeit!  You already know! 

(...to be continued.)

And The Difference Is. (Morgan Roy Llambert, Black, Mentor, Civil Activist) New Madrid, Missouri "The Fault Line Discussion" Town Hall Meeting - Monday, December 23, 2019

In the days of peril and unrest there will be days of long absurdity in man’s judgment; which has been long overdue.  What do men do in times when the population gets out of control and the teachings of that same population are few; moreover; almost non-existent?

 Unlike the quadrupeds the bipeds need care, teachings to continue to exist because their main innate action is to control their surroundings and the people who live in and share in said surrounding.  If they cannot do the former, they would rather destroy that aforementioned surrounding than to try to coexist with that same surrounding and its people; less…one is taught the equality of humans because of our sentient qualities which differentiates us from the quadrupeds. 

But, I digress…

(…to be continued.)

Human Flight Is Possible To Those Who Believe ( Sixteen Years Old, B. R. Little Jr., Muskogee, Oklahoma) December 03,2020

I’m flying.  No one thinks this is possible,

When no one is around…

I fly. 

The wind just presses lightly against me,

Embracing me, as I become one with it;

I compress myself to be more aerodynamically sleek;

Tuck my head;

And streamline my way into another dimension.

(Created while listening to: CFCF / You Hear Colours.)

The Lord Is My Shepherd (Twenty-Four Years Old, Matthew Thyce, Knightstown, Indiana Resident) 2014

He could hear his heartbeat all up into his ears; the sound had become everything, drowning out his other senses, but he guessed it was a good thing because it, the rising percussion of his heart,  told him what was going on in his body, and he could tell you for damn sure, something was wrong. 

He remembered the hit; the mother fucker didn’t taste right, didn’t hit the back of his throat right, he didn’t feel right on the draw…he should have known then.  But like most that had come before him, that added peril was the point to the whole process:  will my ass be able to do this again, or will this be my last time getting high?  Sounds dumb, but it is what it is.

 

And here he was looking up at a nasty ass ceiling of…where in the fuck was he at…but fuck that my fucking heart…Oh Lord…Oh Lord! 

And it scared the shit out of him, maybe like a defibrillator does when your heart flat-lines, because he heard the voice very calmly say, “Don’t you dare let my name come out of your mouth not one more time my Son.  

"Oh my heart...Whah!" He bellowed."

...You heard me.  Whatever happens from this point on will be totally up to you.  You are near death, but it is up to your faith and your direction subsequent which will make all of the difference in the world for you my Son.  But don’t you dare cry out for me in such a pitiful way and you’ve been ignoring me for more than ten years when you first lost your way!  Don’t you dare!  But like all of the times in your life, I have been right here with you, trying to guide you all of your life; like I am trying to do for you right now. But it’s time for you to choose…

“But my heart hurts so bad!”

…Shhhhh…life or death?  It’s your choice.  And as before, whatever be your will, I will be right by your side…”

(to be continued…) 

Iridology - Father Time and Ignatz Peczely (Forty-Four Years Old, Expert Iridologist, Aaron Norwood, Applicable Science Facts Convention (ASFC)) Osaka, Japan - Monday, November 25, 2019 at 9:00 AM

Iridology was and is the future.  Way back in 1893 an Hungarian physician invented the so-called pseudo-science, along with his fellow scientists scoffing at him like he were a fool.  But Father knew.   Father had found these papers, in a remote Hungarian mountain range cabin; the cabin had been owned by one dead, seventy-three year old Egyptian Ex-Pat millionaire, Jean Louis Ami may he rest in peace.  Father was foraging so he foraged in what he knew as a now deserted cabin.

On the last page and on the last line, of the more than 2,000 page document, it read:

“...Needs computer technology to be applied for accurate assignments.”  

Father, reading these words from these fragile looking sheets of paper-like material, which looked in pristine condition;  Father stating, “I knew this pile of documents were important when I first ran across them.  I got this instant feeling of euphoria and my heart was hammering in my chest when my eyes came upon them.  I knew the information contained within would be important somehow, I just didn’t know how and to what extent.  But I had no idea Ig-Z!  What in the world, Ig’Z, is a computer?...”

I have no more bricks to hurl at the truth.

(...to be continued...)

(Created while listening to:  Slave / A Touch Of Love

"Let Us Take Care Of Our Own Garden" (Fifty-Three Years Old, Robert Singleton Harley) August 25,2019

I feel alive for the first time in a long time.  Why?  Because of Love, because of life, because of our healthy daughter…I could go on and on.  I’m usually a dour filled depressive individual. Not saying I don’t get into my moods…but damn, I have found out this life could be way fucking worse.  I’m finally starting to understand and appreciate that fact which has made all the difference in the world. 

And this world is about to drastically change; and I’m more than okay with that.

(Created while listening to Felix Jaehn ft. Jasmine Thompson/Ain’t Nobody)

Virulent (Cameron Elan, The Humanist Conference, Indianapolis Native) July 7, 2019 Denver, Colorado

All I can say is this, we have bought into the philosophy that: in order to obtain order, there must be order and in order to have order, there must be an order to our human behavior  in order to have said order.  You understand?

So once one understands that principle, which understanding is accomplished, then knowledge is attained.  Once knowledge has been partaken in for awhile; then belief takes over; then finding one’s facts to make-up their given truth.  Not “The Truth.”  With every single sentient that’s how the process we have found has been working.

But once you understand the process, like before, you start understanding; you can reverse any process that has been implemented if it is a virus to this Super-Human-Computer, because on a small scale we have witnessed what a virus can do to just one computer! And we won’t even speak about the devastating effect on a complete system.

No, we have to kill this virus of human behavior.  Not tomorrow...today!  Thank you all for coming tonight.

(...to be continued)

(Created while listening to Ro James/Permission)

You've Just Created The Perfect Day (BBP) Now

I don’t know you.  

Do I?  

Maybe I do.  

Come on over and sit a spell.  

Oh, you hear it too? 

Most definitely, chill;  

The way it is s’posed to be.  

Would you like a beer?  

Yeah, light.  

Amstel Light, cool?  

My Sweet Sistah!  

Oh you're right, there is a breeze today.  

Beautiful day?  

I must agree.  

One of the best days now that you are sitting next to me. 

No…I wouldn’t lie to you;  

Not on such a perfect day that you have created.

(Created while listening to Guordan Banks/Keep You In Mind)

Today, Again! (Deuce) January 2016

Can’t stop my feet, they just want to move…

Dance. 

Yeah, dance...  

Take me this way and that way.  Let’s go to the right.  Now, to the left.  Let’s stand still, shuffle…work it.. Because it is today.  

Ho!  You know I am alive!  Yes, I know you are too!  

We are!  We are!... 

I!  Am!  Alive!..  

You!  Are!  Alive!...

Go!...

To the right.  To the left...  

Bob your head constantly.  

Yeah, dunt-dunt-dunt-dunt-dunt-dunt-dunt-dunt-dunt-dunt-dunt…

Step….

Now salsa….

Now salsa…

Now salsa….

(Created while listening to Zero 7/Today)

Her Name Is Aquarius (BBP) December 6, 2020

When she was born she altered the world.  The universe as we knew it was no more, changed somehow by one human being brought unto this earth, and with that, a cataclysmic change in the earth’s normalcy. 

Abnormal behavior running rampant in the spirit world and the natural physical world; but it was for the better and was prophesied some 2,150 years at a clip. It was just a change in the season.

Wait no longer!  It was time for the Lady to make her grand entrance.  And she did not disappoint.

A well needed calm started dancing around this earth.  

Blessedly, the Genesis of Aquarius had begun.

(Created while listening to Sia/Alive(Maya Jane Coles Remix)

The Ol' Lymp Peons / Thee Olympians (BBP) November 28, 2020

Who are “they”?  A mad bunch let me tell you.  You see, this is their cycle and they know it.  They revel in it.  The men, in the various tribes who comprise Thee Olympians, they kept their disgraced tribe name for some reason.  The previous cycle had named their given tribes, 33 in total, ‘The Ol’ Lymp Peons.’  Most, no one really has ever obtained that little bit of our sordid history,  of the men in the tribe could not get an erection and the men were embarrassed because their wives had to go outside of the tribe to get impregnated.   They were never pure.  They were a tribe full of shame.  

So about a little more than a century and a half ago, they changed the spelling of their name.  And that was the beginning of the end to their cycle, unbeknownst to the 666 families who comprised the fated most powerful tribe on earth.

The Age of Aquarius had been put off a little bit  too long.  It was time for the Ol' Lymp dicks to be abdicated along with Pisces, they had been flaccid for way too long.

(...to be continued)   

(Created while listening to Dirty Vegas/Simple Things)

They (BBP) November 2016

For a long time now, our brains have been on auto-pilot.  They hire the best mind control experts in our time; and they have access to an almost endless amount of information from mind control experts from our past.  

The euphemism for these mind-control experts, visually, are Psychiatrists and Psychologists; presently, one would have to extend to that list, all “doctors,” they too, can prescribe mind altering drugs.  

Conspiracy?  Mais oui bien sur!

Their whole shtick, all of these years, was and continues to be: to manipulate humanity for the sole purpose to stop individual thinking, to visually stimulate us to, “What you think is not true; what you see is true.”  Outer is more important than the inner.  

Thinking on one’s own was/is not an option for the "greater" good of humanity and definitely not good for the entitled 666.

(to be continued...)

(Created while listening to Heatwave/Star of The Story)

Skin I'm In (Deuce) Summer 2016

Skin is in.

Thin?

Uh, Not so much.

 

But don’t you dare touch,

What is being showcased;

 Odds are, encrusted-laced;

Encased with a small waste;

You've traced down south from their waist.

Can't even think of the very possible foul taste.  

Unh.

  

Never forget,

What yo ass sees, is what yo ass gets!

 

Oh, don’t even try tah look away…

 'Cause it’s here tah stay.  

Muddling (Frankiee Mundy, Geneticist) 2011

The body…immaculate.  What do you want me to say?  Some trite bullshit?  Some political correct explanation? 

The human body is perfect! I marvel about our autonomic nervous system...Marvelous!

  

“Absolutely, positively, badasses…”  That’s what the human body is about.  That’s what we have as kinship with one another: we come from the same badasses; which makes US all, badasses.  No color needed.  We are pure and we were made the best that we could possibly be made with our badass selves.  No doubt about that shit!  And since that be the case…why in the fuck are we fucking with perfection?

A Void Dance (Youandme) 2013

I hope that in my death it will be similar to when they put yo ass out in dental surgery.  

You’re talking to the Dental Technician and the next thing you know you are being gently nudged into the awaiting wheelchair after sedation and surgery. 

And you have not a clue for however long they took to gouge out those two wisdom teeth what the fuck went on in this life during that time of blankness, that time of lifelessness, that time of no recall… that time of… void?  

How Yah Doin Miss EULA (Fifty Years Old, Broke Black Prophet) 2016

Building a better system my ass!  Pissed!  Ain’t a strong enough word!  Mother fuckers! 

So you’re sitting there, pounding out some words to this thought, short story beginning, novel beginning…whateverthefuck…And these mother fuckers hijacking yo damn computer, clandestinely… now you can’t do shit because…Oh, Shit!...The fuck told y’alls asses tah download some shit I don’t fuckin want?  But their sorry asses did!  The Fuckkkkk!  I don’t want no fuckin Windows 10!  

You knew it because that EULA will end at the end of July, 2016 or thereabouts!  And if we don’t get enough of these mother fuckers on board we will be hemorrhaging money in lawsuits because of certain emails that will be leaked in subsequent years that will let John Q. Public understand they were Hornswoggled!  Bamboozled!  Fucked! (...shall I continue...)  No...You!  Fuck the Thanks!

  

Shiit!  Mother fuckers!

Oh, shit…hold up!  Hold-up-hold-up-hold-up!  Microsoft classified it as an update making me understand that updates can be voided, purged, discarded…shit I ain’t no computer person at-the-fuck-all, just trying to tell a story.  So, please bare with an old ass.  I’m a sorry ass with this here technological thing; gets on my damn nerves something terrible, but just like everything else, I get around just fine!  Yes Lawd!... 

Anyway…where was I…Updates?  Bingo buddy!  Now we’re off…I went into ‘Updates’ after the damage was done…well what the fuck do you think I see?  Yes, those mother fuckers had been planning this shit since 2013 and the only way I knew were from the fact once I saw where Windows 10 was updated (hijacked) these other two separate updates, from June and I think October of 2013, that became bundled with this so-called ‘Window’s 10 Update;’  so those were prompted or executed, along, with this Window’s 10 serial rape of our computers bullshit, one after another, and bingo-bango here comes the bad news.   But fuck that!

I just took the Update ‘Windows 10” off along with the two others from 2013.  Clicked, where I will not be taking any more updates from Microsoft…and what do you know Sunshine…

EULA!  I’m so glad you’re here!  Please tell a brothah what’s been goin own?

Yes! (Thirty-Six Years Old, Elaine Hopson II/Deuce) May, 2016

There’s always something.  Nothing.  Anything? 

I wonder? 

What if the world was filled with the innate practice of humans really treating another as one would like to be treated?

I wonder?

And what if the previous query were true?  Would that mean there would be no violence, no war, no assaults, no weapons…

I wonder?

Would we think alike?  Would we be monochromatic?

 

I wonder?

Would we even have Male or Female as a description for a specific gender?

I wonder?

…Would we finally be as one?

Jeronimo! Muh Fuckuh! (Thirty-One Years Old, David McIntyre, D.C Resident) August 25, 2018

Trippy.  That's the only way I can explain it to you.  Straight trippy, my brothah!  Quite so!  Colors, images...popping off the damn screen...Will you look at that?  People looking like you can touch them, in this now: squared; fifty-five inches of what life has become.  The real.

And when yo Black ass is in an altered state, such as I, this screen becomes life in and of itself.  All I have to do is jump right into the action.

The Classless System (Miles Davis) 1965

"Classy," is a word used by a mothah fuckah, irrespective of their color, who has no fuckin class.

Broken Discourse (Christopher Tuesday, Professor of African American Studies, Interviewee, 106.7 FM) 2019

...Well that’s what we have succumbed to haven’t we?

Yes, I understand perfectly your argument.  It is one I have heard throughout my lifetime, which basically states: to hell with everything and everyone else... except for me!

I never said that.

No, you are the one that is telling untruths.  Not me. 

There’s no need for that.  That’s what we as people start breaking down, one of the purest commonality we have as fellow humans: being sentient.

Never heard a nigger speaking like me?  So what, that doesn’t give me a pass to be Black?  I speak properly: ergo, I’m shunning my prized Blackness?

Yes, ‘ergo’ is a word.

 

Good lord, didn’t you ask me to come on this talk-show so we could talk about societal issues?

Instead we have once again been brainwashed to think somehow race is hyper relevant given our societal climate; ergo, once again, succumbing to race-bait discourse whatever the subject matter?

Step the fuck outside you punk nigger?  My God…

(to be continued…)

Imagine That (Broke Black Prophet) 2001

If I were ever a twin I know I killed that other mother fucker.  Shiiitt!  Two of me?  The fuck!  Fuck naw.  That shit just ain’t gonnah fuckin float!  At the fuck all!  Bye-bye-boo-boo!

 

That niggah be propahly disposed of!  Yes sir!  Can’t stand my damn self more than half the time and this mothah fuckah lookin like me, reminding my ass of me, always lookin like me…whateverthefuck!  

I know for damn sure I killed my twin because I’m here. And he or she is not. 

The one I killed, had the better looks; had the better attitude; loved life;  highly sociable…opposite of everything that I am.

 

So…yes.  I killed that other mother fucker that looked like me.

 

And I’m glad I did it.

My Silent Protector (Twenty-Two Years Old, Nancy Downse, Survivor) 2022

Though you don’t like it, you begin to get used to it.  At first, it’s kind of strange because you are aware of the most infinitesimal, minute sounds, which gets on your nerves… But after awhile you get used to it; no sound, makes a sound louder.   It becomes a blessed strength for survival.

My hearing is highly acute because of everything being dead.  The only sounds I hear: are from myself and the wind.  

Oft times, I close my eyes real tight to try to hear someone…something…but alas, it’s just me and the wind.

(...to be continued)

Do You Know What Time It Is? ( Deuce) April 2016

Donald Trump? 

The fuck he get the fuckin nod? 

Be-fuckin-fuddled! 

The fuck wrong with America?...

Exactly! 

The mainstream finally gettin it? 

Fuck no! 

The dance. 

Oh, the dance. 

Please stop that waltz, that tango, that salsa…

…whateverthefuck! 

Cause our mothah fuckin feet are fuckin tired! 

And I don’t know bout these othah mothah fuckahs…

but this niggah’s feets…are barkin! 

Oh, yes Lawd! 

And my Black ass ain’t dancin no mo! 

Oh-the-fuck-no!

But befo I sit my tired Black Ass down! 

,,,I demand some fuckin answahs!

And I can’t kick yo ass…well…because of these hurtin feets…so fuck that!  But, mothah fuckah!  I can sho nuff shoot yo lazy white and black privileged sorry asses.

Now what’s it gonnah be?

And they would rather die befo they let you on their level, The Knowing,The Olympians; so they take the bullet “for the greater good.”  Um!  Damn shame how many mothah fuckahs gonnah has tah die…until the questions are answahed.  

But, I’m down with that.

Brother to Brother (Jay Price) 2015

"Morals and Dogma..." by Albert Pike.  Interesting.  An excellent example of eurocentrism; and ol' Albert hath not a clue.  But supposed to be the Bible in Freemasonry.  I wouldn't know that to be true because I am not a 'mason; and if I were I really don't think my fellow brothers would appreciate myself writing about this; hence the quandary.  But I guess there is no quandary because I am making statements about the writing contained within the book of lectures/essays compiled by Pike.

And you might be asking yourself, "Why the fuck you readin somethin like that with your Black ass?"  Well, you have to be armed with the truth no matter the circumstance or subject.  Fact checking.  Digressing...

All I got out of  "Morals and Dogma..."  is an understanding and an excuse:  for a group of people to be convinced, after reading texts, to treat the rest of the people differently because, "...after-all, we are the chosen few."  And, of course, the chosen few being: white Freemason males only; but... in an eloquent and loquacious manner.

Purple-Deal-Pickle Eater's Revolution... (The Symbol) 21-04-2016

“I’ll show you around.  A lot of the people here, I’m sure, you will already be familiar with.  So, don’t ever feel like you’re alone.  Like you, me and everyone you meet hereafter: we live, and we will live, in the new world which we all have envisioned,”  he said.  “Let me take you for a little tour into Genesis.”

I’ve always been skeptical about any and everything.  Even with my own existence, I question.  And this?  

Shit, skeptics, like I, would never believe what I was witnessing in a millennia.  But here I was a witness, far from the Jehovah type which I had physically…mentally…passed into…what-the-fuck-was-this? 

They said, in the transition room, “Mr. Nelson would you please pay attention to the monitor in front of you.”  I did as I was instructed. 

And shit.  There!... my image was; a male voice-over, saying that I had died…

From a fuckin overdose?  

Yeah, I partied, but everyone knows, I don’t fuck with drugs!  Don’t they?  Didn’t they?

 

I gave a drug dealer forty-kay every six months for…Dilaudid, synthetic heroin pills…and Oxy…?”

Come the fuck on!  

Really?  

They believing that shit?...

 

So I turned to the two burly gentleman, dressed very gentlemanly I may add, and before I could get a word out of my mouth they both, imperceptibly nodded; suggesting, “We told you what  the deal was when you agreed to the deal.”

What a purple-pickle, indeed…

If Only For Today! (BBP) 2017

Today…is today. 

Yes-sir and yes-miss; 

And I am so glad that this day is named “Today!” 

Because that means, I’m alive Sunshine!

 

Today!

Hillary Clinton, The Next President Of The United States (Elaine Hopson II/ Deuce) April 2016

One has to look at, if one wants to discern at least the most minute part of what is transpiring in this world,  paranoia.  One has to be paranoid.  Oh, not paranoid in the psychosis realm, this is where one must digress from what is suggested by the masses to be a mental disfigurement.  What one will find constantly in this social beast we call, life, is the fact when one finds a discernible way to find truth; society, will find a way to disparage said truth seeker.

How does society exactly do that?  You may ask.  Well, I don't know how to put it except, in the raw...most of society are idiots.  There, I said it.   Society, disproportionately does not have a clue of what is transpiring right in front of their given eyes, and it is their for them to witness; yet, they look away and stay ignorant.  Why would society look away from what most want: the truth?  You may ask again.  Well, not only is most of society filled with idiots; moreover society is replete with liars.  What one professes to the whole doth not mean said profession is the truth.  No, on the contrary; individuals in society say most of what they say to coincide with their fellow cohorts, to fit in so as not to be judged.

Let me give you a wee bit of an example.  We have had elections for president at least every four to eight years since 1789; yet, we still believe the POTUS is  elected fairly.  The POTUS has never been elected by popular votes by the populous of which the president is elected.   All the presidents in our history have been selected by a very chosen few, not by the populous vote.

Which brings us to the here and now.  Donald Trump was hand picked to be the Republican front runner.  Hillary Clinton has been hand picked to be the Democratic nominee.  And you know who will win?

Hillary Clinton.  And  make no mistake about that.

Well, how do you know that for certain my dear friend?  Well...because of what I have stated previously, one has to be paranoid to see what has gone on in the past, paranoid to see what is going on in the present and paranoid to see what is going to come in our future.

So, when I see/witness that Hillary Diane  Rodham Clinton is mentored by, one of the Committee of 300 members, former Secretary of State Henry Kissinger.  The next POTUS has already been selected and Donald Trump is just a diversion.

...(to be continued)

The Proper Culinary Technique? (Twenty Years Old, Eugene Cook, Second Year Trade School Student of The Chef's Academy, Indianapolis-Indiana) 2015

I just can’t watch the shit.  I don’t know why?  Sunny Anderson, Gordon Ramsay, Heston Blumenthal…and all the rest of the chefs that are ‘Lefties;’ I just can’t watch the shit.  

Like when I watch Sunny’s shows: she’s attractive; very easy to look at; beautiful smile; knows her shit and speaks well.  But I can’t fuckin do it!  God damn! She starts stirring something and I want to holler at her to, “Stop!...” even though, I know good and goddamned well, she can’t hear my Righty’ black ass, “…Chil, you’re goin to burn yourself bad, the way that you’re stirrin that mixture on that stove!,” or, “…Sistah, you’re bout ready to cut one of those right fingers the fuck off!”  But she never does burn herself or severely cut herself, the few times I have watched her; because again, I can’t take too much of that opposite shit.  

Can’t even begin to imagine the shit the ‘Lefties’ constantly are seeing?  Everything opposite, full time…   Ohhh!  Shit!

Isn’t that horrible of me?  With my intolerant ass?  Damn!...

But fuck it!  Cut and stir-the-fuck- right you left handed chef mothah fuckahs!  

La Voix De La Raison (Vingt-six ans, Femelle, Disc Jockey, Martinique-France Ex-Pat, Indianapolis-Indiana Resident, Joi-De-V) 2017

Come down! 

Come down?

Coooommmme…doooowwwnn…now!

The Fuck for?

Because you’re getting way too high.

Ain’t that the fuckin point?

No, because you need to stay in this atmosphere...

And on this beautiful earth.

One and Done! (Fifty Years Old, Broke Black Prophet) 2016

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 destiny or fate.  

Whatever is clever.    

Four Syllable and Four Letter Words Are Synonymous (Deuce) 2018

They were giving a quasi-gifted individual anything that they wanted.  They knew it was all coming to an end.  You want twenty million dollars to be a Disc Jockey?  Just to spin records for the masses?  Fine.

Millions to be a preacher? Okee-dokee.

An Internet Founder?  Most definitely.  No problem...

Money, they knew, was about ready to take a dreaded deep fuckin plunge. Paper money was about ready to be extinct; was not going to have any value whatsoever.

But we, the populous, didn't realize it; not until, it was too late.

But that was the way that they always have wanted it.  Normality was equal to problems.  If we knew that there were problems, there would be problems and the 'select few' didn't want our kind of problems.  Quite the contrary; they have always been a lazy bunch.

Democracy was nothing but a four syllable pronunciation that didn't mean a damn fuckin thang.

(...to be continued.)

This Colorful Life (Elaine Hopson II/ Deuce) 2016

Kaleidoscopic hues confuse the refuse of our troubled minds replete with sinful fines.  Binds give signs. The shackles freckled, bespectacled; heckled by the four feet animals amid the human cannibals. 

We’re no different in this inference, giving preference to evil, to sin.

 

But I will win, ascend to another level with my soul intact; enact another causative effect; circumspect the dialect and intellect to these pseudo-fortune tellers, dwellers of such a negative aspect; never to dissect the core.

Whah? Muh Fuckah? (Fifty Years Old, Broke Black Prophet) 2016

"Have you ever seen 'Leap Of Faith' with Steve Martin?" I asked my wife.

"No," she simply responded.

"You should watch it.  I think you'd like it.  You're real spiritual, unlike myself, and it has that spiritual vibe happenin,"  I said.

"The hell that mean?  You're real spiritual too.  That's one of the reasons I married yo Black ass. Like a mothah fuckah some unicorn or some shit," she said giggling.

"Nooo!  I'm sorry tah tell yah Sunshine, I can't even profess tah that shit.  I'm not spiritual at-tall!  I'm just a mothah fuckah just tryin tah figah some shit out,"  I said.

She just bust out laughing.

And a funny thing happened...I started laughing too.

Asbestos: A Stone Cold Killer (Roman Messenger) Circa 800 AD

"Just in time," the King, Charles The Great, said to me in his High Germanic tongue.  I did not say another word.  You never do after a King has spoken; one, such as I, understands if one wants to live.  One only speaks when the King tells one; I had already been introduced and I had just began to speak when his Majesty severed my message for a time.

The room was filled with people save for a roaring fire burning, in the middle of the room, in a circular fire pit made with stone maybe a half of a fathom high.  Next to this pit stood a lonely servant with a nine pied by nine pied rug laid out in front of the servant.

"Continue,"  the King began, "pick the rug up and throw it into the fire."  The servant picked the rug up and threw the rug unto the fire.  After  a short time the King commanded, "Now take it off!"  The servant had taken his two hands, unprotected, and quickly grasped and laid the rug onto the floor which it was before.  The rug unharmed by the fire.  The crowd cheered in astonishment.

"Amiantos,"  I said, letting the word slip out of my mouth.  I being in amazement.  I had heard of such cloth but, like most others, did not believe of its existence.  What cloth could possibly withstand fire?

The King looked at me and laughed heartily,"Yes!  Amiantos!  Asbest!  The King of Persia sent it to me.  Marvelous!  Now, you,"  the King speaking to the servant who had put on and taken off the unscorched rug, "lie down on the rug.  And the two of you," he pointed to two other servants close to his sides, "roll him up in the rug and throw it upon the fire!"

Each servant did as they were told.  The rug went upon the fire.  Horrible screaming and the smell of burnt flesh entered the room.  "Take it off the fire and unroll the rug,"  the King said to the two servants.

The two servants took the rug off of the fire and unrolled the rug.  The servant within the the rug was writhing in pain blackened and mahogany in color.  Most of the crowd in the room had put one or both hands up to their noses with a most distasteful look on their given faces.  I turned to the King quickly waiting for his command so I would be able to speak, give my message and return home.

"Take him away," the King with disappointment in his voice said to the two not charred servants.  The King watched them as the servants gathered up their cohort.

"Curious," The King said offhandedly.

WOTUS, CWA and FEMA Camps, Oh My! (Forty-Three Years Old, Jeffery Weyland) 2018

They started talking about human rights and taking guns off of the streets.  People didn't fall for that.

 So, they forced peoples' hands by taking those same rights of humans away and since we would not willingly give up our arms they did something about that too.  They contaminated our waters and started taking our land away from us; moving us all closer together so that they may control us better.

We didn't see what was happening.  This is and was, "The Land of The Free!"

We were so ignorant.  Before we could react with dissent, they were way out in front of us with their plans, herding all of us like cattle into the awaiting boxcars.  Treblinka and Auschwitz raced through my mind just before those steel doors slammed shut.  

I Can't Wait To See My Father's Father (Broke Black Prophet) January, 2016

There’s never enough stuff.  Fluff amid the scruff.  Puff the magic dragon hanging on another strong song of enlightenment sent to another fellow who has never been mellow.  

But that’s more than okay in these last days of necrosis; an abhorrent hypnosis being carried out by the so called devout various religious sects gone unisex:  man or woman does not matter in this suffering domain gone totally insane. 

Spraying chemical trails in the heavens to create all the sevens to equal elevens.

 

Breaking even, is not, believing.  You have to go all in, in this land of pious and in this land of sin.  Oh, I wish for the freedom of non-serfdom; being slaves again soon. 

But I will not go out like a trick; pandered and patted down, relinquishing my last dollar without an horrible fight so quick.  Nooooo!  My soul’s way too bright!  

I’ll look up at the Heavens and holler, getting ready to die but killing a lot of those mother fuckers before I get judged by my blessed Maker, my second Father.  And I’ll be just fine, all fucking right! Oh, my Sweet Sistahs and Brothahs, it's going to be a Beautiful sight!