I Had A Dream, Then I Was Awakened (Forty-Eight Years Old, Broke Black Prophet, Saved) The Future

Blessed be the human who sees thine glory amongst them.  Blessed be the human who hath seen thine spirit of making another like thee and careth for thine child.  Blessed be the human who puts another afore thee.  Blessed be a human who hath not a selfish bone in thine temple, for thy is to be worshipped and mocked throughout thine kingdom.  Blessed be the human who understandeth that another is no more important than thee on thy kingdom.  Blessed be the human who prophesied for thy is imbued with the body of Christ and thine hast seen thy revelations.  Blessed be thee with a brand new Eden which is to come verily.  And thine will be granted mercy and Heaven.

Dimmer No More (Forty-Seven Years Old, Broke Black Prophet, Pre-Salvation) The Day After Tomorrow

I’m tired of being mad at the past that will last way after I’m passed.  Compassed South, without a mouth to confess to do less.  But that is the way that it is, in this “Biz” of living; not giving anything in return but what I put in.  It’s all up to me to be free!  To be a bright light amid the dim.   

Your Worst Fuckin Nightmare (Forty-Seven Years Old, Broke Black Prophet, Pre-Salvation) Yesterday

I want to fuck a rich mothah fuckah up!  Take a rich mother fucker’s skull and squeeze, at ease in my retribution, the solution to absolution.  I want to see the blood trickle down my forearms, the storms raging in every vein as I apply those slave spirit soaked muscles of tiredness that need a rest but not until I make your sorry ass pass the paramount test, to confess your mess.  I want to see the life pass through their eyes and douse all the doubt of who I am!  I am!  And I always will be!  Your mother fuckin worst fuckin nightmare; to forever fear!

Consumation (Forty-Seven Years Old, Broke Black Prophet, Pre-Salvation) Tomorrow

I can’t understand the man which stands in command of this land as we reprimand the “great” Constitution; with no solution which has come into fruition; pollution of the mind, unkind in the line to confine the sign of the times.  Unwind, find and design a found fine humanity without insanity and see what you get!  Sit, spin and burn on this world’s spit.  Shit coming out of the North and South; the East and West the test of the winds of sin; akin to the thin needled pin as it goes in and out to sew up the future, forming a suture for the wound so the womb will not consume anymore to make another. 

Welcome To My Abyss (Forty-Seven Years Old, Broke Black Prophet, Pre-Salvation) Today

What you need , what you feel… for real?  Instill the will, the thrill of another life beyond the bowie knife to a living hell.  Compel the stale bread to rise again, to defend the purpose of every spore to never ignore the snores coming from the slept, sleeping and well kept in this society.  Bite another fruit to not have to loot the truth that never has been nor ever was the fact based nauseam of a mighty chasm that has been even more broken apart; imparted by a long holy dart which pierced the heart to unearth the evilness of man; can a human stand for anything but self as the wealth of worth becomes a fleeting mess?  Confess the madness and sadness as we take a flight in the ominous long night to entice the blighted ones blindly walking with hands extended, those appendages crinkling, skin wrinkling as the body tires and finally expires in the pit of nothingness. 

A Sad Siren's Song (Black Stoner) 1984

Cease to exist while I kiss Crack passionately dead on the mouth. The vapors running south, then east and west, then running north, the ultimate test. The jury, deliberates, satiates its desires when the hit sits favorably and arguably as guilty. I get off on the charge because of its purity. I have no security now because I am set free! But freedom won’t last long, the strong song of its Siren’s song, pulling me towards its promises of serenity once again; to begin, alas, the end.

Fuck Your "Fiscal Cliffs"! Do Your Goddamned Job That You Are Sadly Paid For! (White Male, Thirty Years Old, Marsh Super Market Employee) 2012

None of this life matters if you really look at it.  Think about it.  It is about as fleeting and vagarious as the wind.  But for some reason we believe!  And in what?  An empty promise of a fulfilling life?  Everyone knows contracts, truths, guarantees...can be preempted at any time.  It's just a matter of, what is next?  And, now that we are at the segue, what is next?  If you don't know, then you are entering in a badass contract.  No entity gives you a reprieve for today.  No.  No.  No!  Tomorrow is the only thing that matters in this, "What have you done for me lately," society which we are dreadfully apart of and in.  And, what is next?  Who the fuck cares!  As long as me and mine can continue to subsist and exist.  Point blank!  I don't want to hear about "Fiscal Cliffs"  and shit like that!  I've paid my taxes Mothah fuckahs!  Keep the shit movin!  The f uck? 

I've got two kids and child support!  And if Daddy don't pay his child support, my ass goes to jail!  Do you rich politicians understand?  You overpaid blow-fuckin-hards!

Sleep Apnea (Aaron Thompson) 2010

You told me you would be there during the day...and during the night.  A comely sight.  But the plight which I have to traverse is worse than anything you could possibly imagine.  Places and times to begin.  A thin win.  Paper sin.  Plotting and pointing the pen.  When will I ever win?  I sent the solace of holiness to hopelessness.  I dread the bread and the wine I used to think was so fine to dine on Our God's flesh.  It was all just a failed test from whence before.  I sleep when I snore.  Then I awake for my daughter's sake.  But thankfully, one fateful day, I will sleep no more. 

Let The Music Play? (Anonymous) 2014

Everything is about hues.  Tones.  As in music, the music goes where the music is intended to take Me.  I can’t do anything about it at that point.  Cut!  It’s a wrap!  The music has already been planned, arranged….now is playing.  And there are only three choices  at my behest:  Turn the music up, turn the music down or, blessedly, turn the shit off.

The Gas Pill (Forty-Five Years Old, French-American, Black Chemist And Inventor, Paul Derriere) 2019

I created it way back in 2000.  I was scoffed at.  I went to all the big names: Renuzit; Glade; Lysol...they all sent me on my way.  Then I went to a Proctologist, a doctor.  And everything changed in a magnificent way.  A glorious way.  Oh, sure the person taking such a "vitamin" daily would get complications in about twenty years subsequently.  But that wasn't a problem because by that time the profits would be set in stone.  I would be rich and so would be too the investors and fuck the bullshit.

I invented all types of scents: Blueberry, Violet, Strawberry-Banana, Linen...an endless amount of scents.  Shit, just use your imagination and along with the formula: instant good smelling shit and farts.  And in 2016 it was all the rage. 

But nature is a mothah fucker.  It is what it is.  And by the time the populous at large understood three years later that it would fuck up their given G.I. tract, in a bad mothah fuckin way, everybody was getting rich, bitch!  And fuck your personal health.  Good Lord!

I didn't realize it.  I really didn't.  Please believe me!  But a human being has to understand the simple fact that, "There's always a price to pay when you think your farts and, especially, your shit don't stink!"

Comment dit-on en francais?  Merde est suppose mauvais odeur et merde!

Darland Albert Hopson, Passed Away Monday, November 12, 2012 (Broke Black Prophet) November 13, 2012

It was 70 degrees the day before he died.  Quite befitting.   He was always a warm and caring person.  Then the day of his death it was 35 degrees in this midwestern intemperate climate.   But that's the way life has always been.  Hot or cold, not lukewarm.  My Brother was a kind man; a gentle man; a good man.  We will miss him so.  Stoic.  A dependable human being.  When he said he was going to be at your destination at a certain time it was going to happen.  There has been so many times he has never disappointed any of his siblings.  And what can I or anyone say about that fleeting characteristic in a human being?   Many will miss Brother Al.  I will miss him so.  So let it be written, so let it be said.  He walked the walk and talked the talk.  No in betweens.

It was cold when he crossed over into another life.  It is hard to imagine him the way that he was before he died: feeble, weak, vulnerable...a human being.  I will always see my Brother Al as something other than what I just described.  He was a hu-man, in every sense of the word!  And that's all I have to say about this Beautiful human being who passed over into another life which I must too some fateful day.

His memory will always be frozen in whomever's psyche, especially mine, who was fortunate enough to cross his warm enlightening path of this oft times severely cold and dreadful life. 

"Heerrre's Romney!" (Broke Black Prophet's Conversation With Friend, Dana Henry, And Dana Informing Him On Why He Was At The Indianapolis International Airport Going To Fiji.) November 7, 2012

I saw it.  You saw it Hop.  I was all packed up and ready to go, literally.  But I was smoking my last cigarette at the time as he was giving his acceptance speech.  And he had the nerve to make a statement about what his thirteen years old grandson said was so funny, mocking his grandson’s young voice, but when he said the statement it was evil,

“Yeah my grandson and I were talking.  And he is so intelligent but sometimes he gets goofy, you know how kids are.  Well he says to me, ‘Paw-paw!  When you win the election, you need to do like that man did in that Stephen King movie, The Shining, Get in front of the mic with everyone watching the New President Of The United States, Paw-Paw Romney!’   And in front of everyone say, like Jack Nicholson said in the movie, “Heeerrree’s Romney’,”  Oh I laughed about that.  So this is for my grandson 'Heeerrree’s Romney!'"

And with that, I ground out my cigarette.  I put on my jacket.  Picked up my suitcases.  And proceeded to get my Black ass out of this fucking United States of America!

"But he didn't win D," I said.

"Hop!  Rich people, since the beginning of time have won!  And just because Obama won doesn't mean a Goddamned thang!"  He vehemently said.  I didn't say anything.

"Yeah!  That's what I thought!  Truly come visit me in Fiji.  'Kay Hop?  I'll hollah!"  He said and disconnected.