POOR PEOPLE BAIT (RELIGION FAST FOOD & DRUGS)
Image from virtueinthewasteland.com
I always thought the symbol Rx stood for (Religion, fast food and drugs.)
From the political side of the tracks, urbanegro’s, are assisted to remain ghetto fabulous through prayer, fast food and drugs.
Oh’yes, minds will race to melt miserable realities.
MMM!!!
Keep me full of it.
Is capitalism the only type of ism that truly works?
The money is louder than words.
Sadly, activists die broke, providing for everyone else. Hope and kind words don’t pay bills. But judging a struggle is thrilling as smashing pussy, or an exotic meal that becomes toilet art.
Open, begging hands and mouths close in greed. When you pull them out, they excitedly fight, squirm, or jump back in. They ignore what they need to thrive and focus on surviving.
They become addicted to help. It’s a non-toxic drug that assists with life and kills slow.
Keep on bringing the smoke.
Keep on getting your weight up.
Keep on paying to be broke.
Just don’t keep on waiting for hope.
INTERNAL REVOLUTION
I am searching for a way to better myself. Skimming through the Bible, Quran, Kabballah, the Alchemist, 42 Laws of Ma’at, the 50th law. The Book of Enoch and every YouTube conscious and spiritual guru.
I’ve tried weed and meditation. Some days I want to get rid of everyone and everything good, so I don’t have to drug through the bad. I get distracted easily. That’s a polite way of saying fooled.
My bad habits are deceptively cool. They make my relationships hot and my love a headstone. I feel I get close enough to understand success. Then I stop and convince myself to be satisfied because I don’t want to fail.
That void is soothing. Nothing is given. Nothing is expected. Failure has no consequence. Until you see the life you created.
WHITE SUPREMACY is NOT A MENTAL DISORDER.
When Black people speak truth, it doesn’t mean we are angry. It means we are smart enough to know you are trying to make us believe the lies and stupidity that allow us to welcome your destruction. Over and over again.
I went to Safeway for groceries, I sensed everyone staring. It happens with every racist event. As if I’m racing to be next.
I think—whatever happens next, they caused it.
Someone asked me “where are all the Black people that hate White people?”
I told them, “let me know when you find one.”
Black people don’t hate White people like they hate us. And if we don’t like them we just stay away. We don’t go out of our way to get involved with, hurt, or annihilate them.
I wanted to say, we only do that to our own.
White Supremacy is NOT a mental disorder. People choose to be racist the same way they choose to be rapists. It’s never an accident.
White supremacy is a racist’s therapy. And I know how to treat them.
They hate. They blame. They kill-US. Their blueprint is get rid of US.
My nightmares say—
Fuck’em Kill’em Can’t live with them, get rid of them. Point blank before you can re-think.
No prayers allowed or welcomed for them. I don’t pray anyway, so to hell with them.
(BLM) PROTECT-OR-PRETENDER
Creator: Wong Maye-E | Credit: AP
Greet my fellow man with open arms-you wish. I don’t know how to live positive preparing for the end. I can fake it. I can lie. That’s not helping me, I shouldn’t be expected to help and forgive when I’m fooled.
You wonder why we’re anti-social. You went from having my back to holding me as I fight and run to stay off it. Our evolution looks like the walking dead.
Black Lives Matter is a sin again because it’s unpopular for Blacks to profit off our own pain. Sure, I sound like a hypocrite, but tell where the lie is.
We lack and trust too much.
Reverse wokeness.
Go-ahead-back to sleep.
Black Lies Matter-of fact. Blame it all on niggers. Receive praise and accolades.
Broadcast in striking detail, neighborhood vets airing out urban flag bearers.
Salute. We never miss a moment to style our own with revenge.
Sharp contrast.
We look terrible demanding justice when the protectors we pay raid and loot.
We love to hate those who hate to love us.
Protect those who protect.
Love those who respect.
Life Long Investment
“Daddy, what’s karma?”
It’s what weak people believe in to make peace with allowing themselves to be taken advantage of.
His father pointed to his head.
So don’t be weak minded. They’re the only kind of people the world will teach for free. Because they seek the wrong information, even if they are given great direction.
CON-NECTIONS
Ladies, do your googles while doing your keggles so your partner wont leave you.
Guys, if you’re too excited, rub one out so they stick around more than a minute.
STILL HISTORY
DON’T SET FIRE TO MY BED JUST TO WAKE UP, THEN THROW WATER ON ME AND SAY YOU SAVED MY LIFE.
NOW THAT BLACK HISTORY MONTH IS OVER, IT’S TIME TO CHOKE, BURN, AND SCREAM FOR HELP.
AFTER IT’S TOO LATE, THEY WILL ASSIST WITH AN ADDICT’S ENERGY AND SAY “WE REALLY WISH WE COULD’VE DONE MORE.”
Why is it accepted to wave a pride banner that says hate doesn’t live here, but considered ignorant to portray Black Lives Matter.
People say they don’t like the organization, as if they represent the entire Black race. Now I understand why White people don’t want their racist history taught. The kidnapper, molester, rapist, child trafficker gene must be a life’s dream, they don’t want us to witness.
How to Become a Terrible, Horrible, Disgusting Man.
Art by Polly Nor
Release seeds to receive joy.
Commit to abandon when love grows. Groom tortured souls.
Explore the science of exotic holes. Examine marrow and chromosomes to sever responsibility.
Burn laws allowing heart. Abuse god’s pleasure to destruct heavens art. WOMANS CHOICE-THE REASON WE HAVE A VOICE.
Laugh at tears. Wash away our prints of existence, invite children into the world we abandoned.
Charge them to thank us for forcing a life we killed morals to avoid.
My name is Abort Man. I have a woman who obeys and gives commands.
You rolled and tumbled. The name I gave you was pain.
We made you. Gave you no choice. I command you raise yourself to survive.
Welcome my child, into this world of suicide.
I got off because you were not part of the ride.
It doesn’t matter what you say. My riches pay my way. I will never be broken. I don’t need to believe in hope for new beginnings.
I bet on torment, and rape-you will carry my name.
DESIGNING MARRIAGE
The day my boss died. It was no different than your normal, sympathy gathering to see who dressed the best with the worst intentions.
I didn’t have any ties to him besides payments I collected for misery that no amount of work could compensate for. He seemed like a good man tho. He had a family he happily provided for and kept secure.
That’s how you know a man has love. But even vaults hold secrets after being fingered, opened and penetrated. I always thought people stayed married because time and age killed fantasies, so, settling became desirable.
We got high on lunchbreaks, to speed up our day and calm our anger from its drag. After work we chased the life, we helped escape. Banging glasses against bar tops that fogged our eyesight and hardened our focus to see just enough to make it home on time. It’s not in man’s nature to understand regret during the act. In this form we are placed at the top of every list of inspiration and infamy.
At work he trained me to set people up for failure in order to boost success and shock employees into improving.
His kids were... He was… His name is, was, Richard Uperman. His nickname was dick up-her-man. And Reach-up-her-man. His wife Lizette-only went by her first name. When she signed contracts, she printed her first name BIG and scribbled her last name as if she was having a seizure.
I saw Lizette and the kids leaving the grocery store a few days after. They had more steaks and sausages than a club on ladies’ night. As we reminisced, I didn’t want to make it seem like I moved on, so I lowered my voice and dropped my face. I gave hugs without really touching, like a foreign friends kiss where lips don’t touch cheeks.
I didn’t want to show I was anxious to escape faster than suicide, so I nodded a-lot and placed my hands gently on shoulders. Then she invited me to dinner. Obligation through sorrow is a manipulation tactic of murderers. How could I say no.
I couldn’t decide what to wear since I hadn’t bought any new clothes since the funeral. My wardrobe resembled the man who groomed me. I couldn’t fit anything outside of Richard’s era.
“What would Lizette think?”
I rushed to Walmart for jeans, a t-shirt, a blazer, and flowers.
When I arrived, I thought I was in the wrong place.
I hadn’t experienced such a mood since before Rich’s death.
Shirtless men and bra topped women. Weed and cigarettes perfumed the house with tones of sex and sweaty crevices. The muscles in my legs revved. My college track years tingled my memory like the gin I was sipping. I wanted to take off When I saw Richard’s regular strutting towards by me.
“Finally, I have you all to myself.”
Richard and Lizette’s daughter was seventeen and had the room open like a mouth waiting to be fed. She smelled ripe as fruit and looked sweet enough to satisfy any appetite. And I have a serious motherfucking sweet tooth. I forced myself to turn away and search for Lizette.
I asked Lizette to have a word in private. She led me down the bedroom’s hallway. Her sons room was first on the left. I grabbed her, shoved her in.
“What the fu…”
My eyes must have been closed because I didn’t see her leg raise. I didn’t dodge her scissor sharp shoes giving me a midwife’s vasectomy. I went down on my hands and knees. She pushed me over and sat on my face, muffling my groans.
She had that placebo pussy. The only pain I felt was the torment of resisting. I half-way pushed with my arms, but once I felt her warm welcome, I pushed my hips up and morals out.
That slurping. That wetness. I was drowning and felt my dream oozing while I was awake.
“OH MY GOD!”
This is why I never cared for religion. How could this pleasure be a sin if it encourages me to call out praises?
Lizette got up. I was dead weight like a man after being rescued.
“I could take care of you. Much better than Richard”
FUCKING MASTERPIECE
I mastered mine and split you in ways only I could repair.
My calm is vicious. It tears through silence. Places you lie to escape. Where dreams and nightmares abuse and promise a new, better, way.
I have mastered the peace of lies like a cocktail. I Know the ingredients.
You chase and drink up everything added in. You lie in pieces aching for the pain to return. Wanting that piece of you to be mastered.
What I took from you made me whole. Thank you.
I try to discard parts that hurt and don’t fit. Sometimes I crack and my peace leaks out.
They say mastery comes from failure. I kept going and collecting until I had enough to triumph. I’m at peace with moving on. I leave a piece of myself with everyone who loved me.
But I only love my masterpiece.
Talkin Shit
Being somebody, I love instead of someone everybody wants to fuck is my goal. Most of the time.
Love Me til’ the End
If I say I love you, I mean it at that moment. But we all know nothing lasts forever. So don’t be upset when it ends, because maybe, it won’t last forever.
CONVERSATIONS WITH THE OG
—Hey lord.
Hey luv.
—Halo.
Hello. Don't talk in circles.
—Not today, we haven’t spoken in too many.
And in that time, I’ve seen too many...
—My God. You act as If you didn't.
I'm tired of it.
—I won't call you a liar. Or all people say in its place, when you are away! We ain't close so I never lied to your face. Buuuut I know I’ve done some things to turn you away. But I follow your rules. Measuring life through my waist. Low-key, penetrating middles during crisis to live a high life.
You interpret them different!
—Maybe. But just think…You know the damage. Sure, I miss managed. But I miss how she managed my...
—My bad, I'm still fresh with rage, so I’m not watching what I say. We got our secrets. You don’t always Keep them, Remember. You nearly drowned me in tears. Don't ask me to come home. You entertain too many people that were close to me. Too many I miss, that I can't go see. Right now, I have all I need-mostly.
—I have been a glutton. But I'm not full of it. I cleanse daily. My sense of smell is better than my humor. I smell you in the air. Sometimes it makes me sick. The energy has two seasons- loud and clear. And clearly, you're in the time of not caring.
—But seriously OG, one joke I never understood was “people I put through hell love me the most. And those that returned the favor I don't.”
God bless because goddamn.
—Either way I'm good because I'm still here, alive and kick-in it with you. My weird friend. whose betrayal feels like love. Our relationship has me open. And I ain't into that unless I’m the one going in.
—Lol.
—Can you believe were talking? I can't because we don’t usually. But I’m gonna go. You taught me “never exhaust a good time".
Before you go. Why did you? You used to believe wholehearted. Now I am the drug you blame and take for pain.
—C’mon. You already know. I already told you. You did it. Taking away everyone, I loved and needed.
You are Alive still and by choice. I never promise a moment past your present. I have gifted them all. I am blamed every time you ruin. And those you blame me for, did I take them on purpose? Or was it an accident?
—I thought you didn’t make mistakes.
I didn’t and I don’t. I said accident. Again, you mis-interpret. Man dies on purpose, with purpose or by accident, Never from my direction or my hand.
THINKERS DILEMMA
This morning, I decided my mind would be a gun, so I could be a patriot. A sword, so I could be a warrior. A weapon, so I could heal and conquer. I can use it on myself and to control others.
EVERYDAY HIGH
I was doing laundry. Trying to help my son and subconsciously myself clean up our act. And improve my mood by freshening up how I think about everyone around me.
“Why would I want to come home and live with people that are dirtying my space, I’m going to eventually want to get away and stay away. “
I told him the same about his body and mind.
“If you only put junk in, you will eventually get stuck and have to live with crap.”
Then I did the deep thought pause, like I was about to, and already had said somethings making me a hypocrite. The fact that I claim my love is unconditional but was giving my son an ultimatum. Or telling him to make sure he stays healthy when I’m trying to shed the shit I eat.
But fuck it. We need the honesty, so we don’t grow into adults we dreaded as kids-wishing we were someone else. Covering our greatness in dirty thoughts with a stench that keeps us buried and alone.
I use Purex laundry detergent and as I watched it pour out, I thought
“My thoughts are pure.”
The journey to become an ex. can clean up your life. It can be hard? And it could be easy depending on how many you want. Ex’s make your feelings overflow until, the one you are with gets wrecked during the cleanup.
Then I heard something spilling. It was the detergent-making the floor slick.
My daydream was over, and I told myself, “That’s the last time I take an edible.”
SURVIVING MYSELF
All my habits and identities serve me until I get bored.
I change so much I get confused. Because I have never stayed satisfied, I lose focus.
Does that mean I am un-disciplined? Or does it mean I am disciplined enough to plan my frustration with ease and precision, so it comes naturally like attraction?
MIDNIGHT MEDITATION
When I can’t tolerate my thoughts-whispers and screams telling me to improve, allowing failure to gain every day I don’t obey- I’m ignoring simple wisdom and encouraging myself to live stupid.
But I know I’m not stupid. So why do I play the song of sorrow and regret until it becomes the theme guiding my habits and interactions? Then act accordingly until I see myself in everyone around me-linked in struggle.
Breaking away from pain that doesn’t benefit you is a struggle you can’t brace for and the hardest to let go. Because bruises show up in any light and all your focus goes towards hiding. You lose sight and neglect other people and areas of importance.
After I overcome sorrow, happiness can seem like torture. I constantly remind myself of the steps I took to reach the comfort of a doom that seemed impossible to escape and avoid. Leaving the door open for things you miss can also allow intruders.
Whatever version of myself I create, it’s because I listened. Whatever I believe from someone else, it’s because I listened.
DON’T HOLD ME DOWN
Image from Black Panther movie
ALL OF YOU recruiting Blacks/BIPOC to teach you about Diversity Equity Inclusion. Picking our brains to see the minimum required to keep us satisfied.
You should be required to go into schools and teach them about labor, finance, capitalism, and how and where wealthy people invest.
Tell them why they can be approved for school loans/debt high as a business owners’ salary but denied for a business loan they might pay off faster.
Y'all are slick lube, but we ain't fucking stupid