Be patient for the first 30-35 mins...and I mean Patient. You'll know why with this disclaimer. The interview starts after that. or Just click the link below and open the default player and fast forward to the interview. (always good to have options. ain't it a beautiful thing)
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Saturday, May 2, 2009
I'm on snapvine
Hey. if anyone wants to get at me, if you have snapvine you check it on my myspace and leave me a message.(to say whats up, give me props, inquire about an event you think I'd be interested in coming to either perform, if as a feat. let me know in detail/just enjoy other artist di their thing; or if you wanna collab. w/me in some way on something.)
Go to this site to do it. http://www.snapvine.com/Dtruthspeaks
Subscribe to me and add as a friend there to get updates on my voice blog. (I try and update as much as I can. So this is just another avenue for you to keep up with me and/or show some love.
Peace my Spoken soldiers and TCM Fam.
Honest Abe ;)
Monday, April 20, 2009
A Problem + Issues x Insomnia = Narcolepsy
Whether some of you may or may not have known....the past month or month and a half, I've had a case of sleeplessness insomnia. And some mild cases of narcolepsy during the day. Which problems in my life, off stage (financial and personal) have contributed to.
But this set of issues spans all the way back from my late H.S. yrs into my early college yrs.
since H.S., I've been up many late nights due to issues with school (some procrastination and fear of being unprepared b4 and during my classes, which go hand in hand) and keeping a stable job to attain my desires and needs financially.
I realize the things I have and will continue to describe may or may not mirror someone elses life problems, issues, or dilemmas. But I'm not trying to compare.
Of course when I started college, all the stereotypical things any college student has to endure made themself present to me. (financial aid, grants, adjusting to different form of schedule from previous yrs. pockets begging for change....etc.) And that was back in 2006.
Fast forward 2 yrs later and some months...Land lord issues (that made things very stressful, which stem back to about a decade, give or take) plus my previous school "releasing" me because of academic issues and standards. My own girl, or so I thought, dismissed me with no warning and ignored every form of communication I could think of...an unexpected blow. That's hard for me to admit, stung me. (even though we were cool for almost 1yr an 1/2) Not to mention a recent accident at home inolving a unstable ceilling in my room falling in on me. On a F'n Friday the 13th no less!! (you tell me if all this wasn't enough to build tension for a brotha to lose his sanity and go ape...)
But I digress, one of the only few positive things to come out of my sleeplessness, is that I'm writing more. If its God's will and me do my part I'll be putting an album and book or too out via all this pen/pencil pushing in the near future. And steady but surely, getting things back on track. And to the person who maybe reading this, somewhere telling me to suck it up and move on...you know what you can do with your lips and my rear end.
The Narcolepsy still comes and goes. And the insomia is also starting to fall back. It has been a trying past 2 and 1/2 yrs for me. But I've realized I could not be here like many, though I am.
And i'll continue to be as long as I remember that Jesus and Poetry is my savior. (P.I.M.S.)
Labels:
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time,
torment
Sunday, April 5, 2009
*catching up on the 30/30* Dinner Tyme (4/30) other ones on facebook.
She said in her mind...Menu looks enticing:
Red beans and rice, Cajun jambalaya..
Fiyah spices floating on jazz notes of Lewis..
..Funky beats..
Setting spills surreal fluidic heat onto my
Sexy feeling that feeds on it..
It's only dinner, but the whole sultry scene,
Smokin tunes of get 'em girl flirtin' with my provocative daydreams
Has me thinking of ripped hose from
Spreading my thighs 180 degrees, blazing heat,
While soaking up his chocolate-churning island meat
mmmm...shit...breathe...
Teasing between appetizers and black coffee mixed with
Sweet whippin' cream.
Spanking while sippin' my drenched butta seam..
Something tells me I won't have the willpower to make it past
The main cuisine.
She knows her smiles are crack to me. I jus can't turn down a hit.
There something about seeing rump roast on someones plate that got me wanting to
pour some honey on her butt cheeks,
put some chopped strawberries in between them and
start eating each one...by...one...while licking the tastey curves and crevases
of the perimeter inside and around it.
Opening her existence oven so my tongue can bake
when walls of that tight entrance close in.
I mean, dinner ain't even begun and I'm ready for her desert
Waiting for the chance to make her squirt batter from
her pussy pound cake.
But I don't like my meals to get cold
To tell the truth...this Johnson col train is itching to escape these pants and journey into her
underground railroad till freedom...cums.
Taunted she starts thinking..."and...he knows I wanna give him some.
Deepset dark browns spooning eyefuls of my cocoa butter dipped in milky chocolate.
Wondering, if he nibbled a bit on my truffle-coated clit
(begging to be slurped and sucked like an after-dinner mint),
would I lose all control and feed my famished twat with his hearty dick..
He's got me..
Inviting that bulge to stand at full erect and serve my silky silhouette
So that his mic check can flow freely by the way my pussy spits and sweats..
Give him something he's bound to never forget..
I'll have him
Counting how many licks it takes to get to my oozing caramel center..
Slow cooking me with his thick marinade
To make sure my ass gets extra tender..
Gumbo goodness demands room for leftovers after he doggy bags
The rest..
Re-heating my succulent juices so he can take another
Isis-taste test..
Eyes roll back as I imagine getting splatterd by his hot gravy
Dancing down my chin..
Mixing his custard filling with my lip glossed action..
Seems like his smirk is telling me that anything is possible right about now
With him.."
So at this point, I "accdently" drop a utensil near her and motion to her
to pick it up...
while my slit sauce dipping "Lincoln log schlong" spoon head left peeking through the zipper so I
can give her a preview and hint.
It's dinner tyme and Honest Abe is ready for his presidential feast.
I felt the sense she noticed,
cause she took longer then expected to ascend her head from under the table
after seeing my "head" ascended and able.
As my friend Cere Bellum told me how this could play out like a movie scene.
Like, "Times of the essence. And we're about to finish the 2nd course of this mental meal with my
vein poping meat heat induced potatoes nut sac and her
Tastey Tormented Cunt, milky way pink valley vagina
got panties soiled with vanilla exstract juice dripping screaming Murphy's law
backwards...like,what can happen tonite...will!!"
Red beans and rice, Cajun jambalaya..
Fiyah spices floating on jazz notes of Lewis..
..Funky beats..
Setting spills surreal fluidic heat onto my
Sexy feeling that feeds on it..
It's only dinner, but the whole sultry scene,
Smokin tunes of get 'em girl flirtin' with my provocative daydreams
Has me thinking of ripped hose from
Spreading my thighs 180 degrees, blazing heat,
While soaking up his chocolate-churning island meat
mmmm...shit...breathe...
Teasing between appetizers and black coffee mixed with
Sweet whippin' cream.
Spanking while sippin' my drenched butta seam..
Something tells me I won't have the willpower to make it past
The main cuisine.
She knows her smiles are crack to me. I jus can't turn down a hit.
There something about seeing rump roast on someones plate that got me wanting to
pour some honey on her butt cheeks,
put some chopped strawberries in between them and
start eating each one...by...one...while licking the tastey curves and crevases
of the perimeter inside and around it.
Opening her existence oven so my tongue can bake
when walls of that tight entrance close in.
I mean, dinner ain't even begun and I'm ready for her desert
Waiting for the chance to make her squirt batter from
her pussy pound cake.
But I don't like my meals to get cold
To tell the truth...this Johnson col train is itching to escape these pants and journey into her
underground railroad till freedom...cums.
Taunted she starts thinking..."and...he knows I wanna give him some.
Deepset dark browns spooning eyefuls of my cocoa butter dipped in milky chocolate.
Wondering, if he nibbled a bit on my truffle-coated clit
(begging to be slurped and sucked like an after-dinner mint),
would I lose all control and feed my famished twat with his hearty dick..
He's got me..
Inviting that bulge to stand at full erect and serve my silky silhouette
So that his mic check can flow freely by the way my pussy spits and sweats..
Give him something he's bound to never forget..
I'll have him
Counting how many licks it takes to get to my oozing caramel center..
Slow cooking me with his thick marinade
To make sure my ass gets extra tender..
Gumbo goodness demands room for leftovers after he doggy bags
The rest..
Re-heating my succulent juices so he can take another
Isis-taste test..
Eyes roll back as I imagine getting splatterd by his hot gravy
Dancing down my chin..
Mixing his custard filling with my lip glossed action..
Seems like his smirk is telling me that anything is possible right about now
With him.."
So at this point, I "accdently" drop a utensil near her and motion to her
to pick it up...
while my slit sauce dipping "Lincoln log schlong" spoon head left peeking through the zipper so I
can give her a preview and hint.
It's dinner tyme and Honest Abe is ready for his presidential feast.
I felt the sense she noticed,
cause she took longer then expected to ascend her head from under the table
after seeing my "head" ascended and able.
As my friend Cere Bellum told me how this could play out like a movie scene.
Like, "Times of the essence. And we're about to finish the 2nd course of this mental meal with my
vein poping meat heat induced potatoes nut sac and her
Tastey Tormented Cunt, milky way pink valley vagina
got panties soiled with vanilla exstract juice dripping screaming Murphy's law
backwards...like,what can happen tonite...will!!"
Friday, March 20, 2009
A Black Sunrise/Sacrifices of A Queen
I was youtubing, like most of us do...morning, noon, and night. (don't lie you know it. lol.) And thinking about Womens history month...with the chris & Rihanna drama and a friend who had relationship issues a while back. And what my sistas go through out there socially & entertainment wise. So I thought I'd share these two Poems in hope, to inspire to aspire. Its you month queens. Abe got love for you. ;)
A BLACK SUNRISE
I've noticed your tear shocks of pain have
become your tear shots in a glass to drink away the sorrow inside;
And confiding in me might have been one of the best moves you've made
cause it allowed me to comprise this poem making your ejaculated suffering fade away
You deserve to feel like a beacon of light.
That he can't help but see on a daily basis;
a black sunrise who's face can't be denied,
more than a salsberry steak thats only
taken out the freezer at dinner time.
Placing blame to feed the flame is the last thing I want to do
But I'm sure your thinking something like,
Put down that glass of shut up juice and speak to your woman
Put out that stick of weed so your blind mind can see how unpleased your woman is.
I'm not trying to hate on your man, but
he should know better than to ignore his #1 fan.
Abe wants you to know that you are a treasure that can't be buried in a chest of solitude.
Your pain and suffering shouldn't have to be balled up in a silent chamber, and
The agony in your soul and eyes shouldn't equal the thickness in your hips and your thighs.
Though these issues you got with your man
makes the quality time shakey,my words can be the peace
to your minds sake psyche; as the bed quaking, mind shaking, love making
seems to have died down now;
You've told me he loves you, and
I've been trying to take your word for it, without a doubt.
The notion he don't like you...I fail to see the truth in.
And now I find out your carrying his child,
unplanned like a clog in a drain or a bullet to the brain, and was
holding on to it like an old man with a cane.
But the days go by...and now....you tell me its gone.
I know the sudden loss of your miscarried child makes this
liquid frustration bloody tears exposing fears that need comforting;
I hear all the time the more things change, the more they stay the same.
That's why its hard for me to fathom
your being shook as if you were a common cold,
thinking how can he be so bold with you.
As though your feelings were insignificant slaves sold to white masters.
And he maybe hurting too from this too common tragedy of nature,
but needs to open his eyes to see the bigger picture of the situation;
In your struggle regain conscious hindsight to equal the sum, of this fractioned relationship
the arguments have made u a little numb
To tell the truth, I'm starting to get a bad contact high off the sticky-icky,
tree smoking stress coming at you
Your life right now shouldn't be a chain letter laced with pain weather
clouding these sky's preventing your beautiful black sunrise.
Testifying to me and the Gods above
may have you mess around and recapture that good love that's
slipping out your fingers so there is hope for the future;
always remember your time on this earth is precious
the infectious virus contaminating these still waters
must be treated if this sacred essence can be revitalized
you don't take shit, you make shit.
So de-fertilize the unsanitary weeds spreading in your soil
I'm here to help and keep the winter chills hitting you encounter feel so cold.
The shine you embody can still circulate again
and end these blood clots limiting the place above you belong.
Be strong, and hold on to climb faith's ladder I've put in your sights
ignore lighting that stick of dynamite of unfaithful deception
his TV is on the right channel, but with bad reception.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This poem was dedicated to a good friend of mine, who's has been going through her own trials and tribulations in her relationship. Out of respect, I chose not to name her. She told me this did help a little and thanked me.
become your tear shots in a glass to drink away the sorrow inside;
And confiding in me might have been one of the best moves you've made
cause it allowed me to comprise this poem making your ejaculated suffering fade away
You deserve to feel like a beacon of light.
That he can't help but see on a daily basis;
a black sunrise who's face can't be denied,
more than a salsberry steak thats only
taken out the freezer at dinner time.
Placing blame to feed the flame is the last thing I want to do
But I'm sure your thinking something like,
Put down that glass of shut up juice and speak to your woman
Put out that stick of weed so your blind mind can see how unpleased your woman is.
I'm not trying to hate on your man, but
he should know better than to ignore his #1 fan.
Abe wants you to know that you are a treasure that can't be buried in a chest of solitude.
Your pain and suffering shouldn't have to be balled up in a silent chamber, and
The agony in your soul and eyes shouldn't equal the thickness in your hips and your thighs.
Though these issues you got with your man
makes the quality time shakey,my words can be the peace
to your minds sake psyche; as the bed quaking, mind shaking, love making
seems to have died down now;
You've told me he loves you, and
I've been trying to take your word for it, without a doubt.
The notion he don't like you...I fail to see the truth in.
And now I find out your carrying his child,
unplanned like a clog in a drain or a bullet to the brain, and was
holding on to it like an old man with a cane.
But the days go by...and now....you tell me its gone.
I know the sudden loss of your miscarried child makes this
liquid frustration bloody tears exposing fears that need comforting;
I hear all the time the more things change, the more they stay the same.
That's why its hard for me to fathom
your being shook as if you were a common cold,
thinking how can he be so bold with you.
As though your feelings were insignificant slaves sold to white masters.
And he maybe hurting too from this too common tragedy of nature,
but needs to open his eyes to see the bigger picture of the situation;
In your struggle regain conscious hindsight to equal the sum, of this fractioned relationship
the arguments have made u a little numb
To tell the truth, I'm starting to get a bad contact high off the sticky-icky,
tree smoking stress coming at you
Your life right now shouldn't be a chain letter laced with pain weather
clouding these sky's preventing your beautiful black sunrise.
Testifying to me and the Gods above
may have you mess around and recapture that good love that's
slipping out your fingers so there is hope for the future;
always remember your time on this earth is precious
the infectious virus contaminating these still waters
must be treated if this sacred essence can be revitalized
you don't take shit, you make shit.
So de-fertilize the unsanitary weeds spreading in your soil
I'm here to help and keep the winter chills hitting you encounter feel so cold.
The shine you embody can still circulate again
and end these blood clots limiting the place above you belong.
Be strong, and hold on to climb faith's ladder I've put in your sights
ignore lighting that stick of dynamite of unfaithful deception
his TV is on the right channel, but with bad reception.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This poem was dedicated to a good friend of mine, who's has been going through her own trials and tribulations in her relationship. Out of respect, I chose not to name her. She told me this did help a little and thanked me.
SACRIFICES OF A QUEEN
He smoked away your essence of innocence
with his loaded weapon of pleasure and pain;
most young girls shouldn't be victim to.
But that chain of pain in your closets past
doesn't define who you are;
Just an unfortunate sacrifice of a queen.
But I got love 4u. How could I not be a fan of you queen wordsmiths
that drop lyrical shard bombs that pierce minds hearts
to bleed awoken conscious realities.
You are the Lady sovereigns of literature,
queen mothers of nature
that have and will birth
the soothsayer tamed tangents
multiplied thoughts and subtracting
fact from fiction,putting the dope in the diction;
freed from magnum tongue guns...Clint Eastwood can't handle.
Sacrifices you make and endure has
earned you wealth to your poor souls.
You keep it real like a God's gift to man essence dripped from the conscious skies above should. Preschool minded dudes should know how to treat a queen of your calibur. Spitting their dingalingo with
a short sword
playing like they holding Excalibur.
I'm a king in my own right
will bow to no man...
but at the same time would drop to one knee
only to kiss your hand queen.
Some sistas I know could use the knowledge from knowing your pain to not fall in societies cracks and Jacking fast on some "Hustler's" penis.
Some sistas I know need your strength of character to lift the pressure weights of common man telling them they can't sing, swing on a pole, receive this back handed love, being the next rap video hoe can git you on top of this;
But it jus lowers the level of their queendom.
You deserve the gratifying treatment some queens of ancestors past
devoured into your beings by true african kings.
I'm disgusted at the false royalty that roam this kingdom.
So, your majesty...if they lay a damning hand on your beauty...
I shall castrate his emotional nuttsack cause he has no real manhood!!
One majestic woman I know,I swear
was born with the back bone of Rosa parks dat refused the descrimination to break her spirit;
The undying will of harriet Tubman slave masters tried to kill that worked hard and made time to make me & my brothers a hot plate to not go hungry. Showing she loved us unconditionally.
Spoke words turning unconscious temples of ignorance into awoken treasure chest like Asata shakur,
even wit the profanity.
I admit, half my cussing vocabulary came from her.
And many more Goddesses that walk among us,
the poor souls which will receive solace from my spoken words.
Taalam said it best by
writing about, "WHAT YOU DESERVE"
I'm here to reinforce it.
proving you are the back bone, jelly to the peanut butter on our toast,
foundation to keep afloat the home us men call an existence and the pain that is a blessing to gift which is the curse to common man!!
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Tongue-Tastic Tale telling 101
This was a recent write Like some of my previous ones to some.But thought it was necessary.
My people realize a soothsayer has come
its dinner time when I hit a venue and microphones are my buffet
please fake poets take a seat, put ya pens away and have a nice day
This stage is sacred.
And I'm brooklyn's lost son
Grenadian rung into this concrete jungle school of hard knocks
Understand this verbal war hammer gets hot when it bangs and cocks back
on poetic and so called "hip-hop" lyrical nonsense.
My WMC tool, Words of mass construction was made by my mother to school fools
I refuse to swallow your piss pools of mis-education spit by the likes of
soulja boy, Lil' wayne, and there's just too damn many to name all of you in this poem.
So I've dedicated my work to drop times bombs in order for you to desegregate
your ignorant present from the past gifts of pain of our history.
Now pull up a chair and prepare to be edutained.
See my words are spit to nudge and budge you
refresh the corrosion scented frakincense and myrrh clouding your sights
spit right not like the useless fecies escaping illiterate toilet bowl mouths
with nothing important to say.
Without truth in your lines, might as well be serving crowds snorted crack lines.
The bad kind, free your mind and
like me become dr. vocab, turning broken words into spoken words;
smoke them words,verbs,nouns pronouns, make metaphors your whores and use they asses. This is to pass lifes tests the best you can.
I'm told I could be the shepard to help lead my fellow sheep man from the pulpit of pain
change the poetic symphonies plaguing our nations hood.
But I tell them, i'm only one man is that understood..?
And yes so was clayton powell, malcom, james E, Garvey, ghandi, who left prolyfic remains these eye veins flow the blood stains of strife in my head.
Cursed blessings don't taste so sweet when a gift horse's reigns are tugged while you look it in the mouth. If false will and faith infect your pride...theres no way
a brotha like you can ride true stories like galloping horse man of the apacolypes or touch lives with God's pen. Thats how I'm able to skool you in tongue-tastic tale telling. theres no way sista like you will Ida B well souls, provoke lil loose girls to keep their keyholes below closed
make so called prospects use knowledge to open your mind instead of the tresure chest breast you possess.
And no, she ain't no bitch cause she won't slob ya knob "Gangster"
you just a nigga with no real job that got a problem
We are all students of life.
But for the lessons in this course, I'm the profesor.
And for the Issac New-Tons weighing your tongue's soul down,
I'll be the confessee and you the confessor.
Alliterated African proverb problems still torment
its nations youth core.
While Haitian schools implode to the floor
and cortex corrupted NYC & NJ can't take it no more.
Open your eyes and see!!
I'm sorry Ms. Brathwaite and Ms. Grant.
Your daughter and son shouldn't be dead.
One disected like a bio experiment,
the other shot in the back of the head!!!
With a reckless bullet that savored its job done well;
When I think the trigger man deserves to die and
I hope he burns in hell!!
But is it my place to wish ill will on my fellow man...?
So if you hope to make it...
Tongue-tastic lincoln logs should emancipate proclimation these
reservoirs of laws of change,
like Abraham and Barack
into a grandmother's life;
So go home tonite, and write. Impregnate sajourner in your truth.
Release the W.E.B. Du bois!
Then come back to me
with pen empty cause the conscious ink
poeticaly bled into the page and tear the damn roof off this stage!!
till then, don't you dare moan and piss about revolution
knowledge is the solution. Class dismissed!!
My people realize a soothsayer has come
its dinner time when I hit a venue and microphones are my buffet
please fake poets take a seat, put ya pens away and have a nice day
This stage is sacred.
And I'm brooklyn's lost son
Grenadian rung into this concrete jungle school of hard knocks
Understand this verbal war hammer gets hot when it bangs and cocks back
on poetic and so called "hip-hop" lyrical nonsense.
My WMC tool, Words of mass construction was made by my mother to school fools
I refuse to swallow your piss pools of mis-education spit by the likes of
soulja boy, Lil' wayne, and there's just too damn many to name all of you in this poem.
So I've dedicated my work to drop times bombs in order for you to desegregate
your ignorant present from the past gifts of pain of our history.
Now pull up a chair and prepare to be edutained.
See my words are spit to nudge and budge you
refresh the corrosion scented frakincense and myrrh clouding your sights
spit right not like the useless fecies escaping illiterate toilet bowl mouths
with nothing important to say.
Without truth in your lines, might as well be serving crowds snorted crack lines.
The bad kind, free your mind and
like me become dr. vocab, turning broken words into spoken words;
smoke them words,verbs,nouns pronouns, make metaphors your whores and use they asses. This is to pass lifes tests the best you can.
I'm told I could be the shepard to help lead my fellow sheep man from the pulpit of pain
change the poetic symphonies plaguing our nations hood.
But I tell them, i'm only one man is that understood..?
And yes so was clayton powell, malcom, james E, Garvey, ghandi, who left prolyfic remains these eye veins flow the blood stains of strife in my head.
Cursed blessings don't taste so sweet when a gift horse's reigns are tugged while you look it in the mouth. If false will and faith infect your pride...theres no way
a brotha like you can ride true stories like galloping horse man of the apacolypes or touch lives with God's pen. Thats how I'm able to skool you in tongue-tastic tale telling. theres no way sista like you will Ida B well souls, provoke lil loose girls to keep their keyholes below closed
make so called prospects use knowledge to open your mind instead of the tresure chest breast you possess.
And no, she ain't no bitch cause she won't slob ya knob "Gangster"
you just a nigga with no real job that got a problem
We are all students of life.
But for the lessons in this course, I'm the profesor.
And for the Issac New-Tons weighing your tongue's soul down,
I'll be the confessee and you the confessor.
Alliterated African proverb problems still torment
its nations youth core.
While Haitian schools implode to the floor
and cortex corrupted NYC & NJ can't take it no more.
Open your eyes and see!!
I'm sorry Ms. Brathwaite and Ms. Grant.
Your daughter and son shouldn't be dead.
One disected like a bio experiment,
the other shot in the back of the head!!!
With a reckless bullet that savored its job done well;
When I think the trigger man deserves to die and
I hope he burns in hell!!
But is it my place to wish ill will on my fellow man...?
So if you hope to make it...
Tongue-tastic lincoln logs should emancipate proclimation these
reservoirs of laws of change,
like Abraham and Barack
into a grandmother's life;
So go home tonite, and write. Impregnate sajourner in your truth.
Release the W.E.B. Du bois!
Then come back to me
with pen empty cause the conscious ink
poeticaly bled into the page and tear the damn roof off this stage!!
till then, don't you dare moan and piss about revolution
knowledge is the solution. Class dismissed!!
Labels:
101,
Abraham,
brathwaite,
grant,
herstory,
history,
honest,
knowledge,
lincoln,
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people,
poetry,
revolution,
sajourner,
tale telling,
tongue-tastic,
truth,
W.E.B. Du Bois
Sunday, February 15, 2009
I should sue his ass!!
*Disclaimer: This is a little free write new -ish piece that was spawned from a recent incident at home that happened to me. Along with other things that came about involving me, my fam and our land lord that came to mind. As well as friend's input about it. And I got the scrapes and bruises to prove it!!
for making me and my family's lives uncomfortable. For almost 2 decades,
his bitch tantrum parades of power over us. Had city services clean us out of house and home.
The stuff we lost mostly forever gone. clothes, money, jewelry, ID...Like Bernie Mac I should bust his head to the white meat!!!
I should sue his ass!!
in every attempt possible in making my pops look small.
I should sue his ass for being a man with no balls. How dare a land lord treat his tenants this way..?
and show proper respect to all the others living here practically "related" some how to him to my dismay. To cuss us out as bad hygened mongrils, when he the real bitch. But sometimes, common men forget, that every dog has his day. With the evil men do, karma must get payed. No human being deserves their dignity armor dismantled like that. I don't give a damn about your authority. I do matter and will not be overlooked ya crook.
And I should sue his ass!!
For being so gotdamn bold. How dare he give me and my fam the redheaded step child treatment, then wanna throw us out in the cold? You damn straight I live in a unhealthy environment. But your constant barrages of selfrighteous sanctimonious logic hasn't made it a easier time spent. With only care is that we make sure you git your rent on the 1st of the month. going off on us if its late like that time of the month.
So I should sue his ass!!
cause friends and family say to me it was a felony what happened to A.B.
my mind and my ceiling breaking down like fractions divide me from up above Not sure what I did to karma to get no love. I saying, it was so wide, with some thickness. Came down like brick, and besides me and four walls, a crime with no one else to witness. Broke membrain lining of my neck's skin. scars developing and a sore shoulder. Gotta hit the hospital a.s.a.p., so this soldier of life can march on. Friday the 13th tried to sing my swan song, but Jason wasn't the culpret. I'll live but still, pray for me.
Labels:
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