Sunday, January 29, 2012

Why do I blog so much?  Am I rushing to get my story told?  Am I just mad as hell, raging with disgust?  Am I mad because "vengeance is mine saith the LORD, I shall repay!" , and I think GOD is too slow?

Or do I really want to embarrass the bitch?  Do I want to humiliate her like she did me?  Am I seething with anger because of what she stole?  Many people considered me beautiful.  I must admit that I had "it going on".  I have photographic evidence.

Could I rip her head off with my bare hands?  I finally figured out what happened to my brother.  He can't tell.  He is messed up.  What she did to him is equivalent to a frontal lobotomy and a vicious castration.

Really?  Is there an animal on this earth that low?  What went wrong? I scream!  "How could she? How could she? I scream over and over.  How did we let her? Why did we let her?   Then the voice of the LORD calms me down; "I am with you, I have always been with you.  Trust Me, it is ALL in Divine Order.  She won't get away.  She never got away.  She knows that she is the scum of the earth.  She know's my Laws and my Will."

I know I blog out of a secret fear.  The human maggots got me twice.  She got me at seventeen.   Destroyed everything, every poem, every essay, all my prose, all my art, EVERYTHING!  And that "man" I married destroyed three manuscripts, a huge box of love letters and my master's thesis.  ( I know she had something to do with it.  She tricked that simple minded illiterate jealous nigger)

Responded cool as a cucumber, but with malice; "I WUZ CLEANING UP!!!"  Cleaning Up!  You stanking lazy common ass whore!  When have you ever cleaned up a muthaf****** thang?  That's what I wanted to say, but I didn't say.  Why?  I was scared shitless!  Mathy was not a bitch that you messed with, not even in your own defence.  We knew, we all knew, she seared it into our brains.  " I kin do any f***ing thang I f***ing pleeze and you black a** dim-witted sorry a** niggas can't do a f***ing thang about it! hahahahahahahahaha!" "

A sadist, an out of control sociopath, clever enough to cover her sin.  No she never hid anything, just bludgeoned and crucified anyone with the guts, with the balls, with the "lack'a sense" to tell on her.

Tell on Mathy if you want to, you will suffer.

So I write.  I write prolifically. I write when I am not painting, when I am not drawing, when I am not creating a doll, or planting or cultivating.

You are going to get your's Mathy.  You are not nearly as dumb, ignorant, pitiful, or as old as you pretend to be.  You don't deserve a pass.  You don't deserve any understanding.  You are not that dumb, but you are that wicked.

Sunday, January 29, 2012

"Help me Holy Ghost!  Thank You Jesus!  I said GOD stepped in and rescued me.  That's not true.  He has been with me my entire life.  " I never could have made it."  Leading and guiding me, protecting me.

She is no mystery to me.  My subconscious always knew.  I was always wary of her.  I have always had some level of distrust for her, some disdain, some repulsion.

She was always openly whorish, to the point of nauseium.  Worse than whorishness was her reaction to me. She ridiculed me for deliberately rejecting her chosen path for me.  She tried to convince me that women who sold pussy were better and smarter than women who gave it away.  Why get an education?  Why earn your way through life when you were sitting on a gold mine?  She fully intended to prove I wasn't better than her.

"If I torture and destroy this bitch she'll sell pussy!  She ain't bedder dan me!"

That was private, that was our "little secret"  Do your dirt on the side and make sure you go to church every Sunday.  Holler the loudest.  Amen the loudest.  Sit on the front pew decked out in your finery.   Make sure everyone knows that  your good slick undercover  " 'ho-ing" produced good results.

It was like she was saying; "Look at me now niggas!  You downed me'cause I had a baby outta' wedlock!  All y'all talked about me!  Look at me now!  Fine ride, a sold-jur husband!  Ah damn sar-gent in Uncle Sam's army!  I got money ni!  I got respectability ni!"

She was too blind to see that everyone was right.  Rich 'ho, po' 'ho, what does it matter?  You are still a 'ho.  You can wear that robe if you want to.  You are still a 'ho.  I don't care how many people compliment you, tell you how you touched their heart, their soul.  You are still a 'ho, 'ho!

You are still a whore!  Still unfit for anyone's pulpit.  You know that.  That is why you burn with that sick hatred.  You know that you are unclean.  You know that you should confess, repent.  You know what GOD wants.  You know you can't get by.  You know that you are dirty, stank and low down.

You know that you can't blame your daughter.  You know that you can't pretend every preacher is corrupt and low-down just like you.

You know that you are holding on to that evil it is not holding on to you.   Nothing is going to change.  GOD is not going to reverse His WORD for you.

Nobody likes a 'ho.  Who can respect a woman that volunteers to be a human toilet?  Don't get mad because you are not accepted.  Lie!  Lie and revile (until it gets old), play crazy, but don't you ever change.

Pretend that you don't understand, can't understand.  Frustrate, worry, bludgeon.  Inflict pain.  Crucify that bitch!  How dare she win the love and respect of your father!  Fix both of them!  Murder him and make her (f***ing slut!) suffer.  Do it for years and years and years!  Sixty years!  Drive her crazy!  Be  wishy-washy, hot-cold, good-wicked.  Torment the f*** out'dem niggas!

These dummies will never know.   After all you are the Master manipulator!  Who on this earth is smarter than you?  "They ain't no GOD!  GOD is dead!  I got my dust!  Niggas bedder look out! hahahahahaha!

THE END!