“700th Post!”

I think it’s crazy how.

I’ve lasted so long.

No face in the mud.

No bullets in my back.

No more selling crack.

I cracked my knuckles

Before I’ll ever fumble my

Life.

I’ll get pushed

Down by some badges.

Searched up.

beaten down!

Naw!

never me!

I made it clear

That I’d shoot first

Before they ever bury

Me!

I’ll sleep awake!

So no one can take

My dreams.

I’ve grown here.

A month before I

Started typing on

WordPress. I was

Fresh up out the

Can. Throwing away

My I’d badge.

Damn!

House raided again!

Two

Days after. I was back

In jail. then questioned.

Almost violated parol

Into probation. Came home

Again to see my younger

Brother.

He gave me the

Referral to refurbish

My life. Then he said to

Me.

“Tell your story!”

“Well don’t tell them everything?!”

“Man wtf!?”

“Just type in!?”

“You don’t know how to!?”

“Damn it!”

“Just write and I’ll type it!”

I’ve been on here ever since.

700th BABEEEEEE!!

A negro still here!

Thanks for all the support, loves and encouraging words!

Peace and blessings to you all!

Big Facts 400

Indictments! now the truth
Comes out.

My name is my
Name.

Yet I hid
From my own
Doubt.

Federal

No no no!

Investigations are gone!
                        So so long!

Now I can give

Asia pronounced!
“I ja”

Yes, I hate my Name but, what true is real

Can’t be excused.

Nore do I have to
Explain my Damn
Views.

It feels good to
Be back
Here!

Now let me
Lay back. Take off my
Shoes off.

I apologize
For not being
Honest.

For a reason!

Deeper….

Little explanations!

Understood only by those
That understand.

To keep my
Ass
Out of that iron
Vacation.

No sliding doors
For me. No Damn bars to hold me…

I hope you agree.

If not…..

Go back to the beginning
of me and re-read…

Now I will pay my respects to
Those who ain’t make it to 2021…

R.I.P

L. Turtle

C. James

Patricia b.

Kenny

Yawl

Cali

Avon

H. Rodney

Makk

M. Wilson

If I forgot some.
I’m sorry.

Justice will be
Survered
For y’alls
Murders

Happy “you” years to all!

“Crimson Skins By Devika Mathur”

Crimson Skins

Ok…

There comes a time in every persons life.Where we all have to make wise decisions. One false decision can alter the course of your life. Sometimes for the worst!

Luckily…….

I made one great decision…..


A wonderful decision….

A wise decision….


I bought me a copy of

        “Crimson Skins Poetry & Prose!”

A book by the artist, writer and poet!

                “Devika Mathur”

@my.valiant.soul

https://myvaliantsoulsblog.wordpress.com/

     

When the book arrived. First I tore open the cardboard it was in. To my surprise! This book was so soft like her wordplay it felt like velvet. I couldn’t stop rubbing my hand and face up against the book cover. Like I was on some type of psychedelic trip. This book should have been called the Velvet skins.                    

Seriously though…

“If you don’t know her then you better get familiar….”

Her words are so humbling and soft. It’s almost like she’s whispering in your ear.

Her mind is intricately interesting, yet mysterious and challenging.. True art takes time to visualize the meaning. That’s why people stand in front of painting etc, at art Studios forever.

Now there are many talented artist on here. Me personally I have my top 5 poets. Not like the typical cliche poets. They know who they exactly who they are. Keep writing no matter what.

Look people….

Imma keep it all they way real….

We must support our artist!

We absolutely must!

Everyday, month and year.

You sit there and read..

Type your sincerest complements…

Interacting day to day…

With your favorite artist….

If you can do that. Mean every damn word you say. Even give your high praises. To your favorite true artist!

It shouldn’t be a problem for you purchasing there material.

Don’t build people up to let them down!

Make there hard work apart of your collection at home.
Give. Give your favorite artist hope! Give them a reason to know there appreciated. That’s love…..

Peace and blessings to all!

                       Thank you Devika!

For dropping diamonds and peace and blessings to all!

       

                     

Blood Over The Stolen Hill

I believe I
was a…
Apache in
a former
life…
Sharpening
my tomahawk…
With stones…
Draped my
Face
Drenched
Over war
paint…
Finger
tips
Dipped in
the blood
from my
adversary’s…
Treacherous…
I was chief
A running gun
Five star
Buffalo
general…
Tougher
Then
bull
Horns…
Calcium
That was
strong…
Like
The aroma
of menthol…
Giving out
orders…
Raising thee
Young…
Wise
tribe in
Native pride…
Proudly…
Many
died on
that
hill yet…
We
Keep
them in
our prayers…
We
pushed back
our intruders
infantry block…
Mowing
down the
lives thee
Unworthy
opposition…
Pale white
Dirty skin,
Filty men…
Trying
to take our
land
Kill and
Rape our
Wives
And children
for
to satisfy
There own
Evil greedy
Needs…
I screamed…
This tribal
Chant…
This Soil
And moss
Rivers
And animals
I will protect
Everyone
With in it
In peace…
If it’s
Blood you
Seek…
It will
Be your
Own
blood
You will
See…
We did battle…
After
those
long
wars
Those
enemy’s
were
demolished…
They will
Have no
Choices…
As
Always
The
respected
Elder…
For our
bravery…
My men
will be
Recognize…
Till the
death of
Me… I’ll
Inherited
war like
mentality
Lost… to
Be slaughtered
In hatred…
Still I strive
To leave in
Peaces of
Moss….
Never forgotten
ancestors
Of the Apache…