There once was a black man... Old at heart, he fought verbally and accordingly with bold words, which abbreviated and arbitrated great art! He spoke of activism. Not just racial, and economic racism. He fought against demonic injustices for you, yes, made me see. He stood for principles of non-violence. Acknowledged corrupt government

mileage, European knowledge and college. A philosopher, teacher
and preacher as well as a civil rights leader. When he spoke his words of fire indeed chiseled and inspired. Causing some to conspire and also perspire! Born January 15th 1929 in Atlanta, Georgia. Named in honor of the German protestant Martin Luther. Bachelor of Arts

degree in sociology. Making a mark in doctoral studies, systematic theology. June 5th 1955 This King married Corretta Scott in Heiberger,
Alabama for many to see. Proceeding with four children: Yolanda, Martin Luther the 3rd to be! Dexter Scott and Bernice to increase the peace. Despite the European police, the movements and stressed

protests, the silence, ****** and racial violence. The segregation and interrogations in force, instead of integration of course. Black mishaps, lack of differences in relapse perhaps! Plagiarized and slandered, demised by some of the wise. Accused of communistic ties. Blinded
by others’ eyes and of our world’s twisted lies. Montgomery, Georgia

bus boycott, 1955 was the year. However, forever in disguise, our fear of tears was apparently adhered. From here to near, also all those dear. Mere letters he wrote, from Birmingham jail I quote! From the slums, some of sums, hail and prevail! A creation prevailing into a deriving and thriving nation. Mr. King’s vision of a dream, mission,

opposition, optimism and truism, on our wars, welfare and more. I suppose this sounds honest and fair. Mr. King’s theories and worries in emotionalism, evangelism, humanitarianism, racism and socialism. Nobel Peace Prize won in 1964. Regretfully, you may have heard of this before. Government conspiracies and indecencies. Assassination

and discrimination, allegedly, by James Earl Ray. On April 4th, I
almost choke, because for him, his blood did soak. Some thought this **** was a thrill or forced by will. Others still procrastinate in hate! However, forever Martin Luther King was and still is one of the late greats.

your father is a morbid man puddy. .. . but morbid can be good if you accept it...
..how can it be good?idunnoimnotmakinganysense............   ..  ..    .well.   i guess if youre in the right mood or in the right setting.(i pictured people. a woman mainly. with dark hair. and everyone had glasses of red wine and were laughing in a short hysterical way. and i realize these people arent representations of people ive seen act like this, theyre representations of me. i kno that feeling which makes that laugh. when hearing stories or seeing pictures or videos of people dying suddenly or getting tortured and the abuser maybe dismembering himself or herself after or committing an interesting suicide which we love to hear about and the sickening brutality and pain and fear and cringing you feel is instantly replaced with a swift too swift and sharp laughter. and these stories are real, otherwise its just silliness or boys being boys with their sick imaginations and saying it just for attention or to be funny or weird.. and we all might question ourselves slightly but either Time or Exposure to the Wicked World or most likely the validation of our indecencies with everybody else's  because its a whole room laughing lets us feel better about it each time but then more ashamed of our withering virtue until we forget. and something to understand from the remark "but either Time or Exposure to the Wicked World or most likely the validation of our indecencies" ad its there is no difference in this matter between the options 2 and 3 because we are the Wicked World. and all 3 are just things we waste. and if not laughing sharplyand loud and insane maybe some of us are at least being entertained while wailing in a definite cringe or exasperation or i dont kno but it is blended with the jovial air of the room. and people and family members laugh with and comfort and joke with eachother like a pride or a flock or any group of animals showing their young 'here.its ok.its an apple. you can touch it. it wont hurt you. its our food.' but we say "c'mere, the foundation of this world and all its agony will rip you apart, so here, learn how to find joy in it otherwise youll be too effected and will need to be discarded from normal happy people who kno their happiness comes first. because thats how we work as people and as a group. now here, have a drink. we pretend it helps and seek it out against our better judgment because we dont want to exist because weve become nothing in place of the wide range of terrible emotions we should experience when seeing the world for what it is.. ourselves most of all." and i guess that is what i pictured. the average happy people. family people. nice house and aunts and christmas people. and i kno im biased but nothing in this imagery matters. i was supposed to capture just the thoughts which i actually spoke to myself or my dog or whoever but now i have a brick-sized moving picture of my interpretation of happy family americans and other nations and just everybody.  but im no different. deep down anyway. deep down i am selfish and scared and come to the conclusion that the world is too complicated to be fixed and were too dumb to fix it reguardless and more so we are filled with souls which shift too often which we must only watch drift away moment to moment leaving us with many things but definitely a healthy amount of selfishness and, well, psychology i guess. we can figure our race and ourselves out as much as is possible and maybe even be right about some things, but knowing what drives us and feeling compelled are unrelated. too constant of a shift are we to be anything describable in correct terms and too unknown is the future to kno wut form our shift could bring us to. ..this is all absolute nonsense. i started rambling world. u gave me a mouth and i started rambling with it. i am definitely equal to a baby human or animal just shrieking into the world because, well just because its alive. so im a baby with no way of managing my existence other than making sounds because there are ears everywhere and peeing where i lay because its inside of me then it comes out because im unaware of my functions and we all send scattered unfinished nonsense to eachother and they send their own version of it back to the human and we manage to make ourselves sick and destroy our home and we're like an ant colony with no coordination.) and then something about laughter is sometimes a coverup for discomfort, so laughing from something morbid is not good. but then again it is still a laugh, and wut is the point system for laughing goodness and thats it the end jesus christ stop. *******. later. txt me wenever. have fun at ur party. i hope the weathers nice up north and not too cold cuz i kno u hate the cold. and im probably a boring **** saying cheezy things trying to act natural and nice and caring but i have my own agenda and am too unnaware to kno that and therefore will never be able to change for the better because i am a stupid human who thinks they have something figured out about every moment of every day but cant really do anything. cant see myself how others see me and cant feel the right way ong enough to accept it and constantly contradicting my conceptual and moral and spiritual universe and will never realize that 99.9 percent of the time my thoughts are of things like rocks and puffy things and shooting myself in the head and im hungry and **** that ***** and... im such a loser. if i dont start acting and living like a straight shooter my only outcome down the road will be lonelyness, heartbreak. regret. shame. and many other bad things where everything i love is either ded or has abandoned me because i am now a man and there is no such thing as abandoning a man but i am alone and want to die and i do. i **** myself and im ded. and there is no heaven and i have no soul and no one knows im ded and the passerbys and police officers and coroners who kno that im ded dont kno my name. so everyone i ever loved who havent loved me for years will die years down the road with families who love them and i will never cross their minds again. and i will deserve it. and i will pray for satan to devour my flesh and feel a demon inhabit my body along with my terror.

you don't like my words
but you preach yours.

your words are full of frightful hate,
and childish ignorance.

your veins are black just like your distraught style.
and your heart is cold,
just like your fate.

you may think I'm harsh,
you may think I'm incorrect,

but my opinion will still say the same,
just like your indecencies

I am not your accessory
a statement piece
to your spineless connections
The thousandth image-oriented festivity
That you thoughtlessly threw
Due to the boredom of your own reflection
I am not a string of pearly witty conversation that you casually bring up when you aren't capable of employing stimulation
I am not a magenta lipstick you reach to cover up your mindnumbing gossip about the neighbors indecencies
You try to duplicate me and slip your right, then your left foot into vintage leather Jimmy Choos
Oh but your archless perception of life
Doesn't quite fit your soul next to mine
Empathy was never your strong suit
Oh but a tailored cold charcoaled judgement suit--that fits just.right.
Still you try to wear me, despite discrepancies
And oh how you hate the way I mock your silhouette
I clash with your champagne clings
You try to bash me against silverware but I remain mute
"Oh but if I can't make her an accessory, I shall make her an appendage!"
Oh how Christian and courteous of you
In the same way you asked your bridesmaid to step off the alter when she came out to you on that heavenly day
You ask me to be your brothers appendage
Oppressive and aloof
Asking was always a waste of time for you
You expect.

cool iridescent droplets
tumble soundlessly over damp stone steps
spat from a dark cloud-smitten sky.
the corners of your lips twisted
in an ominous snarl,
eyes flashing
green lightning.
make-up streaming down porcelain warm-apple cheeks,
mixing with ***** rain.

you, typically picturesque magazine perfection
trussed up in delicate pin-up duds
your hair twirled into a million
intricate, flawless little curls
that fall together like pieces
in a puzzle.
secretly pinned together to uphold a pretty facade.
far from easy and natural,
yet more desirable.

but look at you now.
hair soaked, tendrils of slick dark silk plastered to cold skin,
with mascara running down
an immaculate visage,
that finely curved chest
heaving with furious little sobs.
fists clenched with white hot knuckles,
you shake with rage.
just like a little girl...
a little girl hiding behind a layer of mother's make-up,
throwing a tantrum.

Maybe it's endearing;
to see such passion
from one who never showed her soul
and kept her musings locked tight in a faraway place.
Maybe it's not.
The creature I once loved,
destroying little parts of my soul,
one by one
with sharp words and cruel insults
guilt-trips and indecencies.

But the tear-stained face in front of me
no longer evokes the desired emotion.
Hollow steps take me away,
in the opposite direction,
her dismal cries following me -- wailing ghosts
lost, wandering through the wintry rain.

I know you've got a heart of gold and emotions that run along your sleeves
but lately,
you're better with a bottle and some scrapped knees.

You're introverted
A minuet ******

But it's not the the skin you bare
Or the the way you touch
It's the way you've given up

You grew into the buildings
And buried yourself inside
between a mattress and ***** sheets

They won't save you
No, my beautiful raggedy Anne
No, they'll turn that heart of gold to stone
They'll paint your face with prophecies-
Little indecencies
You'll be ripped from some ***** banks magazine
A pin up doll
Such a perfectly decayed dream
I want to cut the string that holds you up

Hit the ground running-
Remove your mind from others hands and
Fight

Let bad blood filter into the streets and watch the acquainted burn into the night

in a city that breeds hooligans
ingrates and indecencies,
where the architecture of a lost era
crumbles into brothels and madhouses,
where shootings peak
with the heat of summer,
where new windows are boarded up daily
and we chop down trees like fanatics,
in the city I call home,
in the city I love,
destroyed by its ignorance,
I am condemned to silent pleas
and empty stares.

You don’t understand,
At first it was a compromise I had to accept,
The sulfur-ridden stench that blazed my nostrils
And made me seek a foreign tongue.
They do not think I worked
But I did.
I washed the pains that clenched at
My existence.
I refused to ignore that foul pulpous print.
Lured did it!
Lured me to utmost perfection.
Then John became but a stone
In lurking shadows completely unseen.
I revealed me to myself
And hands were not shaken, that was not custom.
Into the circle of my life
One revelation proved its superiority,
And now its comfort has deserted me.
Take me back
Take me back
Wrap me in your shredded parcels of paper-tainted glory
Tinge me with indecencies. I fear no guilt.
I want to see my better half sing
And dance between lines and smudges that thwart
Into perception,
To suspend the hour.
Being.
Doing.
Without Needing
To be
There is no sanctuary here
I lie in a familiar position now
The attic floor cools my flushed face
Pinching nerves cultivate essence
My hands clench a tight fist
My knuckles…
They bleed yellow.

These lovely walls so brigth and peacefull like winter snow oh what magnificent features. So soft as a pillow in my white suit I giggle. Morning and night I spend my time thinking within these walls of the time of when I was outside. Such beauty , such glory on everyones eyes. A tip toe here and a tip toe there giving them a smile from ear to ear and it doesn't end there. I share them my love they give me there blood what is that you say that this is not love? on the contrary my friend just look and see , in this generation what is there to be? If people **** each other for ignorant sympathys , Lustful envyies and ungratefull indecencies . why cant i be me? its not a sickness its another way to see how tragedy can be embraced by insanity and how wonderfull a diferent point of view can make a man be judge by lack of humanity. Im not crazy.....i just see the world in diferent points of view....what about you?

From atop mountains
Of debt
We tumble, like
The thrill of defeat
Dripping down
The quivering chin
Of blood-stained
America.

To quote a thunderstorm:

"All who question
The efficacy
Of God
Shall crumble
To an infinity
Of indecencies."

To quote a God:

"All who fall
Have not
Been pushed,
Those who rose
Were not all
Pulled.

"**** the heathens.
Justified are those
Who avenge the treasons
Committed unto me."

Waves of
Iridescence
Cleanse our pallettes,
And we open wide
For the next forkful
Of fermented
Excrement.
Bloodied are our knees
As we receive
The sacrement,
Trapped like rats
Cast in cement.

To quote a slave:

"Bound by prior
Engagements,
Sacrificed to
Advertisement,
The seeds of men
Wither in the soil.
Blood weeps
From poisoned skies
While YES WE CAN
Opens eyes,
And seals fate
Within fine
Print."

Wolves in
Cheap disguises
Bate their breath
Behind red grins
And finalize
The list of
Who gets in,
While in the cold
Stand the masses,
Marinating
In their own
Molasses.

From atop Parnassus,
A silver-lined horse
Watches the madness,
And snarls and spits
In shamed defiance,
While Apollo
Holds court
To form the alliance
That will interrupt
The defiling of man.

To quote a soldier:

"Cold is the mud
That cradles
The valiant.
Swift is decay
In these
Transient days,
Where passive
Observers rot
In mass graves."

Designed by the rich,
Assembled by slaves,
Our system
Keeps churning,
Rejecting all
Who misbehave.
Reflected in
Concentric waves,
The faces of children
Contemplate age,
And what it means
To be forever
Enraged,
Engaged in endeavors
That are only dreams.
They can't be saved,
And neither can we.
So it seems,
And so it should be.

When we enter this reality
Through the uncalled memory
Of our birth,
Crying with nonsense
To newly unveil senses.

The doctor readying his slap
To insure
You’re aware of the world.

The initial daybreak
Grasps with instinct
From the stem
Of our brain,
But we develop
Further in life learning
To walk, talk,
And even further
To tuck in that dress shirt,
All in all learning
The basic facets of living;

Only to further learn
That we cannot know everything
Undefined definite definition
A plotting knot of resolved fiction,

Dualities, influences, susceptibilities,
Insecurities, indecencies, and tendencies
In us all for us to see
And choose not to be.

The card game
Of social exposition
And inquisition
Learning to understand our face
And the people that we trace,

Forming, deforming, uniform
Difficulties
We stumble,
To return standing;

Challenges in holding hands
Returning affections, and mental afflictions
Gaining understanding
That we are being human beings
Refractive in and Reflective at seeing

Birth parallels death
No choice, versed vice
Falling and stumbling sadly
Last moments
Of our lives, begin

Talking gibberish,
Eating mush,
Having no memory
What happened yesterday?
While you lay in your crib
Asleep to a reality