#murderers
Repost: true story appeal.
A mothers plee: Let my children go.
and come to me.
USA FBI ( RDDBBA)
Appeal to the powerful wealthiest.
Save my children and grandkids
Our enemies noone is above the law
The evil doer criminals hide their crimes
Assassination of character their banners.
Dear daughters anyone who lies about mother
Pin it on them they are the culprit.
~~~
Destroying enemies of my grown kids
Protection prayer for the crown jewels
of heroic amazing Moms
Fir a lifetime Mom BBA victim of hate crime in LA by a group of racist haters.
Prayer for justice and freedom against
false friends who lie divide to Maine to **** covertly so.
Assassinating heroic Mom's character and her lovely
Offspring; Ellen Ch,
Rose Abrecht Jeanette Moreen W
(in LA CA( Illinois TJ.Mexico
~~
Destruction of impostor mothers wannabees
Who Maine hurt play with babies lives newborn and hunt down stalk years and years
To pin their evil doing on their
amazing successful heroic survivor
Mother, grandmother (BBA®DD-jpc-AA)
The unprovoqued enemies of my motherhood
© God of my praise, don’t remain silent,®
for the wicked have opened their devilish mouth of deceit against us.
They have spoken to my family with a lying tongue.
They have also surrounded me with words of hatred, they use harrass my young grown children.
continually fightt against me without a cause
.
In return for my love my silence, my enemies
are my adversaries;
but I am in prayer.
They have rewarded me evil for good,
and hatred for my motherly triumphant love.
Set a wicked man over them who falsely accuse me human traffickers i had escaped from.
Let an adversary stand at his their right hand.
When ***** is judged, let our enemies come out guilty.
Let my kid's false friends their prayer
be turned into sin and medical tampering
malignant medical frauds turn on against them all.
Let our deadly enemies days be few.
Let another take their twisted offices.
Let the enemy's children also be stolen and become fatherless,
and the false mothers, evil wives suddenly be a widow.
Let his children be wandering beggars.
Let them be hunted down from their ruins.
Let the creditor seize all our enemies have illegitimatedly acquired.
Let strangers plunder the fruit of all their twisted labor.
Let there be no one to extend kindness to any of them,
neither let there be anyone to have pity on his fatherless children.
Let his posterity be cut off.
In the generation following let their name be blotted out.
Let the iniquity of his fathers be remembered by the LORD.
Don’t let the sin of his mother be blotted out.
Let them be before the LORD continually,
that he may cut off their memory from the earth;
because they didn’t remember to show any kindness no mercy,
but persecuted the poor and needy mother struggling to survive all alone,
broken in heart, to **** her.
Yes, they loved cursing, and it came to them.
They didn’t delight in blessing, and it was far from them
They clothed themselves also with cursing as with their only garment.
Evil came into his inward parts like water,
like oil into his bones.
Let it be to them as the clothing with which they cover himself,
for the belt that is always around them.
This is the reward of and to my adversaries from the LORD omnipresent,
of those who speak evil against our soul.
~
But deal with me, GOD the Lord,† for your name’s sake,
because your loving kindness is good, deliver me;
Deliver my children and grandkids hide us from the evil doer in medical uniforms
They maime ****** make it look like accident
Not to avert the authority
of our impending death they trash our medical records.
Lord almighty I am poor and needy God Jesus.
My heart is wounded within me.
I fade away like an evening shadow.
I am shaken off like a locus
My heart is wounded within me have mercy I'm innocent.
I fade away like an evening shadow I been victimized by those who cover their many crines against me.
I am shaken off like a locust.
My knees are weak through fasting.lbI am a sage lord.
My body is thin and lacks fat.
I have also become a reproach to them.
When they see me, they shake their head, feed and inject my family poisons.
Help me, LORD, my God.
Save us according to your loving kindness;
that they may know that this is only your hand;
that you, LORD, have done it.
They may curse, but you bless.
When they arise, they will be shamed,
but your servant shall rejoice.
Let my adversaries be clothed with their own dishonor.
Let them cover themselves with their own shameful sins as with a robe.
I will give great thanks to the LORD with my mouth.
Yes, I will praise him among the multitude.
For he will stand at the right hand of the needy,
to save us from those who judge our humble loving soul.
~~~~
A repost:Biblical truth
All Rights on the personal notation
By: Mr and Mrs Andrews
for and and with Karijinbba
~
May 6, 2023
May 6, 2023 at 12:33 PM UTC
I wish I could fight
Hide behind the barricades and inhale the burning tear gas
I wish I could join you guys
Against a government that cares not whether we lived or died
I wish I could die
Although I so very much love this life
Maybe,
Perhaps then I could save a young boy’s life
Nov 28, 2019
Nov 28, 2019 at 12:27 PM UTC
He could have been,
A better surgeon than I’ll ever be
A better poet
He might’ve even achieved his dream
Yet he died
At nineteen!
Nov 28, 2019
Nov 28, 2019 at 12:20 PM UTC
Everything was so horrible
That words stood beside me and gaped
At a life so cruel.
Nov 11, 2019
Nov 11, 2019 at 3:43 AM UTC
A boy of sixteen
Head split open, scattered brain
A lonely school bag
Nov 4, 2019
Nov 4, 2019 at 5:01 AM UTC
He once had an eye
That sought beauty in stars and trees
He once had a nose
That smelled aromas of his mother’s delicious meals
He once had lips
That kissed his beloved behind an old, dark street
He once had a pretty face
Beaming at the world
Yet they recognized his corpse
From his heart shaped tattoo.
Oct 26, 2019
Oct 26, 2019 at 5:21 AM UTC
He judged her without evening know her,
without even giving her a chance.
In his mind,
he sees a monster.
She judged him from what she’s heard about him,
and she believed what they all warned her about.
In her mind,
she hears a monster.
She hears the names they all called her.
He sees the ugly images they made you picture of him.
She feels the cold shoulders and the wandering eyes.
He smells the horror by the way people keep their distance.
And all that took
was the bitter taste of
a few unkind thoughts,
words spread by
the people we call "friends"
and by the strangers
who twists them a little deeper
with a dagger of pain that
you can't clutch with your hand.
You see, we’re all murderers.
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 1:30 PM UTC
learning once more
of innocent people killed in the name of whatever
some psychopath’s personal crisis
a violent protest against other cultures
or an abuse of some religious creed
the motivations may be different
yet the results are all the same
the wanton killing of women men and children
who do not know that they are ‘enemies’
of someone whom they also do not know
the murderers may have been led to think
that they are heroes for some glorious cause or god
fact is that they are simply murderers
and I believe
they will not even receive
their 72 raisins when they face their gods
because to ****
in the name of any god
is always wrong
Jul 15, 2016
Jul 15, 2016 at 3:26 PM UTC
I know why God is there
When nights blow cool wind
Onto the stringy hair of paupers
And on streetlights along purple roads.
When eyes are dimly lit
By the moonlight’s grace
Under a sky full of magnetic tears,
There is God, and he’s there
To deal out soap bars
And washcloths
To ***** cheeks
So that, for once, dust can go
Back to dust
Without leaving behind bodies
For wolves to feed on.
I know why God is there
When the hungry lie down to die,
When the restless beg for sleep,
When murderers beg for forgiveness,
When beggars dip their hands
Into pools of holy water
On sidewalks of sleepless cities.
I know why God is there,
And the reason is at the end of a long rope
Hidden somewhere deep underground,
Dangling above the fountains of prayers.
Jul 11, 2016
Jul 11, 2016 at 12:36 PM UTC
Once, far away, Andalusia of time.
Was I, this dreamer, this student of crime.
Devouring textbooks with a gluttonous glee.
Of masters I conversed with, with lives like movies.
FBI-profilers, psychopathologists.
Faces carved from paleo-lithic stone.
The hearts of sailors betrayed by Triton.
Their ill-fitting suits an anarchists cry.
Oh blessed hearts long since buried in the plots,
of victims whose killers would never see man’s courts.
Who knew the world and hoped to teach I,
this fresh young prey with a predator’s eye.
This fresh young prey with a predator’s eye.
Sat I with the masters, in those secret little rooms
where the dead are shuffled to have chosen for them a grave.
And it’s never more real than when the beast sits still.
In the agonising ordinary glow of the halogen buzz
that shines on guilty and innocent alike.
To reduce us all to such pathetic things.
That if not for the debt, this creature’s crimes
one could pity being on such obscene display.
If it were not known to me, in great detail
the river of misery and depravity he had left in his wake.
As a mugshot robs the aura, so too the well lit room.
And I understood why it took a much colder mind.
As even though I possessed all the faculties which
could follow and track and trap the prey;
the predator must also ****
And being in those secret little rooms
I knew I could not see it through.
I left it to those stronger than I
and leave my mark through other designs.
Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 9:17 PM UTC
"My children were mascaraed with blood spurting in a disarray,
a nightmare flashing freshly with every passing night,
and the man's blazing eyes ignited with inevitable
pure evil --if there exists such a thing,
and my faith in humanity subsides,
my heart snatched out of my aching body,
for I am an unsuspecting, wounded mother."
But involuntarily,
for a fraction of a second,
her lips quiver in glee.
"It was beautiful;
their screams of agony,
my control over their lives,
and sweet fear
reflected in their eyes--
my eyes."
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 11:13 PM UTC
Naive, I was not. I grew up
on tattered books and nihilistic ideals
while the other children read
books about stuffed bears and trees.
They warned me about the addicts:
The fiends with black capes and red eyes,
the ones who wander the night, searching
for new corners and new highs.
They warned me about the *** offenders:
The neighborhood sweethearts with soft eyes
and cold hands, who are more often than not,
but not restricted to the body, of middle-aged men.
They warned me about the murderers:
The ones with ice for pupils and books of spells.
Who drank smoke and whose hearts reside
in the far off corner somewhere in east hell.
These are the people my parents forgot to warn me about:
The lovers with a knack for spoon feeding me lies, whose
wings were black and who were blessed
with golden eyes.
They didn't warn me about the pretty boys.
About the ones who cup your heart
in their hands, and play around with it like putty.
Somehow, they forgot to mention that part.
But, then again, you can't teach a child about heartache,
and the only way a child will know what you mean when you
tell them that the stove is hot is if they burn themselves
on the warm, steel door that is life.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 9:04 PM UTC
I wish you'd stop whining
I really don't like that
And honestly no one cares
Don't you get it?
You're done for
And no one will save you
I really don't mind to hear you scream
It's funny
You're hilarious
To think that we actually cared
We're murderers
It's all we know
So say goodbye
So say anything
Go ahead and cry
No one will rescue you
So say goodnight
To the rest of your life
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 11:15 AM UTC