Standing in this place,
Where you tells us nothing that is going on.
We fear the worst,
Only because you wont tell us better.

You  take us away from our land,
To a place I never knew.
You tell us nothing that is going on,
And you treat us as though we are not human.

You tell us we are moving,
and whip us until we move.
"form a line" you tell us.
We fear your guns, so we do.

You take us to the water.
The same water that brings us joy,
Now will bring us nothing but fear,
and hatred.

You whip the ones who don't go,
And Yell at the ones who do.
You hurt our kind,
Like you have nothing but sin.

Slowly the line starts to move,
And I hear nothing but the clang of mettle,
And the cries of my kind.
We fear what will happen next.

I get to the place,
where the white man stays.
I try not to look him in the eyes,
Because all I will see is sin.

You put your cold grasp,
From something I do not know,
Around my wrists and ankle,
But worst, around my neck.

My man fears you aliens,
so we do what your guns say.
We are not to be feared,
Yet you show us nothing but sin.

All of my men,
are joined by your cold hard chains.
The ones who don't move ,
get pulled by the rest.

The whippings become more,
And my people find it hard to stand.
You tell us you need us,
But show us nothing but sin.

We get on the big beast ,
The one only white man knows.
You shove us down the stairs,
And crowed us in.

We are close.
Too close.
Man and woman and child,
Brought together by sin.

the night finally comes,
And I feel peace again.
But only until the morning sun shines,
And brings death with it.

17 of my fellow men,
Brought out my you aliens.
Its only the second day,
What will the next bring?

The hunger in our belies gets stronger,
as you feast upon your joy.
The days food is not much
But rice and ***** water.

As we start to lose count of the day,
We lose count of so many other things
Death, ****, fear, mice, whipping,
And sin.

My man can not talk about there fears,
For the white man will listen.
The only thing we can do,
Is make our own language.

Some hope for death,
For by death our souls can fly free.
By death we can return home,
But our families don't even have our bones to remember us by.

Our women and children are used as objects,
Objects of the white mans will.
To show no respect to,
And release your sin upon.

We are brought to stable land,
Of which we have never seen.
You brake us into groups,
and show us no respect.


Only half of my men make it there,
And most of them are not well.
We are shoved around,
And most of do not stay on out feet for long.

The ones you deem 'Usable'
go on to the homes of the white man.
We are forced to work,
for the man of the sin.

We get nothing from this,
and very little food.
We bring you your growth,
While ours is held back.

We are the worker,
we are the barer of life.
You are the owner.
YOU are the sin.

I'm an ex-prizefighter and my name is Glass Joe.
If you're wondering if I could win fights, the answer is no.
I got my *** kicked by a shrimp and his name is Little Mac.
I got knocked out in the first round when that boy attacked.
I'm called Glass Joe because my jaw is made of glass.
It was humiliating because anybody could kick my ***.
People laugh at my losses and it's something I resent.
I happen to be Glass Joe Biden and I'm the President.
I run America but I sure can't take a punch.
If you hit me in my stomach, I'll lose my lunch.
I lied to everybody when I said that I came from France.
I got *** whippings in the ring, I never stood a chance.
Even old women could knock me out and I'm not a fighter anymore.
If Americans learn that I lost ninety-nine fights, I won't win in 2024.

are you hungry?

no,
I lie

I sit alone on the floor of my bedroom
shame running through my veins

I am forced to punish myself
and I will do it
to the full extent of my power

no more diet coke
they said
and I made it four days
before I was sneaking them
at restaurants
two weeks
before I had them at school
just days after
before I stole them by the armful
from the limited supply
holed up in my parent’s
room

this is a confession
a begging for forgiveness

I shall lay the whippings upon my own back
and
I shall be the one who recommended the whippings

are you hungry?
they ask
and I stare
blinking silently
lacking the ability to answer

no
I might say
if I was more of a
coward


but for now I am a criminal awaiting trail
and not a single soul doubts I am my
best judge

He got on top and satisfied his ******* soul
Rolled over and snored himself to sleep
Her mother screamed in her dream
He’s the man, give it to him
Not her, not anymore
Oh no, not this ******* *****
She planned the wardrobe for the dumb
The other wardrobe to make her ***
Sessions in the morning
Whippings in the afternoon
He took her bent across the desk
She took him straddled on the floor
He took her hard against the wall
She blew him till the final fall
She dressed in rubber, nylon, pvc
Thigh length boots
Against the tree
Spoke *****
Hand or blow
Glad the hubby didn’t know
Arrived home
It caught her eye
The envelope with the word goodbye
She read the letter

I’ve tried my best
To give you hints
But not anymore
Our marriage is just a bore
You just don’t seem to realise
Sometimes a man just wants a *****...

Silent, when required.
Silence when needed.

Men around one another discuss events dealing with a woman.

Some men disagree with the conviction.
And all the years it took to convict if the evidence existed for decades.

We aware he attended ******* parties and why various marry men go there at the time?
Is a mystery only they can explain?
Some became mistresses and wives to movie executives and actors and athletes too.


With fame, many truly believe he didn't have to take.
Many offerings came.
These are things men's debate.

Even creating scenarios centered around the status of limitations.
About things occurred with them with violent women and mother of their child.

Should he prosecute?
Or wise up and admit it was a learning lesson for the two.

We, who had those firm disciplinary parents?
Who molded us into productive citizens?
Sure we go back to our youth and sue them for multiple whippings.

Let's remember, we in the era of the new term used in the shooting of a lot of people called "mental issues".

Hate to say it, but most black males long been told to avoid anything dealing with white women.
Oop! some just never learned this issues.

Most must recall black mothers saying them the most trouble.

Mmm Tiger.
Mmm Bill.

Get not upset any reader this is just a summary cause no man should take advantage of any form of woman.

I adore you…

Your will undeniable,

Your word unbreakable,

Your strength undefeatable,

I never stood a chance.



You’re the all brave, all mighty,

omnipotent, omniscient,

The giver of life, the righteous,

And I must follow you, obey  you

Follow your footsteps, or be punished,



But I was disobedient,

a curdled flesh

unworthy of my creator,

A disgrace in his presence.

…



“Bless me, father, for I have sinned.”

(Your mighty fists resound inside my head.)

“Forgive me for defying you.”

(Your glorious feats like whippings I can’t bear.)

“Save me from this darkness, my savior.”

(Your word a storm outside my world.)

“And mold me in your spirit.”

(I hated you.)

“Amen.”

…

I am a follower of your girdled path through goodness,

A witness of your immortal rule.

dawn,
i am clean,
unmarked, but the day happens,
life happens;

she comes home at night,
abuses me,
ruins me,
dirties my purity.
she brands me with
her own scars and more with
fresh wounds.

her crimson ink
bleeds onto my lines, haphazardly
some days, rough days, most days.
when the world scored a
knockout and she's down for...
a while, she's
bleeding all over me-
splatters and splashes in a rush
and then just a drop, and
eventually it stops.

i swell in red, but
she can sleep now.
pen down.

dawn will rise again,
i'll start again,
clean.
the night i end blank,
safe from the whippings and
harshness of experience, and she
doesn't come to me-

it's the end of her,
the death of me.

A tornado in my head
A stain in my heart
Swirling, squeezing, crushing
Smile upside down
Swelling pit of dread
Stomach hurts
Heart hurts...
Is it still there?
Or has the tornado's whippings
Corode the soft, colorful walls
Into weathered, beaten, and pulsing
Cries for help?

praying towards the roof of the mouth, cathedral hallways
you said
on my knees elapsing
towards a response from you
but you’re carving out your tonsils in the kitchen
you said
i said
think of the excuses you left on the floor
roll them at me in between eyes
You can smell it
you said
You can smell it on my mouth
mopping the floor with your sight
it’s frightening
waking to
shattering keys
leaving keys in
locks and bed and shelves and waking to keys in loopholes and
a headache
like the swelling of a wave before
he crashes back in
to himself
back in to the shore line of
his face. his face of uncertainty,
uncertainty quivers
the tip of this wave
into a sea of uncertainty
flinches at outstretched hands
fingers readily echoing the ******* of mothballs under the sink
until the pipes are collapsing
upon the cloud we fell in love under, ripe and ready  to rain
when we thundered, and we did, it was not a
drizzle, a collapse, a clap from the gods but a murmur
but nothing.
"Nothing under this sun could hurt me,” I tell myself
(other than) myself,
With my counting numbers,
counting colors,
counting potassium,
iron,
ounces of water
like
128 is 1
8 ounces in 1 cup
1 oz, maybe one and half, in a shot of:
reflux, knee **** reaction, temporary relief
from scrubbing the sickness from beneath your fingernails
with nothing to gain
but body like a jackknife
but my spine cocked like a gun
a body thinning like winter
changing before my eyes
I realize
I hate things that change instead of falling apart completely
humidity picking scabs from the walls
and the rash on your neck.
brown skin running from the blonde of your hair
I miss untouched spaces on your body
the things that touch you but aren’t me
things that change you but aren’t me
like sea to sky, there is no definite line,
between what is
and was,
the first dream I had of us
fingers tracing fingers and I awoke to life-
a fantasy ever since.

But now,
I am sorry for
lashes that drizzle
their whippings onto your cheeks.
minute counts,
minute wishes wasted
Hammered away at my self
, wrapped in sheets unfurling,
peeling apart form my body like
snakes shedding skin,
the coil of his tonuge like
the coil in a car, burnt.
tar, gas, antifreeze drips from
words. Words.
I always get stuck
on words. a word, the words,
let me return—
While eyes silently ran the maze
of your arm, you tell me
“this is too beautiful to be an accident, katie.”  
but if this is not an accident,
then it is changed,
but not by me.

So Now It Seems FAIR To Say...
That People These Days...

... REALLY DO AMAZE... !!!

From Their VIOLENT Displays...
To The Things That Some Say...
To How They Then Behave... !?!

Some Are Acting INSANE... ?!?
And Being... INHUMANE... !?!

As If ABEL Is The Name...
of Their Brothers Today... !?!

The Lines That They Now Toe...
DEMAND Masks Being Shown
... Wherever They Now Go... ?!?

Cos’ It’s A CRAZY Time...
To Now Be... ALIVE... !?!

... Corona Vibes...
And Protests Designed...
To I Guess... AMAZE...

By... Causing AFFRAYS...
ALL Over The Place... !!!

As Fires... BLAZE...
Throughout Nights And Days... !!!

Where What We Now See...
Is People Acting CRAZILY... !!!

Like CONFRONTING Police...
Across WORLDWIDE Streets... !?!

Because They WON’T Stay...
A Few Feet...... AWAY...... ?!?

To PROTECT The WELL BEING...
of... People They're Seeing... !?!

And Of Course Now RACE...
Has Caused A Level of SHAME...
For These WESTERN States...

Well Actually Countries...
NOW MAKING Apologies... !!!

For The.....
Way That They’ve Indulged...
In Using... SLAVERY...
Throughout Their Histories...

To Make Themselves Wealthy...
And Leave Blacks In Poverty...

UNLESS They Were Willing...
To... COMPLY With SINNING...
For Them To Be GRINNING...

While Slaves Received WHIPPINGS...... !?!?!

... I MEAN...
The Claims That Some Make...
REALLY DO... AMAZE... !!!

About The Things That They Produce...
That Are... BETTER Than Good... !!!

That … NEVER EVER Get...
To The Places That They Should...
Where Their AMAZING CLAIMS...
Can Actually Be PROVED... ?!?

People... ALSO AMAZE... !?!
With The Plans That They COOK...
When They’re Shook Like Crooks...
With... CORRUPTED Books...

Where Money Is Found...
That Surrounds DARK CLOUDS... !!!

Cos’ In The World Right NOW...
People REALLY Act... FOUL... !!!

Walking Round With SCOWLS...
Throwing... ***** TOWELS...
At These Government Clowns...
Who... AMAZE With HOW... ?!?

They’re Now Treating Crowds...
Who Are Shouting OUT LOUD... !!!

They’ve Just Called The FEDS’ Out... !?!
To Now CONTROL TOWNS...
With... THOSE Gun Sounds... !!!

And Are REJECTING Calls...
For Some HONEST Talk... !!!

Which DOESN’T Amaze...
Because HONEST Folk KNOW... !!!
They’ve Got Tongues Like FORKS... !!!

So What DOES AMAZE... !!!
Is The Talk That They Court...
About... What IS FAKE...
In The News These Days... ?!?

It’s A... CRYING SHAME... !!!
To Now See The Type of Games...
That Are... Being PLAYED...
That DON’T Make The Grade...
of Just Being... HUMANE... !!!!!

Which May Be A Phrase... ?
That’s Seen It’s LAST DAYS... !!!

Because of The RAGE... !!!
That’s Become A New CRAZE...

Or... HAS IT... ???
Because When We REVISIT...
What... The PAST EXHIBITS...

... IS...
White SUPREMACISTS...
Perpetrating... SINS...

That Were WORSE Than Those...
That Are NOW ON SHOW... !!!

And On THAT NOTE...
It’s Time For Me To GO...
And Bring This Piece To It's CLOSE...

Because What’s Been SHOWN...
Is The... Type of Show...
Where EXPLETIVES Should Roam... !!!

Ya Know It Really Is A Shame...
To See The World Today...
And How People Now Behave...

Like... Modern Day CAINS... !?!

Whose Displays These Days...
Are TRULY... INHUMANE... !!!

Because In ALL HONESTY...
I Feel COMPELLED To Say...

That.....

“They Really Do AMAZE”... !!!

I know you did a lot of horrible things to me.

I know and can feel
How bad you hurt me.

I don’t like what you did to me,

Or the things you said,



But I am willing to forgive.



I still have the scars from your belt on my back,


and I still remember the stifling feeling of your hands around my neck,




But I also remember your remorse—


The sadness in your eyes as you’d hold my broken body in your arms and tell me how much you loved me.




I remember laying there,
Tears streaking my face,
With all my limbs broken.


You could have a temper.



But you could also be the most loving thing I ever knew.


You’d yell and scream and shout and rant,



You’d break me.



But,

I am willing to forgive.



I hope that you’ll look at this note.



Look at it as if it was written in my own blood—
The blood you spilled.


And I want you to feel my agony.

Feel my pain.

Understand my blight.


And then I want you to tell yourself that it’s okay.



Because I hope you’ll see this.


I hope you won’t be angry any more.


Because I know,

In truth,



We both want to forgive.


Forget the whippings.

Forget the bruises.


But remember the pain.


Remember the tears.


And remember your remorse.



And forgive.


Forgive yourself.



Forgive me.


Forgive me for hating you.



And I promise, if you do, I will do the same.



I hope that you can understand.





I hope we can forgive each other.



I hope we can reconnect the bonds of our love,

And put the pain in an old shoebox.


I just want to be with the real you.


Even if it’s just for one more time.





Thank you.

I've had a yearning for gray
The forbidden color, intertwining between the cells of opaque and milky protoplasm
The color consumed me before he had even realized it
That night in the back seat of his car,
My "ebony" thighs and legs wrapped around his pearly waist
I pulled him down,
Past the slavery and the whippings and beatings
He went deeper and saw the faces people gave because of the color of my skin
From my neck down to the Drinking Gourd he kissed, following the path of darkness and fear
He freed me
He accepted me
We were gray, two heaving bodies contrasting like darkness and light

The sun blazed in the moon until the two were intertwined

in my house in the corner a rocking chair no
one is allowed to use sits with a faded hand crafted quilt draped on.
Just her memory, and how she hugged me, after spanking my ***.
Taught me, that home is not a roof over four walls, or the march of cockroaches across a ***** floor,
nor the flowery wallpaper all my friends houses had,
but home is hearts caring for me enough to teach me the lessons,
wise, that a whole bunch of life is hard, to survive, granny said,
it takes a strong will, purpose.  
alone, I am tempted, to rock in it, again like I sat in her lap, all those many whippings ago. Warm cheeks and whimpering as she said, one day, you will learn.

A little boy who was sassy a lot and got whipped in the right spot
His **** would actually turn blue
An on going force that would often pursue
Little boy blue wouldn’t be able to sit for days
But it was his attitude because he had to change his ways
Little boy blue’s face would also be sad because he would sometimes be mad
Then there were other times when he would be glad
It was the whippings he would get
Perhaps at times taking a bet
Little boy blue’s father had a very heavy hand
His father was the best Lumberjack known throughout the land
So little boy blue got the right name
It was his temperament being the blame.

rotting in the ground from head to toenails
sinking in the twisted earth to let
the flowers grow through concrete
cracks made from whippings and beating of the feet
that stand their man-made ground
whilst the critters and bugs
the rabbits and foxes
the deer and wolves
the prey against predators
Scramble in fear

For some it may seem rather brash,
To weave the tale of Edmond Thrashe,
Sans his whippings from the lash,
Or lacking proper pomp and dash

But knowing this,
It seems amiss,
To punish crimes,
With stale remiss,
Of facts all gleaned,
From prior bliss,
For timely fates,
Or demon's kiss

Whispering, they calmly nod,
But digits on the hand of God,
Clutching firmly,
Wield the ****,
Of bodies stacked,
And heaped with laud

Weave the strings,
From gilded threats,
Of unpaid dues,
Or ancient debts,
"Steal the night and place your bets,
On Thrashe's bloodied pirouettes,
Of shame!"

Stepping firmly from the plains,
He waltzes stiff as Old Lorraine,
In blackened boots with clamps which strain,
His sickly, dirt-encrusted frame

Bouts of anger curse his throat,
While he staggers towards the boat,
With withered boards, and broken oars,
"****** by visions",
They all wrote

Unfurl the sails,
And set for Wales,
'Tis there he'll "thrash" among the gales!
Of tacit seas,
And growing dread,
While wishing bullets,
To his head,
Which never'll rear,
Their crooked lead,
'Round here...

Jesus brought himself to the cross, gasping
It had to be this way
This way, the only way
Because Jesus is the Way.
All that was essential in Jesus had to die
So that in death all that is important to God may live.
Everything that mattered to God
Had to go through the cycle of death
For life to be restored.
They put the crown of thorns on him.
Some crown if it was all thorns.
The jewels were pointy.
Not pointing toward God.
But pointing in God.
Piercing him.
Releasing the blood that was ignoring by the whippings.
And the beatings by man’s hands.
These rough men called on the sharpness of a tree.
The Word says he was pierced for us
But why God does it have to be so much?

Then he had to shoulder the cross
Up to where he would die.
Like a soldier carries a gun.
Only this weapon would **** the God of War.
Pierced by men who simply do battle.
God was stabbed by nails, thorns, and spears
To win the only conflict that matters.
He arrived and they put him on the cross
With nails
Or more accurately, spikes
The little nails used for housework would not do.
When God was the one about to clean house.
They were spikes that went into his arms.
And in his legs.
No part of his body was left unpierced.
The Word says he was wounded for us
But his body was now all gaping wound.
Why God did it have to be so?

Then the Roman soldier passed by.
The one to make sure the Christ was dead.
He put his spear into his side.
Other stories told of how gods were inflicted pain.
This soldier actually did it
By God’s consent
With God’s approval
Because God wanted mankind to be free.
It was better for Christ to be pierced and wounded
Than for mankind to be enslaved and tormented.
So when Christ told Thomas to touch his side
And feel the nails in his hands
The Son of Man who was all wound
And the eternal sacrifice
Became my healing salvation
Christ conquered the affliction
That stood in the way between me and my Father.
So as Christ’s side was torn
The veil was torn as well
And I am free.

a web without the print of a creator but instead diagrammatic self evident unfurling stretches in omnidirectional transcendent space crosshatching perpetual fall buoyed by synthetic leaves which provide penultimate impact fluxes to the brain surplusing centripetal stirring while acidic gut indicates the mind has been hijacked by racing network graphics smuggling a chromatic spectrum of strict empiricism that manifests hieroglyphs with junk dna and superfluous deep web code revealing repetition indistinguishable from the loaded traces phase injected to give an illusion of random chance luring emaciated counter adepts to insert all ten fingers in this muck and gaze in its vacant form with eyes now containing double lizard lid seamlessly surgically added while anesthetized in computer god robot operating cabinet hidden behind the gut film of all womb corrals by overlords crowding the sky with shadow mask while will beaming psywaves and psyops to the planet held frozen asserting infinity a zero sum game or infinity a desire sink atomizing discipline to dust blown till even dispersal that settles as the desert of us where ancient cathedral rubble can be picked up without knowing though covering it is graffiti in slang that too is long outdated yet untouched immaculate stands the pyramid where atop the eye burns as infernal chaser back of darkness our primordial creeping from we forget due to whippings under omnipresent dominion as our birth origin and impious realm of ambiguous nondual reciprocity which angered the envious great liar who then swindled the good will of man for instantiation of a fake godhead as virus from infinite space beyond the punched out skyshell by saying “this is everything” signaling intuitors who lack the bandwidth necessary for computing a safe closed circuit to boot load non sequiturs corrupting their internal hall of mirrors by neutralizing all quotients with zero triggering an attempt to apotheose by the lobotomy spike wielding free radical poised to strike once the asymptotically approaching monad of dark energy has arrived and the mantra of hologram reality is hammered into zygote protoconsciousness through fritolay derived nutrients with de as prefix marking eschaton having cropped up like small flames across the plain of man reducing form to powdered grey concentrated potential.

Orbited amongst supraorbited. Predetermined variance is your’s for refusal. Expression is accessible beyond the sense approved surface. Inevitable as it may seem. Vested physicality is greater. Remember the joy of your body, and smirk in the light.

Wise adults know the value
Of leaving foolish thoughts unexpressed.
Somehow that message has been lost
On rap singer Kanye West.

When mentioning the many years
Of suffering when the enslaved had to toil
And live in fear of whippings and lynchings
And **** here on American soil,

West has now made slavery
A topic to which he's given voice:
That it lasted for so many years
Means that it must have been a choice!

West claims that he's a freethinker.
Critics, of course, will disagree.
Anyone who knows the past
Would substitute "non" for "free."

If that's his desire for recognition,
He's found an odd way to gratify it.
What a way to promote an album!
Who the hell would want to buy it?

The singer, desperate for attention,
Is just like somebody else we know.
Money, fame, and power can turn you
Into a real so-and-so.

-by Bob B (5-7-18)

Dust and Tattoos

I.
I thought I’d carry myself whole,
from Budapest’s bright embrace
to the dusty arms of home—
lessons etched as tattoos,
whippings turned wisdom,
the shine of surrender
making me anew.

But dusty roads have a way
of stealing your breath,
of burying who you were becoming.
Smoky windows blur the light inside,
and the life I learned to live
is suffocated beneath the weight.
Dust settles in my lungs,
on my skin,
and I am buried within myself.

II.
Oh sweet home, oh sorrowful walls,
your cracks hold my history,
your air is thick with stone-throwers.
A mother who never looks my way,
a sister carved from favoritism’s stone,
a brother who screams his poison,
a family that taught me how to ache.
No corner safe. No love unbarbed.
Each breath is a wound
and every wound is a lesson in survival.

I survive.
Not live.
Survive.

III.
Then, there is Kay.
Kay, with his better house in town,
Kay, with his borrowed peace.
Five years marked in love and betrayal,
a love that wears masks,
a peace that feels fragile,
a solace that cracks
when I’m not near his arms.

I detach to protect myself.
Switch my soul off.
Learn to find my peace in distance.
Even with him, I know:
the dusty town still calls me back,
its fingers curling at my ankles.
The cycle repeats.

IV.
But this time, there is hope.
This time, I whisper to myself:
maybe one day, the cycle will break.
Maybe one day, I’ll stand in a house
where no one has thrown stones,
where the walls hold only my voice,
where survival isn’t the rhythm of my days.

One day,
I’ll rise brighter than before,
tattooed lessons shining on healed skin.
One day, I’ll step off these roads
and never look back.

V.
But for now,
the roads are dusty.
For now,
I go where the dust consumes.
For now,
I survive.

Country roads, you know what to do.
Lead me home—
but one day,
lead me away.

On the last flash of the world
I'll be standing by the grave
Thinking about how we sold
All the future days

How ****** capitalism
Ruined our lives and crushed the dreams
Whippings heard under the clouds
Forgotten names will give me creeps

I'll surrender to my fate
Too late for change then I would say
In the end of the Earth great
To other place we'll fly away