Slowly across the desert sand
Trekked a lonely caravan
Men on camels, two by two
Destination-TIMBUKTU
The crowd went crazy! No way could the black top that, they thought. The black guy calmly made his way through the table where the others sitting and recited:
I and Tim hunting went
Met three whores in a pop up tent
They was three, and we was two
So I bucked one, and TIMBUKTU.
The black guy won, and crowd hand down. He took the money and walked through the door, highly with a face full of hate. What do a person’s image attributes have to do with their worth as a human being? Of reaching his full potential as a person, because he (the redneck), and his kinds continue to perpetuate discrimination against not only black but races at large, all in name of humor, and we as womankind, they run by puritans and the majority of woman barren. Under this our generation seems like, we women are handmaids and are placed among important species, creatures to get pregnant and whatsoever! The bartender should close the bar and everybody might leave the bar immediately. The men at the bar declare, keeping their hoods law about their faces and left one by one. When I was young, at least I would say, we lived the high life, to see the billion stars like candles burning and what became of it, all went up in smoke, all a bit odd. I wish I won’t ever see another great political leader just like my father whom became his glorifying to darkness and depressor which I call it; all cutting edge processing. A process for electing them (Political leaders), is so noxious. The pursuit of power for the sake of powers so prevalent our standards so low.
Drink wine, smoke joint
Do not bother people
Get drunk and get stoned
Try not even, to kill a beetle
I can remember the first time
As I smoked a joint
I was running crazy
Hustled a bunch of cripple
But I know it frees my spirit
And I know it opens my mind
It leaves my worries, depression,
And problems behind
Sometimes feeling like this
Hypnotizing my body
And give the pleasure
To my mind
And I didn’t get drunk
As I took a bottle of wine
The only thing I remember
I was martyr, slaves of time
I was pinned by the sun
And tangled in the night
I drifted for hours and woke
With the bitter test of wine
As I said, I am still desperate for sex the craving was beginning to get unbearable. Then I had managed a few one night stands and that was just been a quick fix to realize how hard was behind all of his facts. I believe I should have been intrigued by the emotion surrounding his desire. It’s difficult to make a single, definitive description of the people’s attitude. Though there are several elements common to many of those people’s legends. Thinking as they would be just like vampires. They are usually reported as bloated in appearance, and ruddy, purplish or dark in color. These characteristics are often attributed to the recent drinking of blood. Was often seen seeping from the mouth and nose when one was seen in its shroud or coffin and its left eye was often open. It would be clad in the linen shroud it was buried in, and its teeth, hair, and nails many have grown somewhat, though in general fangs are not a feature. So, in the human’s nature, what had become of it! Some damn fool invented the wheel and how so, the other, bombs, guns, chemical atomics! I believe, there is a hack of a lot hidden between these people who trying to spell names wrong and won’t scroll up the page, leads into the plot and throws twists and then lets you sail forward, like a rollercoaster ride with no turns, just a loop leading back to the beginning. And you get in and you ride this loop and you’ve started the plot of the second page, and again and again for the next page.
What is this grisly game of blood and death, which shatters family life, which
Takes one-half, and leaves with choking breath?
No mother for the child, for man, no wife?
And children, who so keen to show their strength and independent restraint now
Lost and helpless by their grief bereft!
Where have you gone, who turned a ready smile at some old joke, oft heard?
Whose look spelt comfort for a mind part-worn, Stung by the barbs of frenetic
Age! Their eyes illumined it by a secret smile awakened by some Shaft of wit,
At times with a reproachful glance!
When prejudice was at the heart of it, he one to whom a tenderness, a
Caring Sign, could bring that touch of care-of need to share a joy or woe, to
Bare ones spirit a follow soul?
Who knew without the arrogance of liberated womankind, that man?
No matter how his strength might grow,
Is a poor creature-in-complete ALONE!
Only you who still persist in cruel strife, what will you build a new.
On rotten base of wasted human life,
Is but for crippled children.
Sometimes I feel I don’t belong anywhere, exactly feeling myself strange in the eyes. I whole heartedly agree people are entitled to their own opinions. By the time, I was only 13, I had already got tangled up in a world of crimes and crap and even child molested by my own father. My life started to turn upside-down when my mother died. As for life at home, there was a twist with my step-mom. Well, what can I say! She was vicious, wild woman who didn’t want me in the beginning. The thing that just blew me away was how she bashed and was so terrible upon my head. Sometimes, I’ve been intrigued by the storm of reaction to her angriest face. The mystery unspools at a decent pace; there was enough action to keep the plot moving away from my mind to her unpleasant treatment. Found myself kind of after a bizarre cliff side accident and hanging perilously from a rope over the edge of the cliff. Dangling for long my life, obvious the rope wouldn’t hold all my collective weight. So, I decided to prevent those entire frightened situation like that rope snapping and not to be killed by plucking up a little courage and hold myself on the roll back again. My step-mother’s prettiness had some splendid function, but what seemed most amazing about her that made me wondered how she was becoming agitated and worried about my father’s blinking at me. Though, for all her fear, she felt herself getting more suspicious and her head was swimming with so many paranoid thoughts to my father indeed.
Anyway, today I decided to find out what is behind secrets of that unexplained picture. The light from the streets lamp outside probed its way through the small gap in the curtains of my window, casting shadows across my body. I stumbled out of the door and tripped on the curb. The intense feelings I was having now were so excitement under any circumstances. In the first place, I knew this thought of investigating drew me crazy a little, but I had to do that howsoever.
After being turned down, today I strike a detective management to frame it on his secrets. I had terrible fears and horrors. I believe memory is a stranger and history is for fools. So, what about horror? So, in define to this, I believe also, a supernatural horror is uncomfortably bulky, formidably complex and irresistibly compelling. Anyways, I passed in the shelter of darkness and foggy weather through the pavements with plenty of trees and quickly reached the porch while all the lights were off. I checked the both of sides of street very carefully. I had to be sure there was nobody in sight, and then climbed up the tree and like a nimble cat jumped to the balcony, by seeing the dog barking in the backyard I should remained move less for a second on my place. The window on the balcony, I opened it very carefully and stepped inn in the toes. There was a house alarm on the wall, but fortunately it wasn’t on. I started to check the house from upstairs. As I got to the stairs, I heard some voices comi
ng from the living-room. But how bravely, I tried to get closer to the voices. Damn, there were my step-mom Sandra and that woman in the grave-yard. I got shocked and almost resigned my breath. Very smooth but quickly, I got my way back to the window. I jumped down off of the tree. I thought I was lucky the dog didn’t see me. But soon, I put my feet on the pavement the dog suddenly, started to bark. On the other side of street, into the darkness, I stopped and almost got of the breath. The porch’s light switched on and then I saw them standing there suspicious looking skeptical around. By the time I got home, took a shower fast and trying to ignore to everything that I saw. I just sat on the couch and turn the TV on. That was amazing Sandra and that woman! My mind was occupied by thinking to what I saw that suddenly, I heard the key into the keyhole turning and then I saw Sandra snitch in kind of the thieves, and then ran towards the stairs to her bedroom. I believe, she didn’t notice that I was home. After some minutes, I heard she was yelling and talk loud with her. I went upstairs, and pasted my ears to the door. Yap, she was talking to her cellular phone. I was wondering what might be happened to her that she was talking so loud! But suddenly, I sneezed and she stopped to talk. I should now run downstairs. By the time I reached the stairs, she opened the door and called my name: “Jennifer. You were home?” There was no question as to why I shoud run from her in the first place. Then I turned my face toward her. I dropped my head in complete disbelief, realizing she was dressed in black underwear. That left her bust exposed, a black sea-through thong and tight-high stocking. Suddenly, without any reason why, she picked up her left breast and bring it to her mouth and flick her tongue out licking the hardening bud of the nipple. Desire consumed her as she drew it into her mouth sucking at it. She looked at my reflection and smiled. Then she tasted herself for a moment, squeezing her nipples until she couldn’t take much more. I ran to her, grabbed her from on the shoulders and with my both hands shocked her: “What the hell you’re doing? What made you to do such these nasty, freaky moves?” I said. There, she in a sudden, quickly threw her hands over her body trying to cover herself, without a clue as to why and how she had to do such that nutty things. She pulled her shoulders off of my hands and walked towards the door, looked embarrassing with a disturb look into my face, and then slammed the door hardly. I could clearly hear how she was crying in a smacking sound and struggling, kicking with her foot into the wall. I was standing by the door, flabbergasted with a puzzled look.
She was crying just like a bumpy train’s horn. What made her to do that? Perhaps that woman gnawed her with something, narcotic or some chemicals stuff like (crystal methamphetamine), which is strong stimulant. They speed up the body. These chemicals relate to mood, sexual function and body movement. Sandra as I know, she was never interested in drug, but, how in the heavens earth, she became like that?
My father used to say: convention, attempting to quote and facts are stubborn and stupid things. There is absolutely no circumstance whatever. Under which I would accept this madness of what she’s done inappropriate way so, however she tied and gagged me to find a way to signal by wiggling my eyes. Never sleep with anyone crazier than you; said Sandra who always gave me the warning about everything and everybody. Can you believe it! That was too hard for me. Taking image of Sandra with those movements! I slammed the door, stormed up my steps, threw my shoes into the closet, and jumped into my bed and then I screeched. It’s all exploded and happened all of sudden. Such a tricky situation! There is no time to whine and mope about. Sobbing, crying, grieves don’t loose up my problems. I have to clot these little ingrates into shape myself. Just move and knuckle down to work. I have to find out what is really going on? I breathed a sigh of relief. At least, for now my head was swimming with so many thoughts. Would he (Ray), drugged her as to get so rusted? Would he take all of her valuables? I had far too many unanswered questions. He (Ray) was who I could get so suspicious to. Why? I don’t know. That’s why I’m afraid of him. Fear mixed with a strange arousal welled up inside me as I saw her (Sandra) in that form. After an hour, I went to her bedroom to check up on her everything is ok. I believe either she should be spell-bounded by an invisible force or perhaps, she (The woman in the grave-yard), gave her some drug to stimulate her hormones? I had been feeling the urge to do something wild, kind of I was beginning to feel that my head was so beating just like the sledge drops on the steel, and something too big for my body. There I thought soon enough my skin would starts stretching and ripping. Sandra was sleeping on her back and soon she heard my steps into the bedroom, turned around her face to me. There was silence for a moment, and then she jumped out of the bed and soon enough covered her breast with a feeling of scum. Each of us is stuck being who we are. Sometimes we fight to change ourselves, but ultimately this has little effect. We can change what we do, but we cannot change who we are. The moaning and panting coming from her was almost too much to bear. Realizing to the fact, she should understand how she was as dumb as a stump. It wouldn’t be possible to determine whose eyes opened widest. I would not need to forgive her, because of her nature, unable to entertain blame or guilt, was unencumbered by the need to forgive. The qualities that most attract a woman to a man are usually the same ones she can’t stand years later. Sandra raised her cheek and very gently started to talk: “Listen I need a shower badly. I hope you’ll be here by the time I’ll be back. I need to talk to you”. The problem with all of these is that none of these victims have the self-esteem and strength to remove them from the person completely, either as punishment or permanently. This naturally serves two purposes without an emotional support; an affair quickly takes on a desperation aspect that will likely cause it to collapse. Also, the person is taught that they cannot enjoy the full support of more than one person without hurting someone else. I myself am very wicked. My father conceived me in sin, so I am wicked. When I did something silly my father used to call me a spoiled little dumb, so, he was the reason to make me spoiled. Why I should look into strangers’ eyes and feeling I’m looking into the mirror, and then feel my eyes expressing hell, wicked and spoiled and sick! Sometimes I feel I am infecting my environments and creeping under skin, infiltration, domination and alienation from inside!
I am feeling a chain reaction, devouring my mind, while I am analyzing losing my sense! What is this that grows inside me, devouring my sanity? I need antidote, the infection is gone irate. Getting devoured from inside is not to be my fate. I know I have to renounce the devil and his wicked ways, but how can I do it if I’m born to wickedness? But that happened to me to become wicked and spoiled after all nutsy things my father done to me. I started to set in order her bed, took off the sheets and put the clothes in her closet. I was standing by the window that she tagged on my shoulder. I jumped of fear. She took my hand and pulled me to the living room, exactly like the children. Sandra: “My parents divorced when I was eleven. Up until then, my life was pretty decent. We lived in a big house and had a lot of money. After the divorce, my mother moved out to another place. When I was 25 years old, I got a job as the secretary at your father’s office. He never talked about his personal life to me. One night he got me here in this house and we had sex. By that time we got married. I was on the top of the world. Your father saved my father’s ass to a long-time prison. Well, he (my father), was a thug and mafia boss for a big organization. I saw always how he thrusts the waded up money into his killers’ hands. (She reached out her hand to grab the cigarette, offered me one and lighted it on), and continued; I was a lucky woman and your father treated me as a queen as well. That woman at the grave-yard, you remember, don’t you? (I just shook my head up and down), her name is Amy. She is one of your father’s divorced women. She came over one day and told me she was pregnant. I couldn’t believe it. She said, she promised Robert (Your father) that she was on pills and that shouldn’t happen to carry any kid. As months went on, she was having such a hard time, probably economy problems. But as a matter fact, she was on the drug and that’s why I could imagin
e why your father should divorce her. But I should believe it wasn’t just because she was on the drug; there was an untold secret too! I was having trouble and excuses to spend the money for her drug. She kept always calling at all times of the day on my cellular phone and leaving massages. (On this time I yawned and my jaw kind of popped, then I closed my mouth real fast and it made an awful painful crack. She stopped for a moment, and then she gave me another cigarette. She could see how I was tired but anyways, I became more curious and interested to listen more carefully.
So, I just moved my body on the couch and then she light up my cigarette and continued); Well, Amy said; that’s started out when she was in the womb and her mom was using drug and it got into her system and fucked her up mental and physical. I didn’t know that, what she said was true or just an excuse! She always was stressed and aware that her life wasn’t as bad as other lives and certainly so many more people have it worse than they believe. Such nonsense! When you are on the drug, believe or not you are dead, you are so fucked, and your life will become miserable. Prolonged exposure to drugs alters the brain in ways that result in powerful cravings and a compulsion to use. These brain changes make it extremely difficult to quit by sheer force of will. You know Jennifer, some people are able to use recreational or prescription drugs without ever experiencing negative consequences or addiction, but concerns to Amy, she uses drugs to calm her when she feels anxious or stressed, energize her by the time she feels depressed or makes her more confident in social situations if she feels normally shy. I would wishing a way, upon being knocked down twice in swift succession, the latter apparently gave her a hope of escape to get a normal life.
It takes courage and strength to face up to addiction. There is hope-no matter how bad the addiction and no matter how powerless you feel. There is bound to be some bumps in the road”. I was rather confused and with a humming a tune asked her: “My father knew about you were connecting to and fro with her? I mean, let it not remain unsaid that, you’ve already said, you helped her with money to buy her drug”! This time suddenly, she with a frown shouted in an angry terror, but controllable voice and pleasant in tune said: “I should do that. She was going to kill your father if I wouldn’t help her. Who could understand the madness that drove a man, a vicious drug-dealer to kill the feelings and natural tendency of life to a womankind? Sometimes, she came to me with wounded body and bloody face. She said, he (Your father), punched her, kicked her in the chest and her thigh. Something incredible when she said; he bound her sometimes with her hands behind her back with heavy metal handcuffs. And when she complained please not to put them on too tight, he just kicking her legs, stomach and in the head. She never thought it would turn out that way. Many times, when I saw her, she was crying in that way, my heart could shatter in half. She said also, she was the one who irritated him to be having that way. Your father nevertheless the weak flicker of his philosophical. In another word, your father ultimately falls in that he believed the woman refers to as (Boring in bed), and woman should behave just like her porn star counterparts. A woman enjoys nothing more than lounging around spread eagle in her high-heel thigh-high latex boots, pouring a gallon of milk over her breasts, and then shaving her pubic hair into the shape of a corn chip. She would furiously masturbate with an item of fresh produce, pour a can of clam chowder on her face and call it a night. Intrinsically recognizing this is a life”. Generally if it’s gotten to the level of a fight in a family relation, I believe any relation We’re going to be in, and every one we’re ever been through, is going to come with ups and down. These downs are mostly highlighted by those fights that last for days try the patience and the energy of one or both parties. I am a firm believer that anyone who says they never fight is in a hugely dysfunctional relationship, (Is one where two people make an emotional ”contract” and agree to meet each other’s needs in what end up being self-destructive ways), but that doesn’t mean constant fighting is normal either. When it comes to my father, I am quite sure that he was resentful, and he was in a dysfunctional relationship. Being resentful means he was doing things on a daily basis that he didn’t want to do. So, that made him very angry. Anger is very unattractive and is really sadness flipped upside down. Sandra saying that, Amy uses drug to calm her when she feels anxious or stress energizes her by the time she feels depressed and makes her more confident in social situations if she feels normally shy. Well, I say, that’s all bullshit. All heroin addicts feel a sense of relief when they shoot up. It is a feeling similar to taking the lid off the pressure cooker follow by numbness, only to begin again. It relieves the pressure for the moment but the feeling is short-live. It is like thinking they are moving forward when they really have one foot tied to the ground. They are moving all right, but in a circle-going nowhere.
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