Friday, August 22, 2008

Dinner Tables

Booty sweat is neither polite nor proper to say over dinner tables, but she was never taught that. She spreads her booty cheeks so all men can seek her, they fill her in with their random meat and that was the peak of her past time and my caution rhymes don’t seem to reach her. I can’t be there for her; I can’t shield her from intruders because she does not mind them invading her. Her 3rd eye has been blinded by brothel bullies being born from bastard children, cradled in modern bath houses, becoming Brutus with grins of outsized crescent moons and, all the while my star shines on stages , bouncing to beats that her mental capacity is powerless to understand but her body responds well to. The blood in her streams have dance to these tantric rhythms long before she was taken from her tribesmen , long before she was bribed into thinking that strip clubs, slick DUBS and slobbing slick dicks for profit was the standard for her celestial being. See she didn’t know that we only have one truth that holds proof of the future of our seeds, which now proceeds to bleed that our existence is only present in shadows of what we were designed to be, we have never been fed food for thought now we are starving. Seeking for nourishment from path that Satan designed , I am trying to seal this gate close but you only want hell to wash over you and I don’t know how to stop you, my sister I don’t know how to save you, don’t know how to pull you from the streets that pled for your life force daily. Maybe I didn’t try hard enough or maybe you were not listening when I told you to get up. Don’t turn your back from me because while these predators are looking at you to feed their animal need they are looking at me. Waiting for me to spread my limbs and settle for the trend of being comfortable in this den of sin and I am waiting for the beat to drop off daily, but you keep shaking, and the shay butter that you have tried to cover your scars with is not working, and Baby girl the positive images that you seek is no longer free, even for a peak , we have shattered your self esteem and you are in need of cosmic MD’s to connected your constellation ties that have been cut off from our heaven and to heal the wounds that these concrete elements have been used to erode your first-class name. Being judged by second level brains, giving you the third degree in rivers too deep for us to cross, but this inner war was her relaxation, Our minds are transfixed on her blameless sand scripts, and she didn’t mind that their eyes are fixed on she, but their eyes are fixed on me, their eyes are fixed on we and our winds and waves will never match them, with The forecaster predictions of the beast arrival has been compromised , she says that there will be isolated showers on our icy exterior , which will leave our interior hollow, we are now afraid to face our new reality, so we have chosen to call this our safe space, but baby girl this space was not your to take over , this was not your time to look over, and the sweat that you have produced has left landmarks in the sands of our minds, with your finger tips, still lingering on our pulsing lines and I can’t save you but I wish that I could, and I can’t be you but I would take your place if I could, and all I can do is wait for you to see what’s proper at dinner tables and for you to learn that you don’t have to sit there if you want not to.

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