our private life as infants of slavery
Dear Reader,
There is a great deal of hardships happening in my mind
I cannot take more hardships at the moment...
so today I will only write a brief poem and will not talk a lot.
Please check yesterday's entry if you haven't read it...
its a good story...
bye for now...
pink book with white capital letters on the ridge matches well with a great ruby lipstick on a brunette dressed in jean dress slashed by green laser of penguin hiding behind the peaceful looking blue fascist car. your glasses invading our privacy, yet we focus on our private life as infants of slavery. mirages of loathing blank bank ranks obsessed with empty facades warriors of old times wear great bronze helmet and reborn as a blinding comet. flow glow dawn on childhoods unhealed pain, resurface from your grave take the stage in the dark valley of blinding trees lost in the hand sketches made from granite carvings of fool's in capes asking for immortality with feeble peasant poses, ignorant but full of arrogance. A production of massacre's justifications, transformation of mind's prison with extra secure information walls, judges and juries made a justice dressed in false notes of demise forbidden to be played by righteous sons and daughters born of light! darkness born from false hopes of bliss scams devours your money for death and doom. your concern is not my concern shout out a black jack of three shade of beet, a variety of masters under large dark halls of interventions a long forgotten philosophy which exchanged your divine sovereignty for an array of convenience!
King H. Ironson
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