Black Male Male Black Young. Laventille Lives Lessened

tears stream and i feel the pull and hurt in my chest.

from the time i saw his pic last night i saw a good one...one trying. one wtih plenty innocence still and respect for his mother... look at the uniform: proper proper. a house gallery full of plants...that is old woman thing. old school thing...he was not a cog raising himself

but i cry this morning unexpectedly..first i am so good at effortless mental gymnastics that is just the brain roaming for me but i know that is what it is for people outside myself when I write such...but i started to wonder to wrap my brain about understanding this thing call murder and you can only understand at some depth with great distance to disincline yourself to everything you think you know. what is this taking of life that is not yours and you did not bring? then the tears started coming for the realization that we and i cant even save the good ones. what purpose do we have? what use are we?

my black black black boys. it pains my heart cause No Body covering them

then it makes me think to do some kind of ritual and ceremony to stop the destruction and i realize they are being sacrificed and taken, but by who for what i do not know but just like stoking fire, joking a horse, or rushing a pitbill has an effect...just like cutting down trees causes a stream of outflows, sure as rain, the cutting down of life, the shedding of blood has to have an effect, it has to have some effect on the land itself, in the cosmos. it is not without price, reaping and cost. though you and most may think black male, boy, young from laventille. and repeat ten times, have no value.
what if we shall all be made to pay for all the deeds wrong we sat about and allowed?

be ready for when your ticket gets called/ to make explanation for the lives you squandered and made irrelevant

  17yr old De-Neil Smith, Success Laventille. executed with a friend, from a taxi filled with school children returning home after a day of school. 3:15pm

Our Dereliction; Even The Beautiful Ones

"Smith was said to be an aspiring pilot who would attend and had been attending aviation classes every July-August vacation. "

you know to survive and fight this hundreds of years of criminalization and policies and theories for black males not to reach their potential war, i realize every survivor must be beyond human, yet, we are so terribly just that, and at the lower scale.

you can have no feelings and sentiments of "well they expect me to be criminal anyway, and I have nothing else, so I might as well be", or, :"they ignore and mistreat me in school so i might as well take that path" you have to be superhuman not to take the easy path laid before you. and we have no tools teaching us that path. do we even have people telling us that we are fighting a war. the more i write and muse about it i see all the ways in which we sabotage ourselves. that traditional mindset of sending your children to their and your enemies' schools is the first thing.

let me stop. I know i am on the outer realm here for this audience

peace

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know what is deep?

i am still waiting to have children.

I always knew or grew into wanting boy children, partly because of my journey in life and rivers crossed, partly because of dreams, Junia and Vincent...the babies came to me with names, and identity of who they were in past lives, in my past life and pod...and then as My consciousness grew. I know i am to have boy children. and back then I always told myself my purpose was to bring a new strain of black malehood to the planet. when i conferred and constructed that understanding it had nothing to do with surviving the onslaught and white supremacist war, it was solely to teach an enlightenment of how males turned into men ought to treat the planet, women, children, girls, ..now i see it is to be the enlightened beings for little boys.

It is so deep. seems to me if my life has taught me one lesson applicable across themes, spectrums, lives and arenas...it is the importance of yogis to use a word...experts in life, sages, guides, to teach us the tools and strategies for the realities of our lives and living...even i for all I was given i was not taught.

Taught how to get into business. how not to be oneminded, how to survive in a particular kind of world given me, and it takes so many different teachers...a mother to teach you about womanhood in a destruction of the feminine sacred, a father to teach you about conduct in a world of marauding males and men, a teacher to instruct on conserving family holdings. a father for my deceased brother to teach him how he would be fawned over and worshiped by ravenous white girls, but what would my father know of that to tell my brother? my father did not even tell my brother how to survive white supremacy...i often wondered if the doctor had not killed him at eighteen, what his life might have evolved to? would our upbringing keep him safe, his own privilege, driving up the turnpike at a mere eighteen from pennsylvania to ny in his own ride, his being in boarding school ? i wonder what I and we were saved from in his early taking. my parents needed teaching, how to manage two young upstarts that they created, to not frivol away their work in sales, how to deal with a son ailing in hospitals at the hands of white structures/ endless. who to teach my father to not be a cunt to run after indian pussy laid out to him by an eighteen year old clerk employed by his wife to work the shop.

we all die, suffer and do with tout, making life and passage harder, because we have not been taught, have no teachers, no saviors, no yogis, no instructors, no guides.