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Thursday, July 12, 2012

112: The Last Cipher ~ My Dear Black Widows ~ Watch the Thorn Vs. Watch the Throne: The Mitishamba Series.

No words are enough to cater to your pain just as no words are there that can create enough pain. The memory of your deeds on earth just brings enough rain as tears that embody what foolish men do with your children just for some gain. Since the West’s system that’s entirely man-made is created intentionally to put your children inside cages like you deserve no sayings, I’m dedicating all my love to you because I know no one deserves to be subjected to blind rage. A woman in a glass house with a sad stage has her men throwing artificial rocks from walls to paled statues everywhere since their curse is forgetting where they housed their weak sage. All my love for you fits a single page so just let them continue to deceive even the young with their fairy tales. Allow me to reintroduce myself, my name is I, S.H, to the MA.EL, the snow flakes have been moved by the O.Z., so I want you to let them enjoy what they retailed. Never heard of human re.sale so traffic these words through their snouts using baked with soda white lines since they refuse to accept basic natural facts about who’s the real thing and whose smile’s comes lined in real fake. Abuse?! No worries, that’s why I’m hear to listen to anything that wants she.males, since even in their prayers, they pray for your man’s might to be weakened. Elongated jaws they suck your man raw and build all manners of defense against anything that looks different so who’s to say the rainbow isn’t what you collect for what they now would want to call a freed man. Since evidently to them freedom can be bought and sold, then so too are your Libra scales so please allow me to use Leo, my Lion which the Swahili labored to make it simply mean your word’s today, so to anything that’s still, they’re just maids. Helpers, traversing homesteads, learning nothing other than, ‘how can I save, these look homely’ but spending their days in the dark mentally judging using only their skin’s shade. Like Lucky said from Summer's gates, “we got to come, together as one” but dividing is ruling so I think uniting citizens is their final straw’s break. Twelve ciphers I’ve written with the intention to unveil their coded schemes that use synthetic green to mask their love for power in order to forget what it means to just say. You told mountains they showed you valleys so you gave them your back which they instead also turned into a superficial and now monetary ice, aged. The reflections of my mirrors show you as the one they run after that’s why your words now come sounding a schools’ whale. No use swimming with piranhas look at me and see that your air still stays entirely where their polluted air meets your completely minced maze. You can walk around and get around without their squeezed gaze. Hatred, for your love that you unload and eternally leave for anyone that shows a heart in the open, that’s why they hide and use force to spread their days. Wolves in sheep walking and talking with written and cover read book words in muted tones about who’s paying. Since all they buy are dreams, please forgive me for this turn and for reading their front Paige. Because I know the letters of my words carry enough weight to crush any artificial rock thrown in any direction in this final day, I pray you use what you gave me, identity’s name in every one of its seven letters for my Rasta brother’s clean sleigh. May you June, tune, and prune anything that cries fowl as every bird’s warnings always come with earth’s warming so as I bow to your thirteenth arrow that belongs to your last word to a woman that can be satisfied as Swahili say its Shiba, take these weak one’s veils and clean your man to the top just as you promised, Amentop.”  


Mitishamba
“The Green Sleigh” 

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