Crack-man


In the middle of reality, in-between the smile and the cry in the sky - I take you higher to the sky make you wish and hope for that other sky- and just then I drop you to that new low that tears and cry’s don’t get sympathy or empathy.
Can you guess my name?
C is for the currency it takes to poses me, R is for the rape of ones humanity, A is for the ass that you become and K is for the government sponsored KKK the foundation that brought you hang-man, Niger-Night-Stick and welfare. So pleas beware of me and know my name for I am as white as the sheet some men put over there face to hid there true Clark Kent, for I am CRACK- MAN! Abel to destroy you with a single hit. CRACK- MAN! Making addicts wherever he goes,
CRACK-MAN who disguised
a small white rock fights for
Dishonesty, unjust us and the
grate White way.

Its my night to live
its my night to shine
its my life and my pipe,
so give me that bick trick
as I do this trip in my 20,
as so to put my 20, my pipe,
my so-called night ahead of my love (my wife) and my seeds (my kids). hell bound no glory no love, flip it reverse it burn it and push it, once theirs no more push my tears flow for my god my god why has thou forsaken me.

Feed her my love a bag at a time- sacrifice another’s life for her woman so wet and wild-so N R responsive as she pumps up the vain for that pain covered in pleasure.

Like a chocolate covered nut all over her face- you see what you want to see- no flip that- what she wants you to see- that me invented by her
Invented by pain and loved by death.

She’s doing it in my ear drum


She’s doing it in my ear drum-
In and out with that smooth long lie of it will be different this time- it will be love this time -this time I will let you ride my chocolate Love train - that passion fruit of dark and lovely without that insecurity or insanity. She’s doing it in my ear drum and I love it.

In case you do not know: To be black is to touch the face of God, To be black is to experience reality in its most rarest form, To be black is to endure the fiction of envy delivered by the blow of hate and malice, it’s the if I cant be, you won’t be syndrome. To be black is to rise like the sun from under the rain of hate, to be black is to be love.
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To be or not to be that is the question? that only applies to the white man.
now you know The rest of the story.

Hang him! hang him high! we shall hang him his dreams, his desires and his man. watch him dance on that rope As we gloat, watch him chook on our hatred of his man 8� 10� 12� cut it off !cut it off ! cant stand his man or need I say his manhood need not meet my white meat, so tinder and sweat so frail and pail.

the white mans reward is glazed with the finest fires of hell, decked with torment and adorned with pain.
A silver spoon, a country divided, a people destroyed. much to answer for much to be ashamed of , slow is his pain but sweet is the Justus.

savvy