I’m not a big fan of jazz music. i am not a big fan of death metal. You will never see my revolution at the “blue note”. I can’t stand that bougie ass coke smokin, heroin shootin, insanity.

If you cannot sample that into a hip hop beat? You gotta miss me. And, I’m not even sorry. I’m happy! I don’t give a flying fuck about your hoe moment “tours” in some swanky club. White, Black. Makes no bit of yoni hoe moment difference. Period. (I don’t need no yoni balls. My pussy is right and tight as a rock. Cuz I don’t have an excellent emperor in my life? To even have sex with! I am totally? Celibate! I’ll let you know when my husband rocks it. And I need help. Currently? I don’t. 😒 lol! )

(And I have never modeled for playboy. Hugh hoe moment Heffner? Nah — dog!!Not my revolution. But, keep your dick in your pants!! All kinds of hip hop hoe moment disasters out here!!)

Yes. Again. I can rap every lyric. *shrug* I love it.(I’ve done nothing devious. I’m no hip hop hoe.)

And never, not once, have I ever been scared of, threatened by, or harassed by a black man in my hood. I have never been disrespected, that is the truth. No man talkin bout “bitch, I ain’t fuckin with you!!” More like “what’s good elove! Comin through!”

I’m a lady. And they all know, and respect it. 😌

(While mamas were at work? Guess who was on the block? I’ve known these heads? Since they were — kids. Please. This is my life. Not your hoe moment just moved back to town, pregnant and desperate to my white mama — and found the best white neighborhood in the hood. This is all crack house. Gunshots. Arrests. And Black Death. And let me school all these little niggaz about how we rollin. Period.)

For my white housemate. A little too “loud” for me? Like, call the police! Lmao! But, I like diversity. So patience and toleration. Lmmfao!

This is my rational. Calm cool and collected, speed. Slow and steady. With a discernible — beat. Lol!

It has been such a struggle. To wear jeans, and timbs. In my profession. Not on Fridays, all week long.

Thank goodness for administrators who don’t judge me — on dresses. and skirts. Trash!!

My locks? We’re not a

Fashion statement.

I just like dope jeans. High quality. Cuz it’s hard to find a pair that fit. My slender body. I’m sure you thick chics? Can relate. To the struggle. Lmmfao! (I know. Slightly different. “How the fuck am I supposed to have an ass in this trash!!” You? “Girl please. Get rid of this trash!! It don’t even fit my calves!!”)

I dig? Diversity.

I’m a visionary. It’s a bipolar thing. We have, excellent third eye vision. Don’t use and abuse us. And do not sleep on us. You will catch wreck.

You see, I’m really a teacher. I teach. I didn’t fuck no hoe moment old ass married man, who helped me write poems to market any “success”. I wouldn’t? Even shake his hand. He was never “my friend”.

I went to college: then grad school, with a concentration in public urban education, then did more courses to keep up with my practice, a shitload of professional development. And it ain’t, never ended.

The afterchool program? It’s in the trenches. day in day out. I do that as well. Unpaid. I have no child to abandon while I am “everywhere”, fuckin. And any child I have? Will certainly, have a dad. Or I will abort. For a hoe moment man, who got me twisted, him into thinking? That I would be his slave labor whore. With zero — support.

Cuz i’m not a hoe. who uses and abuses men.

And I demand the same treatment — as a woman.

that’s my hetero preference. And if you fucked him? And didn’t go to a spermicide bank? It should be yours as well. Righteous lifestyle.

I shop no stolen ideas off a brown woman trying to find herself — at Spelman.

I know who I am. Mixed.

So that my kids, create their own shit. My name? Is of no importance, when it comes to their efforts. Remember that.

I care not. About a black history hoe moment museum. Headed by a mixed chic. For performances. With her name. Headlining. For a couple hundred students who don’t know what she’s witnessed, and profited — off of. And I don’t give a fuck about you either. If you create words for profit. Over death and destruction. Or, if you support that shit with you money instead of saying:

“Bitch get a job! From me you won’t rob!” — brand nubian.

Black and brown death. 😡 giving nothing back but some hoe moment pussy — and poems, and soneone else’s stolen film. Off her heart! No money involved.

While people are


I care about a diversity of humans. And my foundation? Super strong black and white WOMEN, who sell nobody’s words, without their consent. For hoe moment hip hop profit.

Those are my roots. My white mom driving black women without a ride. To meet. To create, the combahee river collective statement.

I just, grew — of their words. And decided? I am me. I will include everbody. And no black women who wrote the statement tried to stop me. From being, who I really am. Mixed chic. White mom. Black dad. That’s me. ☝🏾️.

Do you. ✌🏻️

I already know. You don’t have to reach out more than one time. For me? to — hear you. I don’t do the police or FBI. Lmmfao!

Good teachers.

Country music always sounds like Irish seisun music to me. *shrug*. But Irish seisun music is a little to, um, light, and dancy jiggin for me.

This is more my speed. Irish American?

(I promise. I do listen to all your undocumented immigrant family members talk shit about you. All the stories of famine and enslavement. All the “no Irish, no blacks, no dogs”. All the corned beef — is not irish!! The Irish ones. I just try to keep an open mind at my Irish pub. Where drunk white boys who harass black and brown chics in their own booth — writing — with a Black and Tan? I need 2 shots of bushmills for this shit! Lol!

Get thrown out! Physically — picked up by their hoe moment asses — and dumped!! Like trash!! In the street!!

It’s very, um, “violent”.

It’s not just a black thing. It’s all women being harassed. Who ain’t hoes!!)

Welcome, to the IRA, in America. 😊


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