Through Red And Angry Eyes!

 

When I first started blogging,
I was gentle as a lamb.
But today, my rants and ravings
couldn’t compete in a poetry slam.

Oh I come out smoking hot,
full of rage and indignation
at a society of clueless cretins
who compound my own frustration.

When I said my pen was drained,
just a few short years ago,
I should have thrown in the towel,
but what kept me going was my ego.

I was such an attention seeker
who was so pleased with what I wrote,
I quite forgot to temper my anger
and on my own bile, I almost choke.

I’ve written many a poem
and what I once thought of as prose,
but now I foam at the mouth
and no poem, can I compose.

Through red and angry eyes,
I view the world with a vengeful gaze.
I no longer believe in humanity
or think there is hope for better days.

Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland
©2018 Shelby I. Courtland

I remember when I first started blogging, I was inspired and had not yet been tainted by all of the things that have now made me rage and lash out at the world. I am filled with such a white hot blazing anger that some times, I quite fear that I shall go mad. I used to pen poems about the homeless and oh how sincere I was. That is why I titled this blog, “Bringing Social Issues To The Forefront,” because I wanted to highlight the societal ills that affected so many people. I wanted to try and shed a spotlight on those who are forgotten, overlooked and ignored. I wanted to shed a light on human suffering, but by doing so, I suffered for it. Those of us who are truly caring, apparently, can only take but so much before it starts tearing away at our very soul. I am becoming something I once abhorred; a cold, callous, hateful and vengeful person who has lost her way.

I cannot find in me the poetry that once used to flow so freely from my mind to my fingers. And that is why I don’t post poems anymore. I just don’t have them in me; not the ones that I look back on and read and I can tell that I put deep feeling into them; they are me. What I write now is what I have turned into.

There have been so many people that I have fallen out with who I used to hold in high esteem, but because of what I allowed in, I’ve cussed people out, called them out and have hurt people and that was never who I was, but that is who I am now. We are letting the evil that is in the very air we breathe into our bodies and that evil is building in strength and we are hating each other because we have allowed others to feed us their hate, their callousness, their disregard for human life, their greed, their selfishness and their depravity and we have, some of us that is, swallowed it down and brought it back up. We are consumed with hatred for each other like I’ve never seen before and I am quite guilty of this. Most days I am livid from the time I wake up until the time I close my eyes in sleep and I carry this around with me every single day. I do not like what I have become and if I continue to feed the flames of hatefulness that has consumed so many, I can no longer take the high road. I must admit that I am just like them.

And lastly, I did not even heed the words of my own poem, “Yield Not To Temptation!”

I Am The Proud Recipient Of One Of The Grand Nidotopian Afro-Power Awards

awarded to me

 

And I did not have to answer a lot of useless questions in order to be awarded this. I was awarded this because of the hard work that I put into this blog and quite frankly, that in and of itself, should be enough if someone wants to give me an award. There should be no strings attached because when bloggers like myself, post their own content including poetry and essays, we have already done the hard part. To expect us to answer a lot of dumb questions and start what basically amounts to a chain letter is just beyond the end of enough and quite frankly, I breathed a sigh of relief when fellow bloggers stopped nominating me for awards that I had to ‘earn’ above and beyond what I was doing that got me nominated in the first place.

So, keep your awards that come with strings attached. I appreciate being recognized and rewarded on the strength of what I do on a daily basis. I have no time to answer useless questions and then make up others. My work is original and that right there should speak for how much time and effort is put into it.

Nidotopianwarrior, you are the exception and not the rule because you presented to me this award without any strings attached and I cannot thank you enough. Because you recognized all the effort that is put into what bloggers like me, do. You understand that it takes a lot to put together poetry and pictures to accompany it and in addition to that, write my own essays and do research on them before I publish them, as well. Not to mention, that other things are going on at the same time.

And so, I want to take this opportunity to laud you for recognizing everything that must be done before the final product is published and again, for awarding me this coveted prize. I will treasure it always and I shall continue to strive to outdo myself and to continue to produce work of value and excellence and live up to your faith in me as the “fierce, the fearless and kickass queen of afro-centricity!”

Again, I am most honored and humbled! Thank you! I accept! 

“…And Tomorrow, There’ll Be Another Murder….”

there will be another murder

I am so tired, I almost forget to breathe!
And when it is time to join the dead
will it be because we chose guns
over love instead?

When have you ever picked up a kiss
and killed someone with it?
Did it hurt them when you hugged them?
Or to you, am I just talking shit?

How many times have kind words
planted someone in the ground?
And can you remember the last time
you laughed? Can you remember the sound?

We live like strangers with heads bent low
over smartphones and IPods, just texting
and hashtagging and fussing and fighting!
It’s all just so depressing!

But we display our solidarity
with the murdered on Facebook.
But we don’t even know who our neighbor is.
How do they look?

Have you ever stopped and asked
if they needed something….ANYTHING?
Or do you just assume that they are just like you,
striking out at the people in the world with a scorpion’s sting?
Stuck in their own little world, incapable
of feeling, immune to the suffering and the pain
until the media alerts you to another death;
another life lost, just as these words are….in vain.

Now you can turn away, the cameras have stopped rolling.
The blood has been cleaned up, the crime tape, torn.
And tomorrow, there’ll be another murder;
another senseless waste of human life….to mourn.

Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland
©2016 Shelby I. Courtland

Get Up Girl And Live Life To Its Fullest!

private bathroom

Where is the adventuress that has always been me?
How can I get her back and when did she flee?

Who is this person who sits alone in the dark?
Why is she so angry and what lit the spark?

Has she let the horrors of this world get to her?
What does she have to fear from a racial slur?

Tell her you love her no matter what.
Make her understand, she’s got to go with her gut.

Don’t let her listen to the doubts in her mind.
Let her know that she’s got more heart than most of mankind.

Get up girl and live life to its fullest.
Pack a bag and become life’s tourist.

Journey far and never settle for less.
Don’t put up with people and don’t accept their mess.

You’re not stupid and you’re damn sure not brain dead.
So, go where you want to go and not where others have tread.

Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland
©2016 Shelby I. Courtland

I wrote this about me because lately, I have been down in the dumps because there is so much that I want to do and yet, I am hindered by my sense of responsibility. I am hindered by my sense of duty and obligation. I am supposed to be enjoying myself in my lean-to on a deserted island and yet, I am getting cussed out daily by my cousin because the mental health care profession filled him full of anti-depressants and anti-psychotics and when the medications started killing him, he got off them and now his brain is fried. He lost 154lbs. He is no longer diabetic  or obese. He no longer has a cholesterol or triglycerides problem. His pancreas is back to normal. His heart condition is gone and yet, he will never be ‘all there’ mentally. Yes indeed, I have so many reasons to ‘thank’ the ‘health care’ profession in AmeriKKKa, it is unreal! Heavy on the sarcasm!

And now, I have got to cut this short because I just got a call from him, stating that he has run out of money and is stranded and I must come and pick him up. Since I have his POA(Power of Attorney), health care directive and Living Will, I am responsible for every aspect of his life and there is no one else who will step up to the plate. His immediate family gave up on him decades ago and he has followed me everywhere I go. That is why when I mention that I am dining out with my cousin, who else can I dine with because I am constantly getting him out of trouble and so, there goes any social life for me? And when we are out dining, I am usually embarrassed because he just gets to cussing and carrying on at me for no reason. Waiters and other diners stare at us. The last time we were at Fogo de Chao, he sat and sat and sat until even the gracious waiters were looking pointedly at us. When I mentioned this to him, did the high ceilings in Fogo de Chao, vibrate? Indeed they did!

I feel like a person who has been given a life sentence. Goddamn! I want to break free of this jail sentence! You don’t have to actually be locked up behind bars to be imprisoned, believe me, I know!

Just as I was about to conclude this, I re-read the poem and I called my cousin back and I told him, “Get ta steppin! You’ve got a long walk but since you’re no longer overweight, you can do it!”

Ladies, and I am speaking solely to the ladies here, you don’t need a man to complete you and let me tell you something else, every single man that has ever been in my life has done me more harm than good. I can honestly say that when I am doing things all by myself, I do them better and I am always at my best. I have been married and it was the biggest mistake of my life. A husband did nothing but put me through hell, just as my cousin is doing. It is high time that we let these men who say they are “men” be men and take care of themselves. If we don’t look out for ourselves, they won’t. The ‘men’ who have been in my life, certainly did not look out for me.

And so, next month, since I’ve got some shopping and some packing to do, I am going on a journey to find ‘the adventuress’ that used to be ME, again. I am going to understand that I was not put on this earth to be caretaker to every lost soul on it, to the detriment of my own. Sometimes, you have got to be more ‘self-loving, than self-less.

Ladies, take care of you because I am starting right now!

Asshole Magnet!

allposters

 

This here blog seems to be a magnet for assholes. What the hell??!! I realize that I have asked that particular question numerous times over the past five days, and apparently, the beat goes on. I re-blogged a fellow bloggers post and did I catch hell or did I catch hell? I caught hell! I guess it comes with the territory, but be that as it may, I am attempting to demagnetize this here blog and my readers know that I go extremely public when shaking off assholes and so without further ado, let the shaking begin!

The blog post in question was in regards to the labels that are assigned to those of us who are descendants of slaves. Now, I do understand that everyone is entitled to their own opinion and Lawd knows, I have put up with much in here, but when the shit gets too deep, I’ve just got to scoop it out, publicly.

The blog post title: Don’t Label Me Black OR African American. I’m A Negro.

I re-blogged it and added this comment.

Shelby Courtland comment:

“Hear! Hear! I love it!!!! A ‘militant’ after my own heart!”

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Ronbrownx comment:

“That’s cool, but when Whites start “mispronouncing” that particular label PURPOSELY and PUBLICLY then excusing themselves for their “feigned” ignorance, AFTER the damage is done; what then will be our reaction?”

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Shelby Courtland commented:

“They do so now. Apparently, you are not from the south as I have had ‘whites’ call me that on my job many years ago. They don’t need us to refer to ourselves as being of the Negroid race before calling us the ‘N’ word. They are unapologetically calling us that now as they have for centuries. It is time that we define who we are and not let some racist asshole stop us because we are concerned over how they will react. I am now in the Midwest and though racism is vicious and feral here, I have yet to be called the ‘N’ word to my face.

The damage is already done and what has been our reaction? Why, we call ourselves the ‘N’ word and then get all bent out of shape when ‘whites’ use it.

I don’t use the ‘N’ word in my everyday language, but I hear it from plenty other Negroes and I flinch when I hear it because to me, they have taken the most derogatory word in history and applied it to themselves. They don’t even care about the origins of that word. And for those who say that Negroes use it as a term of ‘endearment’ is just ludicrous. Because there was nothing endearing about slavery, whippings, lashings, rape, pedophilia, molestation, torture, mutilation and chains.

I thank you for your comment!”

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Ronbrownx comment:

“Yassum! I’s bone in 1961, (the year Kennedy started serving his presidential term) in Cuthbert, Georgia, population 3,731 (yep, try to find that one on the map). I lived there uninterrupted, except for a one year stay in Eufaula, Alabama, until I entered the military in 1979. So, I know a wee bit about the South.

During my early years, we were called Negros. We didn’t select this label, it was placed upon us; even the great MLK, used the term, but check out this excerpt from an article by Adam Serwer, MSNBC, (April 12, 2014), “Lyndon Johnson said the word “nigger”. In Senate cloakrooms and staff meetings, Johnson was practically a connoisseur of the word. According to Johnson biographer Robert Caro, Johnson would calibrate his pronunciations by region, using “nigra” with some southern legislators and “negra” with others. Discussing civil rights legislation with men like Mississippi Democrat James Eastland, who committed most of his life to defending white supremacy, he’d simply call it “the nigger bill.”

What Johnson and others like him (George Wallace, Bull Connor etc.) did was moderate their use of, Negro, Negra, Nigra or NIgger, to fit the audience or situation. Often, they would use Negra or Nigra instead of Negro as if they were simply variations in the way Negro is pronounced and not derogatory proxies for the word Nigger. We, who grew up during those days were just as offended by the words Negra and Nigra, as we were Nigger, for you see, we knew that they were “code-switching” and that even presidents and governors could use Negra and Nigra claiming that those words were simply regional dialectical variations of the “proper” label, Negro.

My fear is, that if you say, “call me a Negro”, you’re going to be giving a lot of slick mouthed racists a license to use equally degrading terms like Negra and Nigra while claiming that that’s just the way they talk. Nothing illegal, immoral, politically incorrect about that.

Also, while growing up in the South, I had access to my grandmother’s 1957 Compton’s encyclopedias. In the “R” encyclopedia, under the title, “Race”, was the authors’ attempts at explaining the difference between the races. They grouped the entirety of humanity into three “racial” groups; Mongoloid, Caucasoid, and Negroid. The Mongoloid were described as; straight, black haired, yellow-skinned, flat nosed, short legged, flat-headed, and slant-eyed. The Caucasoid were described as: white to pink-skinned; straight or curly haired; slender aquiline nosed; narrow face and high forehead; thin lips; tall, well built people. The Negroids were described as; short or tall; blue-black to light brown skin; large, wide, flat-nosed; tightly coiled or kinky haired, wide set eyes, thick-lipped people.

Now I ask you, do those parameters, properly delineate your families, friends, and so on?

Those groupings, (Negroid, Mongoloid, and Caucasoid), went out of date with my Granny’s Compton encyclopedias. Race is a man-made concept. Genetically, there is virtually no difference between individual human beings. It’s like looking a bumblebees and establishing divisions based on whether the yellow stripe comes first or the black stripe. It is a ludicrous concept.

When the space aliens look at us through their high-powered telescopes, do you think that they’ll be sorting us into; Negroid, Caucasoid and Mongoloid? I think not. Those aliens (if there be any) will simply see one intelligent, two-legged, two-armed species called the Human species. When they abduct you and sequence your genome, they’ll decide that, except for minor color variations, they’re all the same species.

If you believe in evolution, then at one time, thousands or millions of years ago, there existed many species of humans; Neanderthal, Denisovan, Homo Erectus, Homo Habilis and hundreds of others, but, they’re all extinct, only one species survived; Homo Sapiens–us.”

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Shelby Courtland comment:

Well, I guess I can’t argue with you being born in the south, however, this is not about what other people refer to me as, it is about who I say I am. Every single decade, we are giving a new ‘label’ by the Caucasians, i.e., Colored, Black, African-American and yes, even Negro, but we are so much more than a mere ‘label’. The birth certificates of Caucasians have not changed down through the years, so why ours? I don’t care what Johnson said. He is as irrelevant to me as are those racist, slave-owning so-called ‘founding fathers’ since they did not represent me because my ancestors were not even considered to be ‘human’ by those vile creatures. We could argue semantics all day and all night with respect to the fact that as a race of people, we have been denigrated relentlessly and for no other reason than over something that we have no control over; the color of our skin. When we fill out an application, on the application, we have to check the box labeled: African-American or Black and then check the box: non-Hispanic. And now, another box has been added: ‘other’. America is the only nation or country on the planet that does this and quite actually makes this whole ‘race’ issue, a catastrophic event and it is designed to keep us looking at one another, not as Americans, but as different ‘sub’ groups. It is a way to keep us in ‘our place’, so that we don’t get any fancy ideas that we are actually included in the Constitution and all other documents that pertain to freedoms and rights in this shithole.

The way we are perceived by the Caucasians in this shithole is no different from the way we were perceived when the Declaration of Independence was drafted by a pack of hypocrite slave owners. Their descendants will continue to call us out of our name just as their forefathers did. That is never going to change, regardless of what we call ourselves. We cannot stop those creatures from calling us derivatives of the word ‘nigger’ or from even calling us, ‘nigger’. It is more important for me to know who I am and what I answer to and I don’t have to answer to the Caucasians when they call me out of my name. I am not beholden to them for a damn thing and I could care less what they call me. I don’t hesitate in my descriptions of them and I will not and it is not because I am playing ‘tit for tat’, it is because they do not hold the only patent on derogatory names. On my blog, I will call them whatever I damn well please and damn the consequences. No one has to like it, but there it is. If they don’t have to be ‘politically correct’ than neither will I. The gloves are off! They have been off for quite some time.

Those parameters don’t fit partly due to the rape of slaves that was incessant. Maybe those features do apply to certain tribes in Africa, but for those of us who are descendants of slaves that were dragged to America, they don’t fit much. How could they? But that does not mean that it would not apply if our ancestors had been left the hell alone in Africa and not dragged here.

And there are genetic differences. Make no mistake about that. We are not all the same. We are not all alike. Depending on the race of people, some are predisposed to certain diseases whereas others are not and it is due to their genetic makeup that they have in common. Certain features are prominent in some groups and not in others. It is only the fact of rape and inbreeding that results in crossover features and other characteristics and traits.

If there were aliens watching us from a distance, then yes, I think they would be sorting us into different groups because the group that is hell bent on fucking up this entire planet and making it basically uninhabitable are the Caucasians and this, any alien should be able to see with just a glance. No other group on this planet has done more damage to it than the Caucasians, so do not group me in with that vile filth because I am not one of them and I am NOT anything like them! Not now! Not ever!”

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Ronbrownx comment:

“Well, first of all Shelby, we didn’t choose the “label” Negro, but we did choose “Black” and “African American” so….What DO you want to be called? I’m just saying that, maybe “Negro” is not the best choice.

Why label at all? I personally would prefer no label except, maybe, “Child of God”.

According to research done by the National Coalition for Health Profession Education in Genetics, “…ANY two humans are approximately 99.9 percent identical at the DNA sequence level…this indicates that we are genetically quite similar to one another.”

Let’s put that into perspective, I had a DNA test done to prove paternity of my youngest son. The results were 99.99 percent that “I am that baby’s daddy”. Do you know what that means? Child support for 18 years.

The Human family is 99.99 percent IDENTICAL!

Also, it is ILLEGAL for any job application to ask about your “race”. They can only ask AFTER you have been hired for “affirmative actions” purposes. If you are being asked these type questions on job interviews, you should report them to the EEOC.

As far as what you call Caucasians, who cares? You’re preaching to the choir. We, who read your blog, share that < 1/10 of a percent of human genome difference as you, in other words, we’re “Black” too. The people who you are calling “whatever I damn well please” are not even reading your blog, or , for that matter, even aware of your blog. They don’t know how angry you are; they don’t care how hurt you are. You’re just a voice crying in the wilderness. I hear you, but they don’t!

What are you going to do about that? or are you just going to keep telling those of us, who already know how you feel, how you feel?

Did you know that our tribal ancestors, who inhabited West Africa during the 400 year reign of the American, British, Portuguese, French and Spanish slave trade, owned slaves too. As a matter of fact, most of the slaves brought to the U.S. were sold or traded to the White slave traders by West African tribesmen, who enslaved and sold those captured in tribal battles and wars, or who were deemed “criminals” by their tribes or enemy tribes? For them, the White slave trader was a handy way of banishing their “unwanted” forever, without having to have their victim’s blood on their hands. It’s horrific, but true. This by no means, absolves the White trader from guilt. If he had not provided the market, then the business of slave trade would not have been so lucrative for the West African African tribesmen. But even without the Slave market provided by the White traders, the fate of the captives of the the warring West African tribes would not have been a good one; for you see, these tribesmen would have simply murdered the captives. They wouldn’t have risked keeping them alive, because they were considered dangerous, and might attempt insurrection or escape. This attitude only applied to the males. The females were retained by their captives and made “members” of the tribe.

I served 20 years in the U.S. Air Force. I was sworn to defend the country and it’s Constitution; even though, the “founding fathers” did NOT write it to include “Blacks”, nor was the Declaration written to include “Blacks” but what it did was establish a Supreme Court of the U.S. to provide, continuous, interpretation and re-interpretation of its tenants; and it provided for a Legislature to create new laws and amendments. Throughout the years this has happened, both against “Blacks” i.e. “The Dredd Scott Decision” and in favor of “Blacks” i.e. 13th, 14th, 15th Ammendments to the Consititution. There were also decisions like; “Plessy vs Ferguson; Brown v Education, and the “Civil Rights act of 1964″and the “Voter’s Rights Act of 1965” . All of these had major impacts on the lives of African Americans in this “shithole”.

My point is, despite the trials and tribulations we’ve experienced, I’ve put my life on the line to defend the advances and rights we’ve “earned” through much death, bloodshed, and destruction. I think I’d choose to remain in this “shithole” rather than live in any other.

Let me ask you a hypothetical question: If you moved into an apartment but everything was wrong in it; the landlord was a crook, the water had rust in it, the plumbing sucked, the paint was peeling, the air didn’t work, the rugs were stained with dog piss and the ceiling was leaking, in other words, it was a complete SHITHOLE, What would you do?

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Shelby Courtland comment:

“I don’t know how we could choose ‘African-American’ because we are not a hyphen. An ‘African-American’ is an African who immigrated to America, became an American citizen, hence ‘African-American. That is not me. I would define myself as human’ but according to this shithole, I’m not even totally ‘human’. I am not the one who insists that there be a string of hyphens and pronouns describing my identity.

I am not a ‘child of god’. If you think for one second that I would practice any form of so-called ‘religion’, think again. Religion is for the weak-minded who need something to believe in and who need to be kept in line by some fake-assed made-up Santa Claus in some fairytale land of ‘heaven’. Seriously? I was one of the flock of the brainwashed when I was a child, but I soon threw that yoke of oppression off my shoulders. I think for myself and I don’t need to head inside a palace of worship every Sunday morning to hear the ‘word’ as told by a hypocrite who himself/herself is more sinful than I am. But because he/she has a Master of Divinity degree or not because it would seem that anyone who can get some dumb schmucks to sit up and listen to them drone on and on about the scripture, can open up a ‘church’ these days and amass a fortune from the gullible and the stupid, and I am supposed to sit up and listen to fairytale after fairytale? Nothing fucking doing.

So, you had a DNA test and it proved that it was a 99% probability that you were the child’s father? Well, if you say that any two human’s DNA is 99% identical, then the father of the baby could be any other human. This doesn’t even make any sense because a DNA test would not work if that be the case. Unless I’m missing something here.

I am not merely speaking of ‘identity’ as it relates to our options on employment applications, but about the fact that when the census comes around, we must choose the ‘box’ or boxes’ that match what we identify as.

And as for my ‘preaching to the choir’ and Caucasians not reading what I write, how would you know? You don’t know how many different groups find their way onto this blog and if I write to my goddamn self, that is my choice to do so. I don’t need validation from you or anyone else. If everyone felt like you do, no one would ever write a goddamn thing, including blogs, books, poetry, screenplays; the whole nine yards. You have a blog, so why do you have one if there is no point to all of this? You are welcome to your opinion, I just happen to disagree with it, wholeheartedly. And quite actually, you contradict yourself over and over. And if you have a problem with me ‘telling people how I feel and continuing to tell people how I feel’ then feel free to move the hell along. I am not here to answer to you and to you alone and so who do you think you are to question what I do and why I do it? Again, if you find what I write here to be of no value whatsoever, then why are you here? You pompous, arrogant blowhard, don’t come this way again! I am not so desperate as to need shits like you to come onto my blog and question why I’m even writing. That is MY business! You got that! So, take your dumbass questions and stick ’em where the sun don’t shine!

And for the motherfuckers that are slow or otherwise dumb ass hell like this here motherfucker, I have delved into the African tribal leader slave trade shit and I am not about to get it started back up. Archive to your heart’s content!

And since you felt the call of duty to serve in the Air Force, what do you want me to do? “Thank you for your service?” Because if you do, you are looking at a mighty long wait because I don’t thank military whores for fucking people up in other countries who have done them no wrong. If you’re a ‘child of god’, then that is something that you are going to have to answer for on judgment day. Not me. Because even if you saw no actual combat, by signing on the dotted line, you agreed to fire a weapon at someone who you did not even know and attempt to kill them. But you’re going to ask me about being ‘a child of god’? Are you serious? You’re just another one of those hypocritical, worthless ass, hypnotized Christian shits who go on and on about the bible and the rapture and some more shit and turn right around and piss on your own damn religion. You’re full of it! Take your dumbass elsewhere! It’s not needed in here!

And lastly, since your last paragraph is a hint at me to leave this shithole if I don’t like it, you can shove that up your ass also because I will do as I damn well please and I am under no obligation to ‘like all up and down’ on this shithole…AND…I can denounce it until the cows come home go back out and come back home AGAIN and what I say about this shithole is MY opinion to which I am entitled. Furthermore, I never asked you to put a goddamn thing on the line for this fucking shithole. You chose to do that and so don’t expect to receive any kudos from me for doing so. Go to your Reverend and ask him for a vote of confidence, but I am not the one and I will not tolerate the likes of your ass coming in here and shitting all over the place while attempting to get me to understand that you are merely laying down rose petals. Git ta steppin’! I am on a roll lately with getting fucked up ass motherfuckers out of my face! So, in here, your number is UP! Next!

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Again, I do realize that all sorts of assholes are on the internet and that there are more than likely more assholes on the internet than are decent people and this is to be expected. However, I want everyone to understand…AGAIN…that from now on when I see comments that continue on and on, as the above, and get ever more absurd and contentious to the point where they cross the line, rather than close comments, the delete button will be used without hesitation because I can agree to disagree up to a certain point, but when I have reached that point, I am not putting up with any more shit! I have tried to make this understood on previous posts, but so far, to no avail. The shit stirrers who come here and deposit their shit are going to be dismissed because I have reached the point where I am fed up with being asked to explain myself or be preached at for my supposed ‘intolerance’. If I have said it once, I have said it a thousand times, if you do not like what you see here and if what you see here has no relevance, then why the fuck are you here, reading it…AND…coming back for more? Just pass by this blog and go onto whatever floats your boat. But this is the straw that broke the camel’s back. I don’t need to explain to anyone why I am blogging. I don’t need to explain to anyone just what my purpose is. And it is always those who claim to have some overwhelming amount of ‘tolerance’ and who accuse me of having a lack of tolerance who then turn around and display their lack thereof. I am no hypocrite, unlike many and I have stated that yes, I am intolerant of what goes against MY principles, values, morals and decency and I stand by that and make no apologies for it. So, for those of you who have a problem with this, once AGAIN, if you don’t move yourself the hell on, I will move your ass on for you! Make no mistake about that!

On The Wings Of A Dove

love

Of star-crossed lovers and unrequited love,
 two hearts never to beat as one.
For time and infinite space doth conspire
 to shield would be lovers from the sun.

No escape from the coldness of the grave.
Where once upon a time, there was nary a care.
For love does not dwell in deep and dark places,
 but must breathe the pure and life-giving air.

The stories handed down through the years
 tell of lovers who would meet and then part.
And of a pact made, but never kept.
For fate was destined to break each lover’s heart.

Tristan and Isolde and Romeo and Juliet,
Antony and Cleopatra, to name a few.
Some were real and others, the stuff of legend,
 tell a tale of love that is not always, straight and true.

Poets have tried and quite often failed
 in their attempts to describe the depths to love,
 and how true love transcends the physical limitations
 of mere mortal bodies, whose spirits soar on the wings of a dove.

Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland
©2016 Shelby I. Courtland

Happy Slaves Bake Birthday Cake For George Washington!

slave baking book

I’m a happy slave in America!
I bake cakes for presidents.
I ain’t got no smarts or schooling
 and when I talk, I don’t make sense.

But I’m as happy as can be
 ’cause I’m baking cakes for presidents.
So, when next you re-write history
 tell no lies and I mean no offense.

If you can’t take the truth,
 that I baked cakes for presidents,
 then that shit is all on you
 because slavery is my defense.

How many lies will you tell?
That I came of my own free will?
You with Pinocchio’s nose,
 let me present you with my bill!

For over four hundred years,
I’ve been owed for baking that cake.
And as I stand in shackles and chains,
I am a testament to the truth you fake!

Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland
©2016 Shelby I. Courtland

Happy slaves? Goddamn it! For real? Get the fuck outta here! First, we had textbook publisher McGraw-Hill stating that Africans willingly immigrated to America to work. They were not dragged to AmeriKKKa to become slaves. According to McGraw-Hill, the Africans came here alongside the Irish and other immigrants seeking long-term good paying jobs. You see, this version absolves whitey white asses of knowing that their ancestors were depraved rejects from hell; they are too but that fact should not be bandied about. You see, slavery, rape, whips, chains, shackles and torture don’t have quite the nice ring to it and so tone that shit down. Smooth it over. Make slavery into something that it was not. Make it into a resort. Yeah! That sounds better. Slavery was nothing more than a resort and those Black folks at the resort were as happy as can be, just a baking cakes and some more shit!

Now, let’s cut the bullshit!

Apparently, there is a new book out titled, A Birthday Cake For George Washington and the book ‘suggests’ that a slave named Hercules was just so goddamn happy to be slaving away making a birthday cake for an old wooden toothed bastard by the name of George Washington, that he just could not contain himself! With his skills, he ‘bettered’ himself and should have been proud of it. Oh no! He was not the usual run-of-the-mill slave that had no skills at all and so therefore, had not a thing to say for themselves, no Hercules, the cake baker for George Washington was a cut above the rest and his life was practically lived like he was one of the ‘gentry’. Like hell!

George Washington’s overseer was just as vicious and cruel as any other overseer; just as vicious, depraved and barbaric as today’s goddamn overseers that are stationed in prisons and jails all across this shithole. We are to constantly get bombarded by these atrocious lies; spoon fed fake ass shit and told to eat it up, swallow it down and beg for more. I am fed the fuck up with white motherfuckers who continuously water down history to suit their own fucked up agenda. They will pass shit off as caviar and think nothing of it so long as it makes them look better. Newsfuckingflash! There ain’t a goddamn jewel, cloth of satin or plastic surgeon that could turn you filthy ass bastards into something fit for hell!

I’ve Been Down The Darkest Road!

darkest road

A land more kind than home,
I exchange for a cold nowhere.
There is danger at the border.
And I haven’t got a prayer.

I sense thunder in the distance,
to the cliff, I must draw near.
My back is to the edge;
eyes wide in watchful fear.

The final truth, I seek,
taking secrets to the grave.
The priest must stand alone.
My confession, to him, I gave.

The gods of guilt are here
from the City of Countless Lies.
My tortured soul seeks shelter.
Death takes me by surprise.

A cry, I hear so close
from my lips of icy dread.
I am lost to all of earth
and must walk among the dead.

On cursed ground, I stand.
No proof of life, I see.
The innocent all lie sleeping.
I have met my enemy.

Oh mirror to my soul,
I request respite tonight.
I’ve been down the darkest road.
Pray, lead me towards the light.

Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland
©2015 Shelby I. Courtland

Words Are Not Enough!

words

Words are not enough
I don’t care what you say.
Words get nothing done.
There must be another way.

The words I write don’t matter.
So many words I write each day.
I’ve filled so many pages
but it’s useless what I say.

If I pen a bang ass poem
what difference does it make?
The shit still hits the fan.
And another life they take.

No, words don’t get it done.
They’re useless as can be.
A pen can’t stop a drone
nor does it help a refugee.

Children walk the streets
while I sit and write their story.
Mothers cry all over the world
and my words don’t stop their worry.

You tell me that what I write
will somehow make things right.
I don’t see it that way
as bombs light up the night.

Tell the people of Iraq
that I wrote a poem for them.
Explain that writing helps
to make their horrors appear less grim.

Talk to the people of Syria.
Let them know I feel their pain.
Tell them I penned a poem
about how their suffering is not in vain.

Oh yes, I write about all the problems.
And I compile a list of them.
But if my words were of any use
by now, this world should look less grim.

Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland
©2015 Shelby I. Courtland

But if my words were of any use
by now, this world should look less grim.

Well? Shouldn’t it?

Before The Drums Of Autumn Beat…

Image courtesy of: artbyjpp.com

Image courtesy of: artbyjpp.com

Before the drums of autumn beat,
I’ll spend summer by the sea.
Lying upon a sandy beach,
you bring the temptress out in me.

A thousand guilty pleasures,
I’ll take them as they come.
A goddess of the night,
to my charms, you will succumb.

I was born out of defiance;
a temptation, I cannot fight.
We blend perfectly together,
such passions, we ignite.

All along this broken road,
wandering aimlessly for miles.
I’ll charm you with obsidian eyes
and bewitch you with my wiles.

A spell I cast so long ago
on Hell’s Highway, I made.
My soul I gave to him that took
all that I had to trade.

I’ll return to you always
without a shadow of a doubt.
Midnight’s games we’ll surely play
under love’s sweet gushing spout.

So wait for me, I won’t be long.
I have my duty to perform.
But I will come right back to you
in an otherworldly form.

Written by,
Shelby I. Courtland
©2015 Shelby I. Courtland

Do not ask. I have no idea where this one came from or even what it means. It has been said that people who are creative are insane. This could then, be the reason. And now, I can indulge in ‘maniacal’ laughter.