Breaking of the Levees of the Black Mind

18 Sep

AHSCoven2American Horror StoryThis was supposed to be the mirror article to the TMB Katrina post. It would serve to show that one can get balance within oneself. To show how the two platforms that I use to plant my feet on, help me get to a point of balance and to continue to grow from there. To show that it is possible to support your self. No pale savior – who is really another predator – needed. If others can add to that support, then great. But, when other people come around only to push or pull, then the platforms are there to remain standing steady while I distance myself. I know that I cannot stop players from playing games, but I can stop myself from playing players. Footing first, and then up the spine.

I now show that the platforms do not need mirror articles to allow for steady footing. The Katrina post stands strongly by itself. It does not matter that most only show interest in the picture. It will help them bring to the forefront what level their mind is at. Can they see through the pose and identify where the strength comes from? Can they see past the nakedness and see the trials and tribulations swirling around the gods? They do not tell me. Maybe they were waiting to get asked. Just in time for the picture that was made available for the mirror post.

A follower sent me a picture of the American Horror Story. I do not know the series, and I will not comment on whether they have a right to put out such an image. It is about what I take from the image when it comes to my personal Katrina. I see a Black Black – Blaka – woman used as a voodoo doll. I see beautiful skin and a tortured woman, but others may only be able to see their sick mind projected. Take your pick. I pick seeing that I walked around like that for such a long time. I was bleeding profusely, watching others laugh at my wounds and suffering. Everywhere I would turn up, people would have more pins – knives – hidden behind their fake smiles and white babble, impatiently waiting and anticipating the arrival of a weak enough moment that would allow them to do as they desired. Attack and destroy.

Of course, I would protect myself ‘best I could’ in and outside this Neanderland, and look for others to help protect me. To have to watch in Horror as the ‘saviors’ would Show to prefer to join in with the other predators. Kill or be killed. The Neanderland Horror Show. Uh, Story. These sick beings are dead already, so it is no use trying to make them come to their senses. Weird how the dead fear death. Da’ath. As they die, they do not want to recall the Black people they have hurt, handicapped or killed, along their slithering way. They expect real Justice at death, when they had none to give themselves. Da’ath meets Ma’at. Let them babble their way out of that hell.

metal-wire-sculptures-park-seungmo-10Back to this well hell horror story show. On one hand, I am grateful for not having to slave away at the bottom. I did that for a while, but it was never bottom enough for some people. The bottom is manual labor so physical exhaustion can be used as a mind-crushing weapon. White pete does not consider typing away behind a screen as bottom enough for me. It is too “uppity” to sit in a separate room in the office cave. No matter my titles, I have no right to intellectual labor. Even as they salivate awaiting the moment to claim ownership of my work. The work itself is seen as a privilege, based on my Black skin. So they say behind my back. From my standing, they can clearly tell that I do not consider sitting among cavemen in suits and skirts a ‘privilege’.

On the other hand, the view up here is worse. Up here, riding on my high horse, looking at this sea of ignorant people with their hands out. No, they are not begging me for help getting more crumbs. They want white pete to help them to a piece of the poison pie, or have light skinned people help them by default. They are putting their hands out as they demand me to come closer so they can get a hold of me to… yank-eek me off my horse. This vessel we call body. Stand up too tall and they will come for your uppity ass. Yes, donkey. Or I would have written arse. Exit only, by the way.

So, I am to stand up out of reach and just enough, to be able to spot the disobedient spiteful ones, and scare them back in line with more work and even less freedom. Or, to clean up their mess so the adult ‘chilluns’ can keep on playing and making a mess. It is all they see when I step into their cave: black pete. It is no use repeating that black pete is white. But repeat it I shall.

My personal Katrina. I refused to Samba, and they did not like it. They got a hold of my mind, and dragged me off my horse. I could still hold on to the frames of my mind, but things soon became messy. I had gotten too close to them, and they got enough of a hold to be able to heap too much of their mess on me. I got accused of doing things that I did not have the mind to think of. Blowing up levees, and letting people drown? Those were their tactics, why did they accuse me of it? Ah. That reversal game that children play. Yes is no, and no is whatever they want it to be. They do not grow out of it, as it is a pillar to their game. “It is just a children’s game.” More like training their children how to behave as sick adults. Sinterklaasje, kom maar binnen met je knecht.

They have been playing that game for centuries, and as I read through some of the white babble they forced upon me in school again, I can see it now. The serpents coiled up in the texts, images, music, videos, tele-sick-vision, moving views and lies. And then they come in to repeat the lies, and stand close – way too close – to see if you “get it.” No wonder I stood in front of that cave for so long. To know that they will come for my mind. The pins – knives – come with spells. Hands out, spell-telling me Kung futo come closer and believe their white lies. As I stand tall, they will not be able to help themselves.

There is no need to tell them, that this time around I got some knives – pens – of my own. Cut, slice, cut. Not good enough? In that case, I will have to study up on their technology, and know how to use it as a shield and a weapon. This effort will also help me to figure out why some people have access to the administration of my site.  Yes, I noticed. Is it your intent to help or to hinder? Either way, you pay the price.

 

 

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5 Responses to “Breaking of the Levees of the Black Mind”

  1. Queen Ciara-Adira September 19, 2013 at 12:59 am #

    Reblogged this on Black Supremacy Love and Unity.

  2. No Black Pete September 19, 2013 at 11:43 am #

  3. No Black Pete September 19, 2013 at 1:42 pm #

    Just read up on gang stalking, or look it up on YouTube.


  4. hunglikejesus September 21, 2013 at 1:06 am #

    I pick mother of the universe being used the only way the lessers know how to. Being there’s no other way to strike at their self made foes, mother is always there until she’s not, then it be time to pay her back. Mother only takes so much shit before she raises her right hand palm up and lowers her hand palm down. She both receives and dishes her punishment on the lessers. Though she is mother of the universe she does not live in a vacuum. She feels those pins, but never mind, the lessers have something to prove. Live up lessers mother is getting tired of your shit and hand will go up or down.

    Another great article sista.

    • No Black Pete September 21, 2013 at 9:16 am #

      HLJ, thanks for the pic. It combines the star trek experimenting these aliens are into, with the spells they cast. Messing things up. And then they demand us to clean up after them? A parent knows when enough is enough. Peace.

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