The Price
Black Birds Bigger than Iggy Da Dawg.
"Ryan Patrick Sean Donovan. What the hell are you doing here"?
"Oh. Hey Veronica".
"Just like that. No big thing. Just another day right? Up here mountain high in my world".
"Yeah".
"Ryan. Yeah. Just yeah. For real what the hell are are you doing here"?
"I can't be here? It's bad"?
"No Ryan it's not bad. It's just ..Just. Damn you Ryan. How long have you been here"?
"Here at the University library or here in the mountains"?
"Oh My God Ryan. Here in the mountains".
"A week tomorrow".
"A week? You haven't called me"?
"No".
"Tehh. When were you going to call me"?
"I don't know".
"Ryan. Did you just ingest dumb pills? Are you smoking Tweeze?"
"No".
"Damn you Ryan. Talk to me".
"I don't know what to say. Last time I saw you in the desert, you all up in Da Hoy Paloy. Like Ryan just some pissed on dead cactus and you the urinating Lizard. All up in the uppity with Dat Lorraine Thang".
"Oh Ryan. Baby. I'm so very sorry. I was a Bitch. You didn't deserve any of that attitude. And yes I was jealous of the fact that you wanted to hook up with Lorraine".
"Damn V. Of all the women in all the world I would have never, ever suspected you would get jealous. We like Brother and sister".
"I know Ryan. I was for sure acting the Bitch. Lorraine told me to say high to you and fat love out to Mr. Big".
"Yeah. Like she'll ever know".
"Oh my. I'm so rude. I'm sorry. Who is your friend".
"Oh. This is Synthia Sweet. We just met here a few days ago. Synthia attends the University.
Synthia Sweet, meet my lifelong friend since the age of 13 years old. Veronica Lake. Synthia Sweet".
"Hi Ms. Lake".
"Hi Synthia. Just call me V.".
"Hi V. Just call me Sweet".
"Hey Sweet. Are you from here"?
"Born and raised".
"I'm a transplant from L.A. Been living here now for 31 years. Such a beautiful place. How about me and you going over to the campus Starbucks. Coffee and cake on me".
"Sounds like a plan V.".
"Great. I'll give you the rundown on this skinny old beat up man".
They both giggle. Veronica looks over at Ryan.
"Later Stud".
"Have fun Girlz. Now don't be talkin outta school Ms. V. Lake".
"Everything about you Ryan is out of school. Dog".
"Ahhhh Shit. I really went and dun did it this time. See Ya".
With that the two women walk out of the library giggling like 8th graders.
The World
No.
I'm not all up into Rap.
Oh.
But you listen to Tupac.
Yeah.
Pac was from my Hood.
As well 2Pac believed and prayed to The God Lord All Mighty Jesus Christ.
While through all this 2Pac blasted Christianity and Islam.
Stating many times that the only Savior was Jesus Christ. Or as Pac said the real only living God.
Many references in his songs talked about Christ.
Talked about repentance.
It is also said that deep inside of him he wanted to console young Ghetto Kidz to make sure that they did not get caught up in the way of the streets.
Tell them about Jesus Christ and the way of saints.
The night that Tupac was gunned downed in Las Vegas as a passenger in a black BMW, 1996, Evander Holyfield had just talked to Tupac and Tupac had finally and forever excepted Jesus Christ into his life.
Somewhat late as it turned out.
See 2Pac was a product of his environment.
At one point he was actually ready to get out of the game with what was to be his final album.
Then it happened.
The world got in his way.
The battle was on.
Biggie.
Drey.
The need to get even and if necessary, smoke his competition.
So instead of following 'The Voice'.
That not even a discernible whisper.
An undefined directive.
Few words.
Only The Core of 'The Messege'.
2Pac never saw to fruition his dream of consoling Ghetto Kidz on The Path Of Jesus Christ.
So it is with all of us humans.
When that Voice, ever so dim and fleeting.
Yet as loud as a freight train, calls us to The Lord.
It is our clue, our real dimensional journey.
Than Slam Whammo.
Flat Face Right Hard Up Against It.
All is lost forever in the gut of The Fowler.
Regurgitated time and time again as The Deceiver pukes our souls a lifetime in hell.
The Price.
The inevitable tab we all someday pay.
Tabulated and Calculated as the actions we choose over 'The Word' we were whispered.
Just one more time.
Just this once.
Those fleeting nano's that actualize the very threads of our lives.
Wrong is Wrong.
Sin is Sin.
Thoughts alone drive the battered rusty hammer hard, down on the anvil.
The good.
The right.
That Small Significant Voice. As faint as an Angels Breath.
A virtual Smile that is only felt.
Never seen.
When this Godly Presence graces Your Being from the inside out in less than a New York Blink.
Run with it.
Do not even think about it.
Nothing to analyze.
Certainly not a spec of a grain to ponder.
For it is the wrong and the sin that takes thought and time.
Covering all the angles as it were.
The Truth is automatic.
And yeah.
In this worldly existence.
We all get fucked.
A human right of passage.
Walk away.
Quickly.
Leaving nothing behind except the erasing vapor trails.
Let the Lord do HIS job.
For whatever vengeance your human state of being can contrive.
It ain't got nothin on The Lord's Wrath.
Not a damn ass thing.
To fight fire with fire is the arena of the Fowler.
The Deceiver will not go without his toxic do.
Strap up dem boots.
Move the hell on.
The sooner the better.
I Love Jesus Christ.
The Very Exact Words the The Toxic Fowler Can Never Stand To Hear.
The Exact Words Of The Lord God All Mighty That Sends Slime Rat Deceiver Into The Bottomless Pit Of Fire.
Every Damn Time.
Trust Me On This Sisters and Brothers.
Ryan. Out.
