Chapter 5a
The man has shown you. This story is told from a Carib-Jamericanadian perspective, in a richly blended language mix of nonsense talk, double entendre, sensational spelling, poetry, and Jamaican patois inserted wherever it was found fitting. Yes, wordplay is the order of the day around here. So...
You complained about having to survive great hardships at the hands of the other man who force-used you to build his now flourishing society out of the stolen lands. Out of the place where, once there was only wilderness and trees, now you want payback for it, like this, and these. Oh please! You talk about reparations and repatriation, which sounds good indeed, to the faraway nations on their knees.
You curse that man out of his van and give him a piece of your mind, every chance that you get (or didn't get.) It's probably the very reason why you seem to have so little of it left. The "mind" thing that is, you bet. A mind of your own is a forbidden concept. You tell the man what you think of him, all the time, just not in his hearing, but still, on the hidden line. You cursed the man out of his clothes and told him just what you thought of him.
Color him red, and black not, but yellow, purple, and pink, somewhere between his head top and the kitchen sink, now, here for you, is a drink, wink. "He's a beer barrel," you'd said. "He drinks a lot and beats his wife. Quarrels all the time, throughout the night. He's not like you, there's nothing to compare him to." That man is now driving the old Ford Fiesta that you threw away, his transportation whenever he goes to collect his pay down by the apartment complex overlooking the bay.
His property, all of them. Money in the bank for him and his children, to the nth generation of them. But as for you, what do you do? While you, your mamma, and all your ill-begotten children in proper, live on the upper floor of those said beachfront apartments, of the goner. You're pushing a crisp, shiny Mercedes Benz on the way out there to go pay him the rent, "Because?"
Yes, because of things like this, you're hip and classy. Quite unlike that colorful drunk-a-lot in the Fiesta of his. The one he'd picked up out of the trash heap near the properties, now, look at him, he's a whip and trashy. He ain't going nowhere. But as for you? You're already there, way up top in the air. So, young man, what are you going to do with your plans from here?
Who are you going to immolate from now on, which of the two, or way too many other ones? How long will you stand? How long will you be able to stand like a man, like you want to do so very badly? How long? Ask that man, the old man, or his daddy. Your old man, even, it's him, your old man has got the answer there in his hand to spin, no? Yes, well, so to you it would seem, but does he even understand?
So, you delight yourself in giving the man a piece of your mind? I'm about to give you a piece of my mind, too. Even before I'm done, you might be ready and willing to do to me, just like you've said you're going to do to that one. Yes, to him, but only more. But I'm going to tell you anyway because someone needs to tell you the score; peradventure you will hear it and make the necessary adjustments to the door. No, not the door but what I meant to say is, to your way of thinking. To your ways of doing things, or not doing anything, to your ways, even.
Change your ways, I'd say, and begin. Like, begin to live like him. Well, in some of those ways of his, at least, so that you may begin to live this time, in peace. That man you see right there, you may do well to leave him alone and spare. Yeah, man! Spear him or leave him be. He's probably the best friend that you've ever had, or will ever have, from me. That man, you see, has been showing you (yeah! I will too,) he has been showing you and will show you still, what you ought to do, and the will. And like, how to do it too, to fulfill...
Like, to fulfill your purpose, or to live and survive at the very least, even in the circus. But you're fully dunce, so you will not be taught, not even an ounce, no, you won't learn a fa? no, leave it at that. He has been telling you, though, telling you all along what you need to know, like what you need to do, and get done to get you securely home, and through the loops. But you will not listen to anyone, oops! So, now you want him to give you some of his many wonderful things, like some of the states that he has built with blood, sweat, and tears from him.
Not just your blood, your sweat, and your tears to spin, but his blood also, his sweat and his tears, yes, his too had to flow. Don't forget that he had to come in and tame the wildlands for you. The lands on which he has built those fabulous cities up, and out of the plantation's shoot, cities that you now crave and covet like a brute. Many of his kind of people suffered and died in the process. It wasn't just you and your kind who had suffered and died out west.
If you're sitting there thinking that you're going to talk him into handing over one, two, seven, or even eight of his cities, any city that he has built at a heavy cost to himself and his kind of kiddies. Then you're a bigger fool than you seem to be, in the mini, and everybody knows that you are. Except you, of course, and you would probably deserve it. Not just what you've gotten, but what is coming to you, still? Sit. You're so busy fooling yourself to even notice that part of the will. Everywhere they went, they had to pay their portion of the rent, in blood, even.
The death rate, they say, was very high among the first arrivals. Those same ones, even, the other men's survival, it wasn't all dependent on you. Low life expectancy and high infant mortality. Diseases, the most dangerous diseases, as well as wars of various sorts and fees, yes, those fees of his. These and other things contributed to a great loss of life among them, too. Furthermore, here's the real score: that wasn't why the man built his beautiful cities on the shores of rivers and seas.
To then turn around and give it up to people like this, and these? Hand it off to them, and you and those. No, it ain't going to happen, like so. He's not going to give back the "land that he'd stolen from those 'other peoples' and their fighting men." Like you love to say, constantly, amen. It was to build his cities, that's why he took it. I'm sure he'll not give it over to you as is, not without a fight from his fist, and you can go on deluding yourself tonight, like, into thinking that you can take him on in a fight, and win. Go right on, that's a good thing.
Your God, you say, is on your side. Well, hooray! Let's go for a ride. But what if you should wake up one of these days to find out and see the light? That your God, in whom you've placed such great confidence last night, and bragged like a brogad, in tights. That God was given to you in his defense and regard, and by, guess who? Yeah, you got it right, my friend. I know you're mad right now, and so are the gods, your God, even, wow.
If she wasn't coming to get me and everybody else before, and Steven, she sure is on the way now, even at the door, and peeping in. So, go right on, take him to task with your right hand. Take your fight to that man in the name of your God, or your myriads of gods, or go jump into some boiling wax because? Frankly, the two might turn out to be the very same, and one again.
God could be at work on this, too, don't you think? I've heard some great sermons preached in my time. Great prayers too, and rhymes. But, what if your god, the very same one you are praying to, and asking those great things of, for your comfort? Suppose she decides to answer your prayers and help you out? What if she should come to your rescue with a shout? What if it is she who is at work now, even in this thing that you are getting so riled up about, wow! Or the entire load in this pile of scrap-bookery that you're now reading aloud and out? What if it's all your God's doing?
But you're so set in your way, so afraid of change that you dare not touch anything different today, Sue Hingh? So, I am very sure you are thinking, "God doesn't work like that." Could you not be there, making yourself busy, canceling every new thing that she's doing in your life? Are you canceling out the very things you've asked her to do for you, like, your husband, or your wife? While she's in the process of doing it. Couldn't you be there busily cancelling out that very thing with you in it, and whistling? Well, couldn't you? To be continued.
That's it for today, see you again tomorrow, or sometime thereafter. Don't forget to like, share, and comment. We sure would appreciate it if you would subscribe and follow us somewhere, too. Thank you.
@WritingElk
This is chapter 5a in the "Backsliding" story.
The man has shown you. This story is told from a Carib-Jamericanadian perspective, in a richly blended language mix of nonsense talk, double entendre, sensational spelling, poetry, and Jamaican patois inserted wherever it was found fitting. Yes, wordplay is the order of the day around here. So...
You complained about having to survive great hardships at the hands of the other man who force-used you to build his now flourishing society out of the stolen lands. Out of the place where, once there was only wilderness and trees, now you want payback for it, like this, and these. Oh please! You talk about reparations and repatriation, which sounds good indeed, to the faraway nations on their knees.
You curse that man out of his van and give him a piece of your mind, every chance that you get (or didn't get.) It's probably the very reason why you seem to have so little of it left. The "mind" thing that is, you bet. A mind of your own is a forbidden concept. You tell the man what you think of him, all the time, just not in his hearing, but still, on the hidden line. You cursed the man out of his clothes and told him just what you thought of him.
Color him red, and black not, but yellow, purple, and pink, somewhere between his head top and the kitchen sink, now, here for you, is a drink, wink. "He's a beer barrel," you'd said. "He drinks a lot and beats his wife. Quarrels all the time, throughout the night. He's not like you, there's nothing to compare him to." That man is now driving the old Ford Fiesta that you threw away, his transportation whenever he goes to collect his pay down by the apartment complex overlooking the bay.
His property, all of them. Money in the bank for him and his children, to the nth generation of them. But as for you, what do you do? While you, your mamma, and all your ill-begotten children in proper, live on the upper floor of those said beachfront apartments, of the goner. You're pushing a crisp, shiny Mercedes Benz on the way out there to go pay him the rent, "Because?"
Yes, because of things like this, you're hip and classy. Quite unlike that colorful drunk-a-lot in the Fiesta of his. The one he'd picked up out of the trash heap near the properties, now, look at him, he's a whip and trashy. He ain't going nowhere. But as for you? You're already there, way up top in the air. So, young man, what are you going to do with your plans from here?
Who are you going to immolate from now on, which of the two, or way too many other ones? How long will you stand? How long will you be able to stand like a man, like you want to do so very badly? How long? Ask that man, the old man, or his daddy. Your old man, even, it's him, your old man has got the answer there in his hand to spin, no? Yes, well, so to you it would seem, but does he even understand?
So, you delight yourself in giving the man a piece of your mind? I'm about to give you a piece of my mind, too. Even before I'm done, you might be ready and willing to do to me, just like you've said you're going to do to that one. Yes, to him, but only more. But I'm going to tell you anyway because someone needs to tell you the score; peradventure you will hear it and make the necessary adjustments to the door. No, not the door but what I meant to say is, to your way of thinking. To your ways of doing things, or not doing anything, to your ways, even.
Change your ways, I'd say, and begin. Like, begin to live like him. Well, in some of those ways of his, at least, so that you may begin to live this time, in peace. That man you see right there, you may do well to leave him alone and spare. Yeah, man! Spear him or leave him be. He's probably the best friend that you've ever had, or will ever have, from me. That man, you see, has been showing you (yeah! I will too,) he has been showing you and will show you still, what you ought to do, and the will. And like, how to do it too, to fulfill...
Like, to fulfill your purpose, or to live and survive at the very least, even in the circus. But you're fully dunce, so you will not be taught, not even an ounce, no, you won't learn a fa? no, leave it at that. He has been telling you, though, telling you all along what you need to know, like what you need to do, and get done to get you securely home, and through the loops. But you will not listen to anyone, oops! So, now you want him to give you some of his many wonderful things, like some of the states that he has built with blood, sweat, and tears from him.
Not just your blood, your sweat, and your tears to spin, but his blood also, his sweat and his tears, yes, his too had to flow. Don't forget that he had to come in and tame the wildlands for you. The lands on which he has built those fabulous cities up, and out of the plantation's shoot, cities that you now crave and covet like a brute. Many of his kind of people suffered and died in the process. It wasn't just you and your kind who had suffered and died out west.
If you're sitting there thinking that you're going to talk him into handing over one, two, seven, or even eight of his cities, any city that he has built at a heavy cost to himself and his kind of kiddies. Then you're a bigger fool than you seem to be, in the mini, and everybody knows that you are. Except you, of course, and you would probably deserve it. Not just what you've gotten, but what is coming to you, still? Sit. You're so busy fooling yourself to even notice that part of the will. Everywhere they went, they had to pay their portion of the rent, in blood, even.
The death rate, they say, was very high among the first arrivals. Those same ones, even, the other men's survival, it wasn't all dependent on you. Low life expectancy and high infant mortality. Diseases, the most dangerous diseases, as well as wars of various sorts and fees, yes, those fees of his. These and other things contributed to a great loss of life among them, too. Furthermore, here's the real score: that wasn't why the man built his beautiful cities on the shores of rivers and seas.
To then turn around and give it up to people like this, and these? Hand it off to them, and you and those. No, it ain't going to happen, like so. He's not going to give back the "land that he'd stolen from those 'other peoples' and their fighting men." Like you love to say, constantly, amen. It was to build his cities, that's why he took it. I'm sure he'll not give it over to you as is, not without a fight from his fist, and you can go on deluding yourself tonight, like, into thinking that you can take him on in a fight, and win. Go right on, that's a good thing.
Your God, you say, is on your side. Well, hooray! Let's go for a ride. But what if you should wake up one of these days to find out and see the light? That your God, in whom you've placed such great confidence last night, and bragged like a brogad, in tights. That God was given to you in his defense and regard, and by, guess who? Yeah, you got it right, my friend. I know you're mad right now, and so are the gods, your God, even, wow.
If she wasn't coming to get me and everybody else before, and Steven, she sure is on the way now, even at the door, and peeping in. So, go right on, take him to task with your right hand. Take your fight to that man in the name of your God, or your myriads of gods, or go jump into some boiling wax because? Frankly, the two might turn out to be the very same, and one again.
God could be at work on this, too, don't you think? I've heard some great sermons preached in my time. Great prayers too, and rhymes. But, what if your god, the very same one you are praying to, and asking those great things of, for your comfort? Suppose she decides to answer your prayers and help you out? What if she should come to your rescue with a shout? What if it is she who is at work now, even in this thing that you are getting so riled up about, wow! Or the entire load in this pile of scrap-bookery that you're now reading aloud and out? What if it's all your God's doing?
But you're so set in your way, so afraid of change that you dare not touch anything different today, Sue Hingh? So, I am very sure you are thinking, "God doesn't work like that." Could you not be there, making yourself busy, canceling every new thing that she's doing in your life? Are you canceling out the very things you've asked her to do for you, like, your husband, or your wife? While she's in the process of doing it. Couldn't you be there busily cancelling out that very thing with you in it, and whistling? Well, couldn't you? To be continued.
That's it for today, see you again tomorrow, or sometime thereafter. Don't forget to like, share, and comment. We sure would appreciate it if you would subscribe and follow us somewhere, too. Thank you.
@WritingElk
This is chapter 5a in the "Backsliding" story.
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